beerwithastraw.com

Monday is pretty suck-tastic around here. I’ve attempted to pull my head out of it, but all attempts at writing are resulting in whiny, complaining testaments, and I don’t want to release any of that into the world today- so instead, I meme. You care, you know you do…

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
Probably a pen. I’m bad about that.

2. Where was your profile picture taken
(Facebook, I guess?)– Lake Bistineau State Park (Group Camp 2)

3. Can you play Guitar Hero?
On “Easy” I can. I freakin’ slay at “Sabotage.”

4. Name someone who made you laugh today?
James.

5. How late did you stay up last night and who were u talking too?
not quite 10:00 is when I went to bed, but didn’t go to sleep until a bit later. No talking, though I tried to make some phone calls- but the circuits were all busy. Guess everybody had to talk to everybody else about the game they all just watched.

6. If you could move somewhere else, would you?
I’ve lived in 8 states, and in this state, in 4 towns. I’m actually pretty happy where I’m at, thanks- though I wouldn’t mind a vacation property in Alaska to visit. Hated the winters, though.

7. Ever been kissed under fireworks?
Maybe? Not sure.

8. Which of your friends lives closest to you?
Raymond and Katherine live 3.42 miles down the road.

9. Do you believe ex’s can be friends?
Yes. Definitely.

10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper?
Ick.

11. When was the last time you cried really hard?
oh FFS…

12. Who took your profile picture?
Debbie

13. Who was the last person you took a picture of?
… not sure.

14. Was yesterday better than today?
Some yes, some no.

15. Can you live a day without TV?
I think I could probably live without TV altogether, but that doesn’t mean I do.

16. Are you upset about anything?
I’m probably repressing.

17. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
Every relationship is worth it, even the ones that ultimately aren’t.

18. Are you a bad influence?
Only in a good way.

19. Night out or night in?
Yes, please.

20. What items could you not go without during the day?
I feel naked without my rings on, I’m fond of my phone. So- rings, phone.

21. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?
A friend’s mom. It’s been awhile.

22. What does the last text message in your inbox say?
“please find nearest circus or gypsies.”

23. How do you feel about your life right now?
I am quite content, despite my crap-tastic mood today. Moods are fleeting; life is still good.

24. Do you hate anyone?
Today? Yeah, I kinda do, but most of the time I try very hard not to.

25. If we were to look in your FaceBook inbox, what would we find?
….messages?

26. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?
Oh yeah.

27. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?
Yes, but they were lying.

28. What song is stuck in your head?
“Tyler” by the Toadies.

29. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be?
Um, I don’t. I live in the country and half the time, I forget to lock my door- if somebody is dumb enough to come to the window I don’t think I want to know them.

30. Wanna have grandkids before you’re 50?
No. I want to borrow other people’s, though.

31. Name something you have to do tomorrow:
Drive, work, breathe, laugh.

32. Do you think too much or too little?
Always too much.

33. Do you smile a lot?
I hope so…

See, here’s the thing.

I had a fantastic weekend. Today, in particular, was really pleasant, and as I headed home this evening to hang out with my dad, who had made it into town to stay for a day or 20, I was really happy and calm and peaceful. I had to make a quick stop at the pet store for chewy toys… but that was ok.

And the worst freaking decision I’ve made in quite a while.

So I’m looking at chewy bones and debating the virtues of bacon vs. peanut butter when I spotted this guy out of the corner of my eye. I started down the aisle but was caught- and it was a leery and gross “How are you?” or something to that effect.

Last time, I faked along with the conversation, even though I’m pretty sure I managed to sound like a coke fiend while I did it. This time I squared up my shoulders and looked him level in the eye and said (again, something to the effect of) “Look, we’re not friends. I wish you no malice, but I’d really prefer it if, in the event we run into one another, we could pretend we didn’t know one another, because we don’t, and I don’t want to.” And it was true. He doesn’t know me. He remembers some 15 year old me, not this me, and this me? Has no desire whatsoever to play “Where are They Now” with him, at all. Ya’ll that know me know I only have two people firmly on my list of “go fall off a cliff, plz” and I hope nobody ever manages to trump him on that list.

