(FL) Girl with a New Life

The Best Years of Your Life: A Quote

2012-01-27T07:37:00.000-08:00

"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny.”

-Albert Ellis, psychologist

I'm Going to Blissdom. Are You?

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I am finally going to my first blog conference. Eeek.

I can already feel one of these coming on...

One Date Night Movie, One Anti-Date Night Movie

2012-01-24T09:02:00.000-08:00

With Valentine's Day on the horizon, I am recommending a movie for each side of the fence.

See all of my movie recommendations and instant downloads at RentChickFlicks.com.

The Company Men 2011. I know what you're thinking. Unexpected pick for a romantic night at home? Well, I think so too, but hear me out. The Company Men is a surprisingly thoughtful story about the men, families, and relationships affected by a failing job market. Beyond the laughs and the all star cast, this is a journey toward discovering what is most important--what keeps us going. I walked away from this movie feeling a little more grateful for my partner in life.

Anti date night...

The Other Woman 2009. Becoming the second and despised (younger) wife. Becoming the inexperienced step mom. Losing a baby. The Other Woman explores the less than perfect perspective of a young woman lost to her new found place in the world. I thought this was a subtle testament to the power of women, especially as we grow.

Buy it here.

What are you watching for V-Day?

Stories from Real Women: A Life in Service

2012-01-23T09:18:00.000-08:00

The woman: Sam Morgan
Her new beginning: Joining the Peace Corps and moving to Cambodia
Where you can find her: http://samnhal.blogspot.com/

I knew my life had changed the moment that I looked down at the phone, checking my e-mail, and it said that my status on the Peace Corps website had been changed. My husband and I were on vacation and had almost given up hope of serving with the Peace Corps as all invitations to serve were currently on hold due to the budget crisis. I logged into my account and couldn't believe my eyes when it said I was an invitee! Being an invitee means that after having waited a year since applying, we were finally going to be able to serve. We had to wait an excruciating week to receive the package from Peace Corps. We sat down on the couch in our small apartment and opened the package together. We were both a little shocked when it said "Cambodia" with a departure date less than 3 months away.

This change opened up the opportunity in my life to finally dedicate my life to service. We both knew that service was something we wanted to be important in our lives. It was something we wanted to focus on with our children in the future. We realized that if we wanted our children to learn about service, we had to start that pattern by serving ourselves. I so badly wanted an adventure before we had children, we both did. We were so lucky that this came at a point in our lives, our schooling, and our careers, that we could just pick up, sell almost everything we owned and move to a third world country. We'd had such a hard time in the application process of the Peace Corps, but we both felt like it was the right thing for us to do, so we left it up to our Heavenly Father. If we were supposed to go, if this was our path, then Peace Corps would send us and we would go. We have been living and serving here in Cambodia for almost 6 months now. Some days it can be so frustrating and all I want to go is go home. In times like that I try to remind myself, I'm here for a reason, I wanted this, I wanted this so badly, I can do this, I'm supposed to be here. The people of my village deserve to have me stick this out, I came here to serve them, and service isn't always what you imagine it to be, but the best thing about service is that you always get more out of it than you put in.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is to make the most out of the time I have here in Cambodia. This is my chance, my opportunity, my adventure and I want to make the most out of it. Sometimes 2 years and 3 months seems like an eternity. The reality is that we just began our only full year of service here in Cambodia. I am so blessed to be living in this village, and this is my chance to serve them, and to accomplish what I came here to do; so I will dedicate myself with a renewed motivation towards serving the people of Cambodia, in whatever opportunities may come my way in the next year and a half.

*Share your story by completing the italic prompts above and emailing me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com.

My Weekend Movie Rental Pick: Get Low

2012-01-20T11:29:00.000-08:00

Get Low 2009. Robert Duvall. Sissy Spacek. Bill Murray. Based on a real person, Get Low tells the story of Felix Bush, a backwoods 1930's hermit who locals have grown to fear. With his health failing, Felix decides to hold his own funeral while he is still alive and able to share his truth with the entire community. Both laugh out loud funny and deeply touching, this film speaks about death, forgiveness and finding beauty in unexpected places. I absolutely loved it.

Buy it here.

Little Things I Love: Winter Pick-Me-Ups

2012-01-19T07:45:00.000-08:00

Ever since I left my home state of Florida, I've had a fast education in all things Winter. These are my favorite Winter Pick-Me-Ups.

A Splash of Color. Adding more splashes of bright color to everything I do in the Winter helps energize me. Above is a photo of me in my new red necklace. Below is the necklace while still in the store--begging me to rescue it. PS I am in love with fabric jewelry right now.

All things Tropical. Coconut scented candles? Pineapple flavored lip gloss? Tiny umbrellas in my glass of water? Yes to all of the above.

Vacation state of mind. Since I have to carry more moisturizer around this time of year, I like to pretend I'm still on vacation and enlist the tiny hotel bottle from my Summer travels.

