Twenty Four At Heart

1,000 Steps

There's a beach here called 1,000 Steps.

There's a good reason why it's named 1,000 Steps.

It's the very same reason why it isn't a very crowded beach ....

Steps at 1,000 Steps Beach in Orange County.

The little black speck you see waaaaay down the stairs is my friend, Nike.

I recently "made her" climb the stairs with me for exercise.

She was very sore the next day.

And the day after that.

And several days after that.

In fact, ten days later Nike sent me a text message saying she was still sore.

I must be a terrible friend, because the very thought makes me laugh so hard I snort!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Nike

Sometimes, there's nothing better than a friend you've had "forever."

Summer wouldn't be summer without evenings at the beach with my friend, Nike.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Last Night

Last night was Girl's Night Out with a few friends.

I've been forbidden from showing you most of the photos.

I've been forbidden from showing you the ridiculous text messages and videos that were recorded.

Did you know, the more tequila you drink ....

The cuter your waiter becomes?

Not that I thought so,

But maybe some of my friends got out of hand?

I always behave like an angel.

It should be my new blog name:  Twenty Four Is An Angel.

When we go out in the evenings here, we're often outdoors sitting on patios, etc.

When the evening gets cool, the restaurants start up their outdoor heaters.

It makes for a perfect evening.

© Twenty Four At Heart

On Being Your Girl [space] Friend

I had a rather awkward encounter with your wife recently.

I saw her from a distance, and hoped to avoid encountering her.  It seems it was inevitable.  In fact, the only real surprise is that it doesn't happen more often.

Your wife and I exchanged pleasantries as we both thought to ourselves, "This is awkward; how quickly can I get away?"

Outwardly, you have the perfect life.

People envy what you have - the material wealth, the beautiful home, the perfect family.

You're one of my favorite friends, and have been for years.

(Platonic friends, of course ... I need to clarify that fact for those who are reading.)  

I already know I'll hear from people saying men and women can't be friends, blah, blah, blah ... but the fact is, we are friends.

Once upon a time, I witnessed a display of bad public behavior by your wife and she's hated me ever since.  I think, in truth, she hates having embarrassed herself in front of me.  I'm an annoying reminder of how badly she behaved.  She sees me and she cringes.  She treats me coldly.  

I'll be honest, I don't like her much either.

Your wife wins the award for being The Biggest Bitch On Earth difficult.  

It's hard to warm up to difficult.

But in truth, there's more behind my dislike of her than the manner she treats me.  I don't like your wife because I saw that horrible scene incident of extremely public bad behavior, and plenty of subsequent examples of her trashing everyone she knows poor character too.

I would never say that to you, of course.  I will always be polite and cordial to her.  I go out of my way to be polite to her because you are my friend and she is your wife and I owe you (not her) that respect.

Although my recent encounter with her was brief, it left me thinking, pondering, for a long time.

I thought about all the things I know about you, about your life - things your own wife doesn't know.  For one, I know we're close friends.  As far as she's concerned, we're not much more than acquaintances.  We both know how much she dislikes me, so you never mention me to her.  And in truth, there's no reason to.  Likewise, when I do happen to encounter her (which is rare), I don't tell her I know what the latest is with her kids/vacations/career.

Why poke the bear, after all?

I suppose a lot of people have friends who they talk to more freely than they do with their own spouse.  

(You know, a friend you can get together with, share bad and/or good news with over an occasional lunch, and just feel comfortable with minus the complexities of a romantic relationship.)

How many people have secret friends though?

Maybe a lot of people do, for one reason or another ....

I know how much you love your kids, I know you would do anything for them - including stay in a difficult marriage.  You've told me you haven't been a perfect spouse any more than she has been.  (Is there such a thing?)  I know some of the ups and downs you've gone through with your career, with your friends, and with your family life.

I know a lot and yet, I suppose, I know nothing at all.

I don't know what it's like to live with so many secrets.  I don't know what it's like to have to hide things (like simple, casual, platonic friendships) "by omission" from your significant other.  I don't know what it feels like to be striving so hard to keep up appearances.

I know you're a good person, a decent human being, a person with virtues and, yes, faults.

I understand you ....

Like a person understands any friend they've had for many years.

I know you're doing the best you can in a less than perfect world.

And so, maybe I do know what it's like.

Because really,

Life is far from perfect for all of us.

We all do the best we can.

Each of us lives in our own, less than perfect, world.

© Twenty Four At Heart

An Open Letter to an Old Friend

Hello Old Friend.

You'd probably be surprised to hear I think of you quite a lot.

I've been assuming you've moved on with your life and never think of me at all.

But I guess you do remember me, and our friendship, occasionally.

Once in awhile, you check in on me by visiting here at Twenty Four At Heart.

You probably think you're anonymous, reading what I write without me knowing you've stopped by.  After all, I don't know who the majority of people are who stop by to visit. 

My blog stats only show me a few things.  I see the number of people who read Twenty Four At Heart, and I see the cities and countries they visit from, but I don't see names or identifying details.

And all the people who read me on their iPhones, and Blackberries, or other smartphones?

Well, all I really see then is that someone logged on from a phone.

But sometimes ...

Sometimes, I see you there, very VISIBLY, on my stat page.

And every single time ...

It makes my heart hurt.

I miss you.

Losing you was one of the most painful aspects of the car accident aftermath.

You know ...

The aftermath that just keeps on coming, and coming, and never seems to stop.

What do you feel when you visit here?

Are you stopping by because you're curious about my life?

Are you bitter and angry?

Indifferent?

Do you have regrets?

I wonder if, as you read my words, you ever miss me?

There is so much more to me, so much more to my life, than what I write about here.

The biggest pieces of my life are, in fact, the things I can't write about in a public forum.

Those are all the things I used to talk to you about.

But now, instead, once in awhile you read the words I've written.

You look at the photos I've posted.

How much simpler would it be to just pick up the phone and call?

You could hear my voice and ask me, yourself, how I am.

I know for you it would be a very difficult thing to do.

And so, the phone remains quiet ...

Always so quiet.

Maybe you're not that surprised I think of you a lot.

Sometimes you still visit Twenty Four At Heart.

Every single time it makes my heart hurt.

I miss you.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

Girls, Girls, Girls!

I'm sorry for the half-ass-ish-ness of this post.  (And possibly a few more posts to come.)

I'm crazy out-of-my-mind busy with house guests, PR's 16th birthday this Thursday, and a baseball tournament which accounts for FIVE games in a one week period.  

I could just NOT blog ... but that's sorta against my religion.

On the other hand, have I mentioned I love my iPhone?

I especially love the camera on it.

I hope you don't mind if I update you with iPhone photos until my life settles back into a normal routine.  

Last Friday night was Girl's Night Out.  

I got together with a couple girlfriends and went to a local Money Town bar.  The people watching was fantastic - there were plastic OC/Barbie women everywhere.  One woman, sitting in a booth near us, was particularly entertaining.  She had long, long, bleached-pure-white hair, all sorts of OC fakeness going on ... and her foot in her date's crotch all night.

It was good for a lot of giggles since the entire room was watching her elaborate foot action.

Of course it was too dark to get decent photos in the bar.  I forgot to bring my tiny Canon S95 camera (which takes excellent low light photos).  I'll try to go back to the same bar sometime soon - just so I can bring you pictures of some real (plastic) OC people.

My night began with a pomegranate martini:

I'm not a big drinker ... which is code for saying I get drunk on one drink.

But did I stop after ONE drink?

No, I did not ....

Cheers!

Drunk girlfriends:

They seem to be having a good time.

I had a good time too.

In fact, by the end of the evening I looked like this:

I should be embarrassed to show you the above photo, but hey ... it's not the first time I've humiliated myself by over sharing.  

(And I'm sure it won't be the last either!)

© Twenty Four At Heart

Money Town Party

I like to make fun of Money Town and many of the people who live there, but as I've said before, there are also nice people in Money Town.  Some of them are my friends.  (And they have a sense of humor when I make fun of their neighbors.)

There's one family, in particular, I've been friends with for around 15 years.  About two years ago, they moved to Money Town.  Last Saturday night, after the party on John Wayne's yacht, Briefcase and I went to their house for a combination Christmas and surprise birthday party.  

(We attended double parties because we wanted to see how exhausted we could make ourselves in one day.)

I changed out of my jeans, brown boots, and boat attire.  For the Money Town party I put on a black sweater dress, leggings and black boots.  I blinged it up with some jewelry and I was ready to go.

Our friend's new house is beautiful.  I took some photos so you could get a glimpse of a Money Town party.  I tried to avoid having people in the shots I took since I didn't ask anyone for permission to put them on the Internet.  (It was a big party and difficult to avoid people shots.)  In the photos where people are visible, I've blurred out their faces to make them unrecognizable.  

(By the way, all of the photos in this post were taken with my Canon S95 point and shoot.  It did an amazing job in very low light conditions!)

The weather was beautiful last weekend and the party was both in and outdoors.  

Here is their fountain:

There were bar areas set up in several locations.

The food for the party was catered and yummy.  My favorite was the spicy tortilla soup.

The decorations were a nice mix of holiday items and centerpieces which showcased our host's birthday.

In the backyard, they have a nice patio and a cozy fireplace.

In a covered area of the patio, they also have a big TV so sports fans don't have to miss a moment of big events.

The door you see in the above photo leads from the outdoor patio into the family room which is also beautiful.

I wanted to share one last photo with you.

The above photo is my host, and long time friend.

Minus his face.  

Well, he did have his face, but I erased it.  Although, if I had asked, I'm sure he wouldn't have minded if I showed you his face.  In fact, he probably would have preferred that I did.  He looks a lot better with his face.

Anyway, he spent a lot of time showing me around his wine cellar and I asked him a few hundred wine questions.  (Nike and I are planning a girls trip up to Napa in the spring so I was doing research.)

It was a fun night, but all day partying made for a very long day.

Once I got home, I was asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The John Wayne Boat Party

Having grown up in Southern California, I'm rarely star struck by celebrities.  I live in the land of the rich and famous, and quite frankly - most celebrities don't impress me in the least.  In fact, most celebrities un-impress me to the extreme.

Nonetheless, I was thrilled to find out I would be attending a party last Saturday on the yacht John Wayne owned and loved for many years, the Wild Goose.  He loved spending time on his boat so much, many people believe his ghost still haunts it.

I didn't happen to see his ghost while I was there, but I did see other indications of John.  (I don't think he'd mind me calling him John, do you?)

There were portraits of John Wayne, and plaques with information about him, in several locations on board the three deck yacht.

By the way, one of my favorite John Wayne quotes is:  "Life is hard; it's harder if you're stupid."

The yacht is beautiful.  It was originally a minesweeper, but John had the entire ship remodeled to his specifications.  It's adorned with beautiful woodwork and intricate carvings - absolutely gorgeous!

* The Parlor *

As I boarded the yacht (around noon), I was greeted with champagne.

There were approximately 120 guests for this particular party.

We were served a buffet lunch; we were supposed to eat our meal in this area:

Nike and I, along with a few others, snuck down a level and enjoyed lunch on John's poker table in the library instead.

It was much more relaxed and intimate there.

At some point, Nike and I went exploring to find John's master suite.  I became obsessed with having my photo taken in/on his bed.

From what I've heard about my good friend, John, I don't think he would have minded me being in his bedroom or on his bed in the least.

I also decided I love portholes.  I don't know why, but I do.  I want one for my very own.  (John's yacht, to go with it, would be nice also.)

The above photo is John Wayne's once-upon-a-time house on Balboa Island in Newport Beach.  He doesn't live there anymore since he's, um, dead.  The house has been overdone redone since he died.  He used to dock the Wild Goose right in front.

It was a beautiful weekend, with spectacular weather.  I had such a great time at the boat party.  I feel so lucky at having been invited to such a fun event!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Last Tuesday

While I'm trying to recover from the misery known as Car Accident Surgery #8 and Major Allergic Reaction Due to Medical Team's Screw Up, I've been going through photos.  It gives me something to do other than sit around having a pity party.

I realized I haven't yet shared with you the crazy day of my birthday, last Tuesday.  It already seems like ages ago.

I woke up Tuesday morning, bleary-eyed, and wandered downstairs to my kitchen for a cup of coffee.  I was met by a room filled with black balloons.

Briefcase thinks he's funny.

To make up for his "black" humor, he also had a dozen yellow roses waiting for me.

Shortly after, I drove to Burke Williams Spa for a morning of pampering.  I have a monthly membership with them so I can have someone work on my arm/shoulder/surrounding muscles.  This trip was all about pampering though and it was wonderful.  I had an Emilee's Intrigue.  If you ever have the opportunity to enjoy this wonderful treatment, I highly recommend it.

My plan was to enjoy my morning at the spa, stop into our local mall to shop for a pair of boots with birthday money sent by my parents, and then do some necessary last minute errands before the next morning's surgery.

Instead, Nike surprised me with a text message saying she and Dee were going to meet me at the mall and help me shop for boots and then take me to lunch.  Fun!

With help from both my friends, I ended up buying some black, suede, boots at Banana Republic.

I thought Nike, Dee and I would grab a quick bite at one of the many restaurants at the mall.  They had other plans ....

I was kidnapped!  Yep, they took me away for the entire afternoon without my permission and we had so much fun!  (What errands?  What responsibilities?)

We started at Las Brisas which is a beautiful Mexican restaurant in Laguna Beach.

Here's the view from inside the restaurant; we, however, ate outside on the patio.

** All photos taken with my little pocket camera - not the greatest photo quality. **

Lunch began with Pomegranate Margaritas.

Honestly, these drinks were one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted.

And STRONG!

I was drunk on one ... but did I stop drinking after one?  No, I did not.

There were also gifts!

Feeling more than a little tipsy, we decided to go for a walk on the beach.  Except, it was a beautiful, very warm, day.  In our inebriated state, walking didn't seem like quite enough.

"Let's go for a swim!" I called out - clowning around as usual.

You do know not to ever go in the ocean drunk, right?  

Do as I say, not as I do ...

Knocked right on my ass by a wayward wave!

By the way, I can't show you photos of Nike and Dee because they took off their clothes and went swimming in their underwear right on Laguna Main Beach.  Isn't that something you'd expect from me?  But no, I was the conservative one who swam with jeans and a t-shirt on.  I really don't recommend swimming in jeans - so uncomfortable!  (I also don't recommend posting photos on the Internet of your friends swimming in their panties and bras!)

Did I mention I had too much tequila?

And that I had so much fun?

I laughed, and laughed, and laughed all afternoon.

What a fun, wonderful, crazy - but beautiful birthday.

© Twenty Four At Heart

A(nother) Humiliating Moment

**  A big thank you to everyone who participated in my calendar giveaway contest.  The winner of the contest is:

Congratulations Deidre!  Please email me with the mailing address you'd like your calendar sent to.  

