Summer, don't leave me

It's funny. I’ve never really been a Summer person. I don’t like the heat and I hate the lack of clothing. I love clothes, so the more the merrier. I like layering and being wrapped in a cozy sweater. I love the smell of Fall, anything pumpkin, hot cocoa, boots and the first cold nights. What can I say, I’m a Fall girl at heart. Now, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m going the miss the summer. I’m slightly heartbroken that it’s over.

Things I’ll miss most:

1. I’m sun-kissed and it’s starting to fade. It makes me sad. Not that I’m an avid tanner, but what’s a little glow from the sun? I will not use the evil that is the tanning bed.
2. Gladiator sandals
3. The smell of sunscreen and my summery perfumes.
4. My new bathing suit with its skull and crossbones because I’m so Rock-n-Roll.
5. The beach, that I didn’t even get to go to this year, and now as the weather gets cooler, I know that I've almost missed my chance for the year.
6. Summer nights, whether it be beer in hand, Scrabble on the back deck, riding with windows down, etc. I'll miss it all.
7. The Summer sun. All the days of rain, made me appreciate the brightest and even the heat.
8. Being barefoot
9. Summer foods, though I welcome chili and soups with open arms
10. Outdoor shows

Random Thursdays

The following are thoughts that entered my head today at work.

Does anyone else ever smell hand sanitizer and instantly get taken back to unfortunate nights from their late teens/early twenties? Shuddering.

Urinals. Are they not weird? Can you imagine a line of toilets with no doors and conversations that start out like, “So, Sally, how are the kids?” Do they look? I would want to look. Not in a sexual way, but in a curious way. I am always very curious.

Why does Ticketmaster have that countdown clock when you are trying to buy tickets? Seriously, I get stressed out. What about the people that can’t type very fast? That just isn’t fair. They just want to see a show, man. Give them their tickets.

Why is it when you tell your brain not to look at someone or some thing, you can't stop looking! Don't look at that lady with the makeup that looks like it came straight from Dynasty. Don't look at that hot guy. That's all you want to do after your brain thinks these things. Well, I guess I do know why because your brain is your brain. It will do what it wants. Okay, point taken. Wear a blindfold next time.

Pimpin' ain't easy

I’ve been pimping myself out. No, it’s not what you think. I’ve been confidently marching myself into the HR offices in several local hospitals. I need a nursing job, like yesterday! If I have to make one more copy for someone, I may go postal on them. I do not want to be on the six o’clock news, people! Well, if I am, I’d rather it be for something for more interesting than that, maybe an affair with a local celebrity or a witness to police brutality. Yes, I realize that I’ll be trading the “Can you make me one copy?” for “Can you fetch that fecal sample for me?”. (And)I know this (man!) and I don’t care if I’m up to my eyes in poo (I reserve the right to still say poo, even though I know proper medical terminology now). Oh yeah, I give you all permission to remind me that I said this later when I’m complaining about it.

So, I need you all to say some prayers, whether to God, Buddha, your sun king, or whomever/whatever divine power you give praise too. Do a prosperity dance, write a Wiccan spell or meditate with the image of me in scrubs . I don’t care as long as it delivers me to a job or a job to me. I really do not want to break out the black pleather nurse outfit to get a job. I’d like to be able to say, “Honey, I got the job because I’m smart and they loved me,” instead of, “I don’t know where those marks came from, but I did get the job!”

Funny how things change

If you had met me when I was seven or eight years old, you would have been told that I was going to be a doctor, an artist, a writer, and a dancer. I was going to do it all and I was going to do it well. My grandmother and mother instilled this in me. I could do anything and everything that I put my mind to, as long as I didn’t quit. “Quitters never win,” my grandmother constantly said. Not only was I going to do all this, but at the time I was dressing like Punky Brewster because my mom also encouraged creativity and the notion that it didn’t matter what others thought about you, as long as you were happy. I was one spunky little kid.

Flash forward to junior high (oh yes, the dreaded junior high), where that spunky little girl turned into I-want-what-they-have-I-must-be-cool girl and where that seven year old became a distant memory. I started a new school and had to make new friends. The friends I made were horrendous. They were cool and they were mean. I don’t like treating anyone badly, so I invited a girl they teased to my birthday party and several of my “friends” did not show up because of it. I started doubting the whole cool thing.

Ah, the teenaged years, I got some of my spunk back. I dressed how I wanted and didn’t care what others thought. I was deemed alternative, skater chick, weird, etc. For the most part, I had a blast, but I lacked the confidence that I had at seven. I was very hard on myself. I spent a lot of time worrying about how much I weighed, if I was smart enough or what HE would think. Ironically, I did not want to get married. I constantly taunted my dad with the notion that I was going to get a one-way ticket to New York when I graduated, where I would live with my boyfriend, never get married or have children, and I was going to hire a chef because I didn’t need to know how to cook and besides I was going to be busy working as doctor. This drove him insane. He had a very 1950’s outlook on how a husband and wife should be and the roles they would play. I did not. I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do.

In my late teens and early twenties, I was very jaded and thought having a boyfriend would be having someone control me and I didn’t need that. Don’t get me wrong, I still had my crushes and guys that what make me turn into a bumbling, hair-twisting idiot, but for the most part I was a pretty strong-willed young lady who still dressed as she pleased. Of course, this stemmed from my childhood, I failed to mention my grandmother and my mom constantly told me that I didn’t need a man to do anything. I could do everything on my own. Funny now, I see my own mom is nothing like this. I think she was trying to get me to be something that she wished she was, but was not.

