Drowning in Sweet Tea

I have wavy hair. And my whole life I’ve blow-dried it and then styled it with another heated tool to get rid of the frizz created by blow-drying it straight.

Basically it starts off wavy, then gets straight and frizzy, then gets curled and smoothed.

It’s very time-consuming. Which is why sometimes I’ll quit halfway through the process and come to work with hair that was only blow-dried and thus frizzy. And I’ll see myself in the mirror and wonder why I didn’t just put forth the extra effort to style it further.

But who has time for that?

So, I recently started washing my hair in the morning, drying it about half-way, then letting it air-dry the rest of the way. When I do this, the wave stays but the frizz goes away. It’s pretty awesome.

In other girlie news, I got a manicure and pedicure last Friday. My boss saw me in full-on yawn mode – I was leaning back in my chair, arms up in the air, mouth WIDE OPEN. And he told me to go home early. He said with all of my traveling, I had put in enough hours and to have a nice afternoon. I had no idea what to do with my time, but I looked down and saw my dry (and, ok, bloody) cuticles and headed to the nail salon.

A company recently came out with the most ah-may-zing fingernail product ever: shellac. It’s like a gel polish, so you get the gel perks without the negatives: the color stays on for two weeks and your nails are strong and shiny… but when the polish is removed (in minutes!), your nails are still healthy! And it’s better than a regular manicure because about 30 seconds (seriously) after your nails are painted, they’re perfectly dry and you’re ready to go.

I love the stuff.

I rarely get manicures as is, but I especially hated paying when, two days later, my nails would be chipped and look like crap. Now I pay $5 more and my nails look great for two weeks or more.

Like I said: ah-may-zing.

I have a Godiva rewards card, which means once a month I walk into a Godiva store, whip out my card and get a free piece of chocolate.

A FREE PIECE OF CHOCOLATE, people!!!

And it’s a piece of chocolate of my choice – it’s not like they hand me something from the bargain bin.

Every month I select a double chocolate raspberry truffle, which is amazing. I’m obsessed with the raspberry filling, so much so that I actually peel the dark chocolate layer off of the outside, leaving only the raspberry puree goodness on the inside. I then scoop it out and eat it all by itself. Like, the filling is so perfect, I don’t want it tainted with any other flavor. I only want the raspberry.

It’s ridiculous.

I’m ridiculous.

I’m also pretty unhappy right now.

Allan and I are on vastly different pages regarding the house situation. He has nearly backed-off of the idea completely (for a few months at least) while I want to keep pushing forward. The conflict it’s causing in my marriage is as intense as it’s ever been. We’re not in a great place as a couple.

This is no mountain to overcome – it’s a hill – but we haven’t ever really dealt with that before. We’ve been through two lay-offs together, which is much more serious an issue, but we were on the same page then. He went into support mode and I went into find-a-new-job mode. We were on the same team. Anytime anything bad or crappy or mildly annoying has happened, we’ve gotten through it together.

This time, we’re on opposing teams.

Or we’re on the same team, but we’re scrimmaging against each other.

And this is all natural and normal. It’s something couples go through. No one has a marriage without getting some bumps and bruises along the way. It will be a footnote in the history book of our marriage. Nothing more. But right now it sucks.

While at Jason’s, we went to a park with a working farm. I took some photos, as I tend to do…

I believe in gay marriage, and I believe in using humor to make a point. I didn’t write this, but wish I did.

Here’s the deal. I’ve achieved international fame by famously and internationally discussing the irrelevant issues of the day that others are too afraid, or unaware of, to address. But occasionally a topic is so prevalent in the nation’s discourse that I must weigh in.

Marriage is a sacred institution. A sacred institution that can only be entered into by a man and a woman who are dedicated to spending the rest of their lives together. Or a man and a woman who are somewhat attracted to each other and figure, what the heck. Or a man and a woman who got drunk and wandered into the Best Little Wedding Chapel in Vegas. But it is not, not, to be entered into by a man and a man or a woman and a woman.

