Back to school shopping necessity

I’m a sick woman. Really. There is a strange part of me that actually looks forward to back to school shopping. I will absolutely admit that I am completely living vicariously through my daughter. There is just something incredibly giddy fun about heading off to the store with that seemingly random list. You know, that list that I assume is compiled sometime in February when the 18th teacher that year utters the words, “What do you mean there’s no more &{]#%+! markers!” the one that should be emailed out to every local Target and Walmart but is, strangely, not.

My daughter is in 1st grade so I should have some endurance and tolerance this year. Phase One of the back to school shopping was the school supplies but this year Phase Two was introduced. Sometime this summer my daughter discovered that she is, in fact, a girl. GASP! Cute outfits exist and she must have them. This I am not ready for.

This turns a trip to Target in a strange experiment in Darwimism. Imagine five families all trying to find the same pair of shoes in various sizes that are marked down to $4.24. After a lengthy argument with my daughter that, in all reality, the best way of determining whether a shoe will fit you is it on your foot as opposed to putting your foot on the little plastic mat with the shoes sizes on them I realized a few things.

First, what the hell happened to having actually shoe sizers? Those metal contraptions with the sliding heel that told you how big your foot was? Those. Second, from the last week in July to the first week in August Target have a Bloody Mary bar set up somewhere in between the school supplies and the shoes. I don’t care what they charge for them, I would line up cash in hand. I have a feeling I would not be the only one in that line. Just a hunch.

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And we’re…..back.

It’s been a long time, kids. Let’s start with the obvious. Where the heck have I been? Why such a long absence? Do I not love you anymore? What up, G? To quote Inigo Montoya, “Let me explain. No, not enough time. Let me sum up.”

This is technically my second blog although I moved all of the content over here so you’ll see years of my ramblings and pontifications, struggles and successes. I started his new blog because I felt some odd need to have structure and organization and to write for a purpose and to help others. I thought I could share the heinous mistakes and joys I’ve experienced and maybe other could take something away from that. It was a nice idea.

What I found is that writing became more of an obligation that a desire, need or love. I felt pushy and like I had to be something in particular instead of just, well, me. My desire to help people never left. I started spending more time on that than on the blog. I took life coaching classes, started a podcast, did a workshop or two. Again, a nice idea.

However, I work 40+ hours a week. Finding time to do everything started to take it’s toll. Then I took an unpaid interim position that I’m stillin as the Executive Director of a non-profit whose Board I have served on for three years. Add 20 hours to my week. The question remains to be seen, “Why if I have all this on my plate have I come back to the blog?’

It’s simple. I need to. I’ve realized that before I was writing for people I thought needed it when all along it’s me that needs it more than anyone else. I have been months without a true creative outlet and way to get what is in my head out of my brain. I’ve realized that by humanly and genuinely sharing those heinous mistakes and joys that I can leave it up to the reader to take away what they want, not what I want them to take away.

So came back to you hat in hand. Instead of me asking you to let me into your life, I am asking you to join me and to be part of mine. You may not need me, but I do need you. I want to hear your atta-girls, aha moments, criticism and insight and, more importantly, I want to hear your stories as well. Come. Sit. Stay a while. If you don’t I will break into “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” and no one needs that. More to come.

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7492 comments? Really?

So I am being horribly spammed right now and can’t even figure out how to stop it. Literally, I have 7492 comments to mark as spam or delete. Not liking the word press right now…

I have been away for quite some time. I am working ona total life reinvention. It’s going to be a long process and a lot of work. I am going non-stop from 5:15 to 10:15 everyday. The good thing is that the work I’m doing is not only going to pay off in the end for me but is going not that bad to do.

Essentially, I am starting my own business next year. I have come to the overwhelming realization that the corporate 8 to 5 culture is not for me. I need to find my own path and finally do what I really WANT to do. So, now starts the overhaul to get there. I want to go “live” on January 1st, and have a lot of work to get there. I am trying to move my life into a place where my work steps from and is steeped in creativity, so I’m doing a lot of soul searching and internal work on myself to figure out how to do that and abnadon fears.

We live so closely in a world that we create out of our fears of doing waht we really want because it just doesn’t seem feasible. We live with the safety net and like to stay comfortable. I am going to be very far outside of my comfort zone for a while and I must say that I’m really quite excited about the idea.

I’m doing a lot of reading and journaling, which has taken me away from this blog. But I have missed it as it’s been one of my joys for a long time. So hopefully this post means that my road has led back to a familiar spot but that this new road meets the old and the come together beautifully.

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So Vanessa, what’s with the yoga?

I know, I have long railed against the yoga. I have not so much mocked it as my ability to do it, especially publically. Me doing yoga in public must be amusing for others by totally mortifying for me. So my am I doing it? Easy: I need to chill the hell out.

After taking my first vacation in 8 years, I gained a little perspective. First, the fact that I had taken my last week long vacation for a honeymoon for a marriage I haven’t been in for almost three years is more than sad. It’s pathetic. It’s even more pathetic when my company generously gives me three weeks of vacation a year. It’s not like the hours are hard to come by. There is jyst no excuse for taking yourself that seriously.

