Entry 46: Being Able to Go Streaking in Your Own House

We have had a house guest for a few days now, and while walking and streaking naked around my house was never something I really did prior to having a house-guest, there’s something about not being able to do it that makes it randomly cross your mind.

There probably is a psychological term for this: wanting something that you can’t have or can’t do. You hear a lot about this with people and relationships, where a girl has a crush on a guy who has no idea she exists, but when the guy eventually has a crush on said girl, the girl has moved on. Story of my early teens, but that’s another story for another day.

Don’t get me wrong, our house guest is really nice, she’s tries to buy us groceries, and we’ve had some pretty deep conversations. Like how ancient Egyptians built the pyramids. Could aliens have helped? If not, then how were they able to build it with such precision? It sounds like one of those conversations one might have if on the weed, but I swear to you and your mother that we were not.

I did however have a few drinks of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey during this conversation. If you have not tried it and like to classily ( or non classily) sip on whiskey, it goes down super smooth and is amazing, causing you to question if it’s even alcohol. I must, however, bear warning to the fact that therein lies it’s danger –  after a few drinks you may find yourself  in a blanket burrito on the floor while watching netflix, then in the REM stage of sleep shortly thereafter. Countless times have I woken up at 4 am wondering how I just knocked out of nowhere, and looking up to see the tv lingering on the netflix screen asking me if I wanted to continue watching my show that has already played 5 episodes more than I remembered.

But digress.

Having a house guest….

As is often the case when one has a guest in a house (staying or visiting) a certain level of propriety is expected. One cannot liberally walk around without a bra or pants, or leave the bathroom door open while taking a poop. Adjusting a wedgie that’s riding up your butt will cause you to be weirdly looked upon, or – if you’re a male – putting your hands down your pants to adjust your dick will inevitably result in a look of disgust.

If you’re completely comfortable doing all those things while having a house guest…. good for you. I for one, am not. And so for this past week, I have suppressed such normal tendencies that would be deemed even the slightest bit improper.

So when house-guest went to work last week, and husband was home sick for the day (and I was home because… well, because I’m a lulu…)  after a shower I thought…hmmm… streaking…why not?  I jumped out of the shower, towel dried myself so I wasn’t dripping wet, went into the living room, and ran a few circles around the couch… naked. Meanwhile, husband laid on the couch, a tissue box on the side table, face all tiredly congested and a look of what are you doing? Undoubtedly, the security cameras caught it all on tape. And you know what? It was great.

I’m not saying that every time I have guests over, there will be this constant thought of  walking around naked while we’re conversing about whatever. That would be rude. But… I wouldn’t rule out the fact that it may happen at some point when there’s no one home.

Anyways, I hope everyone has a great rest of your week. It’s starting to get cooler in the desert. This morning I woke up and took the trash out in 65 degree weather, and I was cold. It’s supposed to be 87 today. In a few months, you people who have inevitable bitter cold, grey weather will probably hate me.

Until next time…

 

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Entry 46: Being Able to Go Streaking in Your Own House

Entry 44: Sit, Stand, Kneel, Don’t Show Up – You Can’t Win

This flag/anthem controversy is everywhere

What I’ve concluded after listening to political podcasts, reading articles, and watching the news is… you can’t win. If you sit, kneel, don’t show up –  to the right, you’re linked with Colin Kaepernick and you’re not honoring the flag. If you stand and disagree with the kneelers, sitters, and non-showers, to the left you’re somehow linked with Trump who represents racism and bigotry and everything against free speech.

I was watching this news blip on how the Cowboys tried to strategically stand with the NFL in their protest, while honoring the flag. They had meetings days before the game with everyone on the team to try to figure out how they could get their message out, without offending anyone. They ended up kneeling before the anthem even began and got boo’d, and then stood during the national anthem. It didn’t matter that they stood during the anthem,  taking a knee regardless of when the knee was taken, was associated that with Colin Kaep. and the NFL, and that didn’t sit well.

Another player from the Steelers, Alejandro Villanueva stood at the tunnel during the anthem while his team were in the lockerroom..  I heard some people, including people in his team, thought it was disrespectful he didn’t stay in the locker rooms with his team.  But if he hadn’t, people from the Right would wonder why he didn’t stand.

You can’t win. Someone, somewhere is bound to have a problem.