As my favorite marriage-defending group, the National Organization for Marriage, points out, “Gays and lesbians have a right to live as they choose, they don’t have the right to redefine marriage for all of us.” Sure, marriage used to be a primarily economic arrangement and we’re now redefining it…but, like we said, homosexuals don’t have the right to redefine marriage, only straight people have that right (wow, it seems like there are a lot of rights that only heterosexuals have…lucky us).

NOM goes on to make another enlightened and excellent point, “Do we want to teach the next generation that one-half of humanity—either mothers or fathers—are dispensable, unimportant? Children are confused enough right now with sexual messages. Let’s not confuse them further.” That’s exactly right. Unfortunately, our children are very stupid and are easily confused. “One child…TWO moms?!? Whaaat?!?” You should see us try and explain divorce to our slow-witted offspring. “One family…two parents…in different places?!? Whaaat?!?” Or when we try to teach them about Twix, “One candy bar…two crispy, crunchy cookies, smooth creamy chocolate, and delicious chewy caramel?!? Whaaat?!?”

And homosexuals simply aren’t committed to the idea of marriage. Sure, they’ve been organizing and fighting for this basic human right for decades. But when we straight people get married…we stick with it nearly half the time! Now that’s commitment.

There are so many foolproof arguments for why homosexuals should not be allowed to be happy. As has been pointed out by many level-headed, thoughtful conservatives, we must honor the historical tradition of marriage as being a covenant between a man and a woman. For those of you who point out that same sex marriages are documented as early as Ancient Rome, I simply reply, “We’re talking, of course, about the history of marriage that doesn’t conflict with our very limited world view, thank you very much.”

And how can you discard the fact that the Bible explicitly states that being gay is a serious no-no? Everyone knows that if it appears in the Bible it must be true. That’s why Numbers 22:28, in which a talking donkey asks his master why he’s hitting him, proved to me that Shrek is non-fiction and Mr. Ed is a prophet.

I, for one, agree with legislators who have stated that gay marriage is “contaminating,” “abominable,” and “if allowed would pollute America.” Never mind the fact that these quotes are actually from great legal minds of the 1960’s. And that they are referring to the radical notion of members of opposite races getting married. People were convinced that allowing the races to intermingle would destroy the institution of marriage. And they were right. It did. It ruined it. And now the gays will double ruin it. And some of these gay people are probably from different races. That will triple ruin marriage!

I don’t know why they ever allowed different ethnicities to marry. Or why Asians are allowed to marry at all. And I’m sure that everyone who is against gay marriage agrees with me. After all, they’re the same arguments we made last time. And they make just as much sense.

Come on, the whole point of getting married is to have children. And, as open-minded, political failure Rick Santorum famously pointed out, a child is better off with a father in prison than they would be growing up with two mommies and no father at all. While I agree with everything Santorum has ever said, I’ll take it a step further…I firmly believe that a child would be better off if they themselves were raised in prison than if they were raised by two lawless gays.

Think about it. Who makes a better parent? A loving same sex couple who chooses parenthood and works hard to make it happen? Or two irresponsible teens who were too embarrassed to buy condoms? Sure, nearly half of all heterosexual pregnancies are unplanned, and zero percent of gay families are unplanned, but so what? If there’s one thing that every child needs more than caring, dedicated parents, it’s to have both types of genitals represented in the household.

And just imagine what would happen if we allowed gay people to get married. As nurturing, unprejudiced pundit Bill O’Reilly and others have pointed out…it’s a slippery slope. If we allow men to marry men and women to marry women, what’s next? O’Reilly and company worry that this will lead to people marrying turtles, dogs, ducks, dolphins and other animals. And what rational human being wouldn’t come to this conclusion? Remember when we decided that African Americans had the right to attend the same school as honkies? And the next thing you know, everybody was demanding that dogs and turtles be allowed to attend those very same schools?

