Pittsburgh

It was really nice to have me time during the week to prepare for Pittsburgh.  Not to mention I had other work I really needed to zero in on and accomplish without distraction (aka Steven).  Boy one kiss and I want to rip his clothes off.  How. Does. He. Do. That?  And that's exactly what I did.  I got a lot of shit done.

Over the last couple of weeks I've been bringing on interns to help out with stuff like social media and event planning, and still looking for one who can come in during the week for pitching.  It's a super big help and takes some weight off my mind.  I'm the kind of person who loves to be busy, but then, when there's so much I become paralyzed.  I don't know where to start.  At that point I give up and walk away until I get a game plan together.  It's really weird and I'm highly aware of that fact.  In some ways, I'm getting everything I want but the fear gets me.  Who is afraid of success?  E....it's crazy!  

The other good thing about having my time is that I can do all of my secret girly stuff - olive oil treatment for my hair, getting my hair cut and highlighted, painting toe nails and of course, taking care of Aunt Flo for her monthly visit.  She decided to show up Wednesday night.  Great!  I'm going to be cramping and lightheaded for my trip which means I will not be showing up to this pitch at 100%.  More like 75%, if I'm lucky.  

I will admit I was a bit nervous for this trip, but talking with Steven on the phone for 2.5 hours Wednesday night helped me forget about it.  I am a big fan of being able to talk on the phone and feel it's important for couples to be able to express themselves in person, by letter/email or via phone.  For me, I suppose it's all those times I watched couples I admire be far apart for long periods of time due to work or family emergency.  They were forced to have a relationship by phone.  So, if a guy doesn't want to talk on the phone....well, we either have to work on it or not.  It's like hugs.  Hugs can be so incredibly intimate and yet most men are like fuck the hug.  Take off your dress.  Steven is a tremendous hugger!

Thursday arrives and my morning call was rescheduled, so I literally had the whole morning to get my shit together, but.....because of Aunt Flo I was moving slow and in a haze.  Before I knew it I was running late.  Can't take the train.  Now have to catch a $30 cab.  GREAT!  I'm bleeding money.

Once in Pittsburgh, my colleague and I rented a car.  We got in late so it was night time there.  However, there was just enough snow on the ground to reflect what little light there was from cars on the highway to allow me to get a glimpse of the terrain.  Huge bluffs everywhere.  It wasn't long before we came up on the edge of town and I could see how this city had built itself into these bluffs.  It was quite lovely.

Every time I go somewhere new I always wonder what I would be like today if I had grown up and lived in that place.  My colleague is a wealth of knowledge, or as he says "an intellectual trash can," and so he gave me some insight to my query.  Apparently Pittsburgh has it's own language called Pittsburghese.  Honestly, they have their own dialect and language that is specific to the area.  For instance, they don't say Steelers, it's pronounced "Stillers".

I quickly learned that even though I've grown a hard shell living in a big city it might be much thicker should I have grown up in Pittsburgh.  "You may know how to handle yourself in the city but you're still a Midwestern girl with heart," said my colleague.  And he's right.  Just then "You're in for a real treat, E."  Oh goodie!  I love a treat! And with that we entered the Pitt Tunnel. As we exited a mile or so later my breath caught.  My eyes were lit up with what seemed to be a hidden city tucked in among the Allegheny Mountains.  The bridge was beautiful and artistic, the lights of the city were everywhere.  They danced and reflected off the snow and river below.  It was indeed a treat and a mental picture I won't soon forget.

We got to the "hotel", or as I say the stinkiest Quality Inn I've ever been in, located in the university area - I had no idea that Carnegie Mellon and Pittsburgh were literally across the street from one another - and I dropped off my luggage while we waited for my colleague's 79-yr old sister to come pick us up.  She was a real treat.  A firecracker who gives 79 a good name.  She's independent, outliving two husbands, and has a quick wit.  I loved her.  At first I was worried that I "Pricelined" my hotel too far away from downtown (only about 2.5 miles away) but she told us later that downtown shuts down around 6:00p.m.  So my hotel was perfect.  She took us to a little place in the heart of it all on a cute street that was so steep I thought the car would tumble backwards from gravity.  But it didn't.  A couple of martinis and a burger and I was out for the night.

I didn't sleep all that great so the next morning was a struggle.  I managed to iron my clothes the night before, which was wise because I was moving slow....again.  Finally downstairs and into the Panera, located just under the hotel, a bagel and some Earl Grey tea and we were off.  I wasn't that nervous, but I was feeling a bit on edge.  Thankfully I had done my research on the players in the room.  While my colleague went to the bathroom and got some coffee, I walked in to the conference room and introduced myself.  Immediately, I noted the man from Oklahoma City and mentioned I grew up in Kansas.  Turns out that he went to K-State and Hutchinson Community College and had even lived in my hometown.  That really broke the ice and others joined in the conversation until my colleague arrived and we got started.

All in all, I feel the pitch went well.  I knew that we were in the lead going in but I didn't realize just how much they favored our direction until the Q&A began.  It was more like a planning meeting about moving forward than part of the pitch.  We shall see.  I don't want to get my hopes up but I am hopeful we'll get it.  It would be my largest client and bring in some money to help pay down my debts.  However, I have to keep thinking that if I don't get it, I will still be okay.  Everything has been changing in my life lately and it all started with opening myself up to Steven.

Over the years, I lived in my past.  I've had regrets for breaking hearts and such.  Mostly for breaking one heart for a guy who would end up abusing me.  It's as if I felt I didn't deserve God's blessings and so I blocked myself from receiving.  No more!  I am open and ready.....finally.....

xoxo

I've Taken Myself Off the Market

That's right girls and boys, you heard me correctly.  I've taken myself off the market.  This is Part 1 of 2 on how it happened.

Saturday night - ice skating.  While I felt strongly that we needed to get out of the house (and away from trouble) I also really wanted to go ice skating.  I've lived in Chicago 13 years and never been.  That's just stupid!  I am not sure what I was thinking but I definitely didn't consider the fact there might be a line at the rink in Millennium Park.

When considering my outfit I was thinking more cute ski bunny than warmth.  I wore thick black winter leggings, a long pink tank top, black tee, black turtleneck sweater, brown down vest, scarf, hat, knee highs, thick socks and my galoshes, NOT my warm faux Uggs. I will pay for this decision and really should know so much better.  Sunset downtown happens at about 2:00pm as the tall buildings block the sun and the temperature drops dramatically.  Not to mention the fact we're near the lake and the breeze blows directly across the park to and then bounces off the buildings back on to the park.  Brrrrr.  That's not even the half of it!  Typically I always consider this fact but, nope, I wanted to be cute ski bunny not a bundled Michelin Man!  Steven, on the other hand, was warmly dressed in boots, ski pants, a sweatshirt, pullover, scarf and funky knit cap.

When we arrived at the skating rink there was, sure enough, a LINE!  We joined in and it was sssllllooowwww moving.  I started to shiver and Steven wrapped his arms around me - he's a furnace.  Hmmm....maybe I'm not regretting my thoughtlessness.  That's pretty much how we stayed the 30 minutes or so we were in line.  I will say this....it was fun and we just laughed.  We people watched and laughed, making up stories about the each person.  We laughed because he was just being silly.  He was always doing something funny and at times would blow his warm breath on my neck to warm me up.

I can feel the warmth inside the building from where I stood and was anxious to get in. We're. So. Close! Just as we get to the top of the line - they close the rink for the Zamboni and we're left standing for another 30 minutes.  We just started laughing in disbelief that this was our luck. He continued to hold me and block the wind.

FINALLY....they complete the ice surfacing and we are allowed inside the skate rental.  We give up our shoes, grab out skates and plunk down on a bench.  My feet were so cold that I had to rub them back to life before putting them in the boot of the skate, which was considerably warmer than my galoshes.  Not sure if that's because they had recently been worn, but I didn't care.  My toes were tingling with blood and life.  Laced up and smiling we were off the rink.

Now, let me just take this moment to explain that in initial conversations about ice skating, Steven said that he had skated and played hockey.  Then during the drive downtown he says he hasn't ever skated.  I totally busted him. "Which is it, liar?"  "Well, it's been a long time since I've skated."  "So, a more factual statement to cover your ass from already telling me you played hockey would be to say 'I have never ice skated in my adult life.'"  Laughing.  "Yeah, you got me." "Uh huh!"

Once on the rink, we both proceeded with caution.  Steven immediately grabbed my hand and led me around and around the rink until we both got our balance and got accustomed to the motion.  The skates' blades sucked with a capital "S".  The blades were so worn down that they looked more like a half-inch flat piece of steel than a "blade".  We continued going in circles and people were EVERYWHERE!  It was super crowded and there seemed to be bodies littering the rink every place you looked.  I couldn't take my eyes off the ice in front of me in case I failed to notice that there was a group of teenage girls down for the count in front of me and I went flying over them.  Fortunate for me, I had an expert who got his skating groove pretty quickly and was always on the look out to keep me out of trouble, or from causing a major pile up.