Anyhow- it didn’t work. Instead of a polite “very well then” or “fine” or even just turning and walking away— things that might have managed to convince me that I should’ve been nicer because people can change- I got my decision cleanly validated for me. It was mean. It was loud. It was profane and obscene and I’m not going to repeat a word of it, not here or anywhere else. Sabine got the lowdown, and retelling it once was enough. I will say, though, that Petsmart employs angels, and one of them swiftly intercepted, took me to the register, checked me out, walked me to my truck, locked my door, and waited for me to get out of the parking lot before he went back in, and managed to do it all without making me feel worse than I already did. That kid was freaking amazing, but I’m still feeling very assaulted and sick to my stomach and bruisey.

Sabine calmed me down. My dad distracted me. The last quarter of the Superbowl entertained me, and the Budweiser commercial with the cow absolutely elevated me (I love those damn commercials). I’m ok, I think, or I will be anyway- but it still needed to get out, so you guys get it raw if this girl is gonna manage to sleep tonight.

You read the entire works of T.H. White
And I never asked you any questions
and you looked just like a movie queen last night
so I didn’t mind the extra waiting
but you beat my arms with your slashing tongue
and it was no fun for me in fact
it was black, jet black and jealous

–Jet Black and Jealous, Paul Sanchez

And now… it’s time for a bubble bath.

from Judith Viorst, via OriginalSara:

I’ll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I’ve turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

It might be the curse of the middle-ish class American 30-something- or maybe that’s just when it hits and it sticks around for awhile.  I’m pretty sure we all get to the point where we realize that by now, by this point in our lives, we were supposed to be doing something that we’re clearly not doing, or not doing right, anyhow.  Whether it’s writing our memoirs or already having 2 bestsellers, or being 3 or 4 rungs up the payscale above where we’re at, or maybe even “by now I was supposed to have 2 kids and a Yorkie and 6 months pay in savings in the bank”- I don’t know a single person that I am close with that can honestly say that they think they are as magnificent as they’d planned on being by now, and just like everyone else I keep time with, I indulge in these thought processes.  I also try- with mixed success- to keep in the forefront of my mind that that’s exactly what it is- an indulgence.  I may not be a doctor/movie star, but I am successful and cushioned enough that I’m not spending all my time worrying about BigRealProblems, like shelter and abuse and whether the water is potable and whether there’s a man with a machete outside the house… but that’s another tangent.  Anyhow- I have the luxury of some navel-gazing.

So, what is “success,” on the personal level?  Who makes the rules as to who gets to be the heroine?  It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?  See, I don’t want to be a RockStar because I want to be famous.  I want to be a RockStar because I’m worthy of being known and because I want to be considered a person worth knowing of.  There’s a big difference there.  I want the validation, but not the paparazzi.  Of course, in the global sense of the word- I’m not doing so well in either regard… but global doesn’t really matter that much if what you’ve got at the micro-level is genuine.

Somebody I care a great deal for but don’t get to interact with often shared something  with me a few months back.  I’m truncating several bits in the interest of preserving some iota of privacy, but hopefully, the point still gets across:

This was big, and I didn’t fully realize it at the time.  But… years ago, the moment I stepped onto your pontoon boat and the feeling I experienced when I did so ended up being the driving force behind me heading down the career path I am on now.  Before that day, I hadn’t been on a boat in four years or so and I didn’t fully realize how much I missed that feeling until that day.  And now, five years later, I’m gainfully employed,  have new doors opening all the time, am _happy_ where I am and with what I am doing, and I have you to thank in no small part for that.

Yeah… that’s kind of RockStar in my book, even if all I thought I was doing at the time was inviting a friend to go out on the lake with me for a bit, and upon further reflection, I’m fully ok with playing a lesser heroine in somebody else’s grand story, and if I can accomplish that accidentally while just living out my own ordinary life, I think that’s just fantastic.

Holy crap, that didn’t go where I thought it was going to.  Either way, thank you, Sara, because your well-timed quote gave me a moment (or 4 days of moments, more accurately) to reflect on the idea that incidental actions can have great big beautiful consequences, and they can lend to the greater stories being written.