If you didn't win, but you'd like to buy a calendar - you can do so by clicking on the "Buy Now" PayPal button in my sidebar.  **

I'm behind on story sharing due to my travel and resulting bad pain flare up.

Nonetheless, have I got stories to tell!

Today, I'm going to share with you a very humiliating moment, but (for once!) it's not my humiliating moment.  I do, however, have permission to share this incident - although, I'm going to thinly disguise a few details and change a few minor facts to protect the humiliated innocent.

If you've been reading here for any length of time, you've heard me mention my good friend, Nike.  Nike and I have been friends for a long, long, time.  Nike and I have a lot of things in common.  Neither one of us is a "girly-girl," we both have an affinity for jeans and t-shirts, we have very similar senses of humor, etc., etc.

(Photo:  Giggling uncontrollably with Nike last spring.)

Nike and I are also very different.  She's much more together than I am.  And by together, I mean she isn't the one flashing her panty-less ass at people when we spend a day at the races.  Nike is the one shaking her head at my antics in wonder and bemused astonishment.

Except?

Except maybe I'm starting to rub-off on Nike.

About a year ago, one of Nike's friends talked her into doing a little work as an "extra."  We do live in Southern California afterall.  A lot of TV and movie filming goes on here and it can be fun to pick up a little additional cash by being an "extra" (background person) in a TV series or movie.

Recently, Nike was called to be an extra on a very popular, multi-Emmy-winning, TV show.  I can't tell you the name of it, but it might rhyme with Sad Ben.

* Ahem *

As it turns out, the day Nike needed to be on the set was the heaviest day of her period.  As in, she wanted to be at home - tampons nearby, with a bathroom close by to take care of matters every hour as needed. 

Instead, Nike had a marathon day of driving to and from L.A., dressing in costume, having her makeup and hair done, and spending hours standing around a set.

By the way, one of the stars of Sad Ben is a man named Don Lamm and she tells me he's drop-dead gorgeous in person.  Nike gets flustered just talking about him, and that's not like Nike at all. 

Apparently, in person, he's too-hot-to-handle gorgeous.  

Just in case you were wondering .....

Nike was very concerned about making it through the day without Aunt Flo causing major problems.  To alleviate some of her stress, she packed a ton of feminine hygiene products to take with her.  (Everything she could think of, in fact, so she could avoid a potentially embarrassing situation.) 

Once Nike was in costume, she was handed a purse as part of her outfit for filming.  She waited for an opportunity and then discreetly stuffed the purse with tampons, pads, and pads with WINGS on them.  You might say Nike overcompensated a little by bringing an entire drugstore a lot of products in her effort to avoid a situation.

Not long after, Nike was on the set of Sad Ben saying hi to gorgeous Don Lamm and doing what people do while filming a TV show.

Time passed.

Nike was getting a little nervous about getting a break in time to take care of things.

More time passed. 

Nike's concern and stress level was increasing. 

Then, one of the women in charge noticed something about Nike.  She approached Nike and informed her there was something wrong. 

"You're holding the purse as a clutch, but I want you to use the purse handle and hold it on your arm," she told Nike.

Nike, thinking she was supposed to use the purse as a clutch, had previously tucked the small chain handle into the purse before closing it.

Before she could respond, The Woman In Charge took the purse from Nike's hand and opened it to retrieve the handle.

Tampons, pads and WINGED pads went flying all over the set!

The Woman In Charge looked at Nike's multi-item collection scattered across the floor and said in a loud, shocked, voice, "Oh!  You're on your period!"

Ya know, just in case anyone present had missed the fact that feminine hygiene products were now strewn across the very set they were in the process of filming.

Everyone then proceeded to help Nike collect the tampons, pads, and pads with wings so she could hastily stuff them back in her purse.

I asked Nike when this particular episode of Sad Ben will be airing.  I realize her humiliating moment will be edited out of the scene, but of course I want to see her on TV.

She won't tell me!  

She is THAT embarrassed.

For some reason, however, she did allow me to share her story here on 24 with several thousand of you.

I'm going to Tivo every episode of the show so I don't miss seeing her.

If you watch Sad Ben?

Look for Nike.

She tells me they gave her really Big.Hair.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Love Means

I look back at my life, at the people and places I've loved, and it seems, time and time again, love means letting go.

I remember, vividly, letting go of my mother's hand, at age four, when I began kindergarten.  I still remember the bittersweet expectation of exciting things ahead of me, and the knowledge things would never again be the same.  The scent of crayons and play-doh hung in the air and I knew right then, by releasing her hand, I was letting go.

A few years later, a best friend moved hundreds of miles away.  We swore we'd stay in touch and be best friends forever.  Of course, we didn't.  I still think of her now and then, all these years later.  I wonder if she's led a happy life.  I wonder if she remembers me at all.  It was my first experience at letting go of a much loved friend.

Sadly - only a year later - one of my first school crushes died of a childhood disease.  He was nine.  I remember shedding tears over the loss of my "boyfriend."  Other children and parents cried with me.  Once again, I learned the very difficult, heartbreaking, lesson of loving and letting go.

Like everyone, I've had the heartbreak of lost friendships.  My best friend of several years got lost in a world of drugs and gangs in high school.  We parted ways and I watched helplessly as her life crumbled around her.  

And crumble it did ... ending with a suicide.

There was nothing I could do.

In my twenties, a time of transitions, there were good friends, and lovers, who eventually all moved on with their lives.  

As I moved on with mine.

Eventually I found myself with a husband, a family, and a new set of friends.

I gave birth to a little girl.  A few years later, I held her hand as I walked her to her first day of kindergarten.  She looked at me with the bittersweet expectation of exciting things ahead of her, and the knowledge things would never again be the same. The scent of crayons and play-doh hung in the air and I knew right then, by releasing her hand, I was letting go. 

Her first day of kindergarten was followed, eventually, by those of her two brothers.  Our family had grown.

The years went by in a blur of school, and sports, and activities, and busyness.

Time and again, throughout it all, I held their hands, hugged them, and encouraged them to chase their dreams.

This month my two oldest children left home for colleges over 3,000 miles away.  As they left, they looked at me with the bittersweet expectation of exciting things ahead of them and the knowledge things would never again be the same.  

As we said our good-byes, I hugged them once again.  I cried tears of pride, and sadness, and excitement for the lives they have ahead of them.

It seems to me ...

Love means letting go.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Checking In

I know several of you are worried about me so I wanted to check in.  I will probably ramble a lot.  I apologize in advance.

I've spent the last couple days in a drugged up haze.  

To some of you that may sound fun, but ... it's not.

The amount of pain meds I'm using to get through this "episode" would make a junkie proud.

The good news?  Things aren't worse.

The bad news?  Things aren't very good either.

I haven't called Dr. Painless.  I know I should have, but I hate to be that patient ... the one calling on a holiday weekend.  He's probably vacationing in Italy anyway.  Or on a yacht.  Or something.

(At least, I envision Dr. Painless doing such things.)

If I haven't improved by Tuesday morning, I'll call him.

Also?

I will definitely ask him what I should do next time things get this bad.

Usually, after a few tough days things will start to improve.  The last several days have been exceptional in a very negative way.

I'm still waiting.  

Any minute now, I'm going to be able to unclench my teeth, right?

My camera sits abandoned.  I swear it's calling my name and begging me to use it.

I know that probably sounds ridiculous to many of you.

"Forget the damn camera, forget about photography," you're probably thinking.

It's my passion - I can't.

I'm wondering if any of you are engineers?  Or know an inventive person?

I think there must be a way to make photography possible for people with one arm/one working arm?  I've tried improvising, I've tried several things ...

I think I need someone imaginative to invent something for me.

Wishful thinking ...!

Last night, Briefcase forced me to go to the beach.

Yes, he did - at night.

I didn't want to go, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms.  (That says a lot doesn't it?  I always want to go to the beach.)  

I just want to be left alone when I'm in a lot of pain.  Pain makes me quiet in an irritable way.  I retreat into myself.  Sometimes I feel like throwing things too, but I don't.  Also?  I probably CAN'T, because of the whole one-working-arm-and-very-uncoordinated-with-the-other-arm thing.

We got to the beach, and of course my friend Nike was there.

She thought it would be good for me to sit and listen to the waves crash.

So I did.

I sat, wrapped up in a blanket, senses dulled by medication, listening to the waves crash in the night.

It didn't make the pain any better, but it soothed my soul a little.

© Twenty Four At Heart

It's Friday!

First of all, I'd like to congratulate:

Kristen with comment #100:  Second time's the charm?? Hopefully!  

Kristen won the Stella and Dot bracelet.  Kristen please email me the mailing address you'd like the bracelet shipped to and I'll get it sent off as soon as possible.  For those of you who didn't win, remember, you can order Stella and Dot jewelry by clicking here.  Thank you to Missy for providing the bracelet for a giveaway.

Moving on ...

It isn't summer if I'm not spending my evenings at the beach. 

I love to arrive around five p.m. and stay until after dark.  It's my absolute (!!) favorite time of day.

Last weekend I took a series of photos with my fairly-old-and-now-out-of-date pocket camera.  They certainly aren't perfect photos, but they'll give you a feel for summer evenings in Orange County.  (There might have been copious amounts of vodka - with a splash or two of cranberry juice - involved in this photo taking session also.)

By the way, these photos were taken at Calafia Beach in San Clemente.

When we arrived, there were still a lot of people enjoying the beach.  (I was accompanied by Briefcase and other assorted family members and friends - we had quite a group!)

It wasn't long, however, until the evening train came by.  It runs (almost) on the sand itself along this stretch of the coastline.

A few minutes later, the lifeguard drove by.  He was announcing to everyone the sun would be setting soon and the lifeguard towers would no longer be manned.  (In other words, swim at your own risk!)

The beach emptied out.  I love having the beach mostly to myself.  

I think, right about then, it was time to refill everyone's drinks and spread the picnic out onto a blanket.  We brought an assortment of cheeses, crackers, a lot of different types of fresh fruit, chips and salsa, baby carrots and hummus, sandwiches, brownies and, and, and ...!

The beach is amazing in the evenings as the sun sets.  The colors of the sky change quickly.  The colors also change substantially depending on which direction you're looking in.

On this particular evening, to the south, the beach looked almost winter-ish and pink as the sun was setting.

To the west, the sky glowed a deep and vibrant orange.

As the sun began dipping below the horizon, pelicans soared in search of their dinner.

And then ...

The moon rose over the ocean making the evening even more spectacular.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

A Medley

** The giveaway on the beautiful Stella and Dot bracelet is still open.  And YES, I will ship it to international locations.  The more times you enter, the better your chances are to win.  You can enter to win by clicking here. **

I've been running from one thing to the next pretty much nonstop the entire month of August.  I don't think things are going to slow down for a few more weeks.  In between all my running around, I've been trying to edit the bazillion photos (not brazilian photos!) I've been taking along the way.

I thought I'd share just a few more today from NYC.  

These will be the last from New York - I promise.  

Then I'll get back to business as normal.  You know, normal for me:  Orange County, beach, nipples, stranger danger (!), phantom panties, more beach (because who can ever get enough?), embarrassing personal incidents which are so embarrassing I even astonish myself, etc., etc.

That is, I think I will get back to normal.

I mean, unless I find a real gem of a NY photo hidden away that I forgot about.

Or unless, perhaps, I take off for the east coast again really soon.

(Because I hate traveling cross country so why not do it twice in one month?  Especially the one month out of the year that is guaranteed to be hot/humid/miserable on the east coast?)

Anyway .... more about THAT later.

 

Marmaduke (from the movie) was in the expo hall at BlogHer and I was thrilled to have my photo taken with him.  I love animals and he was SO well behaved.  I just wanted to scrunch up his ears and play tickle-your-tummy with him, but his trainer said (a bit sternly), "Please keep your hand just on his back."  

So I, mostly, did.  

(Except for sneaking in a little ear rub, because who could resist?  And Marmaduke enjoyed it - I could tell!)

I don't think his REAL name is Marmaduke.  That's just the part he plays in the movie.  I forgot to ask him what his real name is.  

As you can see by all the other photos, a lot of what was important to me at BlogHer was seeing people I know and meeting new people.

And pizza.  

Pizza was also very important.

 

This is where I'm supposed to name every single person in the above photos and link to them.  And, um ... yeah - did I mention I'm on pain meds?  You can probably tell by the general rambling tone of this entire post.  (Blame it on my new straitjacket!  Boo!  Hiss!)

If I tried to link to all those wonderful people right now, I can guarantee you none of the links would go to the right person and people would get mad at me and I'd make a Blogging.Disaster out of it.  

I might even get fired as a blogger.  

It could happen.

In fact, I'm actually really surprised it hasn't happened yet.

Never try to put more than one or two links in a post while under the influence of pain meds.  It's a famous Twenty Four At Heart rule of blogging. 

Suffice it to say, all those people pictured above?  

ARE REALLY, REALLY, NICE!

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Conference: BlogHer '10

I've been asked a few questions about the BlogHer conference by some of my non-blogging readers.  I thought I'd try to answer those questions and give you a recap of the conference all wrapped together in one post. 

Sounds easy, doesn't it?

(Except ... I'm on new pain meds as I write this, the room is all swirly and whirly, so ... um, maybe not so easy.)

There are somewhere around 55 million blogs in existence.  About 2,400 bloggers met in NYC for the BlogHer 2010 conference.  

Wow, don't I sound so official, and professional, sharing that with you?

People attend BlogHer for different reasons.  Some people are at the conference to get as much free stuff (swag) from the sponsors as possible.  

Did you know, SWAG stands for Stuff We All Get?

And yes, I was given an awful lot of free stuff at the conference.  

[The above photo is just a small portion of the swag I was given while at BlogHer.]

Some people participate in BlogHer because they want to gain a sense of self-importance (As an example, Mr. Ego Blogger might say: "I was invited to TEN parties in ONE night, I must be a Very Important Blogger!).  

Other people don't care about the conference at all and only attend as an excuse for a party, getaway, weekend.  

Still others, are determined to make a lot of money from their blog and see the BlogHer conference as a step towards monetization.

My point is, there is no right or wrong reason for attending BlogHer.

The conference exists, and each person attending it can take from it what they want.  

For me, the joy comes from spending time with other bloggers.  BlogHer is an opportunity to reunite with blogger-friends I wouldn't otherwise have much opportunity to see. 

[VodkaMom]

[Momo Fali]

[Margaret and Neil]

It's also a chance to meet friends I've "known" online, but not yet met in person. 

[The Bloggess]

In addition, each year I make brand new friends - people I knew nothing about when I set off for the conference. 