And this interspecies marriage just raises so many more questions. Is it possible to marry a duck and not invite the Aflac mascot to the ceremony? And we all know that Daffy and Donald don’t get along…the seating would be a nightmare. What kind of gifts do you bring to a human/dolphin wedding…flatware or raw fish? And why are Bill O’Reilly and his buddies always thinking about bestiality?

Clearly, marriage is only meant for straight people. And it’s my humble opinion that we should exercise this right as often as possible. While we all know that 0% of gay people should be allowed to marry even once, 27% of married straights are already on their second try. And record holder Linda Wolfe (who has been married 23 times), recently quipped, “It’s been years since I walked down the aisle. I miss it.” Homosexuals are fortunate, that’s a problem they don’t have. After all, you can’t miss what you never had. And it’s yet another reason that gay people shouldn’t be allowed to get married. They have no experience. They won’t be good at it. You can tell we heteros are accomplished marriers because we do it so often.

And I think future generations will prove me right. If there’s one historic consistency it’s that whenever a powerful majority limits or eliminates the rights of a minority…they’re always correct to do so.

I don’t know why these people chose to be gay in the first place. It is, of course, a choice. Just as being heterosexual is a choice. I’m sure we all remember that time in our lives when we sat down and weighed the pros and cons of both lifestyles. I know I remember when I chose to be straight. I was thirteen and we’d just gone over that lesson in Health Class where the teacher taught us about how to choose our sexuality. If I decided to go gay, I’d have a better fashion sense and could hang up one of those pretty rainbow flags. But if I decided to be straight, I wouldn’t be harassed and hated by bigots everywhere whose own insecurities and ignorance become my pain.

It seemed like a pretty easy decision. So, to the dismay of women everywhere, I chose to be straight. Which means I can someday get married. And then, some later day, get married again. And I can also decide which other people should and shouldn’t be allowed to get married. And I’ve decided that gay people should not be allowed to ruin my sacred institution with their love.

After all, marriage is about sharing a commitment. Marriage is about sharing your life with someone. Marriage is about sharing a mutual respect. And we’ll be damned if we’re going to share it with anyone.

Good job, Makya Mcbee.

The house fell through. Less than a week after we signed the contract, it was over. I’m beyond disappointed. I cried. A lot. It was a dream house, an absolute dream house – everything about it. But for a variety of reasons, it didn’t work out. We got our escrow back, so we really didn’t lose anything, but I still feel like I lost a lot.

What I gained, though, was a reminder that I love my husband beyond measure. I absolutely love that man.

And I miss him.

When all of this was happening – the will we/won’t we – he and I were physically apart, which made things a million times harder. We spent two days together this weekend, but we’re back to being apart until Wednesday night, which sucks.

And the falling apart of the house situation couldn’t have had worse timing – not only were Allan and I apart, but I was with my brother and his family. A time that should have been joy compounded by more joy was just a mess.

Last week was shitty. Here’s to hoping the rest of the summer isn’t.

We weren’t even supposed to be looking at houses, let alone buying one. But we did, and we did.

We bought a house.

Technically.

We’re under contract, scheduled to close on May 30, my late grandmother’s birthday. I like that. I’ll pretend she had some sort of hand in this, and you know, maybe she did.

We’re nervous, overwhelmed, and are incredibly excited. It’s our beyond-our-dreams house.

I’m a bit of a hoarder. Actually, I don’t know if that’s the word I’m looking for. I’m a saver. I’m a never-user. I’m a buy-and-only-look-er.

My problem mainly pertains to beauty products.

I’m bringing this up now because last night, while de-cluttering my closet, I found an entire bin full of shampoos and conditioners that I never used. Never even opened. There were still seals on some of the bottles. And this was expensive stuff, stuff that’s more than $10 per bottle. (I think if you spend more than $5 on a bottle of something to clean your hair, it’s expensive.)