In January, my boss sent another managerial type and myself to a “Hands On Management Seminar!1!” Of course, it turned out to be largely a telemarketing spiel (which I saw coming, but I digress), but as part of the seminar, they administered the Meyers-Briggs Personality Test.  Of course, now that we’ve gotten our results, we’re invited back to take a 3 day seminar (continental breakfast included!) to help us use that data to our benefit in the workplace…
Anyhow, the packet of information that came with my result was pretty sparse, so I hit the Google, because that’s just how I am- and now I know why.  Yay!

My result:
INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging)

Some interesting snippets I found out there:

INFJs are conscientious and value-driven. They seek meaning in relationships, ideas, and events, with an eye toward better understanding themselves and others. Using their intuitive skills, they develop a clear vision, which they then execute decisively to better the lives of others. Like their INTJ counterparts, INFJs regard problems as opportunities to design and implement creative solutions.  (See?  Not meddling… designing and implementing solutions.)

“Accurately suspicious about others’ motives, INFJs are not easily led. These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time. Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.”
(Sabine would argue with that second sentence.)

“Sensing, however, is the weakest of the INFJ’s arsenal and the most vulnerable. INFJs, like their fellow intuitives, may be so absorbed in intuitive perceiving that they become oblivious to physical reality. The INFJ under stress may fall prey to various forms of immediate gratification.” (Yep.  Did I show you those new shoes I got…?)

“INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people — a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious “soul mates.” (heh.)

“INFJs, making up an estimated 1% of all people, are the most rare type (males even more so). They are introspective, caring, sensitive, gentle and complex people that strive for peace and derive satisfaction from helping others. INFJs are highly intuitive, empathetic and dedicated listeners. These traits tend to act as a “tell me what’s wrong” sign on their forehead, hence the nicknames Confidant, Counselor or Empath. INFJs are intensely private and deeply committed to their beliefs.” (awww… you always told me I was special.)

“Since INFJs have such strong value systems, and persistent intuitive visions which lend them a sense of “knowing”, they do best in positions in which they are leaders, rather than followers. Although they can happily follow individuals who are leading in a direction which the INFJ fully supports, they will very unhappy following in any other situation.” (Oh, hell that’s funny… and truuuuuue….)

Suggestion:  Tell your Facebook friends to give you songs.  Put a special playlist together, and every time something Very Odd Happens, like an overtly redneck cover of “Gin and Juice” phasing into some Clutch followed by a very sweet cover of Sweet Child o’ Mine, think about how amazing the people you choose to be influenced by are.

At first, I nearly posted the request as “Give me a song that makes you think of me” or even “reminds you of me,” but I was a bit scared of some of the potential answers.  I probably shouldn’t have been, but it would’ve only taken one “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” to turn it into an un-fun game, and after all- I did this for my own enjoyment, didn’t I?  The fun part is getting to assume that maybe some of those songs DO have special hidden meanings, but selectively, and in such a way that if you don’t like where the thought is going, you can abandon it and call that one “just another song”.  I wonder if that old college classmate actually remembers that time that we shared a Tiki Bowl at Yesterdays’ and danced to that song he suggested… or was it just a suggestion?  Doesn’t matter.  It’s a memory to me, and I enjoyed the warm fuzzy.  I know Charles’s song for me, at least one of them, is special- because, you know, “Milkshake” is our song.  God, I don’t like that song for the song that it is… but I like that it reminds me of one of my most fabulous friends, so I keep it, and it still makes me smile when I hear it.  How did Minion #3 know that I really, really like the song “Electric Worry”?  I know we’ve never had that conversation, so it must mean that we’re kindred spirits, right?  Of course it does… but I already knew that.  And that one song that I absolutely know without a doubt means something pointed to the person who gave it to me?  Well… that was pretty awesome, too, because it’s nice to be able to transcend past what you were with somebody but still be able to own the reality of what was and have it not get in the way of what is.  Or hey- maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe it is just a song, but I know what it is to me.