At one point we made the turn and this little boy took a tumble.  His father wasn't too stable on the skates and  Steven let go of my hand, made a quick, hard stop, turned around, stopped behind the little boy and picked him up, gently setting him back on his feet.  I just smiled to myself.  Moments later he found me ahead, came to my side, looked at me and reached his hand out.  Wow!  This is a really good dude!  And that wasn't the only person he helped out.

When he wasn't helping to stop potential national incidents between tourist foreign and domestic, he spent his time flirting with me.  As I became more confident, I let go of his hand and skated ahead.  He came up next to me "Hey baby, how are you?"  "Hi. I'm fine," I said slightly cold and ignoring him.  "So, you're one fine lady." "And you're one confident Italian.  Where do you guys learn this stuff?" "It's in our DNA, baby.  Whatcha doin' after this?" "Going home. Alone."  He laughs, comes in close, grabs my waist and whispers "I don't think so!" This kind of flirting went on.  I'd skate off and he'd come up again.  "Dude, you just can't take no for an answer!" "Not when you're so hot.  You're melting the ice."  I roll my eyes and laugh.

At one point, I skated ahead again, but this time I turned to look for him.  I couldn't see him and turned my focus back to making the turn.  I felt him near by and turned to look behind me once more and Steven smiled.  He then came in close and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his nose in my neck and saying something.  I don't remember what he said but I was smiling and loving it.  He let go, came to my side, we looked at each other, he looked down and as I did his hand was waiting for me.  I took it and looked back at him.  I am a fucking idiot!  This is pretty damn amazing.  How could I ever think there is something better out there for me than this.  That's when my decision was made.

After an hour or so, it was time to Zamboni the ice again and I was getting a bit tired.  It's quite a work out skating on shitty skates and negotiating through crowds of unstable skaters.  Plus, my right foot was starting to hurt a bit.  We immediately went inside to a warm waiting area next to the bathrooms.  I made my way out of the restroom and walked towards him, smiling.  He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me.  To Steven a public place isn't public so PDA isn't PDA.  It's like we're the only two people there.  "So, what are you doing tomorrow?"  "Well, I was going to go to a Super Bowl party but I'm thinking I may stick to home and get a bunch of stuff done. Why?" "Well.........I was wondering if you'd like to come to a Super Bowl party with me and meet my friends." Seriously?  I haven't told him I've made my choice yet and we haven't done anything intimate to consider the deal sealed.  This is awesome!  "Are you sure you're ready to introduce me to your friends?" He laughs, "Yes!" "Well, okay then."

After some debate, we decided to return our skates and head home.  I was STARVING!  Of course, it turns out that it was 80's night in Millennium Park and that's when all the fun started.  We watched some professional skaters and made sad faces that the fun music was now playing as we were leaving.  Oh well, I was STARVING!  "So, what do you want to do for dinner?" I ask.  "I don't know.  Do you have any thoughts?"  "Well, I was thinking maybe we hit the store and head back to mine.  I have homemade chili I can defrost and it sounds ssssoooo good on a night like this."  "Sounds good."

In the car, he turns the heat on high.  This is kind of a big deal for me as I'm always cold.  As far as Steven is concerned, he would as soon die of sweat than let me freeze.  (Okay, everyone say a collective "Aaaaaawwwww!")  His father calls as we're leaving downtown, "Hi, Dad.....Yeah, I love you too....No I'm not alone.  I've got this hot blonde with the biggest blue eyes sitting next to me.  We've just come from ice skating and heading for a warm dinner....No I'm not cooking."  I laugh out loud. "What?" he looks at me.  "Look you make fantastic reservations and pay and I'll do the cooking." We're both laughing. "Dad...did you hear that?  Yeah....I agree."  I can hear part of the conversation but not all of it and with that he gives me a smile.

After hitting a couple of stores I am starting to get the grouch on.  I. Am. STARVING!   In the stores he kept wanting to browse...."Dude!  I'm hungry.  Let's go!"  "Okay, okay!"  He drops me off with his eyes set on a parking spot that's been plowed in.  I can tell he's salivating at the chance to give it a go with his all-wheel drive love....aka his car.  I lug everything upstairs into my apartment and pull out two containers of turkey chili.  After uncovering them I stick them into the microwave to defrost.  I then race around to do some quick pick up, shoving shit in all kinds of closets (not much unlike our second date when he "invited" himself over). Then grab all the accouterments - cheese, sour cream - and set them on the table next to the wine and two glasses.  He comes in with a big smile revealing his accomplishment of drilling his car into the parking spot.  You're hilarious! 


We eat, watch some TV - Alaska State Troopers, to be exact - and some warm snuggling.  There was some making out and then.....to the bedroom.  You're usual turn of events occurred, but we didn't "seal the deal".   At one point, I stopped him, sat up and said "Just so you know, this means I've made my choice."  He grabs my face with both hands and kisses me.  At that point his shirt came off and GASP! That wasn't JUST back hair I was feeling through his shirt the other night.  It's a fucking SHAG RUG!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  It was everywhere and about an inch long.....EVERYWHERE.  Not to mention the Buddha was a little bigger than a little Buddha.  I just laughed to myself and gave him a hug.  In the past, I would have shut this guy down.  No way, no how!  I do NOT do back hair and major Buddha!  But for some reason, I just let it go as his kisses quickly made me realize it wasn't as important as it once was.  Well, these things can be changed.  Soon we fell asleep and his sleep apnea kicked in.  I reached to my bedside table and put in some ear plugs, and I slept really well for a few hours.  Well, until I realized he'd taken over the entire bed and I was left with a 12-inch wide space on the edge.  I waited until I heard him snore and got out of bed like a cat - smoothly, quickly and quietly - grabbed a robe and headed to the couch.  A few hours later, he came out.  "Hey," he whispers.  "Hey."  "Did my snoring keep you awake?"  "No the earplugs were great. You were inching me out of bed, you big HOG!"  Laugh.  "Come back to bed now."

We crawled back in and began talking.  He asked me about my past relationships and I breezed over everyone - who matters - including the abuser.  He didn't seem to flinch, probably because of the fact that I can talk about it today matter of factly and without feeling.  I asked him about his and found out he broke up with his last girlfriend in October.  Since then he'd been on the dating site where he learned that most women were interested in little more than a "free night out".  Aha!  This makes sense now.  On our first date he didn't believe that I was really seriously about going out with him again.  

"Let's go get breakfast." "Uhm, okay."  "I think we should go get Dim Sum in Chinatown." Another thing I've been dying to do and not got around to it. "That sounds great!  Something I've always wanted to do."  "Okay, let me call my friend and get the name and address."  He starts to dial, "Uhm, Steve, it's like 7:30 in the morning." "Oh, yeah, he'll be up.....He dude, it's Steve.  So I'm in bed with this gorgeous woman and want to take her to Dim Sum.  Call me back with the name and address of the place we used to go to."  I laugh.  "I can't believe you just said that to him."  He laughs. "It's no biggie.  He'd do the same to me."  A few minutes later his friend calls and I hear the first part of the conversation: "Hey, thanks for calling me back."  "First of all, you're AN IDIOT!  You don't call ANYONE when you're in bed with a beautiful woman!" Steven laughs, "Yeah, well I want the restaurant info......uhuh....where's that at.....okay, great.  Thanks.....He says it doesn't open until 10a and the best time to go is between 11:45 and 1:00p."  "No way, I'm STARVING!" "You're always starving." "It's because it takes so much energy to deal with you!"  We both laugh.  "Okay, then plan B.  The Original Pancake House downtown."  "I've never been there."  "Gggiiirrrlll, you're missing out."  So that's what we did.

I was grabbing my bag and Steven was putting on his boots when I checked my phone.  Ben had sent me a text around 10:30 the night before (when I was otherwise occupied).  "Dear friends it is with great sadness to say that Chuck passed away this evening..." "Oh my God! Oh my God!"  "What?"  "My friend Chuck passed away."  I look up at Steven, back down at the phone, and then to Steven again.  Within an instant I just burst into tears.  "Oh my gosh!" I turn away and go into the bathroom I am not going to cry in front of this man I just met.  No!  But I do.  I come take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, blow my nose and return to the kitchen. Steven is standing in the doorway and quickly embraces me.  "Okay, let's go."  I think this might have surprised Steven, but I'm a strong hold when it comes to crying.  I just have a hard time doing it in front of boyfriends.

We had a nice time at breakfast though I was quiet.  He dropped me off and said he'd be back at 4:30p to pick me up for the Super Bowl party.  I came in the house, closed the door and had a small sob fest.  I then  laid down, napping for almost two hours.  When I awoke I returned calls and then sobbed until I had nothing left.

Part 2: Super Bowl Party report tomorrow...

xoxo

Steven Opens Up....

You should all be relieved.  I felt SO different with Steven tonight and even better by the end of the night. It was amazingly comfortable and easy.   