More luxurious bath products. Warm weather products usually don't cut it in the dry Winter climate. For me this is the perfect time to indulge in an affordable upgrade.

Music. Music always lifts my spirit.

What are your favorite Pick-Me-Ups?

2.5 Years Into My Novel in Progress

2012-01-18T10:23:00.000-08:00

Various drafts of my Novel-in-Progress

In the summer of 2009 I began writing my first novel, and this blog, in earnest. Did I have any idea of the journey ahead of me? In short: no.

I recently read an article where an author compared aspiring writers to the contestants of American Idol. The point being this--there are zillions of others trying to accomplish the same thing you are, there is plenty of rejection in store, and there are only so many spots to fill. Call me sensitive, but this seriously hurts my heart. Still, I would be kidding myself if I didn't acknowledge the immensity of the challenge in front of me. With so much noise in the world it is difficult to find a willing audience, much less make yourself worthy of one.

In January of 2011 my terrified little manuscript hit the road for group edits. For me, this was the most difficult step. Egos are always fragile, mine included, and exposing your baby to harsh critique is never easy. Despite the challenges, this step taught me two incredible lessons. #1, in order to survive this process I need 100% conviction in the value of my project. #2, a thick skin is a necessary part of a writer's life.

My first break came in September 2011, when after a handful of rejections, I found an editor who loved my project. This might seem like a small accomplishment, but finding someone with credentials who advocates my work and calls herself a "fan," well that is enough to send me dancing in circles. And crying. I have done both, sometimes at the same time.

After four months of letting my manuscript "breathe" (a break recommended by all my writerly friends) I began the task of working the recommendations of my talented editor in December, and we have been in collaboration ever since. My polished manuscript went out in the mail today, and we should be very close to a final draft.

Will I spend another 12 months in search of a literary agent? Or will I bite the bullet and self publish? Friends, I can't say for sure. As an aspiring first time author without much experience, self publishing looks like a very good option. Does that make me another failed American Idol contestant? Well, yes. It does. It also means this. According to Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 hour rule from his book Outlier's (20 hours of weekly practice for ten years) I am three years closer to success.

3 years down. 7 to go. Cheers to a long and fulfilling journey.

On Love: A Quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.

2012-01-16T08:30:00.000-08:00

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

--Martin Luther King, Jr.

My Weekend Movie Pick: The Iron Lady

2012-01-12T09:17:00.000-08:00

Sadly, my local theater isn't showing The Iron Lady. If yours is, please gather up your girl mafia and show Meryl Streep some love.

"I've got a woman's ability to stick to a job and get on with it when everyone else walks off and leaves it." --Margaret Thatcher

"If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing." --Margaret Thatcher

Photos From Florida: A Walk Around the Orlando Grande Lakes

2012-01-11T05:00:00.000-08:00

I do love a good walk.

Breathe in deep and enjoy the view.

The clouds are amazing, right? Where do you love to walk?

What I'm Reading: The Smart Chicks Book Club

2012-01-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

We have been in open reading at The Smart Chicks Book Club for the holidays, but that doesn't mean we have stopped reading all together.

What I just finished reading: The Secret Life of Bees. I happened across this book while pouring myself over the shelves of a Florida bookstore. When I read the first two pages I knew I had to have it. My rating: IT WAS AMAZING.

Lily Owens is a 1960's runaway in search of her dead mother's past. Her clues lead her to a pink house and a charismatic household of beekeeping black women. As Lily acquaints herself with bee society, learns about the Black Madonna the sisters revere, and finds love in her new family, Lily discovers that her mothers are everywhere.

If you enjoy slowing down and getting close to your characters you might like it too. If you want something fast moving and exciting, I say skip it.

What I'm reading now: The Lovely Bones. This book opens with one of the most tragic scenes I have ever read--a young girl raped. The magic here is the thread of hope and the compelling voice of the narrator.

Have you read this one? What are you reading, bloggies?

Take our quiz for fun.

Poll

What is your favorite ending for a good book?

Happy. Life is already serious enough. Complicated. Having an ending that is too far to either extreme feels unconvincing. Hopeful. I like to think that my characters can always hope for better times even if they haven't discovered them yet. Unexpected. I like an ending that throws me out of my chair.

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Stories from Real Women: Defining Divorce

2012-01-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

I want to take today to thank all of my lady truth tellers. You know who you are. You bring us your truth, even when it might be different, even when it goes against the grain, because you know, despite whatever ridicule you might face, that your truth will set someone free.

In November, Joanna spoke to us about finding her one, Ellen Goldberg shared her new life on the other side of the country, Tina Boscha realized her dream of publication, and Tina Moss-Fiala learned how to love again. In December we welcomed Taslim Jaffer and her journey toward becoming the person she was meant to be. I encourage you to spend time reading their words. They are inspirational.

Today, please meet our newest truth teller, Angela. "I make a promise to make a difference in someone's life everyday. Even just a smile, holding open a door, or a kind word for someone can be all it takes to change someone's day." -Angela

The woman: Angela Ferguson
Her new beginning: Transitioning her life on her own terms.
Where she pays it forward: The National Tourette Syndrome Association, Inc.