The game works the other way, too.  I’m going to assume that Jimmie just likes songs about penes, and that he doesn’t think about penes when he thinks about me.  I don’t need any confirmation of that train of thought, either, so if you know otherwise- we’re good.  I don’t really have to know.  And there’s one or two there that if I squinted at them just right, might freak me out because dude, that COULD mean something… but I don’t have to go there if I don’t want to.  Like with so few things in life, this time I get to take the happy and leave the questionable and enjoy the music and not think about the heavy stuff unless I want to.  It feels good.

And yes- I’m working on OS’s quote challenge for the week… but it’s haaaard.  Good hard, but hard all the same, which I hope is a bit of an ego-hug for her.  It’ll be done by Friday… I hope.

Me:  “I’ve lost 60.1 pounds!”

Friend: “oooh, time for before and after pictures!”

Me: “Screw you, hippy.”

So- yes.  I’m thrilled with that landmark having been met, and will be even more thrilled if next week I don’t gain .2 lbs or more.  I’m very happy with it… but here’s the thing- I do not see it.

A really smart chick I know who’s lost a whole lot of weight says that it takes about a year for you to visually ’see’ weight loss, and while I hate her for telling me that, I think I’m agreeing.  I see little things- like noticing that I have visible collar bones, or catching myself off guard in a mirror, but it goes away very quickly, as soon as I try to pay attention.   Now- I’ve noticed some serious OTHER changes that I’m loving.  Like flexibility, and my knees not hurting, and being able to walk/jog for 5 miles without wanting an ambulance.  There’s good stuff going on, and I’m not knocking that one little bit.  It’s amazing, and is reward enough.  I have had to buy new clothes (and steal Sabine’s old clothes, which is even better).  The difference from a 24 to a 16ish is big- and the difference between a 44DD and a 38D… well, that’s going to be getting into the realm of oversharing, so we won’t get started down that horribly depressing road.  Mentally I get that a lot has changed, but seriously- I still look exactly the same to me, and that whole thing with pictures… yeah, not so much.  Thanks for asking, and try again later.

Part of me wonders if this is where eating disorders come from.  I’m trusting that if I ever even get close to that point, Sabine and Charles will force-feed me tiramisu and cake and bacon (and probably take no end of sadistic glee in doing so), so it’s not like I’m concerned about developing one, but I’m feeling more like I can understand what’s behind them.

So- yay.  Landmark hit, and I’m grateful and proud and happy and all that stuff, I really am.  I just wish my brain would get with the program and catch up.

* had to change the subject, because I had mistakenly thought that brains weighed 8 lbs, then I found out that yeah, if they do, something is SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH YOU.  Who knew?

It’s Friday night, and Sabine and I are not in FarWestTexas. We’re in her cozy living room in DFW instead.

For the record- I’m taking the blame on that call. We did start out this morning for FWT, even though the weather report looked ReallyScary. We got a bit out of town and the rain started to look sort of iceish… then sort of sleetish… then maybe just a bit hailish. At that point we phoned the most impartial person we know (James, of course, since he never exaggerates) and asked him for a realistic update of the weather, following which I said something to the effect of “to hell with this, we’re turning around NOW.” Yes, it is possible that we might’ve made it there just fine… but it would’ve been risky, and Sabine loves Herald (her Envoy, duh) way too much to risk his wellbeing and ours in snow and sleet and ice. We watched the weather today hoping that it was going to clear up enough to get through, but with the low being 14 out there (I know, right?)… nope. Still here.

There’s a point here, I swear.

I’ve got some Issues with this great big metroplex I find myself in. Those who’ve been around for a few years probably remember that while my move away from here was partially motivated by a job opportunity, it wasn’t one that I exactly HAD to take. I could’ve stayed at the Dallas office instead of going to Louisiana, but when the opportunity came I jumped on it- because I was really truly very miserable here for a lot of reasons. I’ve gained a lot of ground in getting over most of those reasons but the city itself has continued to be one of my least favorite places because of… well, because. Does there really have to be a “because of?”