He picked me up at 5:40p and, as per usual, I was ready to go and peering out my living room blinds for him.  I watch him park his car and get out wearing that DAMNED fur hat!  Ugh, I hate that thing!  We head to the grocery to pick a few items for the dinner I was making him - Seared Scallops with thin multi-grain spaghetti with tomatoes, garlic, Parmesan and olive oil accompanied by spring greens lightly drizzled in olive oil.  At the store, he followed me, as I walk very fast and determined.  I had several things for this recipe already at home, packed them in a recyclable grocery bag and brought it with.  Produce, fish counter, dairy and wine and head to the self check out.  I ring everything up and the clerk says "Do you have ID."  I turn my back to show her my ID and then carefully place it back in my python card case.  As I turn around, Steven is running his card through the machine to buy the food.  "This was supposed to be my treat."  "I know, but I wanted to." "Okay, that's very nice of you," I whisper "but you didn't have to." He looks at me and smiles.

Back towards the car and Steven grabs my hand again.  He's always, always holding my hand.  We get in the car and make the trek back to his house.  As we drive in the snow we spin and turn - this guy knows how to drive! "I love this car.  All wheel drive rocks!" I laugh at his purely manly enthusiasm as I grip the card door hand thinking it will actually protect me in an impact.  I'm more concerned about the other people on the road then Steven.

As we pull up to his house, the street is clearly a mess and yet he just plows right through it all.  In Chicago there is this long standing tradition that once you've done the hard work of digging yourself out of the snow, you reserve the spot with a broom, folding chair, desks, you know, whatever happens to be handy.  This street is no different.  It's comical, really, until someone steals your stuff and your parking space.  Once inside and stripped of all wet outerwear, I head to the kitchen and begin taking everything out of the bags and positioning them on the table island.  He opens the wine while I take roasted pepper hummus and spread it on a plate, microwave for 20 seconds, drizzle some olive oil, fan multi-grain and flax seed crackers around it and present it to him as The Appetizer.  He loves it and comes around to give me a hug as thanks....with a mini make out.

As I get everything ready his idle hands are all over me and I decide it's time to put them to work, "You'll manage the pasta, because I know you've got that down, and I'll do the rest." "Ok," he says with an attempt at another make out.  "Get to work!!"  I grab the tomatoes and garlic and ask him for a knife.  Boy does he have a knife.  Chef grade.  It sliced through a tomato perfectly.  "This is an amazing knife.  Where did you get it."  "Work." "Oh right because you need to have them for work." Laugh. "No the sales reps come in to sell to the airport restaurants.  I bought a few."  "Oh, yeah, that makes sense." "Hold that thought."  He comes back moments later with another knife, exactly like the one I'm holding except with a black handle.  "Get your grimy hands off my knife!"  uhm...what? "This is for you." "But I have one." "No, this is yours.  I want you to have it." uhm, that's like a $100 knife, dude. "I really can't.  Yes, you will. I'll set it over here for you." "Thank you!"

While I'm chopping I ask:

E:  "So, I don't mind the texting, but why don't you call me.  Not a phone guy?"
S: He smiles. "It's not that I haven't wanted to, I just don't know when you're busy."
E: "Well, if I'm busy I won't answer!"
S: He laughs.  "Yeah, simple as that."
E: "So tell me something about you that I don't know." I look up to the smirk-smile.  "What?" I say "Entertain me while I'm doing this."
S: "Okay, I moved around from school to school growing up.  Later I worked at the Chicago Board of Trade for 10 years from the age of 18-28."
E: "Wow, were you a runner?"
S: "I started off as a runner."
E: "And then you just decided it wasn't fulfilling enough?"
S: "Yeah, I guess that's it. And yyoooouuu??"
E: "Well, I spent most of my life as a performer - dance, theater, singing, and such.  I went to school on scholarship to sing and loved it.  I feel that I'm an instrument for this amazing music.  It wasn't about me, and that came back to hurt me.  I was raised to be far too modest and I lacked all Divaness.  Then I asked myself if I wanted to teach - no - or do I want to wait tables in New York auditioning with 20,000 girls who look and sound like me?  Not really.  Not to say I wasn't unique. I was small, petite with a huge voice that could be heard over a 200-piece orchestra and 150-person choir.  I loved it, still do, but have no regrets about changing my major to journalism.  I simply didn't have the 'I have to do this to live' feeling in my gut.  I do miss it. After I lost my scholarship I worked as a waitress and bartender to help pay my tuition."

Steven comes around the table, takes the knife from my hand and gives me a big hug.  "Ouch!" "What," he stops suddenly.  "My back, from shoveling yesterday.  It's really sore."  "Well, I will give you a massage to make it feel better."  I smile.

I decide to cook all of the scallops so he can eat them for leftovers.  When it was all complete, I prepared each plate and we go into the living room to sit at the big ass table to eat.  He digs in and is loving it.  "This is so good." "I know, and it's so easy, don't you think?"  "Hhmmmm..."  That was pretty much the rest of the meal until I look up and find a huge stuffed giraffe staring at me. " Uhm..." he looks at me. "Giraffe???"  He laughs.  "You like that?  When restoration hardware was having their bankruptcy sales I bought it for my niece and nephew." "So why isn't it at their house?"  "They wanted to keep it here so they have something to play with."  "Ahhh..."

I gotta give it to Steven.  He downed six big scallops, salad and pasta, clearing his plate.  I say, "I'm stuffed.  It would be great to go take a walk."  "Okay, let's." "Seriously?" "Yeah."  So we bundle up in our outwear and head out to walk around the block in the frigid temps.  "You should wear your knit cap it will keep you warmer." "I'm fine," as he puts on ear covers and that stupid fur hat!

It's cold but it feels good. We talk about his neighborhood as I point out interesting architectural and design elements I see.  "It's changed a lot since I moved in," he says. "I used to hear gunshots all the time."  "Didn't that scare you?" "Nah, I'm a better shot." I suddenly wonder where he leaves his gun in the house.  (Sidebar: I did do some more research and he is a Marshall whose assignment is on the ground.) Instead of turning right to make the walk around the block complete he says "Turn left". We turn left and come upon the park.  Steven lives a good three to four miles from the lakefront but he's right by a huge park with lagoon, tennis courts, softball fields and more.  I've seen it in the summer and it's actually quite beautiful.  No doubt the park is empty but the drive through it is clear and we make that our path.  At one point he let's go of my right hand, stops, I keep walking, and then comes up on my left grabbing that hand.  Nice.  A real gentleman always walks on the outside of a lady.  Nice!

We decide to cross the street and venture into the area, which is normally grass, towards the softball field.  There was two feet of snow and we were like moose picking up each leg up and out of the snow.  By the time we stop, we're both winded.  We stand there for a few minutes inhaling the cold air and enjoy the quite beauty and he wraps his arms around me.  We decide to go.

S: "Let's go this way," and he starts to pull me to the right.
E: "Uhm, let's not."  While we were standing there, I saw a guy stumble into the snow towards a tree.
S: "Why?"
E: "Cuz that guy is peeing on the tree over there." Chicago has embraced public urination!
S:  He laughs. "Yeah, okay."

We walk through the softball field to the road, passing the most beautiful snow angels, and he again steps to the outside of me. Nice. About 10 minutes later we're back in the warmth of his house, of which he actually turned the heat up.  Snow is everywhere and we carefully undress and he turns his neck to reveal a crick.  I start to massage it and he leads me into his bedroom.

When he opens the door I see a huge four-banister bed with matching light wood strips linking the tops, perfect for a mosquito net.  It's not a large room, as is very traditional in old Chicago homes, but somehow he's managed to cram his office desk and a huge, tall metal filing cabinet in.  This guy needs a woman's touch!  The mattress, Tempurpedic.  Awesome!  He lays down and I massage his neck and back.  The more I rub his shoulders through the shirt, the more crinkling noise I hear...and feel.  BACK HAIR!!!  Seriously??? Really?  COME ON!!  Sooner or later we switch, I pull off my turtle neck after working up a small sweat massaging his tight back, and lay in my tank top and leggings. He starts to give my back the massage it's been crying for all day, except he can't rally stay focused.  He continues to lean down to kiss my neck and shoulders.  "Hey, I'm serious, I need this!" It was a generous massage lasting about 15 minutes.  Afterwards we lie on the bed, making out and talking.