[John and Di]

[Jason]

[Pillsbury Doughboy]

These new friends are like unexpected nuggets of gold (or dough?), discovered in the crowd.

This was my second year attending BlogHer, and because of that I was a little more relaxed about the experience.  Doing every.single.thing, and attending every.single.party, was not important to me.  I did a LOT, but I paced myself so it was enjoyable.  I'm an introvert and scheduling down time, and small-group time, was critical for me.  

Really, what I enjoy most at BlogHer is one-on-one, or small group, time vs. the large parties.  For me, that's when the personal connections happen and the personal connections are what I love about the conference.

Was there drama at BlogHer?

Probably - after all, there were 2,400 people there.  The thing is, I wasn't aware of it and therefore it didn't exist as part of my BlogHer experience.

Were there some bitchy bloggers there?

Well, yes there were.  Or should I say, I encountered a few bloggers who were bitchy to me?  Based on my experience with these very same people online, I expected them to be quite nice.  They weren't.  I didn't let it faze me.  If you put 2,400 people together at a conference, you're not going to like all of them and all of them are not going to like you.  I didn't give it more than a seconds thought and I moved on to other people.

And guess what?

There were a few bloggers I *expected* to be aloof and they were actually warm, wonderful, people.

One of my favorite sessions at the conference was on Humor Writing.  Jessica Bern was one of the speakers.  I enjoyed it immensely.  However, it was even better to spend an hour sitting on the floor, in my party dress, outside of the Sparklecorn party chatting away to Jessica and Stacey (Any Mommy) one-on-one.

One of my favorite "small-group" opportunities was lunch at a pizzeria on Saturday.

Or taken from the other end of the table:

 

In the end, the BlogHer conference is whatever you choose to make of it.  I took it minute by minute, stayed flexible with my plans, and had a fantastic time.

Because ...

Isn't it true ...  

Ultimately, each of us is responsible for whether or not we have a good time no matter what we're doing?

 

By the way, next year's conference will be held in San Diego.  I'm so excited!

© Twenty Four At Heart

What I've Learned Lately

It's never too late to learn something new.  I've been reminded of this a lot lately, and I thought I'd take this opportunity to share with you some of my recent observations.

•  You will feel positively ancient when your child graduates from college even if you did give birth to her when you were only three.

•  All cottage cheese is not created equal.

•  A friend is not always the person they've pretended to be and it hurts deeply to come to this realization. 

•  Your air conditioning WILL break when the temperature exceeds 90 F and not a moment sooner.

•  Some drugs are not meant to be mixed with wine and you will, of course, realize this while in the company of your in-laws.

•  If you get a small, red, dry, itchy spot on your boob and you ask Twitter what it might be, you won't want to hear the (horrifying) responses.

•  You should never google images of diseases people on Twitter tell you about or the images you see will be burned into your brain cells for life.

•  No matter how long you live in The OC you will continue to be amazed at how many OC stereotypical people you encounter every single day.

•  Internet Trolls will continue to stalk you even though they say they hate you, will never read you again, and are going away forever.

•  Carbohydrates are highly addictive.

•  If you watch The Bachelorette you will wonder why you're wasting your time (and brain cells), but you will find it difficult to turn off anyway.

•  It will be highly disappointing to find out your son's employee discount at Nordstrom doesn't apply to you because you're not his "dependent."

•  Twitter will instantly be over capacity when there's a sizable earthquake nearby and you will not be able to respond to those inquiring about your safety.

•  There are, in all probability, more fake boobs and asses in Southern California than in the rest of the world combined.

•  If you purchase the new Miraclebody Jeans, you *might* decide they don't really make you look ten pounds thinner as promised.

•  When an old flame sees your new Twitter avatar/Facebook photo and remarks you still look hot, it will feel good even if you did photoshop your wrinkles away.

•  Summer league baseball should not be allowed to begin before the school year has ended.  I say this out of concern for the sanity of baseball parents everywhere.

•  One of the best things about returning home from a trip is seeing the joy and love your dog(s) bestow on you when you walk in the door.

•  Celery sticks and egg whites are not the least bit addictive.

•  When you return from a vacation it will take more days to get caught up than you were actually away for.  (This only applies to women and single dads - or should I just say this doesn't apply AT ALL to Briefcase?)

•  If a shallow OC woman comments on your wedding ring with the sole purpose of getting you to compliment her on the enormous rock on her finger, the best approach is to smile sweetly and ask her where she found such a big cubic zirconia.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Nail in The Coffin

Yesterday afternoon I had my three week follow-up appointment with the Pain Management Specialist.  I have yet to come up with a bloggy nickname for the guy, but so far I really do like him.  In fact, I really wish he'd come into my life a few years ago.  I think it would have made a world of difference to me.

Initially, I wasn't going to write about my visit with him but I've changed my mind for two reasons.

The first:  Knowledge is Power

The second:  The Torturer

First, I've learned information I provide here on 24 is often helpful and empowering to some of my readers.  I've had so many people learn from what I've gone through since my accident.  If I can make anyone's journey even slightly easier than mine, I feel like I've done a huge service.

Honestly, I'm finding this whole world of pain management very interesting.  I always assumed pain docs just threw tons of narcotics at their patients.  In fact, that's the primary reason I was so hesitant to go to a pain specialist.  Now I'm learning there's a lot of new scientific developments in the world of pain management.  I guess I'm a nerd because I find it really interesting.

In any case, remember the medication he put me on to tell my nerves to calm the hell down?

I've been increasing the dosage every week.  Yesterday he informed me I'm going to keep increasing the dosage every week for several more weeks to come.  The bad part is it makes me very, very, tired and I get bouts of Whoa! Dizziness! on it.  The side effects aren't as severe after about five days of taking the medication, but then I have to increase it on the seventh day and the cycle begins again.  Ugh!

The positive is, my pain impulses have already calmed down a little.  In truth, only a teeny, tiny, bit - but it's a beginning and the medication takes awhile to build up in a person's blood system so I should see more and more benefits over time.

The doc was actually very hopeful based on my body's initial response to the medication.

He's going to see me again in four weeks.  At that time he'll be tweaking my medication levels more, adding a new medication, and who-knows-what-else.

In the meantime, I'll keep taking the stuff to calm my damaged nerves down and the same pain meds I've taken forever when I need them.  I guess he might be moving me to a time-release type of narcotic down the road, but not yet.

Who knew they even had such a thing?

(I'm hoping I end up not needing it.)

The thing is?

It all left me feeling hopeful.

Hope is an important commodity for me.

He believes, without question, he can get me more comfortable and living in less pain.  He is so certain, he doesn't even question whether or not this is possible.

How can that be?

Seriously, why - why, why, why?! - didn't anyone get me to this doc sooner?

Several times while I was with him he'd mutter, "Six surgeries!" and shake his head as if to say, "You poor thing!" or perhaps, "How could they do that to you?" or maybe even, "Why haven't I seen you sooner?"

Then he sat with me for the longest time explaining to me his plan to help me.  He even told me what Plan B and Plan C and Plan D are ... so I would understand upfront, if one thing doesn't work, there are other options.

It will take time ...

But I left his office feeling excited, hopeful ...

I really think my life will be changing over the next year.

Yay!  

And oh yes, there is a part of me that is trying not to get too hopeful because I definitely DO remember thinking each and every surgery would be the one to return my life to normal.

Yet ... I am hopeful.

The second part of this saga is - physical therapy.

The doc scowled when he heard about my experience with the new PT.

So guess what he did?

He referred me to ... The Torturer.

Oh yes, he did!  

He's got "The Torturer" pre-printed right there on his physical therapy prescription pad.

He told me The Torturer would be his "first choice" for my physical therapy.

I hemmed and hawed and told him I didn't know if it would be possible for me to go there.

He looked at me dumbfounded as if to ask, "Why the hell not?"

What I knew, but couldn't say is this ...

The Torturer is not a person to forgive (real or perceived slights) easily. 

He is also a person who can turn and walk away from people without ever glancing back.  

I've known this about him for years.

He is who he is.

And yet, I am the opposite.

I am a person who will forgive, and forgive, and forgive yet again (even when I only end up getting hurt as a result).  

I do this because I'm not a person who easily walks away.

I keep glancing back as I walk away ... and with every glance back - I want to make everything better.

It is who I am.

It was with misgivings, and mixed feelings, I texted The Torturer as I left the pain docs office.

I informed him the pain docs "first choice" for my "new" PT is him.

And then I typed, "Is that even an option?"

After a delay, The Torturer texted me back with the phone number of someone else for me to call instead.

----

Just like that, all the earlier hopefulness of the day came crashing down, smothered by a host of hurt feelings.

And that is what the final nail in a coffin (of a long-time friendship) feels like.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Lunch With Neil

I've mentioned my friend, Neil Kramer, on Twenty Four At Heart a few times.  He writes a blog called Citizen of the Month.  Many of you know Neil ... or know OF Neil.  If you've been reading here long enough, you may even remember Neil guest posted for me once upon a time while I was away on a trip.

Neil is a big, famous, screenwriter in real life.  Sometimes he lives in New York, and sometimes Neil lives in the Los Angeles area.  He's bi-coastal.

Neil was one of the first "big" bloggers to acknowledge my arrival in the blogosphere.  I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow we became friends.  Last summer we spent a lot of time hanging out together in Chicago.  Since then we've continued to stay in touch.  You might remember, I saw Neil not long ago at a bloggers meet-up in Laguna Beach.

In any case, Neil is living in L.A. at the moment.  Yesterday I drove up to meet him for lunch.  We were going to meet at a Japanese restaurant.

Um ...

Except - I got lost.

Yes, I've lived in Southern California my entire life.  And no, Neil has not.  That's why I offered to drive up to see him.  So, ya know, he wouldn't get lost.

* Ahem *

And yes, I do have a navigation system in my car.  And no, I didn't program it because I didn't think I needed to.  And then once I was lost, I couldn't program it because I drive with one working arm and .....

Anyway -

I called Neil from the car and he got quite a laugh at my expense.

He had me get off the freeway at the next exit (I had already driven well past the exit I was supposed to take) and directed me to meet him at a coffee shop a few blocks away.  He said he'd be about ten minutes behind me.

I found our new meeting spot, no problem.  I'm a smart driver like that!

L.A. is so L.A.  If you've never spent time in Los Angeles, you won't understand that statement, but if you have - you will.

Pann's was built in 1958 and it still has a 50's feel to it.  

Let's take a closer look at their sign:

  

After a short wait, Neil arrived.  We, of course, chatted nonstop.  There was a lot to get caught up on even though we seem to be in constant, daily, communication.

For instance, Neil told me about researching professional, Orgasmic French kissing which is supposed to be much more exciting than nonprofessional, non-orgasmic French kissing.  Mind you, Neil has only been researching it so far, he hasn't yet gone into PFK (professional French kissing) training.  

Did you click on the Orgasmic French Kissing link?

Neil is a thinker.  Neil thinks about things I would never think about and he thinks about them in a way I would never think about them.  (And I mean every word of that as a compliment.)

All in all, I think Neil is a very interesting person, which is why I enjoy his friendship so much.

 

My lunch reminded me of what I love most about blogging -

Friends like Neil.  

Friends I never would have met if not for the Internet.

Technology has brought some wonderful people into my life.

Like you!

And you ... and you ... and you!

© Twenty Four At Heart

In My Brain; Onto My Blog

Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a comment/email/tweet of support yesterday.  It really means a lot to me.  Seriously, it really does.

I hope you can be patient with me and give me a day or two to get back on my feet.

My new medications are making me VERY sleepy.

Very.

Zzzzzzzz ....

Oh!

What was I saying writing?

Supposedly I'll get used to the new meds and then I won't feel so tired.  The sleepiness factor is also the reason they will be increasing doses gradually ... a full dose right from the start would make me sleep 24/7.

Yesterday, I met a few women for lunch at Wilma's Patio on Balboa Island in Newport Beach.  One of the women was my friend Lorna.  Another was Anne, the reader from Germany who sent me chocolate and stainless steel soap.  She's visiting The OC for a few days and brought along her friend, Carol from Tennessee.

I forgot my camera.

What blogger does that?

I'm blaming the new meds and the fact they make me .....

Zzzzzzzzzzz ...

Anyway, it was great to meet Anne and Carol, and wonderful to also get caught up with Lorna.  I wish I'd had time to dally in the cute little shops on the island after lunch, but I had a pretty full day booked and couldn't spare the time.

One topic of conversation, actually a question they had for me, was whether or not I've talked to The Torturer since I stopped PT with him.  Since they seemed so curious, I figure maybe some of you are too.

After all, the man is *practically* famous.  I wonder if he appreciates his notoriety based on my blog?  

I think ... not.

Yes, The Torturer and I are still in touch.  I've known him for a long time (15 years!) and we are still speaking and we are still friends.  In fact, I was reading an email from him on my Blackberry as I walked into the restaurant for lunch yesterday.  I still bug him with questions about my arm and whine to him when I'm having a bad day.  There's no one who understands my arm situation as well as he does.

He hated hearing my bitching and whining when I was his patient, but I'm sure he really enjoys it much more now.

Don't ya think?

I go to the hospital for a PT evaluation fairly early Thursday morning.  I wonder if they have anyone there who can follow in The Torturer's footsteps?

I think ... not.

One thing's for sure -

I'm not going to tell anyone at my new PT I have a blog.  That way I can come back and tell you all about my experiences without need for censorship.

And now, if you'll excuse me ....

Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

© Twenty Four At Heart

I'm Blaming My Friends, Part III

Isn't it about time I conclude this story?

I think so.

When I left off last week, I was at a bar named K'ya in Laguna Beach with a few girlfriends.

We drank a couple mojitos, possibly got a little carried away taking photos of random strangers at the bar, met a few "relatively harmless" men, and then decided to leave.

On the way out, we ran into some music makers.  They could barely contain their laughter as Nike began shimmying and dancing in front of them.  They also seemed to think it was pretty funny I was taking their pictures.  

They might have thought we were a *little* tipsy. 

Nike wanted to make one more stop before it was time to head to the Laguna Playhouse.

230 Forest Avenue is not just an address.  It's also the name of a popular restaurant/bar in Laguna Beach.  Unlike K'ya, 230 Forest Avenue doesn't have an ocean view.  230 does have great food though.

As we walked to 230, we passed this VW bug:

  

A closer look at the sign on the windshield revealed this:

The sign Dee is holding says, "If you like what you see contribute to me.  I'm a work in progress.  Donate through sunroof and see what becomes of me."

We did not toss any money through the sunroof.

Instead, we entered 230 Forest Avenue and ordered another mojito and a host of appetizers to share as our evening meal.

I don't think any of us were feeling any pain at this point in the evening.