I brought up this point earlier in the week  about how it’s funny that people can have so much in common, get along so well, can laugh, watch ‘This is Us’ and cry about it together, go out and have a beer, but the moment when disagreeing politics or religion comes into play – they become enemies. People get so passionate about these two topics, that the commonalities that had once linked a fellow human being to another becomes forgotten.  Until disaster strikes, then humanity kicks in for a few moments… although even then people can be mean with their whole “God is taking away all the Trump supporters with the Hurricanes”.

I think it’s important to remember in the midst of this divide, that an individual’s convictions are products of their experiences and social-economic background that has defined their values and fears. But at the heart it, they are people just like everyone else : they pay bills, have to work a job, watch Game of Thrones and were all like What the Fuck when Hodor died, and experience emotions of love and anger just like every other human being.

That being said, I stood for the anthem when it came on at the bar I was at last Sunday.

I stood…not because I’m racist or don’t believe there’s issues that need to be addressed, or don’t believe in freedom of speech, or am product of white privilege (which someone can explain that to me if I am)  and I didn’t vote for Trump (really I think he should just his keep mouth shut and not tell private entities what to do and focus on not being such a horrible President), but I stood because of my values and conviction in what the flag represents. While I will respectively disagree with those who don’t stand, I come from a standpoint of understanding that even though we may have differing opinions, that doesn’t make anyone who disagrees with me a lesser person than me. I believe we’re all trying to push for a better future for the country and don’t think that there’s a person out there who is doing what they’re doing with the mentality that they want to bring America down – except for extreme terrorists. That’s another story.

Anyways, that is all for now. I probably stirred some pots, some people’s cursor  are probably hovering over the ‘defriend’ button, but not before they write a comment on how I am incorrect . They’ll type in the last sentence saying  something like “You’re horrible for standing and you don’t understand the struggle of the black community because of white privilege”.  then they’ll defriend me a half a second after they hit the send comment button. Or maybe they won’t comment at all and just de-friend me.

I really hope people don’t de-freind in real life me because I stood; I can be fun and personally think I’m awesome, but what can you do…it’s not the end of world…  you can’t win with people sometimes.

Entry 44: Sit, Stand, Kneel, Don’t Show Up – You Can’t Win

Entry 43: Becoming Older… and Apparently More Parent-y

Every Sunday for me and my family is Football Sunday. And when it’s not football season, it’s Walking Dead Sunday, and then Game of Thrones Sunday. And if neither of those shows are on, me and husband look at each and are like, none of the shows we like are on… what do you want to do? At which point, we filter through HBO, Prime, or Netflix, and if nothing on those services appeal to our interest, we watch Big Bang Theory.

Luckily, we have not faced that roadblock since it is football season. This past Sunday night football, we had a few friends over, and extended the invitation to a few friends of a friend.

At the end of the night, one of the extended friends, who is 23 years old, was like you guys don’t have any kids? (A : Uhm, I think you would’ve seen them if we did) ..oh… cuz you guys are like.. parent-y.

I don’t think he meant it in a negative way, or at least I certainly didn’t take it that way. The only reasons I can think of why he said it was maybe because a. we’re a whole decade older than him or b. we’re good hosts and fed him.

Whatever the reason, in my head – I was like, parent-y? when did that happen? Especially since I myself don’t think I have the maturity of a parent, let alone an adult. Maybe if I showed him my adult coloring book collection, or the hello kitty socks that I have in my drawer, he would think otherwise.

Or not.

Earlier that evening, a commercial came on for The Voice.

23 year old :  I don’t even know who the black chick is.

Me: That’s Jennifer Hudson… she was on American Idle

::Blank stare::

I have accepted that this will happen more and more the older that I get: having to explain pop culture and events of yesteryear that will be met with blank stares. I am anticipating that the day when I have to explain who NSync and the BackStreet Boys are will come fairly soon. It will be a day that will hurt my heart, but one which I will gladly take the time to explain the cultural phenom that was.

It makes me think about how my teachers in high school tried to explain world events that they lived through – like the Berlin Wall coming down. Or how my mom’s face would light up whenever she saw Donny Osmond on tv , and how I myself met them with stares of yea, I know you’ve lived through this, and I can see you feel a certain way, but I can’t exactly share your emotion. 

Ehh, it is what it is. It’s all a part of getting older… and becoming parent-y .. I suppose.