S: "So what is your hesitation?"
E: "What? With sex?"
S: "Yeah"
E: "I promised myself I would do it right this time, that I wouldn't jump into anything."
S: "Why?"
E: "Because that's what I've done in the past and the relationships didn't have substance."
S: "What were they?"
E: "I dressed up well for parties and dinners out; I looked good for their friends.  We never talked and they never seemed interested in me."
S: "Oh." Make out.
S: "Tell me about your first boyfriend."
E: I laugh. "My first boyfriend lasted about 10 minutes.  He was my first kiss." We played around as I imitated the reenactment of my first kiss.  Hilarious.  I was actually in fifth grade..... "Yours?"
S: "It was ninth grade and I started dating this girl.  My brother met her and said 'dude, you can do so much better than that!', but all of my friends had girlfriends and I wanted one too.  So I got one."  We laugh.  "So tell me about your last relationship."
E: "He was the first in a long time to treat me with respect.  He was super sweet to me, wanted to court me and I felt I deserved it.  Then he dropped a bombshell that I just couldn't help him with."
S: "What do you mean"
E: "He told me he was in recovery"
S: "For what?"
E: "Alcohol mostly but I often wondered if there was something harder.  It was sad. He had just recently gotten out of rehab for the second time." I didn't go into more details.
S: "Oh."
E: "Are you uncomfortable that I am not jumping into sex with you?"
S: "Well, no, but for me it defines everything."
E: "What do you mean? That it means that we're officially together?"
S: "Yes." He says with a smile.  So, you're eager to take me off the market??  LOL  He kisses me and the looks linger. He softly touches my face. "Do you still have your online profile up?"
E: "Yes, but I haven't checked it in awhile. Do you?"
S: "No. I took it down."
E: "Why?"
S: "Because I really like you."
E: "So what did you think the other night when I didn't want to come into the bedroom with you?"
S: "I just thought you hadn't made your choice yet."
Silence.
E: "I suppose I'm just looking for someone who will be patient with me. Who will make me laugh."
S: "I can do that." And with those words he rolled me on to my back, lifted up my tank top and gave me a huge zurburt on the stomach.  I laughed and laughed.
E: I catch my breath as he lies down next to me. "I like that you asked and we talked about this.  Keep talking to me. Deal?"
S: "Always."

The conversation and making out continued until I finally drew the line and said I have to go home.

I felt exponentially better knowing where his head was at, and I'm sure he feels better as well.  I think it was feeling the pressure of sex that had me feeling like I was out of control; as if I'd lose him if I didn't, and I don't like that.  We've only been on FOUR dates! I just need to wrap my head around all of this.  This is what I want, I just have to go step-by-step for myself.

He's right, I haven't made my decision yet because of fear and what not, but I'm closer.  Definitely closer.  But I do have to say, there's nothing like letting him work for it a little bit.  He doesn't need to know that I haven't dated anyone else.  There's no harm.  No answer is not lying.  There has to be a reason why none of those other guys really go into contact and asked me out.  I believe that God works in mysterious ways. 


Next date: Saturday late afternoon.  Ice skating and hot chocolate - we really have to get out of the house and out to do something! LOL  Plus, I might not be able to see him until I get back from the new business pitch in Pittsburgh next Friday.  Ugh...Valentine's Day...

xoxo

Frozen Tundra, Frozen Heart

If you've ever wondered what it's like to be an igloo, come to Chicago.  It's cold and there's WAY too much snow - although pretty, I had to shovel and so it loses its novelty quickly.  Even typing, I can feel every single muscle in my hands and arms. Let's not talk about my back.  However, I want to lose a 10-er and I certainly dumped some cals yesterday.

Due to the storm arriving Tuesday, Steven was put on mandatory overtime and wasn't going to leave work until Thursday, so we rescheduled our plans.  That is until he texted me at 4:30 saying they had too many people on and he was coming home, would I like to get together.  Dude, major snow storm has already started.  We're talking BLIZZARD!  Are you nuts? I responded that it looked like traffic and roads were getting bad and it would be better to wait.  He seemed bummed.  It was like he had no idea that the third worst storm on record was hitting us that night!  Then again, if a man wants something he'll cross rivers and dig through snow drifts the size of The Rockies to reach it. 

Sure enough, within two hours I was downstairs shoveling - four inches.  My neighbor was out and offered to help.  Three hours later I go back out and my previous efforts had been completely blown away.  It was as if I hadn't been out there at all.  So, I shoveled again.  By morning, there was absolutely no sign of my hard work and this is what I awoke to:

Yep, that's a car, kids.  Right in front of my house.  Fortunately, I was smart enough to make a deal with the two boys downstairs to help with the shoveling.  Boy One started about 9:00a and made his way through about two feet of snow in a four foot path on the sidewalk before giving up.  While I appreciate his efforts, the foot of snow on our landing was shoveled into the gangway on the side of the house (a walk way between houses for people to get to their doors in a multi-flat building.  Not to mention where our mailboxes are) making the drift there about four feet.  Great.  I went out a little later and started from the back of the house where the drifts were nearly three feet and shoveled out the gangway.  It was actually quite pretty and I hated to disrupt the artwork created by the wind, but it had to be done.  The boys hollered at me to come in for coffee when I was finished.  I did and we took a break.  A break which included me showing the two of them how to use their sewing machine.  Twenty-something straight boys who sew.  Well, you have to figure one's a chef and the other a musician.  Creative types who smoke pot and aren't afraid to admit they sew.  Nice.

Finally, boy neighbor two and his girlfriend bundled up in snow gear and we all went back out to finish the job.  Bot Two took the incredibly deep gangway and stairs and us two gals took turns on another shovel.  Sooner or later I decide to take a look at the streets.  Imagine a drift down the middle that's about 18 inches...no doubt three young girls wanted to hit the home store by me and instead of taking the cleared main streets decided they would take a shortcut, which got them stuck about 50 feet into their journey.  I rallied the other two and we brought our shovels.  After a lot of team work from neighbors and the school caretaker in his little John Deere with shovel attached to the front, we finally managed to get them out.  We'd been out for three hours.  Time. To. Go. Home.

Not so fast.  Someone else needs help and as we start to dig them out, a guy comes up and asks if we need an extra shovel.  Yes!  His name is Aaron a 20-something who lives up the street.  Nice guy and a huge help.  Seems Boys One and Two took a shine to the kid and they were already talking about getting together to hang out and do some weed.  Naturally!

It's amazing how we forget everyday that we, as people, are more alike than we are different.  It's only in times like these, or tragedy - when we share an instant common bond - that we actually reach out to help one another.  I wonder how many of us bother to check on our neighbors at times like this?

We walk back to our house and if shoveling isn't exercise, walking through the snow alone will get the heart pumping.  Chicago is flat but at this moment it has its own set of hills and valleys.  Almost like hiking in sand.  The kind of sand that fails to support your weight and often surprises you as a foot sinks, sometimes two feet, to the bottom - a combination of walking through shallow water and walking up a midget-sized "quick" sand dune over and over again.  It's quite the workout. The exhaustion hits me and I skip the invitation from Boys One and Two to come in for cider with brandy, although incredibly tempting.  Once inside I peel off my wet clothes pulled on the warmest, thickest flannel pants ever made, two shirts and a sweater, wool socks and snuggle under my down comforter in front of the TV for a DVR marathon.  I didn't even have the energy for a hot bath, which I should have taken to relief the muscle pain I would feel the next day.  I was so exhausted I fell asleep.

When I woke up this morning, it was if my body aged by 40 years.  The back, butt and shoulders we sore.  It's as if someone had placed thick, tight rubber bands throughout my torso to keep me from twisting and bending.  It took a good 10 minutes to even get out of my very warm bed.  Once vertical I tried to do some stretching to loosen things up.  No luck.  Into the hot shower.  It was helpful but I could still feel the tightness as I stand, balanced on one foot to pull on my faux Uggs.  I do this all of the time and I couldn't seem to get any muscle to work.  I try again and finally give up, moving to the chair to sit.  Even then pulling my leg up and into my chest was an impossible feat.

Despite the feeling that I'd rather go back to my cozy bed on this barely 5 degree morning, I was quite excited.  You're thinking "date night" but that isn't actually it. Today, I interviewed interns to help with some of my business tasks that simply just take too much time.  I'd like to grow and focus on cultivating new business, but there's just too much on my plate.  If you can't afford to hire someone then grow your business on the backs of interns.  Two of three are going to be great and I'm excited for them to start next week.  The third, while working on a masters degree, doesn't have any experience in my particular field of marketing, and, unfortunately, I just don't have the time to teach her.  I want people with some experience who want to grow that experience.  While helping me, I can help them develop the skills they need to prepare them for a paying job, to help them stand out - but secretly I really hope they all stay for the rest of their lives.  Hey, if they help me grow my business then I just might be able to pay them.  

As far as tonight with Steven goes, the self-sabotage has started.  I've already named every reason why it won't work out with him.  Being aware is the first step to changing the behavior, and I am....trying.  I'm just plain scared.  It's ironic, really, because this is something I really want in my life. In fear, I put the brakes on.  I'm kind of like a guy who needs to step back, internalize things and then revisit the problem with a solution.

When I think about moving forward with him I get a knot in my stomach that requires a few glasses of wine.  Is it self-sabotage or my intuition speaking?  I can't tell.  I start questioning whether I will hurt him in the end, but then I remember that love is a gamble.  There's a real chance that someone can and will always get hurt.  I really don't want to rush into anything with him and I've begun to pull away a small bit.  I wait longer to respond to his text messages and I'm keeping myself very focused on me and the business. Cuz let's face it, once he finds out my reality he may just change his perception of me and walk away.  Any man might.  So, I need to stay focused on improving my reality and it starts with me.