After a few bites at 230, it was time to go see The Second City perform Can You Be More Pacific?  We walked a couple blocks to the theater.  (I might have taken off my heels and walked the few blocks barefoot due to blisters on my feet.  It's a beach town - no one noticed!)

As we entered, we were handed our programs.

Let's take a closer look at how the program portrays Orange County women.

First of all, her body is a navel orange.  (See her navel?)  She's got big, over-sized, filled lips, designer sunglasses, platinum blonde hair, jewelry on her wrist, and manicured nails.  

It looks pretty accurate to me. 

The performance was great and made for a perfect ending to a fantastic girl's night out.

There's no reason to bring up the horrific hangover/headache I had the next morning, is there?

I didn't think so ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

I'm Blaming My Friends, Part II

** I'm hosting a giveaway on some fantastic skincare products.  Click here for details! **

Let's see, on Monday we left off with this:

A giant sized mojito, or several, a group of friends, a rooftop bar in Laguna Beach with stunning ocean views, and yours truly right smack dab in the middle of things.

I must not get out enough.

I was in quite a "let loose" mood as was my friend, Nike.  My other friends were having a good time too, but Nike and I?  We were having a really good time!

Also?

You should always eat before you drink a bunch of giant sized mojitos.  It slows down the drunkeness-factor.

For instance ...

Who are these people?

Their photos were on my camera, but I have no idea who they are.

I know they were at K'ya; they were seated near us.  How and why I ended up taking their photo is beyond me.  I think maybe I wanted to show you some OC people and they were kind enough to indulge me.

Let's just go with that ... 

(Yes, I am a lightweight with alcohol, why do you ask?)

This is Nike hugging Jim.  We met Jim at the bar.

I never knew Nike was such a man-magnet.  Maybe that's because we often have our husbands with us when we go out.  The opening line (all night long) involved men approaching Nike and telling her she looks like Jamie Lee Curtis.

What do you think? 

Jim seemed like a nice guy.  He was very friendly.

I think Jim liked Nike best.

Then there were these men:

They were there with the Laguna Beach Cowboy.  They seemed very nice.  

No one seemed to think it at all odd that a random drunk woman was approaching them and asking if she could take their photo and put it on the Internet.  

This is Casey.  Casey was our wonderful bartender at K'ya.

Casey makes a mean mojito.  Or two.  Or three.  Or ....

Look at the tattoo Casey has on his elbow:

Ouch!  It must have really hurt to get that tattoo.

This is a very horrible picture of me with Mike:

 

My bangs look exactly the same in this photo as they did when I was five.

F-I-V-E!!

(Dialing a hair stylist ...)

Mike, who is married and declared himself "relatively harmless", was visiting from Sacramento.  Mike wanted us to meet him at a bar after we went to see Can You Be More Pacific?  

That didn't happen ....

I think Mike liked all of us.  He was very friendly to everyone.

What happened next?

Well, I'll tell you about the conclusion of our evening in one of my posts next week.

(Make sure to join me for Photography Friday tomorrow and the announcement of the iS Clinical product winners on Saturday!  If you haven't yet entered to win you can do so by clicking here.)

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Red Phone Booth

I'm a lot of fun to go out with.

* Ahem *

Hey, wait - there's a red phone booth!  Come back!  

We need to get in the phone booth!

Is it odd that none of my friends even questioned my idea?

Instead, they were just ...

"Oh, Twenty Four wants us to squeeze into a phone booth.  Good idea!"

Smile for the camera, ladies!

Oh, look, here comes a random stranger.

Maybe he wouldn't mind taking a snapshot for us?

You want me to scrunch down how much for this photo?

    

And to think, this was all before we started drinking!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Fun Facts

** I'm giving away a beautiful photography book this week.  Click here for details. **

Fun Fact #1:  I took this, very (!) bad, photo of myself with my MacBook yesterday afternoon.  Do you like the messy, un-brushed, hair?  (Seriously, I'm not sure I even brushed it with anything other than my fingers yesterday!)  

Did I photoshop away enough of my wrinkles?

The reason why I'm sharing this, less than flattering, picture is because I just received the shirt I have on.  I ordered it from Boden.  I've mentioned before, I like some of their clothes.  It was really hot here yesterday and this top was cool, comfortable, cute and ... just a little bit sex-ay due to the low-cut.  I always like to share a good find on Twenty Four At Heart.  (No, I'm not getting any freebies from Boden).

Fun Fact #2:  Someone on Twitter used the expression, "Omigod I just pulled a TwentyFour!" to explain something embarrassing she'd done.  It made me laugh.  Then I thought about it for a minute, and now I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted?  

Fun Fact #3:  My friend Mr Lady gave me the greatest tip on Twitter the other day.  I was cooking a dish with a lot of garlic in it and my hands reeked of it.  Mr Lady told me to rub my hands on stainless steel and the smell would go away.  I'd never heard of doing this before and, I admit, I was skeptical.  But guess what?  It works!  It might have looked a little odd as I gave my appliances a hand job, but the garlic smell disappeared completely.

Am I the only one who didn't know this trick?

Fun Fact #4:  Today is Day #4 of my 1,000 calorie per day diet.  In reality, I think I'm actually getting around 1100 calories each day.  I'm trying to do this for two weeks to kick-start my body into losing some weight before summer.  I don't know if I've lost anything yet, but I'm definitely eating healthier.  I'm also hungry.  I'm using SparkPeople to track calories and nutrients.  The most interesting part of the experience so far has been realizing what I DON'T have enough of in my diet.  (Vitamin C, as an example.)  If nothing else, it's making me very conscious of eating healthier which is always a good thing.  (And no, I'm not following the SparkPeople diet plan.)

Fun Fact #5:  I had a pukey kid home for the beginning part of this week.  If I catch what he had?  Shoot me.

Fun Fact #6:  Someone in my immediate family departed for Russia this week.  It wasn't me or Briefcase.

Fun Fact #7:  A local Orange County woman recently got upset with me for swearing on Twitter.  If you're on Twitter, you know swearing is extremely prevalent there.  Also?  clearly, this woman was not a 24 reader or she would have already known I'm not a G-rated blogger.

I woke up in a lot of pain that particular morning and I believe I tweeted something along the lines of, "Holy shit my arm hurts.  Fuck you Anthem Blue Cross for taking my PT away from me."  This particular woman replied back to me her son had read my tweet and I needed a time-out for cussing.

Excuse me?

If you know me at all, you know I absolutely cannot keep my mouth shut at times.

This was definitely one of those times.

I replied back this is why kids should not be on Twitter.

She replied back this is why [she] would "unfollow" me.

My reply?  

If you're easily offended, you never should have followed me in the first place.  Be a responsible parent and don't let your young kids read the Tweets of adults you've followed.

Fun Fact #8:  There are a LOT of women in Money Town right now who look like chimpanzees.  

 

Why?  

They've botoxed their faces to the point where their faces don't move at all.  Their eyes look permanently startled or frightened due to a combination of botox and bad brow lifts.  They've put so much filler in their lips, they flap in the wind.  But worst of all, they've added fillers to their laugh lines (parentheses) around their mouth.  Women here are going so overboard on the fillers, they look horrible.  Honestly, it looks like they're walking around with snouts.

Stop it Money Town women!

It doesn't look good - it looks ridiculous.  

And glaringly obvious.

And many of us are laughing at you.

And in a year or two you will look back at photos of yourself and say, "Omigod - what was I thinking?!"

Because that's exactly what I'm wondering right now.

What the hell are you thinking?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Saying Good-Bye

** If you will be in Southern California on March 11th, and you're interested in attending the Plastic Surgery Party, you can click here for details. **

A little over ten years ago, my good friend, Nike, was looking to buy a puppy for her two young boys.  She wanted a Golden Retriever.  I owned an older Golden at the time.  She asked if I'd mind helping her pick out a puppy since I was familiar with the breed.  I gladly agreed.

A funny thing happened when Nike and I went to look at a litter of Golden Retriever puppies.  I helped her pick out a robust, bouncing, male puppy ... and somehow, I ended up coming home with one of my own too.

She and I have owned the two brother puppies for ten years now.

In December, Nike was informed her dog, Cosmo, had cancer and only a few months to live.  Nike was devastated, of course, but Cosmo was still feeling great.  She asked if I would do a photo shoot of her now adult boys, with the much loved dog they grew up with.  

I gladly agreed.

 

And their entire family:

Cosmo was only too happy to romp with his family that day.  I shot over one hundred photos of a very happy Golden Retriever playing.

 

This week, on Tuesday afternoon, Nike called me.

"He's not doing well, can you come?" she asked.

I did.

Nike wanted a few final, good-bye, photos of Cosmo.

It was a difficult photo shoot.  

Cosmo was clearly not feeling well.  

Nike was crying.  

I was crying.  

At the same time, it was a beautiful moment filled with love.

Yesterday, on Thursday morning, Cosmo died.

 

Good-bye, dear, sweet Cosmo.

You've been a much loved friend.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Happy Twenty Ten!

I rang in the New Year with some old friends last night.  To be honest, I'm still a little fuzzy-headed this morning.  As I recall, one of our male friends celebrated at midnight with a pink party hat strategically positioned on the lower portion of his body.  (I never realized how phallic an improperly positioned pink party hat can be!)  When I hugged him at midnight he said, "Be careful, I might poke you."

And he did!

Happy New Year to me?

Wishing each and every one of you a wonderful, healthy, happy, fun, Twenty Ten!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Hobnobbing With a Famous Blogger

If you're not in the blogging world, you may not know Ree Drummond (better known as The Pioneer Woman).  

Oh wait, maybe you do know her.  She's been on TV, she's written a bestselling cookbook and she entertains millions with her stories of life on a cattle ranch in Oklahoma.  She is the ultimate blogger success story.

She's also very pretty, don't you agree?

Last Sunday Ree was in Southern California doing a book signing for her cookbook.  My friend, Sandi, suggested we make the event into a girls afternoon/evening/night and attend.  

Every time I see Sandi it turns into an adventure so I jumped at the chance.

Sandi drove us up to L.A.  I'm letting you in on this important fact because, as you may recall, I've been having a tough go with my arm and my pain levels lately.  I needed pain meds on Sunday.  Because I took pain meds, I couldn't drive.  Being drugged up also meant I was (apparently) very entertaining as I happily chatted away.  I changed thoughts midstream rather abruptly several times during our conversation which caused Sandi to burst into giggles.  

I'm sure she was laughing WITH me and not AT me, right?

This is a very unflattering picture, but at least you get to see Sandi and I hanging out while waiting for our turn to get our books signed.  You also get to see how horrible I look when I'm under the influence.  

Your welcome.

By the way, Sandi is very perceptive.  As soon as the drugs began wearing off she saw the pain in my eyes.  Before I could protest she was carrying my cookbook for me.  

Yes, my arm is that weak.

There were a few hundred people at the signing, but we (fortunately) were in the first hundred to get books signed.  We didn't mind the wait because Sandi and I never, ever, run out of things to talk about.

When it was my turn to meet Ree, I found her to be nothing less than charming.  One of the Borders employees took my picture with her.  Unfortunately, he put my camera on video instead of taking a still photo.  I managed to salvage a little bit of proof I actually met her.  

After the signing, Sandi and I decided we needed just a little more time together.  We hadn't come close to running out of things to talk about yet.  We headed south towards Orange County and eventually made a stop for dinner.  We needed more girl time.  

I was in charge of navigating as Sandi drove us home.  That might not have been such a good idea since I have absolutely no sense of direction under the best of circumstances.  Adding pain meds into the mix made for ... um, a little confusion.  It was okay though, we really enjoyed touring the back streets and parking lots in Torrance.

Oops!

Oh well, eventually we Sandi found our way home.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Facebook

I'm still on pain meds - but I *think* I'm making more sense today.  

Honestly?  I was drugged out of my mind yesterday!  I have never, ever, before attempted to write with that level of drugs in my system.

I apologize.  (Even though a lot of you wrote to tell me you laughed quite a bit at yesterday's post!)

By tomorrow I, hopefully, won't need to be taking pains meds anymore.  Today I'm still a little looped, but I'm only taking one pain pill at a time ... which is still a lot because they're very strong, but not as much as yesterday.

Rambling much?

Last June I wrote about my college boyfriend finding me via Facebook.  It came as quite a shock because up until that time I believed I was invisible.  Sort of.

I don't get on Facebook very often and my facebook account is primarily there as a writing tool.  When I joined FB I didn't enter my high school or college info into my profile because I didn't want anyone finding me.  I wasn't interested in delving into the past.  Over time, however, some non-blogging friends have found and connected with me there.

The other day I was checking facebook and on a whim, without even a millisecond of thought, I typed the name of a long ago friend into the search box.  Up popped the friend - right in front of my very eyes.  It's a male friend, of course.  Ninety eight percent of my friends during my life have been of the male persuasion.

The friend is someone I knew from kindergarten through high school graduation.  This is someone who I was very close to until about 10th grade when we drifted apart as we got involved in different things in high school.  He got interested in things like being Class President, Head Jock, and Valedictorian and I got interested in  .... hmmmm???  

Being an awkward teen?

My old friend is now a doctor and lives in the mid-west.  Once I found Mr. Doctor, I glanced at his friend list and saw many of my old high school cronies.

First I looked for Bitchiest Mean Girl.  This particular girl was the meanest female ever to walk on the planet earth.  She took pride in shredding girls like me to pieces with her finely manicured nails.  She was evil incarnate.

She now looks like hell and I couldn't be happier about it.

Next, I couldn't resist looking to see if my first-ever crush was listed on Mr. Doctor's friend page.  They had been best friends.  

He was.  

I pulled up Crush's profile.  The "boy" who dumped me for a cheerleader (boo hiss!), the first boy to break my heart ... was in a photo right in front of me.  Did I mention Crush also proceeded to stomp on my heart repeatedly and, seemingly, with an immense amount of pleasure for several years?

(Not that I remember it or anything.)

Now Crush looks twenty years older than I do.  

I'm not exactly a prize myself, I realize that ... but!

Honestly, I am in my forties twenty four (as is he) and his picture makes him look like he's at least in his mid-sixties.  

Am I a terrible person if I confess, seeing his picture gave me a small sense of satisfaction?

This isn't a photo of him, but the good looking boy who once held my heart now looks very similar to this man:

You think I'm joking, don't you?  

I'm not!  

It took me a few minutes to fully comprehend it was the same person I once knew and, I hate to admit, longed for.  I stared, and I stared, and I stared a little longer at his photo in an effort to get my brain to accept what my eyes were seeing.

Have you experienced this type of Facebook Time Warp?

I just can't get over it!

© Twenty Four At Heart

I Might Be a Little Stabby

I was going to be funny today.  Oh yes, I was.

I had lots of funny inside me and I was just waiting to crack myself up.