I knew my life had changed the moment that I decided to file for divorce. I was not in a typical situation. I knew that filing for divorce would not get me away from the man that I wanted to be away from. We owned a home together, and neither of us could afford the payment by ourselves. I knew that we would be stuck living together, even after the divorce papers were filed. We both knew that our marriage was over and it was time to move on. Both of us being children of divorced parents ourselves, we agreed that we wanted to make this as easy as possible for our son. My ex-husband even tried to suggest that we stay together until our son graduated High School. 8 more years?? Really?? I couldn't do it. I was struck with the largest serving of guilt that I had ever felt. I was taking the security of a family and ripping it away from my son. But the decision had been made.

I had spent years suppressing my dreams, and my true personality of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to contribute to the world just to keep a man loving me. I had had enough. I moved out into the spare bedroom of our house and the divorce proceedings started. That was almost 2 years ago. As of today, we still live in the same home as it sits.... for sale. I know what most people are thinking. I've heard it, "just let the house go into foreclosure." In this economy it would be easy to do. But both of us want to be responsible adults (sometimes easier said than done), neither of us want to create bad credit by letting the home go into foreclosure. We basically live as roommates, split the mortgage, all home bills and our son's expenses.

This change opened up the opportunity in my life to finally renew my Faith in Christ and let my son find his Faith in Christ. I had made so many sacrifices throughout my marriage. After filing for divorce I was lost. The relationship between my son and myself was volatile and suffering badly. Despite both of us now being ridiculed and mocked, we started regularly attending church together on Sunday mornings. I remember the first Sunday that we went to church while listening to the pastor preach--it was like a huge weight lifted off my chest. I knew this was where we belonged. I knew that I was meant for so much more than being with someone who wanted to keep me from being more. I knew that Christ had a plan for me, and that with him there wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

In February of this year my son was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome. A diagnosis that, without Christ, my son nor myself would have been able to accept. I was prepared, his dad was not. I know that we handle it very well because we both know that Christ will never give us more than we can handle. Tourettes has not prevented my son from accomplishing any of his goals. He is a gifted student and participates in 3 sports throughout the year. We are Blessed. Over summer vacation Bible school, my son accepted Christ and on July 31st was baptised dedicating his life to God. Our relationship during this difficult time and living arrangement is stronger than I ever imagined a parent and a child could have. We worship together and we pray together. I feel as though the bond that we share together has provided me an opportunity to be able to raise my son, with dignity and respect, teach him self worth and that he is one of God's many perfect creations.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is to wake up every morning and know that everything happens for a reason. That just because something bad has happened or things didn't go the way I wanted them to doesn't mean that God is punishing me. To know that when I am faced with difficult times, I will know that challenges are not sent to destroy me. They're sent to promote, increase and strengthen me.

***Want to share your truth? Please email your life changing moment to me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com using the above format.

Decorate My Living Room: Picking an Area Rug

2012-01-05T09:42:00.000-08:00

Though I have lived in a series of apartments, condos, and townhouses, some of which I owned and others that I rented, it wasn't until age 33 that I moved into an actual house. It is incredibly comforting, finally setting my stake in the ground. While I still have an adventurous spirit, home is the place I am always happy to return to. I am a tumbling tumbleweed no longer. Thank you for celebrating my personal sanctuary with me.

In April of 2011 I posted my dream board for my future living room above, before I even knew what home we would end up in. We moved that August.

In October of 2011 I posted the above photo of my living room in progress. Many of you agreed that a creamy colored area rug would go well. PS I listened. (Visit the old post here.)

After saving up some money, I finally bought this 8 x 10 rug on clearance yesterday. With the mossy green and coral colored accents, I knew it would tie in. The clever designer/owner of the store convinced me to lay it on an angle to break up the room and save me from having to order a bigger (insert more expensive) rug.

And the cats like it.

Photos from My Life: My Fur Baby

2012-01-04T06:49:00.000-08:00

Her life is very difficult.

Girls' Night In: Heartfelt Movies to Rent

2012-01-03T07:11:00.000-08:00

Search all of my movie reviews, instant downloads, and trailers at RentChickFlicks.com.

Life in a Day 2011. Shuffling through movie options one night, the hubs and I clicked on this film out of curiosity, though we agreed to move on once we got bored. Our thought: how good could a YouTube movie really be? And then we couldn't stop watching. Cut together from 4500 hours of YouTube video shot from individuals around the world on July 24, 2010, Life in a Day attempts to document one day of life on earth. Completely engrossing, original, and touching, this is a surprisingly life affirming experience.