I suppose it doesn't help that the dating service called and wants me to come in next Tuesday before setting me up with someone.  The curiosity...I know!  Shut up! It's hard when this has been you're love life for 10 years.  Someone is always coming and going and I'm always forced to look ahead to something else.

Kisses aren't contracts.  Kisses aren't contracts.....Let go of the guilt, E!

Details tomorrow....stay warm, everybody!

xoxo

A Snowy Night

Tonight I spent the evening with a good gay bf - Ben*.  I picked a place just off the "El" for us to meet.  A straight bar with 50% off the entire menu.  He is, in some ways, like my brother.  I've always had a special feeling for him.  He's just a special, kind-hearted, thoughtful guy.  This is the first time we've actually said we were going to get together and made it happen.  Although there was an impending blizzard we still made it happen.  And of course, with the blizzard everyone goes immediately home, so the place was dead.  We ordered a buffet of Korean tacos, tempura shrimp (which wasn't actually tempura but fried - still yummy), tomato bisuq soup (eh, it was so-so) and some cocktails.  It was so dead that the cook brought us a complimentary dish of bacon-wrapped dates in a vodka sauce that was to dah fer!

Ben is the kind of person who is the voice of reason.  He's the one you can talk about anything to and he totally gets it.  He's self-aware, and aware of the world around him, and tries to live a life that makes a difference, as most of us do or aspire to do.  Ben is my sounding board.  Someone I trust deeply and I know will never judge me but ask questions that provoke my thought (yes, I know he's reading this!).  So, it was an awesome evening of sharing, asking and telling. Ben is the kind of guy who, when you're leaving says "You know, I'm going to tip the waiter/bartender more because it was half off night."  For me, who worked her way through college as a waitress and bartender, I feel terrible I didn't think of it.  But Ben did. And to top it off, he walked me the few blocks to the bus stop, across from the "El" cuz he's a gentleman like that.

Tonight feels like December or the beginning of January.  This storm is late, in a our terms.  However, it feels like Old Man Winter is saying You haven't seen the last of me and this is my last chance.   Indeed, we're never sorry to see him go, but if it weren't for the winter, summer just wouldn't be so great in Chicago.  People around the world wouldn't talk about how amazing this city is in the summer.  While we rarely let bad weather keep us down, summer is when we are all at our best.  We'd take it for granted, like they do in the South and Southwest.  People wouldn't live every day to the fullest, caring less about sleep and more about being out, about and present in the warmth still radiating from the city sidewalks.  No, it just wouldn't be the same.

As we walked down the street, we are bombarded with small snow bits (not even big enough to be flakes) that dance in the wind and chill our faces.  Both of us covered from head to tail in winter gear and snow.  As always, I give him a kiss on the cheek and we agree to do this again....soon.  two and half hours and we still didn't cover everything.

Once off the bus, I begin the trek down my block.  I've written about it before, but tonight it actually happened - one of the things I love about the city - a snow covered street.  I wish I could take a picture so you could see it in it's beauty.  The block is silent and I have a spiritual moment (shutup! it is!).  It's spiritual because of its beauty - pure - and no matter how many times I experience it, I'm still filled with wonder at it.  I do not take it for granted.  The sounds of nearby city vehicles muted.  It's as if a blanket has been laid down over everything quashing the sounds of the city.  The street lights bounce off the snow and it's suddenly brighter, not to mention a wee bit safer.  The snow continues to blow into my face and only momentarily blocked by a house or four.  I. Feel. So. ALIVE.  I slow my pace, knowing it's just a few blocks to my house and I want to enjoy it; savor this feeling.  It's a high.  I want to enjoy it because I'm blessed to have a warm coat, hat and gloves on.  I want to enjoy it because I have a warm, dry house awaiting me.  I am blessed.  If there's ever a time to realize what you have, it's now.  I can only imagine what it would be like to be out there now, waiting for the several inches to fall into place, and no where to go.  No warm home.  Only a crowded shelter.  (Now, those of you who know me, know that I've worked with the homeless for 20 years.  There are those who choose, those who don't and those who don't know the difference.  I reflect and pray for the latter two.)  And, I'm super blessed to have no where to go but my home office and out to shovel in the morning (my back!  hahaha).

Even now, as I write, my face continues to sing from the chill and life that was soft burned into it walking.  I already have a rosy color - thanks to my heritage, and one I've spent a lifetime trying to cover.  It's only been recently that I've embraced my naturally rouged hue and now feel the life within those cheeks.  You just don't get this same feeling when you go from garage to car to parking lot to building.  You just don't. You can only feel it when you spend real time outside, walking, playing with the dog or kids.  You have to enjoy it.  It's not a burden but a reminder that while the sun makes us feel alive with its warmth, that the snow, it's beauty and chill, can do the same.

To those of you in the path of the storm, be safe, stay in and go out when you must.  You know who you are.

xoxo

Back in the Saddle, Again

Hold your horses, kiddos.  Are you sitting down?  You might want to...

Epiphany has a DATE.  A REAL one.  Yep, turns out one of the "texters" just needed a shove and he asked me out for Friday night.  We're going to a pretty trendy place (read a lot of younger people hang there) but whatev.  It's going to be fun, and I now know that my hormones are still, in fact, working which is a big relief because I thought I was all dried up. 

Here's my problem - I don't often do first dates on the weekends because there's no "end time".  I'm sure I can maneuver my way home, but when you're meeting at 6p there's a good chance, unless it's a terrible time, he doesn't look at all like his pictures or he talks with his mouth stuffed full of food which sprays across the table every time he opens his mouth or takes a breath, that I'll be with him for 6 hours.  I guess, I'm really worried about the stigma - weekend dates mean sex!  A gf and I have a new rule (thanks Patty Stinger) "No sex before monogamy".  However, put a couple of cocktails in this gal bundled with a good time and I'll be out all night.  I didn't say sex, but it's hard for me to walk away from a good time.


Here's the other thing...I can't get into any of my jeans!  I'm legging central (and sweats) these days and...well, hoping I can find something that doesn't show the tummy and still makes me look hot.  Unfortunately, with small boobs that means drapey and drapey which means not showing some cleav...if I could afford to go shopping I'd hit "The Max".  Right now it appears my best assets are my calves which will be covered by leggings and tall stiletto boots.  So I guess that means my best assets will be my wrists and ears.  Gosh, when did my confidence die?  Pathetic!  My friends, including you, should all SLAP me! 

Enough, E!  Stop over thinking it!  I know plenty of people who had sex on the first date, or shortly after, and are now happily married.  I also know tons of men who don't care whether you have a perfect body or not.  I'm a ton of fun, witty, smart and I don't have one large mole for a face!

And this is ALL very ironic because several years ago I decided to put an end to the first date jitters.  I told myself, and should remember this, that HE should be nervous whether I will like HIM, not the other way around.  Note to self....

So, who is he?  He's Steven, 39, 5'10, dark hair, shaved head (if you're going bald, just do it. It's hot!), he's got a fairly decent sense of humor, from what I can tell (anyone who puts Rocket Scientist down as their career or sends me an official "date itinerary"has to be fun!), cute, from what I can tell, and loves, LOVES to flirt and so do I!  He may be just what the doctor ordered.  Time for a face mask and home mani tonight.

I wonder if I do some squats tonight if it will make a difference...

Here's hoping he doesn't ask broke E to pick up any part of the tab.

Wish me luck! It's been a very long time since I've had a date....

xoxo

The Ring

I've been meaning to write this post for a long time, but it seemed like there was always something more pressing to explore.

What you should know is that I am like Jack Handy.  The bulletin board above my desk in my office looks like a book of inspirational quotes threw up on it.  In my bedroom I have my intentions "board" - more like several pieces of scrapbook paper with things I want in life glued to it.  I even have a post-it in by bathroom cabinet with "Excellence" written on it.  The idea is that if you look at all of this and put what you want into the world that it will come back to you.  Listen, I've tried it all and I've yet to afford the SUV, $200 dress I adore, take a vacation to the South of France...I was also never one of those girls who had a shoe box filled with ideas for their wedding or kids names.  Cough...now I do.  

I do find inspiration in all of this, I do, but I felt like I needed something more tangible to be a constant reminder of what I am working for everyday for myself - to define my successes.  What I found was a ring - faux of course! - that I found at TJ Max on sale.  It is the ring I would love someone to give me and it represents everything I want as successes and financial security in my life.  The ring is vintage inspired (anyone who knows me understands my live for vintage anything), is silver with a large round cubic zirconia surrounded by smaller stones, and still smaller ones set on the ring itself leading around my finger.  And yes, I tend to wear it mostly on my left ring finger, but it goes everywhere with me at which point it shifts to the other hand.