Until next time…

 

Entry 43: Becoming Older… and Apparently More Parent-y

Entry 41: Assuming Everyone Else’s Life is Perfect.

A wise friend told me, don’t compare yourself to others, everyone’s got their own issues. 

Seems pretty self-explanatory, something that I know in the deepest corners of my heart, and yet I sometimes find myself forgetting this and getting caught up in what I don’t have, what I’m not doing, or where I’m at in life compared to everyone else.

Social media doesn’t help . Not that I’m trying to blame it or anything, but I can see the toxicity in consuming one’s time in other people’s statuses and photo posts.  While I love seeing updates and pictures of where people have been and what they’ve eaten, I think I tend to subconsciously forget that people generally only post the good stuff that happens and not necessarily the struggles that life brings them. Which I get, I don’t like to advertise the bad shit on the interwebs either, but it doesn’t mean I don’t go through them myself.

What ends up being presented is a partial truth to the reality of life. 

It’s like when I read trashy romance novels that tell stories of  whirlwind romances and sexcapades that leave me with the feeling of – Why doesn’t my husband ravish me like that?!? Or Save me from towers?!?  (Well, because you don’t have a tower,  you do not live in 17th century England, you don’t even like getting your hair pulled, and most of the stuff that goes on in trashy books doesn’t happen in real life. )

So if you’ve ever thought my life is awesome based on all my selfies and social media posts – it is. But surprise. It isn’t perfect. But I need to work on not dwelling on how my life is or isn’t compared to everyone else, but counting the perfect and imperfect blessings that exist.  And if there’s something that’s lacking in my life that bugs me, to ultimately do something about it, instead of dwell. Which is hard, because I’m a chronic dweller.

 

Anyways, I hope everyone has a great week! Nothing exciting is happening to me this week. Does going to Costco count? I don’t know. But … until next time 🙂

Entry 41: Assuming Everyone Else’s Life is Perfect.

Entry 39: When a Lady Goes Ape Shit at a Park

The other day, I was at a park that I frequent quite often with my dogs. It was  in a very family-orientated community where there’s a dog park, a skate rink, a swimming pool, a fire station next to the park, and a school right across the street.  I generally go there to walk/run around in the grassy areas of the park with my dogs and keep on top of focus exercises and commands… so if they see a gecko, bird, or squirrel – they’re focus is still on me, rather than other distractions.

Anyways, at the park…I was getting out of my car and a van pulls up right beside me. An older guy in his 40s comes out.

“Hi,” I said as I made eye contact. (If there’s one thing that ‘s changed about me living in the desert, is that I say “hello” a lot more to strangers.)

“Do your dogs have leashes?” he asks.

Behind my sunglasses, I had a look of confusion. Of course I had leashes. This isn’t an off-leash dog park.  I even have poop bags to pick up poop because I’m not a jerk.  I like to think I have the look of someone responsible who is doesn’t break rules, because I feel like I’m a rule follower, but maybe he didn’t see me as such.

A lady pulls up in another vehicle and asks, if I was leaving. Behind my sunglasses, another look of confusion. She then proceeds to yell at him.

“Get my fucking dogs back in the van.  She has two fuckin pitbulls in the car!”

It was 9 in the morning, and while I had been awake for a while and already gotten a morning workout in, it was taking me a while to process what exactly was going on. So she knew this guy? And those were her dogs? But she’s in a different car? 

“I don’t care,” the man tells her. By this point he’s already gotten his dogs… or her dogs out of his van, meanwhile my dogs were still in the car, as I was right outside of the passenger door, waiting to see if I should bring them out.

“Get my fucking dogs back in the van!” she yells to him

“Why do I care if she has pitbulls?” he responds. “I have a fucking gun!”

At this point, she goes ape-shit upset crazy upset and fanatically screams at him with no self control.

“I don’t care if you have a fucking gun. Get my fucking dogs back in the van!! I don’t want them near fucking pitbulls!”

How to describe ger frantic screaming…It was like how you would imagine one of those popular teenage girls would yell at their squad when finding out that someone in their who they thought was their best friend/ side-kick (but really they were using them) stole their prom date and was nominated for prom Queen, when she wasn’t….

But this all happened within a span of a few minutes, and to be honest, I didn’t know how to respond to all of it so I pretty much pretended to ignore. They eventually left, but it left me a little sad: she didn’t know my dogs and she reacted based on whatever experience she had or whatever she had heard on the news.