Watch it for free here. http://www.youtube.com/lifeinaday?feature=etp-gs-lif-00

The Help 2011. When I fall in love with a book I am always hesitant to watch the movie, mostly because disappointment feels inevitable. There are very few times that the experience of reading a story and watching a story actually fit together. After finally sitting down to watch The Help, I am elated to report that I liked it. Scratch that. I loved it. I won't say that every last detail was true to the novel, but I will say that the movie was vivid and entertaining enough to take on a life of its own. When Skeeter, an aspiring writer in the 1960's South, decides to write a book from the perspective of the help, friendships, inequalities, and the prevailing culture are all put to the test.

Buy it now or watch it instantly.

A New Year's Affirmation Instead

2012-01-02T07:02:00.000-08:00

For me, New Year's is a time to reflect on where I've been and where I'm going. I adore the simplicity of that moment, when a new year arrives to a revelry of kissing strangers and clinking glasses. Whether I am cheering in a noisy crowd or snuggled up on the couch, I send up the same affirmation. I'm still here. I still love. Bring on another year.

2011 brought me to a friendly new life in a small town, marked my second year of marriage, and sent my terrified little manuscript out into the world for edits and critiques. In 2011 I finally got a backyard, my oldest friend got married, and my editor called me a "writer."

In 2012 I will continue on my path towards publication of my first novel. I am closer than ever.

In 2012 I will follow my joy and live as full a life as I can muster.

Please welcome the children of the Agape Orphanage. We Are Together: The Children of the Agape Choir

I first posted this song in February 2010. It has stayed with me ever since.

What is your affirmation for the New Year?

Happy New Year: Silly 2011 in Review

2011-12-26T07:26:00.001-08:00

If you offend easily, turn back now.

Last Minute Holiday Cocktails & My Holiday Wishes For You

2011-12-21T06:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas is upon us, and just like last year, there was not enough time to squeeze in everything. Every cookie baking, Christmas light hanging, and holiday appetizer making miracle did not make it to my house for the holidays. Instead, we focused on the small things that always seem to matter. The tree is up. The cards are out. Our bellies are full. The company is good. And we are happy.

My gift to you this Christmas? Last minute holiday cocktails that you can whip up in a pinch. *I think we all could use one.* Happy Holidays, everyone.

Before my holiday cocktail. Note the super cute apron.

Hot Cocoa for Adults

Prepare your favorite hot chocolate they way you normally would.

Add:

1 shot of Godiva Chocolate Liqueur (you're welcome)
1 shot of Peppermint Schnapps
Whipped Cream optional

*This can also be enjoyed in your after-dinner coffee.

During..

Something Stronger?

Mix equal parts Godiva Chocolate and Peppermint Schnapps.

Rim a pretty glass with sugar and crushed candy cane or garnish with a sprig of fresh mint.

Serve in pretty glass and enjoy.

After my holiday cocktail. Devious grin included.

Apple Cider Mimosa

Mix equal parts chilled Apple Cider and champagne and serve.

*Perfect for a late Christmas breakfast/brunch/lunch.

Stories from Real Women: On Honouring Herself

2011-12-19T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Incidentally, I make these promises to myself but in reality these promises affect my children, my greatest assets and the ones I want to reach the most." -Taslim

The woman: Taslim Jaffer
Her new beginning: Becoming the person she was meant to be.
Where you can find her: www.letmeoutcreative.com

I knew my life had changed the moment that I stepped up to the podium to pour my life story into a microphone that would reach 200 women, most of whom I did not know. I had been asked to share my passion for writing as part of a Celebrating Women event hosted by the Ismaili Council for B.C.’s Women’s Development Portfolio. I was honoured to be asked by my friend who volunteers with this group – honoured and extremely confused. I didn’t quite know how to articulate my journey with writing and I was unsure of what my message really was other than “I love writing.” How many different ways could I say that in the 20 minutes I was allotted?

The same night that I was asked to do this, I was driven from my bed at 5 am by the fear of standing in front of these women without a story. I cocooned myself in my closet, more grateful in that moment than ever that the closet had a light and a footstool on which to prop up my journal. I decided to sit in there with my thoughts and do what I have always done since the time I was 10 years old. I wrote. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote until I finally emerged from my closet, an hour and a half later, with a story that detailed my heartaches, my loss, and my triumphs over the past few years. Writing was the heroine of my story. My Self was my best friend. This message, I knew I had to share with other women who may also have struggled or were struggling with their own lives.

The day that I spoke in front of the large crowd and shared my message will be forever embedded in my life story as a major door-opening experience.