Now, you may ask "you bought yourself a promise ring?"  Yep!  I sure did.  Much like I registered for gifts and sent emails to family and friends for my 32 birthday and Christmas - because I needed stuff and wasn't getting married any time soon (no prospects) - yes, I bought myself a promise ring, or something that represents a promise to myself.  This promise is to work hard everyday, to not stop doing what I'm doing until I find my happiness, to not give up, to find my partner and to know that I deserve all of these blessings.

I find myself looking at it often and it really does drive me to keep moving forward.  Hey, I could easily sit on my ass three days a week watching TV and only working the hours I get paid for the other days, but it's not like that.  No matter where I may be spiritually, financially and emotionally, I still get up everyday and do what I have to in order to market myself and my business, fulfill other commitments I've created or made.  I am still dedicated, and this ring represents my faith and dedication to getting my relatively stress-free happy ending.

I take tremendous care of this ring and often feel naked without it.  Even now, as I type it's on, under my gloves (told you earlier, it's still freakin' cold here!).  A few times, I've misplaced it and totally freaked out unmaking my bed, tossing pillows and digging in couch cushions and dumping every purse I own.  Maybe this connection is bordering on co-dependent, but it brings me comfort during a time when I am, really, alone.  

So promise ring to myself?  Yes.  Representative of  my dedication to work and life to achieve what it is I want? Yes. A dream?  Possibly.  Am I hopeful, faithful?  You betcha! It was the best $25 I could have spent on myself and it really has come to represent everything I need to do to reach my Epiphany and rise out of the ashes of my past. 

What do you have or do to represent or remind you of what you want in life?

Perspective: I Am Truly Blessed

After a cold shower this morning I called the gas company to see what was going on with the hot water heater, as I cook breakfast just fine.  They said they'd send someone out.  And she arrived in a jiffy.  Impressive for the gas company!  I never got her name, but she gave me a dose of perspective that I needed, and you do too, probably.  She reminded me how truly blessed I am and that a woman is strong enough to do it all on her own.


My dad is a talker and I don't mean he just likes to talk, he will trap you, if you're not careful, unless you can come up with a creative way to depart without hurting his feelings.  This morning, Gas Gal, well, I think she just needed someone to listen.  So, after my near death experience with Angry Smelly Homeless Man, I felt God was reminding me....

Gas Gal hasn't had an easy life in her 60+ years (yes, she spilled her entire story to me).  She isn't a pretty woman but I could see in her powder blue eyes the years of hard work, suffering and yet, still, hope. 

After cheating on her, for what she thinks was years, her husband left her with a four and eight year old.  This was nearly 30 years ago, because she mentioned her daughter is now 37.  Her douche bag husband canceled insurance for her and her children and she came to work for the gas company - hey, utilities pay well and have great bennies plus pension (although State of Illinois owes millions and millions to people).  Smart gal - she raised her children on her own, one with autism and now in assisted living, and later met a man who would be her boyfriend for 21 years.  He passed away four years ago.

Since his passing she was rear-ended in a car accident leaving her with a back injury.  The gas company put her on painting duties - meaning she paints gas meters, and such.  Turns out Gas Gal was allergic to the fumes but after several months of exposure  the damage was done and she now suffers from a major respiratory problem.  The steroids leave her bloated and she was no doubt winded climbing to my attic to look at the water heater.  If that wasn't enough, the poor gal had four, count them FOUR abscessed teeth in the next year (I've had ONE and that was enough for me), leaving her with a few holes in her sweet smile.  Still, she laughed through the recount of her personal trials.  It was a cacophony of tragedy.  Every time I felt it couldn't get worse, it did. 

By the time we were in the attic, she announced that she has nine cats - six she found on the streets while working for the gas company and three she's been helping care for since a friend had to move in with her mother and the landlord won't allow them to stay.  She's had them for two years.  So, of course, because of Meow Mix we bonded.  As she slowly bent to her knees on the floor to look at the water heater, she starts talking about Dewey Readmore Books - the famous Iowa library cat for which their is a need-a-box-of-kleenex-to-read-book about.  It's fabulous.  Trust me.  Sniffle, sniffle (thanks to my cat-loving friend and namesake of Meow Mix*).

At that point, Gas Gal just started talking, and talking and talking.

As we made our way back down from the attic, I was somewhat annoyed and thinking I have so much to do today, and then I sensed that she just needed someone to listen.  I praised her for being such a strong woman, for taking a man's job, earning her way, fighting for equal pay, working hard and taking care of her children.  She told me her daughter married a buffoon but had his baby, anyway, at 37 and that there's more than enough years and opportunity for me (love her!).  Apparently this buffoon, aka beloved douche bag, with a British accent (how many times have woman been swayed by less?) had a criminal record for which he never told his wife and mother of his child.  He's apparently stuck in England because Canada rejected his visa after learning of drugs and the small incident of chasing his sister out a window while high as a kite and, after dangling for a moment by her legs, left her to fall two stories below.  Gas Gal, of course, took her in for convalescence.  Douche bag then threatened Gas Gal with her life if his sister wasn't returned to his family.  Wow!

From there it was an ever flowing cascade of children, grandchildren, great nieces and nephews, and cats, for which Gas Gal recounted each place she found them, their names (courtesy of her autistic, but brilliant son who managed to come up with first and middle names that roll off your tongue with a smooth perfection; like a song) and how she nursed them all back to health.  Her loss and hopes for retirement.  Fear of moving and having to release some of her beloved cats to rescue organizations and somberness thinking about her many trials. 

At one point, as she told me that she lost her boyfriend of over two decades four years ago, I felt tears and emotion rising in her.  She told me that she's been lost in mourning and a little depressed since the loss.  Oh, how I related to her in feeling lost!  Mine seems quite trivial after meeting Gas Gal.  Those who know me know that I was compelled to give her a hug, but I didn't.  Instead I told her that good things and many more blessings would be on their way, and that she is in my prayers.  I felt bad inching away from her to end the conversation, so I did and then stayed and listened a little bit longer to her story. What I heard was a woman, whose life has been full of so many, unexpected tragedies, find joy and happiness in her children, family and cats (like children).  We all have to find those things, those reasons to pull through.

Finally, she wished me well and apologized for taking up my time.  I said "You're not taking up any one's time.  It's been such a pleasure to meet you.  Have a wonderful day and enjoy this beautiful weather!"  With that, we parted.  I back into my apartment (which I now know has a load of violations against it!  Another reason to leave), and she into her gas van.

As a journalist, and a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve-kind-of-gal, I've long believed that every single person alive or passed has a story.  One that will make you laugh; one to make you get up and sing; one that will make you pause and think; one that will cause you take action and one that will break your heart.  No matter the story they are all interesting and important.  They are our stories and lives, and they are all valuable.

So, Gas Gal, I saw you today.  I heard you and your story today and I will pray that you receive all the blessings that God, the universe, whatever you want to call it, so rightly wants to bring to you.  For me, you reminded me that my compassion isn't maybe as compassionate as I'd like to think.  That I, too, am guilty of not wanting to be bothered by anything that doesn't effect me directly or take the time to really hear someone.  You've reminded me that aside of my personal struggles and worries, that my life is all too blessed.  That the little things are what matter, next to family, and that through it all we have to keep on truckin' through life to get to that place of peace and grace of which we're being led. 

More importantly, you reminded me that it's important that we all take a moment to stop, look and listen to someone.  My father always says that one smile, one hello can change the outcome of someone's day.  Go do it, be it, and pass it on.

xo

Quote(s) of the Day

"A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind. This one a long time have I watched. All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph. Adventure. Heh. Excitement. Heh. A Jedi craves not these things. You are reckless!" - Yoda

Yes, I quoted Yoda.  Shut up!!  Got hooked into the Star Wars marathon this weekend - damn it!  Gosh, I love those movies.  So many deep meanings and undertones.  Anyhoo! 

Since making the decision to move, which makes me so happy, I'm starting to not live for today but for tomorrow, what's to come.  It's so easy.  It's so easy to begin fantasizing about what will and could become even when it's months down the road.  At least I realize where I'm at, what I'm doing and can consciously stop myself from losing everything; dropping the ball on the responsibilities I have in this moment - the here and now.  And I've been guilty of doing this for as long as I can remember - always dreaming of what I want.  One of my favorite things as a child.  But, if you spend too much time dreaming you'll never get the things done that will get you to that place.  

I've waited for this epiphany to happen for so long, it's hard not to get excited.  I'm telling close friends slowly, and told my parents this morning.  How can you not get excited about redefining your life; starting over and knowing what you want this time around?  It's really fucking hard!  Besides, it's exciting now, but it will lose it's shiny newness at some point.  And then, something else fun will happen.  So, I'll help you if you help me to continue living in the moment; the here and now, and we'll all get to where we're meant to.

"For some strange reason, no matter where I go, the place is always called 'here'".- Ashleigh Brilliant

and for a some other sage words of advice and kickass quotes on happiness and faith, you've got to check out And This Is What She Said .