That is exactly what I have been doing and for years and years. I take myself way too seriously. I get all upptiy about crap I really should just roll off my back. I let my blood pressure soar. I stress eat. I bark at people. I get snippy. I don’t like it.

So I found a few moments of peace and serenity last week either sitting by the Napa River, overlooking wide and far seas of grapevines, sipping red wine in the afternoon or yummy organic decaf in the morning. I realized that life is moving right by me and very quickly and I have no desire to not live the life that I want to live.

So, I’m chilling the hell out. I’m doing yoga. I am reading Hip Tranquil Chick believing this time that I can actually be hip and tranquil all at the same time. And you know what? I feel hip and tranquil all at the same time. The yoga is actually going pretty damn good though I’m only on day four. But, I have started waking up at 5:30 in the morning so I can get in a good solid 20 minutes (hey, you have to start somewhere) before my daughter gets up. I’m really not that bad at it when you remove all the other people and distractions from the idea of practicing in front of people. However, trying to do triangle pose with three very affectionate dogs does pose a slight problem.

In the next few days and weeks, you’ll be hearing a lot about me trying to shift my entire thought process. We’re talking a lot of philosophy overhaul. Hopefully, you’ll be here to support and perhaps learn from the journey. In the meantime, I’m off to bed. The mat calls early at 5:30 and I need beauty sleep.

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Tags: Paradigm shift

And we’re back…

Ahhhh. It’s good to be home. Where have I been, you ask. Well , my dearies, I have been on a long and much needed vacation! No, the men with the white coats did not escort me there. Why do you ask?

I have been very happily gettig very fat in Napa Valley. Let me tell you that it is a good thing I don’t live closer to Napa. I would be bloated and broke for the rest of my life. It is that fine.

Brent and I drove from Phoenix to outside of LA the first day. End our first day journey at El Queso Grande in Reseda eating Mexican food with a very good friend and inadventantly listening to karaoke. Just how everyone expects their vacation to go right? The next day we headed up to Napa via the PCH. The whole way. Love drive. Long. Foggy. I’m sure Big Sur is nice, I couldn’t tell you for the fog. And trying to figure out which stretch is the stretch they film all the movies on is comical. “Is this it? Wait…”

We ate and drank and drank and ate and came home with the equivalent of THREE (oh my god I did just say three) CASES of wine. Three, kids. We hit a bunch of little wineries and tasting rooms and had the most fun there. If you’re going I can give you a gaggle of suggestions and tell you where to find the best buscuits and gravy you will ever consume. I wanted to bathe in that gravy. Gross thought, yes but it was that good.

In case you are irony deficient, let me give you a supplement. After coming home resembling a hog, I have gone back on the South Beach Diet. All that wine? Can’t drink it for two weeks. It’s like doing the sietary equivalent of chekcing yourself into the Betty Ford. But I feel freaking great and have stopped the..ahem…swelling.

Also, grab a hold of your hats, I am legitimately giving yoga another try. More on that later. But for now, I have to sleep as I got up at 5:30 this morning to do the said yoga. And I’m doing it again tomorrow and you can’t stop me. And no, I did not fall and hit my head on vacation…

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209? Really?

I am a hoarder. I hoard.

I just looked at my paycheck. I have 209 hours of vacation time accrued. 209. There is something seriously wrong with that. Granted I have been at my job for 5 years and they give me three weeks of vacation a year. But, honestly, I have not taken a week long vacation in 8 years. It was my honeymoon. I’m now divorced, which is probably partly caused by never taking vacation time.

Yes, folks 2001. When I came to this realization I was none too pleased. I know how it happened. Got married. Husband changed careers. Husband hated taking time off because he get paid out for time he doesn’t take. I had a kid. I changed jobs. I got divorced. I had no one to vacation with. Do you feel sad for me? Don’t. It’s my fault. I could have taken time off. I culd have just taken a whole week each summer and not even gone anywhere. Just stayed home and played with my kid, but I didn’t.

I am not a model to be followed, people. I will have you know, though, that I have changed my ways! I realized that life is too short. Add to that the fact that I met a very adorable man last year and now have an adult traveling companion! Score!

In 9 short days, I will be on the road. Heading to Napa. We’re taking the long way and driving all the way up the coast of California. I have always wanted to do that. I simply cannot wait.

If you’re hoarding your vacation time, stop it. I command you. If you have more than two weeks stored up pick a damn date on the calendar and take off. Who cares if you go anywhere. Stay at home in your pajamas all day. Doesn’t matter. Work will survivie without you. They can wait. Your life can’t.

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Tags: Tip of the Week

I have mad love for Sally Field.

I just watched Norma Rae. I am certain I have watched Norma Rae before but I have no idea when. Sally Field kicks ass. That’s it. That’s the list.

This movie was made 30 years ago and she was roughly my age in it. She looks great. Not totally glammed up. I don’t think she has ever been in a movie glammed up. Smokey and the Bandit anyone? She is the perfect example of growing old gracefully. I forgot who the other actress was but they both had sworn they would never get plastic surgery. And, really, the woman’s still got it. She looks freakin’ fabulous. And I hope that when I’m her age I’m still as sassy as I am now.