December 2, 2000, in walked my (future) husband and my world-turned upside down. I spent my twenties learning to cook (and loving it, might I add), falling in love with fashion whether it was cool or not, meeting some fantastic ladies (I mainly hung out with guys, so this was refreshing), and being the epitome of the wife my dad envisioned. Funny, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Things I learned about myself: I love aprons, cooking, and entertaining, I’m way more girly than I thought I would ever be and I do want kids, I think. I’m a little more 1950’s than I care to admit.

Present day, Hello, thirties! What took you so long to get here? I was told repeatedly by my mother, my mother-in-law, and just about any woman over 30 that you “come into your own” in your thirties. I’m just embarking on the 30’s journey, but I can feel it all coming together. I find myself nowadays trying to find a balance between the 7 year old and my 20’s self. I feel them merging together. I worry less about others feelings or what they would want, and more about what I would want. I am finally embarking on my career path after a lot of doubting myself, but I know I’m going to do it and I’m going to do it well. I have less hesitation. I’m still working on the fact that some hesitation is a good thing, and not to just leap and then look around. “Slow your roll, my child,” I hear my grandmother say in head. I realize that I can still be a strong, independent woman and have a husband, bake a pie, and look fierce while doing it. It is eye-opening, confusing, and wonderful all at the same time.

It’s amazing to me, how many Renees I have been over the years. I am in awe of where I started, what I’ve been through, and where I am. I may have gotten lost a few times along the way, but I always end up back on the right path. I cannot wait to see what the future holds, but until then, I’m living in the moment and am grateful for every experience I have been given, whether it was good or bad. Punky power, my friends!

Danger..watch yourself

So, I love texting now. Yes, I'm a little late on that one too. I know it's impersonal or whatever, but I like being able to carry on a conversation with several people at one time. The other day, for instance, I was texting with four people at the same time. Love it! However, I discovered a flaw, the hard way. I basically called a friend a mfer. Yes, you know the word. Now, had it been in person, they would have known that I that I have an affinity for that word and that I was calling the situation a mfer, not the person. I haven't heard from them since. Hmmm. This is brings me to my post. Here is a list of things you should know about me, just in case, something happens, so that you know that I'm not intentionally doing something that hurts your feelings, nor am I crazy, even if I seem to be some of the time.

1. Mfer is now my go to profanity word. Mainly, I say it a lot in my head, but occasionally, I say it out loud, especially when driving in my car. I usually don’t call a person that, unless it's in traffic and they deserve it or they are just a mfer. Times I would use it: when Kroger is out of the milk I buy (Mfer!), when I’m left by myself at work because the main five or six people that I talk to are all out on the same day (Mfer!), when I run into something and hurt myself (Mfer!), etc, etc. You get the idea. Think of me how you like. I don't care.
2. If I don’t say hi to you in the morning or even notice you, it’s because I haven’t had my coffee and I don’t function well early in the morning. I will never be a morning person. EVER.
3. Aaron and I say, “I’m going to punch you in the face or I’d like to punch you in the face,” or some other variation. If I ever say that to you, it’s actually a term of endearment. We’re not sick, we got it from a movie, where a guy said it to his girlfriend and then they both laughed. We were like, “What?!” It stuck ever since. Of course, my sister-in-law used it against me not too long ago and I was like, “Hey, that’s not nice,” and she was like, “You guys say it all the time. That’s what I meant.” Oh, funny.
4. I like hanging out with guys, almost better than girls. They are easier. You don’t have to worry about superficial things and you can just kind of chill, unless, of course, you proposition them and then things could become weird, not that I’ve ever done that. Sometimes I'd rather just hang with them and talk about nothing or sit in silence.
5. I over think things. Can you tell, can you tell, can you tell? It’s a quirky feature that you learn to love. Really. Maybe tolerate.
6. I have a really immature sense of humor sometimes. My mind immediately “goes to the gutter.” That’s probably why I get along well with guys. Example: “He really likes Bush.” I’m cracking up now.
7. Sometimes my ghetto comes out. It’s very wannabe ghetto, but still, don’t be surprised if the following comes out in emails, texts, or in person: Shoo, word, holla, fo’ reals, chedda, smalls, etc, etc. You will never see me breaking it down to 101.1 the beat though. That’s reserved for my kitchen, usually with my niece, Ava, who’s two. I have her doing the whole break it down with the head shake. That’s how we roll.
8. Very wannabe G guys love me. I don’t even have to say anything in #7. I don’t know why. I must exude my inner wannabe ghetto self. They are ballsy too. I’ve been propositioned several times with Aaron right next to me. Yes, I just threw this one in because I think it's hilarious.
9. I get really bored, really quickly. My mind goes a thousand different directions at the same time. Sometimes it may come off a little crazy or random. I’d prefer to think of it as spontaneous and fun.
10. I remember a lot of things. I mean, a lot of things! I don’t know why. It’s the gift of a great memory. Don’t think I’m stalking you, will be standing outside your window playing “our” song or go all single white female on you, if I mention what you said or were wearing two months ago. It’s not my fault. My brain just likes to hold on to things fo’ eva.