I love to crack myself up.

Instead, I'm pissed off and downright stabby.  I'm showing amazing restraint (!!) by writing an intentionally vague post about this situation.

Because ... you know ... it's in my nature to use the written word to unleash my emotions at their fullest.

I'm not going to do that today.

(But I want to.)  

I almost titled this post, "Fuck Off!"

I decided to go with a more demure title.  

Aren't you proud of me?

It's a little disappointing when you discover someone you consider a friend is, in fact, not a friend at all.

Hellooooooooooo out there?

Are we not adults?  Don't the childhood games end in childhood?  Don't people learn the basic rules of honesty, integrity and respect as they grow up?  Do forty-somethings really need to play games and throw darts at each other in the dark?  At some point, don't most of us learn to discuss our misunderstandings or hurt feelings instead of playing games with them?

*Ahem*

Suppose, hypothetically speaking, your family had a tough few weeks.  Perhaps one of your kids caught Swine Flu which developed into pneumonia and lasted for weeks.  Perhaps as you cared for him, you caught H1N1 also.  Just as you were starting to get everyone healthy, perhaps, that very same kid suffered the worst possible break to his ankle and needed immediate surgery.

Maybe, just maybe, you'd think your friends would understand things were a little chaotic.

Maybe, when one of those friends asked for a favor, you agreed to help them out anyway.  Maybe you've helped this same friend out before with some pretty big favors.  Maybe you enjoy helping people out when you can.  

Because, after all, you are a good friend.  

Maybe, that *friend* then flaked out on you and did not take you up on the favor you worked very hard to make happen for her/him.  Maybe he/she didn't even bother to call or let you know why he/she flaked out.  

The work you did to make that favor happen when your life was busy and chaotic?  Was wasted and you never received any legitimate explanation as to why.  You also never received an apology of any type from your friend for the futility of your efforts.

(You know, because you did jump through hoops and do all sorts of behind the scenes things to help your friend out.)

By the way, not to throw a pity party ... but some of those efforts to make that favor happen?  Were damn hard to do with one arm.

Just sayin' ....

Then maybe, just perhaps, a few days later that same friend called and wanted the exact same favor she/he never took you up on before.  This time, when he/she called, you were busy and could not return the phone call for a few hours.  (Possibly you were at physical therapy where phone calls are not allowed.  Perhaps, you did not even have your phone in the same room as you.)  

When you were able to return the missed phone call, you re-extended the same favor to that very same friend.  However, the friend was in a huff and initially voiced disappointment you weren't there for them when they needed you.

As in - the very minute they called.

Maybe you were a little confused by this.  Maybe you thought, "What the hell?  I tried to help you out and you flaked on me.  Now, I'm trying again and you're getting angry."  

Maybe you tried to discuss this with your friend.  Maybe the friend calmed down and acted like everything was sincerely wonderful once you were actually having a conversation.  Maybe you hung up the phone thinking there had been a little miscommunication (perhaps even, a downright lack of communication), but everything was now okay.

And then ....

Oh yes, and then ... maybe you were caught in utter surprise and shock when that very same *friend* used a very public forum to rip you to shreds.

© Twenty Four At Heart

I Am An Uppity Bitch

I got together with a male friend of mine about a week ago.  I hadn't seen him for awhile but we correspond pretty frequently by email.  I've known him for at least six years now.  I love him dearly, but I suppose we kind of have an odd friendship.

In any case, my friend - let's call him Mr. Charming, and I both tend to speak our minds pretty bluntly.  Maybe it's a trait we admire in each other or maybe we just like to stand by and listen to the other one speak in case one of us causes a train wreck.  In the six years I've known him, we've both had occasion to see each other do exactly that.

Who can say what really draws people together as friends?

Have I ever mentioned I sometimes cause train wrecks?  Unintentionally, of course.  It's a talent I have because I often lack a brain-mouth filter.  

Mr. Charming tells me he reads Twenty Four At Heart every day.  Mr. Charming greeted me with a handshake.

A handshake!

This is someone I nearly bolted across the room to hug and swing through the air.  (Well, you know - if both my arms worked that's what I would have done.)

I didn't say it, but my immediate thought was, "Omigod, he reads 24 and he knows I have bionic nipples and he's afraid to hug me in case I ....  In case I ... self combust!"

Do ya think?

Maybe I'm wrong.

It's kind of a strange feeling when people in my every day life read my writing.

Now, there was a purpose to my get together with Mr. Charming, but I'm not going to discuss it.  No, because what ended up being interesting to me about our visit were all the little things that came up in conversation which had nothing to do with the intention of our visit together.

It was like a case study in a male-female platonic friendship.

For instance, have I mentioned the handshake instead of a hug?

Then there was the moment in our conversation when he shook his head and told me he had thought (for years, apparently) that I was "uppity."

Uppity?

Now, he says, he realizes I'm actually very shy.

"Except not at all when you write," he added with a grin.

I am shy.  It's something I've written about here many times, but I know many of you don't believe me.  You wonder how I could possibly write about Losing My Clitoris, or my Bionic Boobs detonating in public places if I'm shy.  But, you see - it's so easy when I can hide behind my laptop.  Put me in a room crowded with people and watch me flee in a panic.

Wait a minute . . .  

Did he say he thought I was UPPITY?

And if he thought that, why has he been my friend?

There were a few more interesting revelations from Mr. Charming also.

He informed me that, "Flirting is inappropriate."

He wasn't discussing flirting between the two of us; he was discussing flirting by married people in general.

This statement really bothered me.

Maybe it bothered me because I began flirting as an infant on the day I learned to smile.  It's an innate part of who I am and I doubt if I'll stop flirting until I drop dead one day.  My flirting means nothing.  It's the way I communicate.  I even flirt with women and I'm decidedly heterosexual.  

The flirting comment bothered me so much I fretted over it for a few hours.  Then I sent a quick email off to Mr. Charming stating, "You flirt too - admit it!"

It took me those few hours of stewing to think back on every occasion I'd seen Mr. Charming over the last six years and get my mental ammunition prepared regarding a time I'd seen him flirt.

I ended up not having to prove anything to him.  He emailed back and said, "Ok, I do."

Just like that he admitted it.

Does anyone understand men?

I spent hours contemplating whether flirting in male/female friendships is good or bad, harmless or provocative,  and he reversed himself in a millisecond with no hesitation.

While I was with Mr. Charming he also informed me that although he realizes I believe in male/female friendships ... they really don't exist.  

What the hell?

My male friend was telling me there are no male/female friendships?

He said there "has to be an attraction" existing between male/female friends and therefore they aren't simply friendships.

I disagreed, of course.

Then he asked me how many repulsive male friends I have.

I stared at him in silence.

He smiled, knowingly, as if he'd just scored against me in a game of chess.

"We're friends," he acknowledged, "But we both get something from our friendship."

Have I mentioned Mr. Charming is also Mr. Exasperating?

All people get "something" from all relationships.  Platonic, sexual, business ... whatever the precursor to a relationship is, both sides get something out of a relationship or the relationship ceases to exist.

Sometimes I think Mr. Charming just likes to make me think.

I would never admit to him it's one of the reasons I like being friends with him.

And by the way, I don't have any repulsive female friends either.

© Twenty Four At Heart

North Carolina & Dr. Phil Because I'm Random Like That

** I will be in Charlotte, North Carolina this Friday, August 21st.  Anyone in the area is invited to join me for Happy Hour at Roosters in the South Park area.  I will be arriving there around 4:30 in the afternoon and I may not leave until closing.  **

I spent all day yesterday traveling from California to North Carolina to get my son settled for his first year of college.  On the plane I looked over at him sitting next to me.  I stared at his profile and thought back to when he was a baby, a toddler ... a young boy.  Then I turned and looked out the window and stared at the clouds and forced myself to think about other things (like the fact I need new tires for my car) so I wouldn't cry on the plane.

It didn't really work.

It's not easy letting go.

I've never been to North Carolina before but my son has been here before. 

We have some long time friends who live in the city of Greensboro.  They are the nicest people you can imagine.  They were kind enough to open their home to us last night when we arrived.

After a long day of traveling, it was great to have their company and some real (vs. airport) food.  I haven't seen much here yet.  Lots of greenery as we landed was followed by lots of greenery on the way to our friend's house for dinner.  By the time we left their house it was dark.

I can't get over how many trees are here.  They're beautiful.  Here are just a few in our friend's backyard.

American Airlines managed to lose my son's luggage with the stuff he's supposed to be moving into his dorm today.  We're hoping they locate it soon.  This did not make me happy - at all.  

Asshats!

I don't have much else to share with you today.  I'm simply too exhausted.  I've tallied it up and realized I've only gotten five hours sleep in the last 48 hours.  I'm running on empty.  

Am I even making sense?

Oh wait ....

Several of you asked about the Dr. Phil show.  I was present for the taping of two episodes.  In one episode I just sat in the audience hanging out.  La-dee-da for me!  I will probably appear in some of those shots where they scan the audience with the cameras.

The other episode is the one most of you have inquired about.  Yes, it was the show Heather Armstrong will be appearing on.  It will air sometime in September.  And yes, I did have the opportunity to meet her (and her husband and her new baby) after the show.  I don't have any pictures to share because we weren't allowed to bring cameras or phones into the studio.  The topic of the show was working vs. stay at home moms.  You can read more about the Dr. Phil taping by clicking here.)

I will most likely appear on TV for a few fleeting moments once the episode airs.  I'm hoping I get edited out because when all the cameras came out of nowhere and focused on me I almost peed my pants.  I don't even remember what I said, but I'm sure it made no sense.  Also, I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear that after the cameras were off, I *might* have realized my dress was showing off way too much cleavage while they were filming.

I know that comes as a huge surprise to all of you.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Snippets

I've been hesitant to write too much about my trip to Chicago because I don't want to bore you to tears.  In addition, I remember last year when I had just begun blogging and everywhere I turned on the Internet (for weeks) was Blah, Blah, BlogHer Conference.  It got old.  At the same time, several of you have emailed or tweeted with questions.  I decided I'll use today to answer some of those random questions and give you a few snippets about the conference and then tomorrow I'll move on.

Were there many hot men to hang out with?

There were a few. 

(I just noticed my cleavage in that picture.  How did that happen?  See what I mean?  It always sneaks out on it's own!)

Why is your hair so blonde?

I had it lightened to show off the pink streaks.  Next time I get it cut I'll have them put dark in it to return it to my natural shade of blonde.

Did you have fun at BlogHer?

Yes, but it was exhausting.

Would you go again?

I am going again.  I already have my ticket to attend next year on August 6th and 7th in New York City.

What did it feel like to meet people in person who you've known online for a long time?

[Photo by Amy Windsor]

It felt great!  A lot of squealing went on when a lovely lady said, "Hey Twenty Four I'm Vodka Mom!"

Are you and Undomestic Diva really related?

Yes, she's my niece and she's adorable.  We did tequila shots one night.  I think.  It's all a little fuzzy.  Oh - and breakfast/coffee at Starbucks together one morning.

Did you actually learn anything while you were there?

[Photo by Carla Duharte-Razura]

Yes, yes I did.

Were the parties as fun and crazy as everyone says they are?

I'll be honest.  I'm not really a party person.  I'd rather be with a small group of friends than at a large, crowded, party any day.  The BlogHer parties were large and VERY crowded and also very loud.  Conversation was next to impossible.  I went to most of them.  I made the rounds.  

[I wonder who that is under the burger bag hat?]

After short visits to the parties I frequently left with a couple friends to sit and chat over a glass of wine.  It's just who I am.  I'm introverted.  I'm shy.  I liked being out on the walkway by the river.  At night the city lights up and the lights are reflected in the water.  It's beautiful.  It's even better with a few friends and some great conversation.

Did you get a lot of free stuff (swag) from corporate sponsors?

Yes.  I gave most of mine away.  It wasn't important to me, but I do appreciate the fact that companies are acknowledging the growing Internet audience.

Was there a lot of drama going on with all those women together in one spot?

I've heard there was drama going on, but I steered clear.  Life is what you make it and I chose to have a drama-free trip to Chicago.

Did you flash your boobs while you were there?

No, not even once.  I did take a clothed boob photo with Mr.Lady.  The two of us did a prolonged chest bump.  I think she liked it!  (I know I did.)

If you had to pick your favorite moment of the entire conference, what would it be?

Visiting with friends on Sunday evening, my last night there.  At that point almost everyone had left and gone home.  Four of us just relaxed and talked for hours.  It was the perfect ending to a hectic few days.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Chicago

I'm writing this in the lobby of the Sheraton in Chicago.  I'm sitting by a window looking out at the river.  

I took a long walk along the river earlier today.  Now I'm enjoying being back in the air conditioning and watching the boats go by as I write.

I'll be flying back to Orange County today.  I've had an interesting and very exhausting few days here.  I love the city of Chicago.  It's so beautiful even though I don't really consider myself a "city person."  

I wish I'd had more time for sight seeing but my every second has been booked while I've been here.  

The biggest highlight of my trip has been the opportunity to meet, in person, some of the people I've communicated with online for the last year.  As a reader, you can roam the blogosphere and see endless pictures of what went on at BlogHer09 over these last few days.  On other websites you will see photo after photo of bloggers partying.  

[Photo taken at the infamous Cheezburgherz party.]

You will also read people's lists of which well known writer(s) they had an opportunity to meet.

For me, it was the little moments that were more important.  

When I walked into the conference hall with 1,400 writers and saw the Twenty Four At Heart blog header highlighted on the two monster projection screens I nearly peed in excitement.  They even had a quote from me to go with it.  (A quote I have no memory of ever giving, but who the hell cares?)  Thrilling me even more, they used the same screen shot repeatedly on other days of the conference.

Why did that give me such a thrill?  I don't know, but it did!  Every time I saw it I wanted to squeal and jump up and down with joy.

It was nice to meet several Mr./Mrs. Famous Internet Writers.  However, sitting down for a few minutes one on one with Jane, the woman who was the first person ever to take the time to communicate with me in the blogosphere, meant far more.  When she asked me if I had my Spanx on and how my bionic nipples were doing it made my day.

Realizing one of my favorite people in the blogosphere, Neil Kramer, is someone I love in person was another highlight.  Yes, there were people I've been impressed with online who were just kind of meh to meet in person.  To realize an online connection has now become a friend in real life was just a good thing.

I'm even *thinking* about forgiving him for embarrassing me in front of the entire writing session he led on storytelling.  

Please note - I did not embarrass myself at the session, Neil did it for me.  It's a very important and distinctive point to be made.  (Right, Neil?)  