Why didn’t I use it? I didn’t want to waste it. So I bought it – some of it a million years ago when I was in London – and kept it in bins and closets while I continued to use my Herbal Essences (approximately $4 per bottle). I was so afraid I’d never again be able to afford it, that I only wanted to use it on special occasions. Special occasions, of course, that never came.

And now that I’m writing about this and thinking it through, what the hell is a special occasion for shampoo? For conditioner? Obviously over the course of the past several years, I never figured it out. And I had to trash the shampoo because it, um, it congealed.

I also found make-up in the bin. Beautiful, expensive make-up in gorgeous shades of plum and chocolate and smoky grey. Barely used. Stored away for special occasions. Probably crawling in bacteria now because I hardly touched it.

And I found perfume.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

Nearly every bottle – every old, old bottle – was 98% full. Saved for a special occasion because if I used it on ordinary days, and used it up until it was gone, I would never, ever be able to get it again.

A few years ago – coming up on two – Allan bought me my very favorite shampoo and conditioner. He got me the biggest bottles Aveda made and each cost around $30. Yes, $30. They’re really big bottles, though. And when you open the bottle, the smell of heaven comes out. Seriously.

I only use the shampoo on non-work days. On work days I use the $4 Pantene 2-in-1. I do this because it saves me time in the morning… but also because it calms my mental unease. I can’t use expensive shampoo EVERY DAY! How wasteful!

I’m about ¾ of the way through the shampoo and conditioner, but it’s been a struggle. Every time I shower, I have to literally talk myself into using the Aveda stuff. I have a conversation with myself. I tell myself that I should enjoy using it, that if I run out, I can buy more. In fact, as incentive to get me to use it regularly, Allan has promised me that the minute it runs out, he will buy me more. And still, I struggle.

I’m having better luck with my new perfume. Every morning I spritz myself. I used to only do one spray per day, but now I do two. Two whole spritzes of Burberry London perfume. I’ve had it for about five months, and I’m about 1/15th of the way through the bottle. And you know what? Once it’s gone, I can buy more. It’s okay. I can get more.

Any therapists reading this blog? If so, help.

I like to take pictures. Scratch that. I love to take pictures. I take them all the time. I take pictures of nothing and everything. I’m not very good at it, but it’s one of my favorite things.

I also love to edit them. And I’m not particularly good at that, either.

Earlier today I was cleaning off my drive, getting photos for work (I’m a back-up corporate photographer, remember?), and I found these random shots.

In about 20 minutes I’m going to walk down to the lobby of the Sheraton in Atlanta, hail a cab and be on my merry way.

I was here for a journalists conference.

I’m (kinda, sorta) a writer, remember?

Though I had a travel companion for my first day, he left yesterday morning and I was by myself. While I was chatty with folks at the conference, when it came time to the exploration of Atlanta, I was on my own.

Considering how fearful of everything I am, you may be surprised to learn that when traveling – whether with someone or alone – I never stay in my hotel room. I always suck up my pride and roam around new places.

Yesterday I visited Centennial Olympic Park and the CNN Center. Had I known that the CNN Center offered tours of the studio, I would have headed in that direction first. By the time I got there, the tours had already ended for the day.

I was, however, able to give smooches to the Anderson Cooper cardboard cut-out. Yes, he’s probably gay. And yes, I’m definitely married. But I still think we can make it work.

I think we can make it work, Anderson!

Anyway.

I ate dinner by myself yesterday. It was my second time doing so, and I have to say, my wedding rings made it easier.

I’m always afraid that when people see me eating (or exploring) by myself, it’s because I’m alone in the world. That I have no friends, no family, no one to love me. But my rings are proof that, in fact, I am not alone. They don’t always prove love (though in this case they do), but they’re an outward sign of commitment and partnership. So whether I’m dining alone, roaming alone, shopping alone, etc… my rings give me a certain comfort about the perception people may have about me.