In owning dogs that are a breed that has a bad rep, I’ve come to understand that there going to be people who have their fears and stigmas, and that’s completely fine. We chose to own our dogs, and with that we are bound to encounter people who don’t agree with our choice of dogs. In owning them and deciding to love them, there is an even greater responsibility to defend them, and go above and beyond to ensure that they rise above whatever bad reputation they have.

But like I said, I understand that it’s hard not to evaluate situations, things or people and react based on what we read. Random:  one time, husband and I were at one of those condo sales pitch, and the sales guy pointed me out and was like … you! You like to shop! Which, it’s true, but for some reason it bugged me because I’d like to think that there’s more to me than the fact that I like to shop.

Maybe it’s all part of our nature, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, but I don’t think it should be the only thing. Like if I were to only generalize the people at the park who went ape shit over my dog, my first thought about them would be… white trash, these guys are white trash.

Anyways, that is all for now. Hope everyone is having a great week.

Until next time 🙂

Entry 39: When a Lady Goes Ape Shit at a Park

Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

I don’t know when people generally start having mid-life crises’, but around a month before I turned 33, I started having this fear of getting wrinkles. It started with a conversation I had with a friend who casually mentioned her skin routines involving facial masks and exfoliating which led me to be filled with this feeling of oh shit. I am 33 years old and I haven’t moisturized daily, ever. Or exfoliated or done facial masks. I am going to wrinkle!

Since that initial freak out, I have found myself perusing the skincare aisles of every store (particularly Target) and stocking up on preventative wrinkle care.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with taking precaution, but it has led me to think about why I find it so important to not age. Aging is inevitable, people are bound to wrinkle and develop puffy circles are their eyes and grey hairs. But why was it so important to me?

That is where it hit me : my self worth.

I am by no means a supermodel, but I’ve been called pretty and take pride staying in shape (or at least trying to) . But I suppose that is all I can see as being worth anything. I know it’s no use to mope around with that sort of mentality, and ultimately I have the power to change my life to make it something I’m proud of; it’s all in a matter of actually doing it.  While its really hard to break free of that when beneath those layers, there is that lack of self-confidence, I’m going to try to make it my resolution this year to snap myself out of that. … on top of fighting wrinkles.

Anyways, until next time.

 

Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?

Have you ever been asked the question What’s your story?

My immediate reaction is always like : What do you mean what’s my story? I don’t really …have one. Whats YOUR story. Then based on their answer, I answer the question.

To be quite honest, I don’t think my life is all that exciting so I’m never quite sure how to answer. When you think of stories / movies, they usually consist of a plot – sometimes with twists, turns, and an apex to the plot  – and my life has none of that. Its just, ordinary. To me its awesome, but ordinary. I mean, I cleaned my spare bathroom yesterday. This happens once a week. And then after that I folded laundry.  And then I grilled hot dogs for dinner.

If you want to go into the depth of my character, well – some might find my interests boring. I like to read, get lost in Michaels, word puzzles and regular puzzles, and binge watching The Great British Baking Show. I got into a Games of Thrones debate with the produce guy at the grocery store the other day. I hear any sort of Game of Thrones reference and my ears just perk up. He was talking to the other produce guy about the battle scene from last season and I just joined in like  I know right!?!  That was friggin crazy!

Some people think my personality weird. In high school, when I first started dating my high school boyfriend, this girl asked him Why are you dating her? She’s weird. At the time, it kind of hurt my feelings, but then I was like, wait a minute – she’s right. I am kind of weird; not in the bad socially-awkward way, just in the- I used to humm while i brushed my teeth -kind of way (true story. i dont do it anymore though, i swear…. ) and some people find that weird. I used to hope that girl who called me weird was losing in life, but I’ve gotten over it and have come to embrace the “weirdness” as part of why I’m awesome

Back to my story. This makes me realize how grateful I am not to be dating, just so I don’t have to answer that question. The very thought gives me anxiety. I would probably be rejected by waves if I was like I like puzzles, but it’s something I would say because it’s true.

I’m glad my husband didn’t think I was too weird on our first date. After we ate, I started making a sculpture with tortilla chips and poured water over it, saying its called art, you wouldn’t understand. I’d like to think he was just like Yea, shes a little weird, but super hot so I’ll let it pass. 😊

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?