I'd love to tell you about the embarrassment Neil caused and the many shades of red I turned, but I think I'm all out of writing time for today.  I guess, like many stories from my weekend, I'll have to save that one for another day.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Sending Love to a Friend

The Internet makes friends out of people who would otherwise never have met.  One of my readers is named Karin.  If you read the comments here, you may have seen comments she's left for me.  Karin began as one of my readers.  Then she became a commenter.  Then Karin began to email me and share her story with me.  Karin and I bonded and I'm proud and honored to call her my friend.

Karin doesn't want attention and she doesn't want sympathy but she is facing a tough battle right now.  Karin has lung cancer and had one of her lungs removed this week.  She's currently in the hospital.  Before her surgery Karin asked if I would do her a favor.  She has a blog and she didn't want to leave it unattended while she's in the hospital.  She asked if I would guest post for her.  In true Karin fashion, she was more worried about her "few readers" as she calls them than she was herself.

She asked if I could maybe make them smile.

I don't know that I had anything particularly funny to write, but I did share a story about Money Town with Karin's readers today.  I hope you'll take the time to click over and read it.  While you're there?  I'd so appreciate it if you'd leave a comment for Karin wishing her well in her valiant fight against cancer.  Karin could use all the support, love, and prayers you can send right now.

You can find my guest post by clicking here.

Thank you for supporting my friend!

© Twenty Four At Heart

There's Always a Twist

Life is funny sometimes.

Last week I was worried about what I would write about during my surgery recovery.  I knew my life would border on coma-inducing boredom for a few weeks.  My big event each day is taking a shower and smiling at my new (still taped up) boobs in the bathroom mirror as I do so.  Showering exhausts me to the point of needing a nap.  And so goes my recovery ....

I mean, really, what could possibly happen in my always-eventful life if I am just sitting at home day after day?

I just don't think it's possible for me to have a boring life ... or week, for that matter.  Out of the blue, after twenty years of no contact, I got an email from my old college boyfriend this week.  Do any of you remember when I wrote about him (Big Weenie) last March?

Since Big Weenie's initial contact this week we've exchanged a few emails.  I've got to say the whole back-in-touch thing feels surreal.  People from my past live on in my memory as if time has stood still, but now reality has burst my bubble and reminded me I'm not twenty anymore.  For that matter, neither is Big Weenie.

By the way, he's married; I'm married.  

Big Weenie has three kids; I have three kids.

My kids are nearly grown and his are babies.

(For the record, he's older than I am.  I feel a strong need to point that out.)

Big Weenie found me via Facebook.  I opened a facebook account a long time ago, and had never looked at it again.  I simply don't have the time for facebook, twitter, writing 24, and my real life.  Nonetheless, he found me and his email asked, "Want to catch up?"

It's been twenty years ... do you want to catch up?

Inexplicably I felt the urge to laugh and cry at the exact same instant, and yet I don't understand why.

Modern technology is a funny thing, isn't it?  A person's current reality and past can collide in an instant.

I gave Big Weenie a link to Twenty Four At Heart.  The next day I got another email saying he had logged on to 24 and read about my accident.  It had shaken him up quite a bit.

I know a lot of you have had similar experiences.  I've read about people finding lost family members via the Internet.  Some of you have written me emails about reconnecting with old friends and boy/girlfriends after many years of no contact.

I guess I'm looking for feedback today.  Is it a good thing?  Have you had a similar experience?  What are the positives?  What are the negatives?  At what point does it feel normal and stop feeling so surreal.

And, oh yeah, hi Big Weenie!  I hope you still have a sense of humor.  Welcome to Twenty Four At Heart.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Torturer Interview

The following interview consists of questions submitted by my readers for my famed physical therapist, The Torturer.  The interview setting was a cafe where we had lunch yesterday.  I reminded him that all of these questions were not my questions, but reader's questions.  (Readers designated by a Q, his answers by a T).

24:  First of all, thank you for subjecting yourself to this being such a good sport.

T:  Are you going to change all of my answers to say what you want?

24:  I won't change any of your answers.

T:  I am a professional.

24:  I know that.

T:  You don't portray me as being a professional on your blog.

24:  hmmm.

T:  Well??

24:  Why don't we get started now? 

(Torturer rolls his eyes.)

Q:  Are taser guns a legal and acceptable form of treatment at PT?

T:  Dammit, that's exactly what I mean!

24:  Can you just answer my reader's questions?

T:  Everything is legal and acceptable when it comes to you, 24.

Q:  Where can people get a taser?

T:  You have to be a licensed medical professional to get a taser.

Q:  How do you handle your 4 girls and would you like another?

T:  I have a lot of patience.  And no, thank you.

24:  (raised eyebrow)  You have a lot of patience?

T:  Except maybe with you.

Q:  A reader asked if making 24 cry gives you a "chub"?

T:  (laughs) I always have one.

(both of us laugh)

T:  Look at that 24, you're blushing!  I didn't think anything embarrassed you.

Q.  How many years does it take to become a torturer and do you get paid a lot?

T:  Probably about 6+ years, and no I don't get paid nearly enough.

Q:  When hot women come into PT do they get more attention?

T:  It depends on how busy I am. 

Q:  Do you date patients?

T:  No.  Never.  I've been dating people who then start coming in as patients, but I don't date patients.

Q:  Is 24 funny in real life?

T:  We laugh a lot.  She thinks she is.

Q:  Is torturing part of your personality or do you have to work hard at it?

T:  I think I'm a natural born torturer.

Q:  What are you looking for in a woman besides a Sugar Mama?

T:  A big heart, a tight ass, and big tits.  Not necessarily in that order.

(24 mutters "pig")

Torturer looks wounded and adds, "A big heart is important to me."

Q:  Who makes the better patient, men or women?

T:  Women.  Women are tougher.  Men are babies.  Also, men wait too long to come in.

Q:  Do you ever give Money Town women exercises to make their thighs get bigger?

T:  (Laughs)  No, but maybe I should start.

Q:  Are you a compassionate person?

T:  Of course.

(24 rolls eyes)

Q:  Did you know people with marshmallow bodies can be nice too?

T:  Some of my best friends are marshmallows.

Q:  Are the Money Town women as bad as 24 says?

T:  Worse!  Some of them are nice to look at though.  Most are fun to laugh at.  They're all high maintenance.  Well, at least 80% of them.  There's always that 80/20 rule.

Q:  Do you agree with 24's portrayal of Money Town?

T:  Yes.  Absolutely.

Q:  What made you decide to become a torturer?

T:  I'm a hands on kind of guy.  I used to be an athlete and now I work with a lot of athletes.  I like that.

Q:  What's the funniest thing that has ever happened when you were torturing someone?

T:  There was a pretty hot patient.  She went into a private room to put a medical gown on.  When I came in she had put it on with the opening in the front.  She was standing there with her boobs hanging out.  I told her I'd step outside for a minute and maybe she could turn the gown around to face the other way.  It was pretty funny.

Q:  Where were you raised?

T:  Southern California

Q:  What will you do when 24 graduates from PT and doesn't come in anymore?

T:  Have a party.

(24: "ass"  The Torturer laughs)

Q:  What do you do for fun when you aren't torturing someone?

T:  I'm mainly about torturing people.  I have an old truck I'm rebuilding.  I like to read Twenty Four at Heart.

Q:  Do you have a secret crush on 24?

T:  Everyone does.

Q:  Where is 24 the most ticklish?

T:  Someone should ask Briefcase that one.

Q:  Do the two of you ever get along or do you always fight?

T:  (grins)  We get along ... for periods of time.

Q:  Is 24 really your favorite patient?

T:  Of course.

Q:  Are there Money Town women who come to PT just to get close to your hot self?

T:  Probably not.

Q:  What do you do when 24 cries at PT?

T:  It depends on the situation.  Sometimes I hand her a Kleenex.  Other times I give her hugs.  Sometimes I kick her in the ass and tell her not to have a pity party.  It depends on what's going on with her.

Q:  Do you even CARE when she cries?

T:  Of course.  She's gone through a lot.  It's like a marathon and it's my job to get her to the finish line.  It can be painful and difficult to get there.  You fall along the way sometimes.  I help her get up when she falls.  Sometimes I yell at her to get up by herself.  It depends on what I think will be best for her.

Q:  Doesn't it pull at your heartstrings?

T:  I have compassion and empathy.  But it is separate from what I do.

Q.  Do you sleep well at night after hurting 24?

T:  Yes.  I'm helping her.  She's a lot better than she was.

Q:  What is the most bizarre injury you've ever treated?

T:  Hmmm.  It might have been the guy who broke his ankle jumping over a fence while running from the police.  The injury wasn't bizarre, but how he got it was.

Q:  What is the most annoying or stupid thing you've seen a Money Town woman do or say?

T:  Wow.  There are too many to even narrow it down.

Q:  What do you do to de-stress after torturing people?

T:  Torturing people is how I de-stress.

Q:  What do you do if you're really attracted to a hot patient and have to touch her in a lot of places.

T:  I touch her in a lot of places.  Professionally, of course.

Q:  Do you make house calls?

T:  Only in very special cases.

Q:  What's 24 like when she's on drugs?

T: (laughs)  Oh the stories I could tell!  Should I tell?  

(24 shakes head 'no' vigorously)

Well, she's a lot of fun when she's on drugs.  She talks nonstop and I don't think she remembers a thing she says.

Q:  Do you think telling 24 she's got a body like a marshmallow motivates her?

T:  OK, hold on.  I never used the word marshmallow.  She made an interpretation of what I said.  After all her surgeries I just suggested it was time to get back in shape.

Q:  What kind of torture do you wish you could perform but can't because it's illegal?

T:  I've been tempted to strangle 24 a few times.

Q: What was the most outstanding temper tantrum 24 ever threw?

T:  Hmmm.  They've kind of blended together.  She's gotten really mad at me a few times.  She stormed out once and didn't come back.  Canceled all her appointments.  I had to call her and talk her into returning.  I don't even remember what I did to get her that pissed at me.  I did something.   

Q:  What do you do when 24 makes you mad?

T:  I push her harder.

Q:  Have you ever yelled at 24?

T:  More than once.  One time I was across the room from her.  24 told one of my techs she couldn't do something I'd just asked her to do.  I was having a bad day and I yelled, "Just DO it!"  There was a little old lady looking on.  A brand new patient.  Her eyes got huge and she looked petrified.  Like I'm an ogre.  I apologized and told her, "I'm sorry.  I don't talk to patients that way.  Only 24.  I've known her forever and she's the only one I talk to like that."  The new patient never came back.  I think I scared the crap out of her. 

Q:  What does 24 do to make you mad? (Author edit:  Besides not following your orders to do things which are beyond her ability and incredibly painful!)

T:  She likes to socialize a lot.  Too much.  She isn't at PT to become best friends with the office staff and all the patients.  It distracts from what she should be doing.  Also, now they all want to chat with her and not do what they should be doing either. 

Q:  So what do the people who work in your office think of 24?

T:  (Sighs)  They like her.  And they like that she brings in treats for them.  (pause)  They don't know her as well as I do.

Q:  Do you treat all your patients like 3 year olds?

T:  Just 24.  If you knew her as well as I do you'd understand.

Girl's Night Out

Before I get into today's post, I wanted to cover a few housekeeping topics.  

First of all, thank you for all the comments and emails lately.  I love how interactive this site is becoming and I love getting to know all of you through your input.  The Torturer has been laid up for a few days.  (He's fine - no worries!)  He will be torturing me today, but I won't be interviewing him until tomorrow.  He has requested lots of alcohol for the interview process.  I will post the interview either on Wednesday or Thursday of this week depending on how long it takes to completely rewrite compile his responses.

Secondly, several of you have given me awards and/or tagged me with memes over the last few months.  I am so honored to be thought of and I love you.  I am also a total flake when it comes to both awards and memes and I am hopelessly behind.  In fact, I'm so far behind in posting about them I am embarrassed to post any now because I'm afraid I will forget one, offend someone, etc.  I appreciate it so much every time you honor me or this website in any manner.  Thank you and please forgive me for my flakiness in this area of blogging.  At some point I will either get caught up or completely give up.

Finally, I have a lot going on right now on the legal front.  My trial date is looming about one week in front of me.  It is occupying an inordinate amount of my time and stressing me out.  I am very behind on responding to emails and on visiting the blogs of many friends.  I hope to be caught up soon.  There just haven't been enough hours in each day to get everything done that I'd like to. 

OK, so now you've heard all my excuses and blah, blah, blah disclaimers.  Are you still there?  Or have you fallen asleep?

My friend Nike has a new job.  She is working in a fabulous, cute, amazing, little furniture boutique a couple days each week.  This is incredibly lucky for me.  Remember last week when I mentioned my half finished house?  Well, Nike apparently has been mentally picking out pieces of furniture she feels would be "perfect" for my house while she's working.  I stopped into her shop to visit her on Friday and walked out with a much needed coffee room table for my living room.  How did that happen?  Now I can scratch one item off my house to-do list.

There's a fun restaurant near Nike's shop and we agreed to meet there for a glass of wine once she got off work.  We enjoy going to this particular restaurant because they have a large outdoor porch and it is a fun, casual place to hang out on warm evenings.  (We still have hot weather here.)  Nike showed up with three friends who also work in the same boutique.  As it turns out, they are wonderful, warm, real women.  You know, as opposed to fake, superficial, plastic women which are a dime a dozen around here.

I arrived sporting a little cleavage and Nike commented she was surprised because she doesn't see "them, I mean it" very often from me.  (T-shirts don't show a lot of cleavage now do they?)  

I had so much fun meeting Nike's friends.  Nike ordered a  glass  bottle  couple bottles of wine.  We sat outdoors in the warm air with a nice, balmy, breeze blowing while we drank our wine.  It's a bit of a blur but one of the ladies made an array of appetizers appear somewhere along the line.  (Have I told you I get drunk if I have more than one glass?!) 

Nike told my new friends about Twenty Four at Heart and they began sharing funny Orange County stories with me.  These women were a kick.  They had me in stitches with accounts of Swingers and Stepford Wives.  I can't wait to hear more of their great stories.  We even talked about trying to infiltrate the Money Town Swingers group just long enough to get a few photos for blogging purposes.  If we do?  Those pictures would be of fully dressed Swingers and we would not stay long enough to see otherwise.  Just in case you're wondering ...

By the way, if I do go undercover and all of a sudden go missing?  Tell the police to "wear white" and show up at local bars to find me.  That's how the Swingers identify each other in the bars.  It's called "Wear White Thursday."  Creative people, aren't they?

Eventually the evening ended.  Nike and I needed a little alone time to get caught up so we made one more stop on our way home.  We went to a bar just outside of Money Town for one more (ugh!) glass of wine.  Can we all stop and spell h-a-n-g-o-v-e-r?