Dear Douche Bag at the Grocery Store

The white dress had more of an impact than just helping me walk into that meeting and kick some ass.  It also, apparently, caused the breakage of one of the cardinal rules of civility.  This one's for you: 

Dear Douche Bag at Dominick's:

There are rules to using a revolving door.  You're either stupid, have no understanding of personal space, just moved here and in need of an education or your parents (with obvious good reason) dropped you off in the wilderness to be raised by a pack of wolves and I happened (oh, my good fortune) to be the first woman you've ever come in contact with.  Whatever your reason for being a douche bag, I'm here to help - be grateful.

In Chicago revolving doors are purposed to keep the bitter cold wind of winter and hot, muggy air of summer from getting into the building, thereby increasing the amount of heat and air conditioning produced to keep said building at a reasonable temperature.  Thus, obviously, helps these buildings keep the debt they owe to money-hungry thieves, like ComEd and Peoples Gas, to a minimal amount of a few thousand dollars a month from tens of thousands. 

More importantly, there is, believe it or not, revolving door etiquette, which you clearly need to understand.

1. Under NO circumstances does one EVER walk into the same revolving stall as another person, especially a stranger, unless you are a parent with a child, really good friends, are sleeping together, patting your friend with bennies on the butt on your way to get sustenance after a mad sex marathon, married, or have pet names for one another, like boyfriend/girlfriend, babe, sweetheart and my personal favorite pookie (fine, color me jealous).
2. If you should be so blinded by my one's beauty that you happen to stumble into the same stall you never EVER touch the other person.  EVER!  

If breaking this valuable revolving door etiquette is part of your dating M.O., then I doubt you get laid very often because not only did you break the above rules, you smelled! And, you had the gumption to ask for my number just moments later in the produce section.  For real?  Your apology means nothing after your poor-excuse-for-flirting-behavior. 

If learning and appreciating these TWO-RULES, or, God forbid, simply understanding the rules of human civility, are too much for you, then you clearly need to stop going to my grocery store.  Go torture someone else.  Furthermore, if you want to hit on a woman at the store, follow the lead of others.  SHOWER beforehand and go to the egg section and ask "why does one check the eggs before putting them in your basket?"  You may come off looking ignorant or slightly dumb, but we might just see it as endearing.

The White Dress Lifted the Fog

It's amazing how the right dress can put you in the mood to feel beautiful and successful.

It's been awhile since I've had a real business meeting, and today was one of those days.  Seriously, why do you think I needed to get pretty on Sunday?  It's been awhile.  I work from home - currently in army green shorts and my orange UT shirt (my BFF, Dawn*, and I had a, well, memorable trip to Austin...Bugtussle!).

It was fucking hot and muggy here!  The kind of day when you walk out of the house and wonder why you even bothered showering.  The right clothing is crucial in this weather. So, today I braved wearing my favorite white linen, brocade, sleeveless roped empire waist, white dress with black slings with white flower on the toe to a new business meeting with two new male clients.  I say braved because I'm one of those people who wears something white and even though I'm nowhere near an Italizn restaurant, somehow I still end up getting something bright red dribbled down the front.  This is the same with white shirts, skirts, pants and shorts.  I can be standing, not touching anything and will still get a mark or stain the size of Texas on my white clothes.

I guess you could say I needed a little, for lack of a better reference, Sex & The City mojo today.  After all, I'm in my mid-30's, I'm not dead, fairly attractive and nothing says confident, successful business woman like a great outfit. It worked!  It totally lifted me out of my fog.

It's times like this when I love walking around the busseling streets of downtown Chicago.  In fact, I was right down by the set of Transformers.  Interesting to see how they do what they do to make a city looked demolished. 

So, it's interesting, however, that I've discovered over the years that there's real psychology behind the way you dress.  For instance, with woman, depending on the business, I either dress nice casual or pump up the accessories with an all black or blue outfit.  With men, I typically wear pants and heels, always.  It sort of says "don't think of me as a fragile woman, but one of the guys".  Yes, I did wear a dress (I said it was hot and gross here), but the right dress can say exactly what you need it to in any occasion.  It's all in how accessorize.

Yes, I've officially won the business (the second in a month), and, more importantly, I'm not worrying about whether more business will come or not.  I'm just open to receiving everything that is meant to be given me.  Ten points for Epiphany! It's pretty freeing.  The dress too...from the stifling humidity.

Perfect Summer Day and Best Discovery Ever

Chicago is known for its summer street festivals.  God bless the people who live nearby who have to listen to a collection of bad bands and thumping for three days.  It used to be the highlight of my summer nightlife.   Can't tell you how many flirts I've met at a variety of fests over the years, but now I just feel old. 

While I love a good drinking bender as much as anyone else, I haven't been to any street fests in a couple of years because it's really the same shit.  Shitty food, shitty light beer (or cocktails made with cheap vodka, wretch!), shitty vendors and shitty, overplayed bands.

Yesterday, one of my gfs came in from the burbs with the purpose of hitting a street festival. We refused the suggested donation entrance fee (cuz we're rebels like that) and as we walked in were greeted with an Amy Winehouse lookalike (drug-induced anorexia and all) who sounded more like Leonard Cohen than a real singer.  We were getting off to a great start.

It was a beautiful, and I mean PERFECT Chicago summer day - 82 degrees, clear blue sky...mmmm... perfect - and I could smell the gianormous Italian sausages, drooled over the extra large corndogs (maybe I need sex) and bad Chinese food.  Now, we're both big fans of people watching and it was a great location to do just that.  There are the overly skinny models dressed in, well, nothing and wearing four-inch heels on asphalt (eeekk, eight hours a day. Dogs be barking!), the leather bag-tanned guy selling surfing photos (where you get on the surfboard with faux background - classic!) and, of course, everywhere you look 20-somethings are getting wasted and hooking up, even on a Sunday (let's just say I was a bit jealous).

Up and down both sides of the block was a woman's shopping wet-dream of faux designer handbags and sunglasses from Prada and Gucci to Kate Spade, over-priced jewelry and this new discovery....a wrap-around skirt-like piece that you can tie into 20 different dresses, skirts and tops.  Magnificent!  I haven't actually spent more than $25 on clothes in the past year (clothing swaps twice a year - hello!) and had to have this piece of revolutionary, hand-made silk.  Seriously, if I can turn it into 10 different dresses, it's totally worth it!  If you know me, you may be seeing it in all it's forms in coming months.  Brills!

We only lasted about an hour and half at the fest - we went, we saw, walked out, and found a nearby patio for real adult beverages, snacks and a bit of suntanning.  It was only four hours of my Sunday but it was living.  I even actually got (gasp) pretty (read: wore a cute dress).  It was one of those times when you're not working, no worries, and just simply enjoying the beauty of life, and its indulgences, with good friends.  Next weekend hoping to go to my gf's in the burbs and spend the day on her bf's new boat.  Is there anything better?

One Who Got Away

It's hard to believe it's been nearly two years since the last time I spoke to Joe*.  I remember distinctly having this overwhelming urge to call him and we talked for a couple of hours.  He died suddenly three days later.

Three years ago I was nagging a very old, close guy friend, Tim* about introducing me to his eligible single friends and he did just that.  He and Joe were best friends, went to college and med school together, and were both in Chicago for exams, so we met up for dinner and an evening out.

Word to the wise, don't have the lobster bisque soup at Mike Ditka's.  I did and found myself, just minutes later, hovering over porcelain convulsing and sweating as my body fully relieved itself of the fucking disaster Ditka's called "viable restaurant food".  Thankfully, Joe didn't show up until later.  Can you believe management of the restaurant still made me pay despite my green coloration, testimony from the bathroom attendant and my friends' debate?  Yeah, won't ever be spending a dime there again.

All I can say is nothing can perk you up like some fresh air, a brisk walk and a martini - dangerous on an empty stomach.  Joe showed up about 30 minutes into our nighttime bender and the rehashing of details of my very memorable dining experience. The second Tim introduced me, Joe was on me like flies on stink.  He immediately squeezed himself onto the banquet next to me, threw an arm around the back and started conversation as if no one else was in the bar.  We danced, talked and later made out like bandits.  Hey, few of us are strong enough to resist the words "you're beautiful" and deep eye gaze even if you think the guy's a player. The next morning, as I stumbled out of his hotel room, before I could be spotted as an official "walk of shame" in the lobby (note: always, ALWAYS pack sunglasses and a rubber band), I recounted the night's fun and festivities, thinking that was fun but he's not quite geographically desirable - East Coast.

Geography, schmeography.  Turns out this one didn't care.  We talked on the phone, sometimes for hours, and he visited a few times (read: he stayed in hotel) and offered invitations to me as well, over the next year.  There is no doubt I really liked Joe and it turns out that he was far more into me than he led on.  I found that out later....