This change opened up an opportunity in my life to finally be the person I was meant to be. I have always been addicted to passions – making lists of my own, dabbling in creative interests here and there, encouraging others to explore their own talents – but I had no idea it could be my way of life, my spiritual practice, if you will. Following my speech, I was astounded by how many women were moved enough to seek me out and thank me, talk to me, question me and share with me. It’s what I have always wanted – dialogue about passion, creative energy and personal journeys. I knew I couldn’t let this stop. It was like a dam had finally burst and I was becoming ME – the creative coach, the writer, the ally. Several months later, Let ME Out!! Releasing Your Creative Self (www.letmeoutcreative.com) was born and has been an enormous source of joy for me. Not only am I hoping to spread joy and passion and support to women and men, this way of life is helping me so much more than I could have ever dreamed. The happiness I am finding in this leg of my journey is spilling over in buckets into my family life and my general outlook on life. I have tapped into something that is an endless source of energy and hope. I feel blessed to have a way of reaching others and helping them uncover their own gifts through writing, speaking and coaching.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is to always check in with my Self and make sure that the path I venture on for the rest of my life always makes me feel happy and balanced. I promise to love and support myself so that I can be my most passionate, creative self. I promise to do my best to take each day, each lesson, each moment as a spiritual practice to help me see the big picture of why I am here and what I am doing. I promise to let myself sit back and enjoy the journey; to let it unfold as much as I work towards manifesting my dreams.

*Share your new beginning. Contact me (see my contact page above on my main nav bar) or leave a comment here.

A Writing Challenge: Something Stolen Part 8

2011-12-16T08:44:00.000-08:00

The Challenge: Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction about a countdown, starting with “Three, two, one.” It could be about anything – New Year’s Eve, gathering your nerve, disciplining your kids. We wanted you to use your imagination and have fun with it. 300 words.

I am writing this post as a continuation of my fiction series, Something Stolen. To catch up on the story please scroll down to the post directly previous to this one. http://www.girlwithanewlife.com/2011/12/my-fiction-series-something-stolen.html

Something Stolen Part 8/Audrey

"Three, two, one!" Dean and a smattering of his coworkers tipped their shot glasses in the air and threw them back. As the liquid ran down his throat, Dean's eyes flickered. "Ugh," he gulped, "what was that?"

The bartender turned his chin down in consolation. "That was the Four Horsemen."" He cleared the discarded shot glasses, casting a knowing glance Dean's way. "Don't drive home tonight."

"Four Horsemen?" Dean staggered. "Like the apocalypse?"

"More like Mr. Beam, Daniels, Walker and Jameson."

From my lone seat at our table, I could see Dean was already struggling to walk. He had left me sitting here for the entire party. "This is a work function," he explained before bee-lining for the bar, "I have to mingle."

Just as I thought he was finally moving in my direction a blond with a plunging neckline intercepted him, tucking her hands around his waist. "Let's have another round," she motioned to the bartender.

Even though Dean threw his hands in the air, like a stick-up, there was a smile rising on each side of his mouth. When he noticed me watching he wrestled it back down, but it was still there, a restrained smirk.

Another round was hoisted in the air and back down again. The blond was speaking low and close to Dean's face. There was only one of her words that made itself audible from my distance. "Again." The possibilities of that word, again, swung in my head like a pendulum. Again. Again. Again.

Half-slamming my purse onto the black granite of the bar, I waved to the bartender. "I'll have one. Or make that two. I need to catch up." Appraising the other men at the party and watching Dean's hand levitate farther down towards the blond, I wondered if I really could—or if I would forgive myself.

My Fiction Series: Something Stolen Parts 1-7

2011-12-16T07:46:00.001-08:00

Something Stolen/Audrey

She had been seeing him secretly. I had known for some time.

Drifting through the perfumed pinkness of Marlena's bedroom, it was clear she still thought of herself as a girl. The lace covered pillows and cloying wallpaper made it difficult to orient myself. Standing in her empty room, our old conversations echoed around me.

"Did his parents like you?" She had posed by the closet door, her slender face turning in profile.

"Yes, I think they did." I couldn't have been more relieved. The entire weekend with my future in-laws had been a flawless success. My engagement ring winked back happily in the sunlight.

"Well I am sure they did, darling." Her voice sank farther back in the closet. "Dean's parents are such nice people. I bet there isn't anyone they don't like. They came to my wedding five years ago, you know."

Marlena always had a way of claiming some part of Dean for herself. Whatever history they shared rolled unsolicited from her frosted lips at all times.

"He probably doesn't tell you about his ex-girlfriends, but he brought one heck of a date to our wedding. Sam and I were so glad when he finally got rid of her." Marlena reappeared with her wedding album propped open. Her long manicured nail pointed to a young photo of Dean with a redhead dangling from his arm. "She was pretty though, wasn't she?" It was yet another stake she was hoping to dig into her territory.

I composed a restrained smile. "Very pretty."

"You can imagine how surprised we were when you came along. He had not mentioned you once." With a heavy thud the album was pushed shut and reabsorbed back into the overstuffed closet. "I guess he wanted to keep you a secret." She sauntered out, folding her arms wide across her chest. "I wonder why that is."

Marlena's bed groaned stiffly beneath me. Seeing her room alone for the first time was a strange epiphany. Each piece of furniture was turned at an uncompromising angle and every surface appeared worn with excessive polish. Despite its frilliness, it was severely composed.

Sam padded into the room quietly. "I'm sure you already know. Marlena and I don't sleep in the same room anymore." His eyes were still red from the news.

"I know, Sam."

"Is this the guy she is sleeping with?" He pulled out a brightly colored wedding photo.