By this time the bar-flies were out in full force.  Nike and I were buzzed enough to whip out my camera.  We wanted to capture our favorite female and favorite male at the bar.  Everyone was drunk enough to not even notice the flash going off.

This cougar woman won our award for best ho outfit of the night.  We got the impression she was out on the hunt for some serious action.  And yes, those are diamonds around her ankle.  This is, after all, Money Town.

 

In contrast, there was a man at the bar who was a stunning example of Money Town trash.  He was out on the hunt too.  He thought this classy t-shirt would help him get lucky with the Money Town ladies.

What do you think ladies?  Doesn't that just make you want to go home with him?  It just gets me hot when guys dress like that.  He might be a multi-millionaire.  Money, however, can't buy class.  Really, who buys this shirt?  And then wears it out to bars to pick up on women?

Nike was trying to take his picture without him noticing.  She decided she would "pretend" to be taking mine and really focus on him.  The problem is Nike was a little drunk.  When I got home and wanted to see the pictures of Mr. Classy, instead I found several shots like this one.

And now you know what a slightly drunk Twenty Four At Heart looks like.

This Will Be Fun!

Today I thought we'd try something a little different.  It won't work unless you are willing to participate, but I'm guessing you'll want to.  I'm hoping you'll want to.

A few months ago one of my readers was corresponding with me on email.  She suggested I interview The Torturer here on Twenty Four At Heart.  It might have been right about the time when he volunteered to be Ms. Plastic's personal trainer.  I laughed at the idea at the time.  More recently we came up with the idea of letting you, my readers, come up with interview questions for him.

Here's The Torturer:

 

Well, not really, but close enough.

Here is some basic information I've given you in the past about him:  He's evil. 

Just kidding.  (Sort of.)

Let's try again.  He is a physical therapist but he now runs a personal training program also.  He owns his own business and people actually have to work for him.  He broke up with his girlfriend awhile back.  Maybe you want to be his next one?

The Torturer is quite verbal about telling me I'm out of shape and have the body of a marshmallow.  He taught me how to roll a ball again (like a one year old) after my worst surgery.  He has seen my fat dyed orange from fake tanning lotion.  He's also seen my orange feet.  He has tried to teach me to meditate through my pain and failed.  He's totally kicked my ass with some of his personal training shit.

Other fun facts I may, or may not, have mentioned.  I have actually known The Torturer for over thirteen years.  He is a divorced father of four girls.  The youngest two are twins.  The Torturer is 47 years old.  He has a lot of patients from Money Town. 

Many of the Money Town women think he's hot.  They pursue him relentlessly and in ridiculous, but humorous ways.  (He is soooooo going to kill me for sharing that!)  Clearly they don't know him as well as I do.  He says he wants a "sugar mama," but I don't think he really does.  The Money Town women seem to turn him off.  Something about being superficial and high maintenance?  I can't imagine what he means.  

I have sworn at The Torturer, cried on him, begged him to stop hurting me, and laughed until I cried with him.  More swearing and crying than laughing.  I have been drugged senseless in front of him on numerous occasions.  He has repeatedly told me I'm much more fun when I'm drugged up.  He's a real sweet talker, isn't he?

Sometimes he gets angry.  For example, when I throw temper tantrums (who, me?), storm out of PT, and/or quit forever and ever play hooky.  That kind of shit really pisses him off.  The office staff has been given strict orders to never allow me to cancel an appointment or let me leave the building without approval.  (Yes, I am treated like a three year old and I have no idea why he feels that's necessary?!) 

I have possibly verbally abused him when I was in excruciating pain.  For some reason he still puts up with me.  I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he gets paid to do so.   (Note to self: pay The Torturer sometime soon!  Or maybe just sometime?) 

By the way, he isn't ever always nice. 

Here's an example.  (I could give you pages of examples, but I won't.)  Just yesterday he hooked me up to a taser gun and told me to lift my arm.  When I couldn't do it, he shot me with the taser.  When I screamed, "F*$K that hurts!" he said, "I don't care about your pain, I only care about function."

Oh yes, he did.  And I told him right then I was going to publicize his comment for the entire Internet to read.  Even those readers in far away places like India and Vietnam and China now know about it.  (Hi far away readers!)  Was he concerned about bad publicity?  No, not at all.  He just rolled his eyes and sighed.  He does that a lot when he's around me.

And Torturer?  I have no function.  Still. 

Can you believe he's yelled at me?  And scolded me?  He has even been (gasp!) exasperated with me!  Many, many times.

He sleeps well at night after hurting me that same day.  (I've asked!) 

He reads Twenty Four At Heart and tells me when he doesn't like a post.  He's also told me when he thinks "it's the best writing [I've] ever done." 

He's not shy with his opinions.  Clearly.

Why is it when I'm trying to tell you how evil he is, it sounds like I'm maybe part of the problem?  I'm sure that isn't the case.  I'm the best patient the man's ever had.  I just know I'm his all time favorite. 

No, really I am.

You can leave any question you would like for The Torturer in my comments section today.  I will then interview him with your questions and report his answers back to you sometime next week.  You can ask him anything, but I can't promise he'll answer every question.

Have fun, be creative, and don't be shy! 

Money Town Priorities

We left off yesterday with me standing in the Money Town Starbucks with an acquaintance named Jodi.  Jodi is a Money Town resident and was delighted to run into me.  She peppered me with questions regarding my current post-car accident status.  Jodi made it clear I needed her help.  I asked my readers what type of help you thought a Money Town resident like Jodi might think I need.

Can I just stop and say right here that every single comment yesterday brought a smile to my face?!  What an awesome group of readers.  No one got the exact answer correct, but several of you were close with "makeover."  The funniest comment came from Goodfather, who went on a rant about the Howell's from Gilligan's Island.  As you'll see today, Jodi actually had two important suggestions for me.   

Also, once again, here's my disclaimer.  There are a lot of nice, normal people in Orange County.  There are also a lot of very nice people in Money Town.  The normal people, however, are not as fun to write about.  The people who epitomize the spoiled rich are just plain fun to share with you.  I love my real Money Town friends.  Rich or not, they aren't like Jodi.

Jodi inquired first about my arm. 

"I heard your arm doesn't work, is that really true?"

Yes, Jodi, it's true.

Then Jodi wanted to see for herself.

"Well, how far can you lift it?  Can you show me?  Can you bend your elbow?  How do you take care of your kids?  How do you put on make-up and blow dry your hair?"

I can raise it this much.  Yes I can bend my elbow and use my hand.  I can't lift anything, open doors, pull, push or carry anything.  I take care of my kids as best I can and they're still alive so I think I'm doing okay.  Make-up and blow drying my hair are challenges, but I haven't died yet from bad hair.

Then came the questions about the lawsuit.

"Do you have a good lawyer?  I bet you're going to make a FORTUNE off this?!  How much do you think you'll get?"  (All said with a gleam in her eye as if this experience has been a wonderful opportunity for me.)

Can I say something here?  For friends who ask me how the lawsuit is going because they care about me, about the stress of the legal process, thank you.  I appreciate your concern.  It's stressful.  For those acquaintances who want to dig into my financial status, I don't appreciate it.  And I'm an intelligent enough person to know the difference.

And yes, I have a good lawyer.  No, I am not going to make a fortune off of this.  Also, I may get nothing and it's none of Jodi's business anyway.

Then Jodi gave me a look-over and grimaced.  I knew some flattery was on it's way.

"This whole thing has taken a toll on you."

(Thank you for telling me I look like shit, Jodi!  Thank you very much, I appreciate the input.  Jeez, do ya think five surgeries in two years might do that?  Jodi is very insightful!  And thoughtful.  And helpful.  And kind, did I mention kind?)

"I have the greatest personal shopper.  You would love her.  She can even come to your house if you want so you don't have to go anywhere.  She can fix up your wardrobe in no time flat."

The problem with Jodi's thinking?  I like my jeans and t-shirts.  This "wardrobe"?  It's the same one I had before the car accident.  Maybe I even have a few new t-shirts in the mix now.

Jodi did not stop there.  Mentioning the idea of her personal shopper coming by my house reminded her of something else.

"How's your house, weren't you doing a lot of work on it?"

Well, yes I was midway through the process when I was in the accident.  My house has remained frozen in time ever since.  (Half painted, half furnished, not decorated in the least.  It has been more than I can take on.)  In the grand scheme of things, decorating my house has fallen to the bottom of the list of things which are important.

Jodi was aghast.

"You haven't finished your house?"

In Money Town, it is very important to have a showpiece of a home.  A lot of the houses feel cold and unlived in.  My house is nothing, if not lived in.  As far as my half completed decorating?  Oh well.  Maybe someday I'll be able to take it on again.  I'm not there yet.  This seemed to be beyond Jodi's comprehension.  A half-assed house is just not acceptable.

Jodi immediately recommended an interior decorator she knows.  It is a woman who also lives in Money Town "and she's done a ton of people's houses." 

Then came the kicker.  Jodi proceeded to tell me all about the gossip this decorator has passed on to her.  The woman is going from home to home decorating Money Town houses.  While she's working in homes, she's making mental notes of gossip to share with others.

Jodi started to tell me who is having marital problems, who is considering a divorce, who is having teenage problems, and what type of problems those are.  In addition, Jodi knew what quantities of money each family had in the way of decorating funds.  Jodi had specifics.  Specifics about people I know, and some of my friends at that.

I cut her short.  I don't want to hear gossip via anyone's interior decorator.  Thank you very much anyway.  The invasion of privacy crosses a line.  I'm not immune to enjoying a juicy tidbit in the right context, but something is profoundly wrong about trusting someone to work in your home and having them abuse that trust.

"She's just fabulous you must call her," she said.

I'm not kidding.  She said that right after disclosing all the gossip this woman is spreading around.  Personally, I plan to stick with my casual "wardrobe" and my half-ass house. 

I Admit, I'm a Failure

Today I'm providing you with a rambling post.  It might even seem to change directions mid-post.  But it is all in an effort to get you to tomorrow's post.  I know this seems to make no sense.  Trust me, ok?  Just ramble along with me for awhile.  It might end up being fun.  Eventually.  OK, here goes .... 

I don't know why I'm missing girly genes, but I am.  When I was a kid I struggled with this at times.  All the girly girls wanted to spend time shopping and playing with make-up and I wanted to read books, write stories, and play baseball with my older brother and his friends.  Not much has changed over the years. 

I have close, wonderful, female friends but I still turn to my male friends first.  If I have a choice of going shopping or sitting on the beach with a book, I'll choose the book every time.  I'm an introvert, but if I know you and trust you I won't hold back a thing.  I suppose I'm an outgoing introvert.  (I love oxymorons, don't you?) 

I've come to accept myself over the years.  I confuse a lot of other people though.  One of the benefits of getting a little older is you truly know who you are and come to terms with it.  There are, of course, a lot of negatives to being who I am.  I don't have a very nice wardrobe.  I prefer shorts or jeans and t-shirts to any other clothes.  I throw on mascara, but rarely any other make-up so I am far from the most "put together" female around. 

I also don't filter my thoughts very often when I speak.  In other words, if it goes through my brain it most likely comes out of my mouth.  It's a very helpful trait for offending people, and it also allows me to  insert my foot into my mouth on a regular basis.  The positive is, I don't play games.  Ever.  If I'm feeling it, you know it.  Never mind that I might feel differently in a week, you always know exactly where I am right then. 

In spite of my many and obvious flaws, I actually have some friends.  Remarkable, isn't it?  Some of them I've even had for many years. 

Yesterday was a spectacular day here in Orange County.  I spent a good deal of the morning with The Torturer, but he let me leave a little earlier than usual.  (Yay!)  The day greeted me with joy.  The air was crystal clear, and my car thermometer read 93 as I drove away from PT.  I decided to stop at the Money Town Starbucks for an iced tea on my way home.

I ran into an acquaintance while at Starbucks.  She is a Money Town resident and although we are not close friends, we are friendly. 

Jodi seemed very excited to see me.  She was more excited to see me than I was to see her.  Don't get me wrong, Jodi is a nice enough person.  We just don't have a lot in common.  Her Money Town status and possessions are very important to her.  My shorts and t-shirts are not very important to me.  We're very different people.

Whenever I run into someone I haven't seen for awhile the routine is pretty much the same.  It was no different with Jodi yesterday.  I got a zillion questions about my recovery from the car accident.  Everyone wants to know how I am, can I use my arm, can they see me try to move it, etc.  I think they all need to see with their own eyes what I can and can't do.  Maybe this helps them to grasp it all, or more likely, it gives them something to gossip about. 

Then, always, and I do mean always, the questions begin about the lawsuit.  Particularly from my Money Town friends.  Everyone is just dying to know if I'm going to become an overnight millionaire.  They want to know if I'm going to become one of them.  They do their best to see if they can get me to mention a dollar figure.

It gets old. 

I may not have much of a brain-mouth filter, but I do have enough sense not to discuss my finances with casual acquaintances.  My sitemeter tells me I've got a lot of Money Town readers, however.  For all of them, let me offer this.  I am not going to become one of you, and all the money in the world would not change that.  (Please re-read the first four paragraphs of today's post if you need clarification.)  In addition, all the money in the world would not make what I've gone through any better.  In the least.  Lastly, the outcome of the case has not been determined yet.  I may get nothing. 

Stop asking.

Jodi decided she could be helpful to me.  She asked me a lot of questions at Starbucks and determined that my life is a mess and in need of her guidance.  What do you think?  Do you think Jodi was offering to help out with some of the things I can't manage with one working arm?  Do you think Jodi was offering friendship, moral support, or anything along those lines? 

Let's see who can get closest to guessing what Jodi thinks I need help with.  Leave me a comment and tell me what you think the priorities in Money Town might be.  Tomorrow I'll tell you my Jodi story and we'll see who had the best guess.  Think about it for a minute.  You live in Money Town.  Your life is cushioned and sheltered.  A non-girly acquaintance is in a car accident and goes through five surgeries.  It's over two years later, but you decide suddenly, and for the first time, you want to help.  What do you think a Money Town resident would feel is important?      

Another Sex Post?

Remember last week when we were discussing male/female communication, sex, and all that kind of stuff?  One day I even asked my readers what made them feel romantic.  I got tons of input which was followed by a post on foreplay.  Remember?

Since then several of you have sent me some great emails.  Helena sent me a very funny cartoon, but when I tried to format it to share with all of you, the text didn't show up well enough to post.  Some of you sent me stories about your lives and relationships.  I loved reading all of it.  One reader recommended a very (!) hot romance novel for me to read.  I don't normally read romance novels, and it was ... ahem, very graphic.  <Blush>  

By the way, I did finish that book.  <Blush again>

Briefcase was out of town at the time.  After I read it, I had a lot of pent up frustration energy so I spent a lot of time ordering sex toys on the Internet working out on our elliptical.  Who knew a trashy, romance novel could be so good for my health?