Anyhow, when our plans got derailed and we had to come back, we opted to do a few local things close to her apartment as long as weather permitted rather than just tucking in on the couch to nap all day, and I think it’s done much to improve my attitude towards “here”. Granted, on the surface, the things we did were pretty superficial– we shopped. We hit Torrid, where I picked up the absolutely most adorable dress that I’ve ever owned. We visited Lush and Sephora, two of the happiest places on earth, and then we topped it off with a looooong visit to Half Price Books and really excellent Vietnamese takeout. Nothing deep, nothing philosophical, but I didn’t worry once about turning a corner and running into a ghost. I didn’t get anxious or worried or reminiscent. It was just a really nice day with one of my best girls and I actually feel myself kind of remembering that this once was one of my favorite cities, and not just for the opportunities in consumer whorism- though God knows those reasons help.

So- that’s Friday. We’ve wrapped it up with a movie (Lars and the Real Girl, which I refuse to analyze here because it inspired Sabine to add a clause to the “2 to the back of the head” rule), we’re working on plans for a possible Girls’ Night Out tomorrow night, weather permitting, and my BigBigSunday plans involve seeing my dad on the way home so I can do his grocery shopping for him… because he broke his ankle a week and a half ago and didn’t bother mentioning it until now (don’t bother being surprised. You really shouldn’t be). It’s turning out to be a nice, normal, relaxing weekend, and it’s a good thing.

Be surprised. For once, it’s looking like one of our “Plan B’s” is working out perfectly.

*yes, it’s a long subject line. I know. But it’s also a line out of one of the best songs I can’t stop listening to right now… which you should go download right this minute. “Blame it on Me” by the Barenaked Ladies for those of you without the Google-fu abilities to figure that out on your own… now go. Do it. Seriously.

Sabine says she loves me.

I am going to maintain that this may be a falsehood. Sure, she left the nuts out of her signature cake just for me, but she is the reason- the ONLY reason- that I’m going to WestFreakingTexas this weekend.
The low for Friday night is 18 degrees. Yes, I know, we’re all back on WinterDeathWatch2010, but still- Sabine can no longer question whether I love her, because I am going to be traveling 8+ hours one way to be her henchman in 18 degree weather.
If I turn up dead, frostbitten, or married to a rancher, just remember- it’s your JOB to remind her for the rest of her life that I obviously loved her more. Got it?

—-

Remember that super petty thing we used to do back in the younger days of blogging where we’d throw out a handful of anonymous statements with the promise that we’d never tell anybody who the statements were directed to?

Yep. It’s time for that again- well, for me, anyway. I’m not tagging or poking or picking or asking other people to follow suit, I’m just defragging. You wanna defrag too? Go for it, but you don’t have to.

• If that 10% outside chance came true, I totally meant what I said. And it would be perfect and we’d love it… for at least 3 months. Maybe 6.

• We drew a line. You stay on your side of the line and I stay on my side of the line, because if that toe keeps peeking over, it’s either going to get cut off or you’re going to find yourself snatched on over to my side. It’s a bad analogy but you’re smart and you can figure it out.

• You always think I am way more fragile than I really am. I hope that never changes. It’s nice to feel protected even when I’m pretty sure I don’t need it.

• I didn’t know how much I missed you until you were back and we managed to fall right in where we left off. We’re not going to do that again, are we? It was dumb, and we’re so much better than dumb.

• I still love you as much as I ever did and I probably always will, but I have got absolutely nothing to say to you until you find some magical way to fix all the things you’ve destroyed. I’m sad that I don’t think you’re man enough to make that happen.

• I am so, so, so very glad that things have played out the way they have. Even if they hadn’t, I’d still have been ok, but I am so much better now with the story as it’s been written so far.

• I am giddy with glee that I’ve got you figured out… and even more giddy that you haven’t the slightest clue.

• That thing you said to me about how I was gonna make it all better? That meant the world to me. Even I need an ego boost every now and then.

• I don’t know why you and I suddenly became so tight, but you’re dangerously close to getting put on the Tribal Council. Somebody should warn you that that’s a life sentence.

• Thank you for reigning in the dramas before it got too out of hand to clean up the mess.

• I really regret that now I’ll never know what might’ve happened later on down that road.