It was early October, a Sunday and I just had this urge to get in contact with him.  We hadn't spoken in a few weeks because he was working crazy shifts at one hospital and moonlighting at another to make extra money (the boy had  to pay for his Porsche!).  I just couldn't believe how overwhelming the desire to get him on the phone was.  I left a message and kept my cell nearby until he got off work and called (he always called during his long drive home to keep him company).  We spoke for nearly two hours.  We would laugh so much.  I remember that he was desperately trying to get me to come out for a big sports event and I just couldn't commit.  I suppose that part of me was afraid to get involved with someone long distance, again.  Before we said goodbye, he said he was going to do whatever it took to get me out there.

On a crisp Saturday morning, Ilena* and I (who recently moved out west) decided to do some serious shopping at H&M and Forever 21 in the burbs - cuz the stores are bigger, duh!  On the way out, I received a text message saying that if you have any photos to share in the memorial for Joe to email them.  My heart stopped.  What the???  I immediately called Tim.  He got the text a few minutes later.

Joe died three days after I talked to him.  He had been out running and suffered an inexplicable embolism and fell in his neighbors yard.  He was alone.  Tim said he's pretty sure that Joe knew exactly what was happening.  He was 32 and in amazing shape.    

Joe was one of those super amazing, and I mean SUPER amazing human beings.  One of the best people I've ever known in this life.  I regret now not allowing myself to take that relationship farther.  Tim and I had a lot of conversations afterwards when I found out how much Joe liked and cared for me, and that he knew I wouldn't move from Chicago.  Based on this he never encouraged a relationship beyond what we did have.  I have such regrets.  

This week Tim was in town for business.  I haven't seen him in more than a year.  I have been close to he and his family for a long time.  Almost immediately he mentions Joe and I told him I couldn't talk about it with him.  Well, I might feel that way but clearly Tim needed to talk about it, so I let him.  Later that evening I came home and cried.  After he passed, I'd call Joe's cell phone for several months just to hear his voicemail message.

I was SO blind.  There's no doubt that I have been stubborn and set limitations for myself (insert a LMAO from anyone who knows me), mostly as defense mechanisms and safety precautions, but no more.  If anything Joe showed me that it doesn't matter where love resides.  If it's alive than you have to go to it and know that everything else will work itself out.

I still miss your laugh and spirit, and hear your voice in my head often.  Rest in peace, friend.  You will never be forgotten by anyone who knew you.

Mean People SUCK

Mean people suck, fffooorrr shizzle!  They make me crazy.  Stressed out.  My stomach goes into knots.  My shoulder and neck tighten.  I start to panic and immediately want to swim in a bottle of Shiraz.  Even now at 10 a.m....Aaarrrgghhh!

It's even worse when they're your client, and let me tell you I've had some real doozies over the years - from the guy I got more than six million TV impressions one day to being fired the next (of course I haven't seen anything on them since), to a franchise group where the good old boys just didn't like me cuz I am a chica (again, never seen anything on them since).   

This one comes way of a partnership that came to me to help with a book they wrote.  I could tell right off the bat one of the women was going to be trouble.  Snippy in conference calls, snippy on email.

Now, sometimes, I understand this behavior.  I find that people may not fully understand what I do, the process and how it all works.  I get that.  But it's their insecurity about it that turns them into crazy, five-headed monsters whirling their tongues all around making hissing noises.  With men, I just have to be a bit bitchy and tell them how it is and they completely respect me, but women.  They're different.  You know that saying how women are so hard on one another?  Well, it definitely rings true in this situation, and I think for Ms. McSnippy Pants its personal insecurity, competition, and the desire to have power over people.  This woman is truly a piece of work, riding me, asking questions....you know what BITCH?  You're only paying to work 10 hours a month for you so KISS IT!  Want to pay me $50,000 for the project?  I'll gladly bend over.  But you don't, so I won't.

I was really starting to wonder where the other partner fell in all of this until I get an email requesting a phone conversation.  "Great!" I think.  "I'm already losing business before it's started."  So Ms. Fabulous, potential-client-of-the-year, fills me in on all the details and, yep, I'm not the only one who can't stand Ms. McSnippy Pants.  Turns out that Snippy might not be as successful as she claims and Fab is the one who actually wrote the book and did all the work while Snippy was just going to cash in.  

Awesome!  Wish we could all skate through life like that.  Must be nice to have everyone else do your work for you!  

Fab then announces that she's leaving the partnership because she refuses to be treated this way any more.  Can't blame her.  It's not like I've really enjoyed it.  Then she forwards me McSnippy-turned-SuperBitch's email response where she has the gumption to attack me!  Whatever crazy-town-USA.  It seemed to me that her response was purely defensive.  As if she knows that she's been total crap, is mad at herself, but instead of changing that behavior she just projectile vomits her projection of emotions onto others.  You know, that irritates.  Take care of your own shit.  Others are not responsible or to blame.

So where does that leave me?  Well, we're still moving forward and hoping my mad skills can prove their worth in the next few weeks.  Now the duo are going to be paying me separately which means, yep, you guessed correctly, Bitchy McSnippy isn't ever going to pay me SHIT!  Again, awesome.

How do these people find me?  My business is my baby.  I love my logo (and other things. Shutup!), but do I want to deal with this shit anymore?  I think this is one of the things that I'm most tired of.  It's just wearing me down....some people suck and ruin it for everyone.

Once, I Was Going to Be a Superstar

It's funny how life never quite turns out the way you thought it would. I do believe it's one of the few surprises we have, anymore, is not knowing what will happen. And, while I've actually been quite frustrated and feeling like I have no direction, an itch I can't scratch and absolutely no control over my destiny, it is suppose to be exciting.

When I was younger, I imagined myself a high-powered business woman in the corner office. Sure, I knew I'd work a lot of hours and make sacrifices but they were worth it. I'm a child of the 70's. The ability to imagine and make that happen is gianormous! I was raised to believe I could achieve it, be strong, independent and an overall bad ass if I wanted to, and I really wanted it, too, even through college. A friend and I talked often about the marketing agency we were going to set up and make the world turn on its heels. Yeah, I wanted it so bad I could taste it.

Obviously, it never happened. She returned to dancing, became a mother and wife and gave up the marketing industry, which is just as well because it's crazy and overwhelming everyday. I, on the other hand, continued that drive until recently.

When I first moved to Chicago I worked at a huge, international marketing firm and I loved walking out of my building on to Michigan Avenue lined with lights and thousands of passerbys. Every time I opened the door, stepped out, took a deep breath and looked up at the lights and the buildings I felt like Mary Tyler Moore. No joke. I felt so alive and happy, and I was going to become a powerful, but kind, successful business woman. Over time, though, I watch the head of the Chicago office. She was in her 50's, never married (except to the job), never had children, made a lot of money, worked late every night including Fridays, had a big job, but was that what I really wanted? Her life was work; the agency. I loved it, but I'm one who defines myself as so many more things.

I've worked really hard, and continue to do so, committed, or I should say totally over-committed to everything I'm involved with from running my business to outside pursuits. By the time I started my own business I realized that the idea of being able to be a power player in the corner office, manage a family, relationship, happy home, friends and family, was truly impossible.

Over the years, I've been offered those kinds of jobs and I've turned them down. Why? Because I felt like if I was going to work 12 hours a day, or more, like I do now, I want it to be from the comfort of my own home, not an office that I might as well move into and make my home, cat and all. What is the price of happiness? For me, yeah, maybe I should have done it to have a better financial situation but, arrogantly (I suppose), I felt a lifestyle was more important. Isn't that what everyone is seeking today? It's that balance of doing what you like, enjoy and even love from the comfort of your home, with discipline and tremendous success while maintaining relationships, working out and having a life. Foolishly, I thought that I could still be a superstar with my business. I still do in some ways because I know my industry inside and out, know what I'm doing and provide affordable services to small businesses, but, after all of these years it's just not the case.

Why do some people achieve this superstar status and others don't? What's the secret? What I do know is some people just have better luck...Trust me, I've looked into "The Secret", the power of attraction, motivational speakers and their checklists and more. I don't know what that magic elixir is, but the super stubborn side of me wants more than ever to find it; to not quit until I've done all I can - maybe I've run dry and not realized it.

Last night I actually thought about ending all of what I've created over the last 10 years and taking the corner office (so to speak) in my grasp. Somehow I just feel like I'd only be doing it for the money, but ironically, money would provide me what I need to discover more of what I want to do (however not the time), what makes me happy and to knock down my personal stumbling blocks. That SUCKS! And it's the truth. A fucking Catch 22.

I've always had faith that things would come to me, and they do. However, it's like I can't have everything at once. And I believe we're all where we're supposed to be to get to the next level, but at my age, looking at "the next level", well, let's just say it ain't anything worth writing home about.

In this pondering, I've noticed that everything coming to me, at the moment, is keeping me right where I am - more business, powerful contacts met - so I wonder if it's finally going to take off and what I feel is missing is a completely different aspect of my life, or if it's all a hoax . For now, I am where I am, not really a superstar, but I hope my friends and family think I am. Meow Mix certainly thinks I am, especially when I rub her belly. I am going to do what I can with what's presented in meditation and in chance. I'll let you know.