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Tip of the Week: Choose your battles

I’m an Italian woman. I’m an Italian woman from New York who was raised by other Italians from New York. Choosing battles is not an inherent ability I’ve been graced with. Fight or flight? I ain’t movin’. Bring it. Given any opportunity, I was going to show my teeth and whoever was on the receiving end was most likely going to be wandering the word without a head until one magically grew back in its place.

This, those amusing to some, was not always a good thing. I never realized that I had earned myself the image of being hot headed and difficult. Now, I will say that mild-tempered is never going to be a word that is used to describe me. I could do 700 hours mind healing yoga and still want give someone who pissed me off a good solid ass reaming. The difference is that now I actually THINK before I do it.

I know! Thinking before speaking! Who the hell would have thought about that? It’s novel! Dare I say? Genius. And really really hard to do. I have to admit, scaring people is actually kind of fun for me. Many moons ago in a galaxy far far away, I was married. My ex-husband was frequently on the receiving end of a good solid ass reaming. Don’t judge. Most of the time he was totally asking for it. He used to try to handle a situation about which I was pissed off. It usually looked like this:

“Hi Mr. Bank of America Employee. We’re having an issue with our account and I need you to fix it. You see that nice lady over there? (Camera pans over to me waving and smiling sweetly.) That’s my wife. If you can’t help me, she’ll come over here. And you don’t want that. Trust me.”

So how did I figure out how to choose battles wisely? You ready? I stopped caring. I’m not kidding. Somewhere during the last year I ran out of give a shit. I just petered out. this does not mean that I slack off or dismiss things that are important. But, my fuse somehow got a lot longer.

I think part of it is that I am dating the most laid back man in the world. He is horrifically impatient but generally there is not a lot that bothers him. Most things just kind of roll right off his back. I think that generally makes him a happier person.

So I’ve started to take inventory of things that really matter.  Some people don’t choose their words carefully and say stupid shit. That’s really not my problem. Some people are too selfish to realize there are other people in this world. Oh well. Their loss. Life is to short to get pissy about every little thing. Save that for the big things. When someone you love is horrifically wronged. When someone’s actions could affect your livelihood. At that point, go deep and take them down. Hard.

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Tags: Being bitchy, Tip of the Week

Upping the fabulous quotient

As you know, Vanessa is not feeling quite her fabulous self. Work is totally stressing her out causing her to stress eat. The chocolate is way too accessible. She is also extremely tired these days. Even more concerning is that she seems to be talking about herself in third person ala LeBron James.

I think it might also be the weather. It is too damn hot to do anything but lay down with a cool fan blowing over you. I would suggest and prefer Gerard Butler fanning me with a palm frawn but I simply don’t seem to have one of those handy. Such a shame.

I am feeling like I need to up my fabulous quotient. I’m not very pleased with the state of things right now. It’s like I’m on the front end of a solid rut. Not good. It just means focusing less on work after hours and more on me. Being fabulous. I think one of the best ways to ward off a funk is to head it off at the pass. When things start to get hairy, we have a tendency to get a little mired down it, don’t we? Before you know it, we have totally let ourselves go.

Tonight, I staged an intervention on myself. I know, the dialogue with myself was a killer. Immediate action was necessary. I have been woefully neglecting myself. I can’t even tell you the last time I had a pedicure. I don’t even mean the salon kind. I mean the take-10-minutes-and-change-the-polish-on-your-damn-toes kind of pedicure. This is now way to live. Tonight, I got the kidlet in bed and set off to re-fabulousize…re-flablize…re-…whatever.

Stage 1 of the intervention included indulging in facial goop. Oh yes folks, I did the peel of mask. Fun on many accounts. I get nice clean pores and a chance to do a mean Hannibal Lecter impression. Score.

Stage 2 was the painting of the nails. If I hadn’t left my memory card for my camera in my laptop at work, I would take a picture to show you how cute my feet are. No kidding. I gave them the full pedicure including freaking sandblasting them. They are that wonderful and all dolled up in It’s a Doozi Says Suzi.

Have I mentioned that all of this went down while watching An American in Paris? Why? Because I like a Gershwin tune. How about you? And, oh my, was Gene Kelly perfection. I love him more than about 729,105 other things.

Here’s the best part. I’m going to bed early and, gulp, reading a book. I’ll be choosing one of two books that you must run out and buy immediately. If you do not have Simon Doonan’s Eccentric Glamour in your library, what are you doing with your time? Reading blogs? Go get it, now. Follow it up by purchasing The Bombshell Manual of Style by Laren Stover. Trust me. I would not lead you astray. They are guidebooks in feeling fabulous.

You’ll have to excuse me now. I have a date with a really cozy, fluffy bed.

Oh, for the dudes that may be reading this blog – If you’re in a funk, Football starts on Sunday. Hall of Fame Game. Wait it out, tough guys. Wait it out…

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Tags: Puling out of a rut