I pointed to the third tux from the left. "That's the one." Thankfully, it wasn't my Dean.

Wanting/Marlena

I spread my fingers out in the grass. The soft blades tickled down my outstretched arm and through my hair. There was something in the sky, maybe a slight pause, a sudden stillness, that told me the rain was coming. I breathed it in, the ripening air, and commended myself for being right about something for once.

Out in the distance I could make out the glow of the house and the distinct warbling of conversation. They were talking about me; I could feel it.

When I was a little girl I used to stretch out here in the field behind my parent's house and sort through every possible outcome for my future. Would I spend my life jet-setting to exotic places? Or would there be a quite suburban home with a handsome husband? From that innocent place in my life it all sounded miraculous. The mere forward momentum of time, even the world churning on its axis, held nothing but promise for me then.

Laying down so close to the earth with the big empty sky rolling over me, I suppose it felt like the best place to speak directly to God. I swore that the world had a pulse and it vibrated there with every whirling hummingbird and every gust of wind--every detail sending a pleasurable tingle shooting through my legs and down to my bare toes. I had once interpreted this all as God's affirmation, that yes, I would have all that I dreamed of.

As the voices from the house grew louder, I knew they had come to that place in the conversation I had been dreading, the one about Sam leaving me.

A long hush fell over the trees, one by one, until the light trickle of rain was all around me. I asked God again what my future had in store for me and I smiled at the rain. All I wanted was to be right for once.

Wanting Part Three/Marlena

It was raining like this when Sam and I first met. From the edge of my textbook his soggy profile pushed into the warm coffee house with the rain battering the door behind him. His pale hair was slicked flat to his head and his clothes were dripping a small puddle at his feet. He might have been more embarrassed except that we all looked the same--all of us frizzy haired refugees from the sudden downpour.

With my physics book propped in front of me and my mascara smudged around my eyes, I was hoping to make myself invisible. Unlike Sam's never-ending calmness, I was a wreck. Being seen anywhere in public in such a state was enough to make me want to crawl out of my own skin. But I had no choice. The rain was coming down in solid sheets. Escape was not an option.

Sam was grinning for no reason in particular, his coffee propped happily in one hand, when he stepped away from the barista stand, lost his traction, and came hurdling toward my textbook fortress. Even as I watched his body lurch forward in slow motion, I shivered at the thought of being discovered by him. He was handsome in every way a college girl wants a man to be handsome. His face was angular and familiar, the kind I had seen advertised in movies and men's razor commercials. He was the kind of man the world had already taught me to want before I understood what it meant to want myself.

His outstretched hand was the first to arrive, folding itself over the top of my book with the perfect squares of his fingernails glinting in rainwater. As his weight pushed my pages flat in front of me it was his chest that came next, landing directly on top of my table with a loud thud. The approximate weight and feel of his muscles were already calculating in some primitive corner of my brain. It was the top of his head that came last, staring me down while the rest of him struggled to get upright. He flopped there like a prized fish, his coffee still balanced in the air next to him, before rearing backward and falling into the chair behind him. We both sat there, wide eyed and breathing hard, facing each other from opposite sides of the table as if on purpose.

"Well that was weird," he chuckled, his brows raising into his forehead. After a long silence his carefully positioned coffee made it finally to his lips and down to our table. "My name is Sam, by the way."

I would spend years of our future marriage trying to demystify that very moment, the one where our first date happened by complete accident. Had Sam really chosen me? Or were we chosen for one another by a wet floor and a lucky chair? Had the rain not intervened that day, would he have even noticed me at all? With Sam it all came too easy to tell. His mood was unflinchingly content. He accepted every happenstance as divine order, including our meeting in the coffee house that day. In all of our years together I would see him unravel only a handful of times, and one of them was the day that he asked me to leave.

With a blue pen he had scribbled his phone number in the palm of my hand with the words "Don't forget about me" inked neatly beneath. I was so terrified of actually calling him that I let his note linger on my palm for days. By the time I finally scrubbed it off the final loop of his "e" had embedded itself permanently in my skin, like a tattoo.

It is still there today, faded and blurry just below my pinkie. And I haven't forgotten about him. Not yet anyway.

Wanting Part Four/Marlena

I used to like the way my jeans looked curled up and abandoned on the floor of Sam's bedroom, back when we couldn't be bothered to stay dressed for very long. Back when five minutes of breathing in each other's atmosphere was all it took to send us careening into a horizontal position with our clothes torn from our bodies. Things were easier then.

"I promise to be gentle." That was all he had said on our first night together. I remember it distinctly because there would be few words spoken in bed after that, I suppose because none were required. The intent stare in his eyes, the way they glossed over as if he was almost on the verge of crying, they were all the confirmation I needed. I knew he loved me long before he made the tender confession.

My favorite part of his young body was his shoulders. They stood wide and solid against him. In the mornings I would snuggle up to his chest and lay my head there, over a strong shoulder, feeling safe and peaceful for once. Those moments were always rare for me--feeling safe, that is.