I shouldn’t care what people think, I know this. But I’m human and I do.

In other news, I think our house hunt is going to kick-off sooner than expected. Allan, my normally reserved, calm, thoughtful husband, couldn’t help himself and sent me houses to look at. And, well, he opened the floodgates. So, we have five on our list to see this week, plus one house that hasn’t yet been built. There are pros and cons to new construction, but it’s worth looking at. We plan to grow old in this house, so we really need to explore every option to ensure we make the right decision.

Four minutes till I’m airport-bound! Peace out, Interweb!

Oh, man, I’m sleepy.

These past few days have been a whirlwind, and I’m still in the middle. This is my first – and last – full day in the office this week because I spent two days in DC and tomorrow morning I leave for Atlanta. I’ll be back on Sunday, then normal life resumes… for a week.

I leave May first for DC (again) and don’t return until May 9th. The downside is that I’ll be away from home for a bazillion days. The upside is that I’ll get to spend five of those days with a chubby little redhead I know (Logan!).

Plus, Allan’s coming up for the weekend, so I won’t be without him that entire time. He’s my favorite person, in case you didn’t know.

It’s been hard reining in the house search stuff. In fact, I haven’t opened a house-hunting site since we got approval to rent. I’ve resisted and resisted and RESISTED. I feel like a thoroughbred waiting for the gates to open. It’s been so hard to stand still when buying a house is probably one of the most exciting things I’ll ever get to do, but with all of my traveling (which is for work, btw), it doesn’t make sense to start now.

What we have done, though, is engage with several property management companies. And today, I think we’re going to sign with one, which is the first step in all of this.

Forward progress. I like it.

Even though the to-do list in front of me is long and daunting, I’m smiling from ear to ear.

Yeah, we have to take a hard look at finances, and yeah, we have to finally fix the ceiling in the guest bathroom (the one that I fell through), and yeah, we have to come to some sort of agreement on exactly how many bedrooms we want.

But we’re moving!!!

(Eventually!!!)

Last night, in a stunning turn of events, we were granted permission to rent our townhouse, which means we get to buy a new house. We get to put down roots and start a family and watch that family grow in between those four walls.

I’m thrilled and nervous and so, so excited.

We really do have a long list ahead of us. There’s so much to do before we even start looking at houses again, but we get to look at houses again!

Me (calling Allan):
So, here’s how I operate. I just read an article about the Titanic, which made me realize that more than half of the people on the ship died. And then I wondered if we would have died if we were on the Titanic. Which made me think about you and how much I love you, so I called to say I love you. I love you!

Allan:
We would have died on the Titanic because we would have been the poor people in the bottom of the ship.

Me:
No “I love you, too?”

Howdy, blog. Long time no write. I haven’t felt like it. I’ve been in an HOA-induced funk.

Although I’m emerging from the funk with optimism and hope, I don’t have enough optimism to tell you why I’m feeling optimistic and thus run the risk of jinxing anything.

Let’s see how many times I can squeeze the word ‘optimism’ in a sentence, shall we?

Or not.

So, Easter was nice. I received some thoughtful treats from my husband the Easter Bunny – a ton of marshmallow bunnies, a Target necklace and a gigantic tube of watermelon Lipsmackers. We’re not trying to make Easter into Christmas or anything, but since our only baby is The Moo Dog, we get each other baskets filled with little treats.

I also got something super special this weekend, something I’ve had my eye on for nine years. It’s a piece of antique jewelry – a princess ring – and I saw one for the first time way back in 2003. I’ve been on the lookout for one of my own ever since.

I only found out what they were called – and that they were antiques – about 18 months ago. Prior to that, I’d walk into jewelry stores and ask about a ring with a yellow gold band, flat silver and some sort of intricate design. Of course, no one ever had them, nor did they know what I was talking about.