• You called it. You called it, you called it, you called it, and you owe me a great big fat “I told you so”- but I’m totally going to work on that assignment you gave me, first. That way you can be proud of me while telling me “I told you so,” because I love you like that and I want you to be all “That’s my girl!, especially in this very special context.”

• Do you know how hard it is to become a verb around this place? Damn hard. You got it. That is NOT a compliment.

• I have no idea how to be your friend.  None.  But I’m trying my butt off, because you mean so much to somebody who means so much to me, you have to be worth it.  I hope I’m doing ok with that.

Alright.  I feel better now.  Now to finish up this draggin’ workday, do my last minute scramble, and head out to Texas, where hopefully, I won’t die.

* Got it stuck in your head, did I? GO ME!

Every time I’ve been the one to pick the quote, I have been under the misunderstanding that I was picking something SUPER easy, and then I sit down to write about it and I figure out that I’ve gone and shot myself in the foot. This is hard- but hard is good. Hard was the point of this whole game, right? Right. That’s what I thought.

Kat linked to a Wiki-How on “How to Be a Lady” in her discussion, so I gave it a read. You know, it’s got the basics down, but I’d feel nothing but sympathy for any woman who endeavored to aspire to lady-dom with only the tutelage of a web-link or a manual or even a full collection of every Audrey Hepburn film ever taped. Without the inspiration and guidance of flesh-and-blood role models, I’d think one would come out perfect on the surface with enough polish and practice, but they’d be missing out on the perfectly imperfect nuances that take a woman from “Oh, see that nice lady on the corner” to “I have GOT to introduce you to my friend. She is such an amazing lady.”

“The best way to learn to be a lady is to see how other ladies do it.” –Mae West

It is probably a unique experience to grow up knowing that your mother took what many would call a pretty scary brave leap of faith just because it felt right, and then spent the subsequent years starting underground Christian Study groups at the risk of extremely unpleasant consequences if one were caught, and to live out your formative years under the impression that that’s perfectly normal and that’s what anybody would do. My mom was downright stoic when it came to her convictions, her beliefs, and her children, but she was poised, graceful, and gentle as well and loved a good dirty joke told in the right company. From her I discerned, in a nutshell, that it is possible to maintain your countenance without taking yourself too seriously- because those that you influence will take you more than seriously enough when it matters. I probably could’ve done just fine if that had remained my sole idea of what being a lady is all about, but as I’ve grown older and grown up, I’ve been blessed to have my horizons expanded beyond even that stellar example.

As an adult, I’ve figured out that part of the reason why I never had really close female friends as a younger person was because they just didn’t measure up to my feminine ideal, as set forth by my mom. I had the girl next door that I played with as a child, and as we became teenagers we did buddy up when we needed a girl around, but really… we weren’t close, we were convenient. There was That Girl that I thought was a good friend, but her fondness for sleeping with my boyfriends kind of scuttled that. I had Mary, of course… but Mary was just as much of a ‘boy’ as I was, so she totally didn’t count. Bottom line is, I have always had a lot of female acquaintances and a lot of masculine friends, and I have always had a very low tolerance for typical “chick bullshit”.

Now that I’m older, I feel like I have mastered the art of selecting female friends, my tribe of sisters and co-conspirators and ladies-in-arms who are typically above the mess of being stereotypical backbiting broads, and in joining with women who subconsciously remind me of my mom, I’ve done a very good job of setting myself up with the absolutely best examples of “How to be a Lady” that an aspiring one could hope for.

Well, first, there’s my Sabine- she’s got the poise, the tact, and the grace that that article up there referenced. She’s also got the singularly most wicked sense of humor I’ve ever met, and when she laughs, she doesn’t hold back, not even a little bit, and it’s one of the greatest pieces of music in the world. Sure, when I need to remember the protocol for something difficult, like mixed families at weddings or seating arrangements at a dinner party, Sabine is unquestionably my girl… but if I need to know how to short-sheet a bed, hotwire a Dodge, or get to Mexico in the next 2 hours… she’s still my girl. Diversity. Ladies are definitely diverse.