He must have assumed I was a virgin, though I never bothered to correct him. It was sweet watching him handle me so carefully. His fingers working me lightly. His hands pulling me into place. The strain of the muscles in his chest as he propped himself over me. How precious and delicate he must have thought me to be.

I used to adore being treated that way.

In our married years, those shoulders, my once beloved shoulders, had slouched lower on his body, shrinking somewhere more pathetic, cowering even. His smiley optimism had not changed outwardly. He still laughed with confidence over his old dreams. "It is only a matter of time, Marlena," he assured me, "before business picks up." But behind all of his late nights hocking potted plants and yard decor, few customers were hiring him out for landscaping, and that is, according to Sam, where the bread and butter was. Betraying the happy song on his voice, it was weariness that drooped from his shoulders.

Somewhere between his pretend happiness and my inability to play along with him, we grew apart from one another. Not on the outside, mind you. On this inside. Our interludes in the bedroom had become scheduled ordeals, each of us arriving showered, shaved and already in pajamas. My jeans folded neatly in a drawer somewhere. No words exchanged. How tidy and organized we had become.

Still, there were his eyes. Those watery emotional eyes. And he still loved me, despite everything I did wrong. Everything I would do wrong.

Something Stolen Part Five/Audrey

I watched from across the street as Marlena and her new guy tripped into the tattoo parlor bleary eyed and grabbing at one another. "Poor Sam," I said aloud to myself, clicking another photo from my blackberry with the flash turned off. Sam and Marlena had only been separated for a month now.

The Blazing Saddle. That was the name blinking in indigo and orange colored flames just next door. Mostly filled with middle aged regulars still dusty from a hard day's work and a mechanical bull that hadn't functioned since the 80's, this is where I had caught her the first time.

Laughter ricocheted from inside the parlor where Marlena's friend had laid himself across the tattoo bench and began unbuttoning his shirt--his grin slanting wickedly. Marlena was pointing to the inside of her palm, though I couldn't make out why.

The sidewalk was covered in snow when I was here last, following Marlena to the parking lot where she and a surly bar patron pulled into the backseat of a Cadillac. Why was I following her? I imagine it had something to do with the way she looked at me and my Dean. There was jealousy there; I could see that. But jealousy I was used to. What irked me most was that look of disbelief, the slightest raise of her eyebrows and that knowing smirk that implied: Sam and I used to be just like you. That was the look that burned a hole in the bottom of my stomach and kept me awake at nights staring into Dean's face.

"Are you going to stay with me?" I would sometimes whisper to Dean's sleepy profile, curling my engagement ring to my lips. He never answered, of course, but I always hoped he would, as if his sleep would render him irrevocably honest.

I stole another photo of Marlena from across the street. "I am nothing like her," I assured myself.

With numb fingers I composed the text.

Angry. I’m so angry. Sorry Sam. Marlena. She’s done it again. Have proof. Different man this time. Following her since 1am. Can’t stop. Please tell me to stop.

I never hit send.

Wanting Part Six/Marlena

Charlie was everything that Sam wasn't: unsure, flawed, and desperate. With smooth dark hair always slick from his laps in the pool and lean sinewy muscles, Charlie had the makings of a Greek statue, except for his nose. His nose was unforgiving with gaping nostrils and a knotted bridge from which the rest of it came jutting forward. The combination of these qualities, beautiful and strange, played on my sympathetic impulses--impulses rarely stirred by Sam's unwavering perfection.

It was on a crisp Fall night, after leaving Sam and Charlie's dorm room, that I discovered Charlie's letter stuck inside the pocket of my red wool coat. His words were scribbled in small shaky script, "Since your heart belongs to Sam I will never say these words to you in person. I love you." That was all. No flowery poetry. No grandiose musings. Just those two sentences and his name signed at the bottom. If only I hadn't wished for him, then I could hold myself unaccountable.

From that moment on it was always his face, that pleading puppy-dog face, that would greet me quietly with eyes cast downward. It was that face that would stare longingly as he rose from the edge of the pool fresh from each victory. We never spoke of the letter, but we didn't have to. His face was enough.

On my wedding day Charlie finally charged into my dressing room and put his lips against mine. Soft and searching, he held me there for a long time, as if dangling me in a dancer's pose. My back arched, my arms extended, my toes pointed--his graceful body carried me on its fingertips. He almost seemed as if he were going to say something then, his eyes big and inquisitive and his mouth forming silent words, but he never quite finished. Instead he placed me on my feet, tugged on his tuxedo jacket, and walked away. The exchange was painfully brief, just like his letter had once been.

When I saw Charlie again, now paunchy from middle age, and he pulled me into the backseat of his battered old Cadillac, he beamed at me with that look as intensely devoted as ever. Naked and smiling he whispered, "I think I am going to start swimming again. Be young again. For you."

Tucked inside Charlie's embrace, I wanted to feel new.