Then, like I said, 18 months ago, I saw a jewelry store sales girl wearing one. She’s the one who clued me in to their name and history, so I shifted my search to antique jewelry stores both online and in person. I went into stores all over this state and finally found my ring on Saturday in an antique store less than 15 minutes from my house. I think it’s perfect. It’s better than I could have hoped for – it’s a big, delicate, simple and ornate ring. And it fits perfectly.

I love that it’s antique. I love that in the 1940′s someone was given this ring and now, almost 75 years later, it’s on my finger. I love that I’m tied to all of the people who wore it before me, and I would love to know its story and their stories. I never will, though. It’ll forever be a mystery, which kind of makes it even more appealing.

(yes, I know, I need a manicure)

I really, really love my dog.

Allan and I bought a whopping $5 worth of Mega Millions lottery tickets this evening. If we win the $640 million jackpot, it will have been a good investment, right? Hell, if we win $10 it will have been a good investment!

In case you’re wondering, this is what I would do if I won the lottery:

That’s really about as far as I get with my list. Having that sort of money is literally beyond my wildest dreams.

I know it’s basically a waste to spend money on lottery tickets, and we generally only drop a dollar or two on them when the jackpot goes over $200 million, but it’s fun. It’s fun to try to imagine what in the world I could do if I could afford to do anything – absolutely anything – I wanted.

I decided to start drinking a Slim Fast shake for breakfast. Not necessarily as a weight-loss measure – though I could stand to have some loss of weight – but to prevent myself from eating so damn much sugar in the morning.

Here’s what I usually do.

I stroll over to the corporate cafeteria, conveniently located just across a driveway from my building. I chat with Alan, I scoop some oatmeal into a little, paper bowl. I then add sugar. Heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar. Then I add a little more oatmeal, then a lot more sugar. I then bebop over to the cream and fill a little plastic container full of the stuff (to later be dumped on my oatmeal). I pay Washington $.80, grab my spoon and some napkins, then I sit at my desk and slurp the oatmeal over the course of the next hour.

Dude, it’s so good. So creamy and sweet and sweet and good. Yes, I meant to say sweet twice there to emphasize that my oatmeal is SWEET.

And of course it’s sweet. It’s almost half sugar.

Mmmm…. Sugar.

I know it’s not good for me. I know it’s really, really not good for me. So while grocery shopping this weekend – which I hate, in case you didn’t see my tweet – I grabbed some Slim Fast breakfast shakes.

I was good on my way to work this morning – I drank the shake in my car. I had to get an early start because I had an 8:30 meeting in a different building.

It was an important meeting full of dignitaries from the Ministry of Health in Indonesia and our new CEO. Because it was an important meeting, they had good breakfast items. Items from Panera. Items like danishes and croissants. Croissants filled with chocolate.

I grabbed one. Well, I grabbed two.

I took a Danish with cheese and cherries and I grabbed a chocolate croissant. The idea was to cut each in half and have the best of both worlds. But I took one bite of the chocolate croissant and knew that I made a mistake by grabbing the Danish. I should have grabbed two croissants and left the Danish in the box.

So, I ate my chocolate croissant, gave the Danish to a coworker, and here I sit feeling guilty. Guilty because I had the Slim Fast shake, dammit! That should have been enough! I should have ignored the croissants and the danishes and all of the other goodies and reminded myself that I had a (not so) yummy shake just a few minutes earlier.

But I have no self control. Zip. Zilch. Zero. No, seriously, I don’t. Ask anyone who knows me. I cannot resist candy/sweets/pastries. Can’t do it.

I cut myself a little slack this morning, though. I felt like I needed a little pick-me-up, even if only in the form of chocolate.

Why?

The HOA board denied our petition to rent our house. We found out this weekend.

Our hardship is not hard enough. We need something bigger, something worse than having to write a check for $25,000 to be allowed to rent our house.

OUR house.

Ours.

Not the HOA’s.

I am beyond upset.

I’m having a bad weekend, but wanted to share this good story.