Then there’s my EvilSara, who I’ve gotten to watch grow from a really awesome college freshmen with high morality and a fondness for Tiki Bowls into a stunning corporate diva with high fashion sense and a fondness for fine wines. She is the prime example of fierce loyalty. I’ve told that girl things I wouldn’t tell my priest and she’s never judged me, not even when I was judging myself plenty for both of us. I strongly suspect that if I called her and told her my evening got out of hand and I was going to need a carpet cleaner, a shovel, and a few boxes of trash bags pronto, she’d STILL be on my side, no questions asked. I’m not going to accuse her of having tact because she’d call me on it, but she has style, she is never, ever, even just a tiny bit timid when it comes to her convictions, and she can tell when forgiveness would be divine and when it would just be stupid- and actually stick by that call for the long-term.

I’m pretty sure OriginalSara thought she was going to get out of being called out, since she’s such a humble lady, but the way that she combines her humility with her confidence in her talents is something that I wish I could bottle and keep for myself. Seriously- have you SEEN the things this woman creates? The only thing better than seeing what she can do is eating what she can do. She is, possibly, the singularly most talented human I know when it comes to artistic prowess, and she accepts compliments and praise with a sweet smile, a slight nod, and no excuses, whatsoever. No “Oh, this old thing?” and no “Oh, it was nothing”… she owns her talent, but her talent doesn’t own her. Even more than that- she is so giving with her own praise that it just makes you feel GOOD to be around her. Just a few short days ago she looked at me and said “I have never loved you more than I do right this minute” and it was sincere. It was genuine (it was also inspired, but it was, no doubt, genuine). There are few things in the world I hate more than false praise just for the sake of saying words, and this woman may just be why. It’s so easy to spot once you’ve had the real thing.

I could keep going for weeks. Seriously, all of the women that I hold dear, they are, in their own way, walking testaments on how to not only be a lady, but how to be the kind of lady that all ladies should want to be when they grow up. Bri can hold her line and not be a bitch about it, even when that might be the easy thing to do. Becca’s got the “good with children and bad parents” line down, even when it has gotten to the point that most of us would be killin’ somebody. Bridget is the most patient, sweet girl I’ve ever known, and she manages to be both meek and amazingly strong all in one swoop. Stephanie knows how to make other people feel good about themselves just by the way that she smiles at them with no words necessary at all, and Mouse… oh, sweet sweet Mouse is possibly one of the best true examples of a lady that there is because she owns exactly who she is, she fills her space, she loves herself wholly, and she makes NO apologies for who and what she is, ever. And…. oh, lord, I’m just gonna stop now. You get it… and I’m pretty sure “rambling for ages” is not a lady-like quality.

So now that I’ve made it through my essay-turned-love fest, I’ve got to say- now I kind of disagree with Ms. West about her little statement up there. “Seeing how other ladies do it” is not the best way to learn to be a lady. I’m pretty convinced now that it’s the only way.

Last night, I encountered a Totally New Experience.

Between Trixie and Sara and Sara and Sabine, I’ve heard for years how awesome yoga is. I’ve tried a couple of DVDs and learned a few stretches here and there, but I’d never really “done” yoga, so I looked up a local class and went and checked it out.

The studio was a bit cold, but homey and calming without being all New-Age freaky. The instructor was also homey and calming without being all New-Age freaky. The other two students? Absolutely delightful, calm, happy people. And, well, apparently I have really “open hips” and in some circles, that’s a good thing- and not dirty at all. Bonus!

I’m still a totally clueless newb, of course, but I have to say that it’s been eons since I was able to actually turn off my brain for a solid hour, and I am just absolutely amazed at how centered I feel today, like I just took a really good nap with the windows open and a breeze blowing. You know that feeling, right? You can take a nap every day and only get like 2 of those perfect ones a year. This was like that nap, but without the gamble that you were going to end up more tired than when you started. And frankly, it’s worth being in a questionable neighborhood after dark to get it.

The logistics of attending the class twice a week are probably going to be a pain in the ass, honestly, until that whole “fenced in yard for the dog” happens, but right now- I’m determined to work it out. I want to bottle this.

Fear my zen, bitches.

*- yeah, I said that. Awesome, isn’t it? It’s ok. You can use it if you want to.