Something Stolen Part 7/Audrey

"Why do you care so much?" Dean's hand fell to the small of my back, guiding me through the revolving door with his body pressed behind me. As we emerged into the lobby a scarlet clad bellhop nodded his approval. Dean reciprocated with his usual, a self-congratulatory half-smile.

"Because Sam is a good friend of ours. If Marlena is unfaithful to him, and we know about it..." My voice retreated to a whimper.

"I still don't understand what's got you so upset. I mean, you barely know Marlena. And they are separated now." A low rumble of conversation and a tinkling of silverware summoned us from the end of the wood-paneled hallway. "If I have to listen to another late night of you ranting about Marlena and whatever new boyfriend she has... Can we let it go already. She and Sam are finished. Game over."

I tugged at the bun pinned tightly to my scalp. A headache was already throbbing at my temples. The body shaping torture device beneath my dress wasn't helping things either, though I was pleased with the little trick it played--making me look thinner than I felt.

"Audrey..." Dean's fingers snapped me to attention. The ballroom doors stood directly in front of us. His co-workers were spread throughout, some leaning over tables and others surveying the room from the edges. There was his hand again, guiding me inside. "Just smile and be friendly." He muttered at my ear before launching himself forward for a round of handshakes.

Dragging him towards the bar, the women were quick to rally Dean's attention. The few to look in my direction appraised me with their mouths tightened into apologetic slits before moving cautiously out of my earshot. Tucked together in corners, their glances darted at me between whispers.

"Everyone does not hate you," Dean would assure me, again. Yet my nagging headache remained. The words swirled in my head, the ones Dean had refused. Unfaithful is unforgivable.

Repurposing Costume Jewelry for Xmas Decor & Me No Martha Stewart

2011-12-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

My simple wreath & bow prior to my cats tearing it down.

On reading an article about the day in the life of Martha Stewart, the difference between my life and hers couldn't be more laughable. It goes a little something like this.

Martha 4:59 a.m.: Somewhere in Martha-land an elite personal trainer is whipping one famous butt into shape.

Me 4:59 a.m.: I am still dreaming of the butter pecan ice cream I ate last night. The extra calories have lodged somewhere in my butt.

Martha 8:30 a.m.: A productive morning ensues. Tantalizing food products are brought fourth from Martha's personal farm to create an energizing breakfast. Her morning pedicure goes off without a hitch.

Me 8:30 a.m.: Pink robe. Morning coffee. Cleaning up cat puke.

Martha Day End: After a full day of meetings, Martha makes a glamorous appearance on the red carpet.

Me Day End: After a full day writing at my computer, I realize I forgot to shave my legs. And my husband is out of clean undies. Crap.

You get the picture.

Still, I think I have something to offer. Sanity. I really don't have time to be perfect.

My latest idea: Repurposing my old costume jewelry earrings into glittery Xmas Ornaments.

I wrapped the ornament hook between the earring and the backing.

(My palm Xmas tree above.) What are you repurposing this Xmas?

PS While I am running a little slower than usual, if you leave a comment I promise to return the visit.

Last Minute Holiday Look: 25 Ways to Add a Scarf

2011-12-09T10:48:00.001-08:00

If you are like me, you have a few holiday gatherings to attend and don't want to be seen in the same look twice. My affordable wardrobe stretcher? Colorful scarves. I found this video and I knew I needed to share. My simple black dress just got an upgrade.

I can't wait to try Infinity, The Mira, and The Celebrity.

Decorating for Christmas: White, Gold & Chocolate

2011-12-05T07:03:00.001-08:00

Me? I love the color red. When the holidays come around I can't get enough of it. Red poinsettias. Red ornaments. Red table cloth. Red tree skirt. I am all. Over. It.

This year feels different. Maybe it is because we have an ailing family member this holiday. Maybe it is because I am feeling more worn out than usual. Whatever the case, this year I am craving a quiet palette of white, gold, and chocolate.

I think the addition of a crisp white plate on a gold charger would set this off. Maybe some tea lights. This is the day time look.

The table: antique candy jars, handmade (recycled) place mats, thrifted ornaments, silver snowmen salt and pepper shakers, and my old ornament hanger from Target.

Night time. All dressed up and no place to go.

We bought these pre-lit palm trees at Lowe's. These were a snap to assemble and only took about 20 ornaments to cover. Cue the holiday music. Mele Kalikimaka...

What are you craving this holiday season?

PS I am slowing down my posts for the month of December while I dedicate more time to my novel-seeking-publication and attend to my family. As always, if you leave a comment here I promise to return the visit.

Photos from My Trip to Florida

2011-11-30T18:34:00.001-08:00

There is something luxurious in the familiar, a luxury I don't often enjoy in my tumbleweed existence. Here are a few random images from my journey home to Florida.

The clouds in Florida really are epic. They are like mountains.

A papaya tree in my parent's yard.

Dad's cat keeping an eye on things.

My cranberry and pear dessert with cream cheese topping. (One of the few recipes my Mother has embraced.)

How was your holiday?