Really, all men should probably buy trashy romance novels for their wives periodically.  The one recommended to me was more, um, detailed than most.  It was also, admittedly, mindless.  I don't think the purpose of a romance novel is to challenge the intellect.  It is probably a good thing I didn't finish reading it the day our hot pool boy was coming by.  Shhh!  Don't tell Briefcase I said that!

Note to male readers:  Buy your significant female a trashy, graphic, romance novel once in awhile.  Be home when she's reading it, and especially when she's done reading it.  She can improve her mind with Hemingway on a different day.  She'll jump you when she's done if it's a decent author.  I promise.  Or is that just me?  <Blush, Blush, Blush!!> 

It wouldn't hurt you to read her porn trash book also.  I know, you think it would be boring.  It's so beneath you, isn't it?  Except it might give you incredible insight into what turns women on.  Consider it.  No one ever needs to know you read her book.  If nothing else, you'll learn how to rip a bodice romantically.  Ha!

What happened to this post?  It was not supposed to be about any of this.  I am embarrassing myself all over the place today.  How unusual.

Internet?  For quite some time many of you have been asking for more hot guy photos.  One of my readers, Joanne, sent along some photos.  (Thank you Joanne!)  I don't think she'll mind in the least if I share.  And, I do believe I've said enough for one day.  Enjoy the pics!  Due to all the email responses I'm getting on these pics, let me add the following.  They are twin brothers.  I don't know if they are gay or straight.  And really, who cares?! 

 

 

You're Not Invisible

There used to be a principal at our local middle school ("junior high" in some parts of the country) who coined the phrase, "You're not invisible."  It became a joke with all the young teens because he would say it repeatedly with every school announcement, at every school assembly, and at every opportunity he had.  He started this after the Columbine tragedy.  I believe his intentions were positive.  He wanted to make every student feel they were important, and noticed, regardless of their social clique at school.

So they wouldn't come blow up the school. 

The kids hated it, of course.  The number of "invisible" jokes they came up with staggered the mind.  In addition, the teens all said this particular administrator was a "perv" and before long the jokes ran along the lines of the Invisible Pervert.  Most of us know how kids are at the ages of 12-14, and it isn't ever always nice and/or respectful.  The kid rumors ran the gamut but basically said Mr. Principal spent way too much time with the attractive girls at the school.  Other kids noticed and many were telling their parents, "What?  Does the Perv think he's invisible?  We can all see how he acts with the girls!"

I doubt if the man really was a perv because surely a teacher would have reported it if he was.  (? "Mom logic" or denial ?)  However, I told TR I was writing about him today and her response was, "That guy was a creep and a perv."  She hasn't seen him in seven years and her opinion still seems strong and sure.   

Yesterday a girlfriend of mine told me she is invisible.  The resignation, sadness, and grief in her eyes showed as she said it.  The words,  "You're not invisible," were out of my mouth faster than you can say Perverted Principal.  I was going to write something funny and light today, but I can't shake her words.  I am haunted by them now, hours later.  I am stymied by my inability to prove to her that she is, in fact, the exact opposite of invisible.  She is vibrant.

I will call my friend Sue.  Sue is someone I met around nine months ago at physical therapy.  Like all the patients there, she has some health issues.  She has come and gone a few times, and is currently back at PT.  I am in my forties.  She is older than me, I would guess in her late sixties.  Sue looks better than most women do in their early fifties though.  I really mean that, she looks great.  She exudes energy, and joy, and her laughter fills the place every time she is there.  She has a fantastic sense of humor.

Selfishly, I admit, it is easier for me to go to PT when I know she'll be there.  We laugh together.  We give the technicians and The Torturer a hard time.  She is my partner in crime.  We are a comedy team.  Or so we think.  The Torturer repeatedly tells the secretaries to stop scheduling us at the same time because he "can't take it" when we're together.  He doesn't mean it.  He sees the smiles on our faces and we make him smile too.  It makes everything easier when Sue is there.

Sue has been one of my biggest cheerleaders.  No matter what she has gone through, she is constantly checking on me, my progress, and cheering me on.  She watched me go through some of my roughest days.  She actually went up and scolded The Torturer once when I was going through the worst of it.  Sue was irate.  She told him he'd "better not" make me cry "one more time" because she was DONE watching him hurt me.  How's that for a friend?  The Torturer looked shocked that he was being angrily chewed out by a patient on my behalf.  The memory makes me smile to this day.  I think that is the day we officially became friends.

Sue feels invisible.

She says you get "to an age" and no one even sees you anymore.  At all.  She was referring to life in general, but we also talked specifics.  She's not married and she said it would be nice "just to have a companion."  She thinks all the men are looking for young hard-bodies.  She said men don't even see her in front of them.  She laughed and said, of course, she is looking at all the young hard-body men too.  She's particularly fond of men with nice asses.  (Who isn't?)  In addition, "Give me someone pre-prostate problems," she said.  Yeah, she's nearly seventy and she wants a man who can deliver like a 30 year old in the bedroom.

Do you see why I love her? 

Sue and I also discussed how hard it is for a woman her age to get hired by anyone.  I mentioned my concern about getting back in the work force.  Who will hire me with one working arm?  (The answer is no one.)  She countered by saying employers find all sorts of reasons not to hire her.  "They're afraid I'll drop dead on the spot," she said.  She meant it.  Her disability runs out in a few months and she's afraid she'll never find another job.  Her fear is real.

Before we parted for the day, Sue was urging me to live my life to it's fullest.  The unspoken was, "before it's too late and you're invisible too."  She is one of the most alive, vibrant, funny people I know.  She carries a huge presence everywhere she goes.  She feels invisible.  I just can't get over it.

Readers? 

Just For Smiles

Happy Labor Day!  I don't expect a lot of readers today since it's a holiday here in the U.S.  I wanted to have something here for those of you who do show up though.

Since we've been having a lot of discussions about sex, the gender gap, etc. lately, I went looking for pictures along those lines.  All of these were found on the Funnyjunk website.  This first is an example of how early male curiosity begins.  The second photo proves that men are "all the same", royalty or not.  The last photo is just a picture of a (?) couch.

 

Lascivious vs. Affectionate

How nice would it be if we could solve all the male/female communication problems right here on Twenty Four At Heart?  Or maybe just minimize the gender gap somewhat?  Earlier this week I opened a can of worms when I discussed (here and here) an article I read which stated men read sex into the majority of female communication. 

The posts brought forth a lot of emotion and a lot of varying opinions.  Some of it was funny, some of it was angry, and some of it was heartfelt.  Every comment and every email I received made it very clear to me that the sexes are miles apart in many ways.  I hate to speak in generalities, but in a blog forum, I have to.  Individually you and I could sit down and discuss particulars, but I am not able to do that here.  That's disclaimer number one.

Disclaimer number two is that I have always had a fair number of male friends.  I attribute it to growing up in a neighborhood with a lot of boys and very few girls.  I relate well to men.  That being said, I have many platonic male friends even now.  If I'm misguided in regard to those friendships (and I don't believe I am), I'd rather stay oblivious and continue viewing them in the light I currently do.

Disclaimer number three:  To my male readers ... I am quite sure that you are all wonderful partners to your significant others.  None of the generalities about men in these gender gap posts are pointed at you specifically, so please don't get defensive.  I am quite sure you court your loved one with sweet words and tender touches and that none of this applies to you whatsoever.

OK, have I covered my ass now? 

To the female reader who asked me why men like blow jobs?  I am not a man, so I can't speak for men.  If I had to hypothesize, I would say because it feels good.  Just a wild guess.

Regarding the question about butt cracks possibly interfering with the style/look of your dress when you go commando, I refer you back to my response in the comment section of yesterday's post.

To all men everywhere?  There was a recurring theme in the feedback I got from women.  We hate to be groped.  Hate it.  I'm sure you never do this, so please tell all your male friends who may not be as enlightened as you are.  When we are standing in the kitchen slaving over lovingly preparing a meal for you, don't walk by and squeeze our ass so hard we jump in the air.  Also, we aren't cows and don't get turned on in the least when you can't resist reaching out and squeezing our tits hard enough to milk us. 

Not that Briefcase has ever done anything of the sort.  Ahem ....

Men?  What is it with the groping?  Is it a turn on for you?  Or do you mistakenly think you are turning us on?  (You're not, I guarantee it!)  It reminds us of 6th grade when 12 year old boys would sit in a corner pointing and exclaiming, "Look, boobies!" and then try to cop a feel as we walked by.  The groping needs to cease and desist.  It's in your best interest, I promise.

Willy wagging.  Just.Stop.It.  Shaking it at us?  It's not a turn on.  You may find it highly amusing to touch your junk, shake it around and chase us around the house.  It does not increase our libido, okay?  Not in the least.

The crude comment.  If I say I'm thirsty, and you reply with a smirk, "Oh I can give you something to drink."  Do you think I will reply, "Great idea, thanks!?"  Is that what men perceive as foreplay?  Do you think I instantly appreciate the suggestion to quench my thirst and get all excited thinking about it?  Because, if so?  You're mistaken.  I received lots and lots of comments from women regarding their frustration with the crude comment.  By the way, a little dirty talk at the right time is not the same thing.  Two different entities.

Groping, willy wagging, and the crude comment are all aspects of male behavior that women would like to see disappear.  If you are a man and you want to leave a comment and tell me how your wife/girlfriend gets turned on when you say something crude to her out in public, wag your willy at her at the dinner table, and then honk her tit as she walks by, then fine.  There are exceptions to every rule.  But my guess is that you just think she gets turned on by it.

Women stated repeatedly they don't get nonsexual affection from their significant other.  "Why can't he give me a hug without turning it into a grope?" was a recurring theme.  Holding hands, hugging, touching without sex, was high on my female reader's wish list.  Nonsexual physical contact seems to be something women crave, but don't get.

Now that we've talked about a few things women don't like, I'd like to hear from my readers what they do like.  What does foreplay mean to you?  I'd like to hear from both men and women.  What gets you in the mood?  What would you like to see your significant other do?  What makes you feel romantic?

A Gender Gap

Yesterday's post regarding male/female communication set off some strong emotions among my readers.  There were male readers who were downright offended at the idea they would sexualize most communication from females.  At the same time they acknowledged they "think about sex a lot."  One real-life male friend told me the article's statistic stating men are thinking of sex 80-90% of the time during a conversation with a female is "probably on the high side."  He didn't, however, sound as if he thought the statistic was on the high side by much.

I also got an email from a male friend asking if I was referring to him in that post.  Did he not read my disclaimer at the beginning of the post?  No, I was not referring to anyone in my life with that post.  The idea came strictly from the article I read.  Thank you very much ....

Surprisingly, most of the female readers who left comments or sent emails felt that men do, in fact, see life through sex-tinted glasses.  I realize most of you don't take the time to read through comments so I've posted the highlights for you here today. 

I was up late last night retrieving my daughter at LAX airport from her summer abroad.  Due to lack of time. I haven't linked every author to their comment, but you can click on yesterday's comments if you would like to see who wrote what.  I hope all my commenters will forgive me this lack of blog etiquette for this one occasion.  TR is finally home after her nine week trip and we were up to all hours celebrating her return.

From a female reader:
My husband is a case in point. I can't even make a casual comment like, "I'm hungry" without him grabbing his groin and going, "I've got something for you to snack on, baby." He's 54 years old, for God's sake ....

From a female reader:
I am so sick of every single comment being a sexual innuendo and every touch turned into a sexual grope.

From a female reader:
I think men get married because they want a regular sexual partner. Women get married so they have a companion. Those goals are at odds, and no wonder 50% of marriages end in divorce. I mean think about it -- women don't want to have sex with their husbands unless their husbands spend time with them; husbands don't want to spend time with their wives unless their wives have sex with them. Not compatible goals, I'm thinking.

From a male reader:
The article you were reading sounds silly...and completely idiotic. They obviously interviewed a high school football team for their content!

From a male reader:
I think that magazine was written by 13 year old boys. Men don't think like that. Sure, we flirt and can do a double entendre on occasion. But I stopped looking for sex in every remark sometime after I graduate jr. high.  We do think about sex a lot.

From a female reader:
When I tell my husband I'm tired, he tells me I need a little protein, and you know what he means.   ewwwww. Just what I need, a little ***hair on my teeth before I go teach kindergarten. yuck.

From a female reader:
Oh YES! They are never NOT thinking about sex. Especially blow jobs!

From a male reader:
That article takes it too far. Yeah, if you say you're wet, I'm gonna pay attention. But if you ask how I am, I assume you want to know how I am. Give us guys a little credit.

From a female reader:
I thought when I was saying "how are you" to a guy friend, what I really meant was "god damn, do I want to blow you."  I guess, maybe, I just really wanted to know how he was.

From a female reader:
Perhaps I live in a bubble where men and women can be friends and can associate freely without sex being involved... but it is my bubble and I like it!

My favorite comment left by a male reader (Neil from Citizen of the Month):

This is my first time at this blog, but being a male, I have the feeling that you were writing about me when you wrote it, and I think you totally want to have sex with me. Am I right?

And my favorite comment left by a female reader (Margaret from Nanny Goats in Panties):

I would think it would depend on how much of a sextard the guy is.  (Neil???)

Sex and Hello Are Not The Same Thing

Family members?  Go away.  You can come back in a few days.  I'm talking about stuff you don't want to hear this week. 

To all my readers, if sexually explicit references offend you, please come back on Tuesday.  To my male real-life friends, this post was not written about you.  

I recently read an article discussing the communication gap between men and women.  I found the article amusing.  Unfortunately I was leafing through several magazines at the time and I don't recall which one the article was in so I can't quote my source.  I hate it when I do that.  The article made me laugh, but it also left me concerned.  Many of my favorite friends are men.  If the article is accurate, my friendships with men might be in trouble.

According to the article, men read sex into just about every form of communication a women transmits.  Here are some examples. 

I say "hello" and he thinks, "She wants me."

I ask, "How have you been?"

He thinks, "She can't leave me alone ... she wants to give me a blow job!"

In reality?  All I'm thinking about is running to the store for tampons after we finish our pleasantries.  Maybe I'm thinking about the dirty kitchen at home.  Your personal pleasure stick?  It's not really on my mind.  I hate to break it to my male readers, but that's how women think.  We are mentally running through our to-do lists during our every waking moment.  Sometimes even during sex if you aren't performing well enough don't distract us enough.  (Distract us, distract us!!)

I wish I had the article in front of me as I write this, but the statistics quoted were staggering.  During a brief male/female conversation they say men are thinking about sex or sexual references 80 - 90% of the time.  For women, I think it ranged around 10% of the time.

When I'm at physical therapy and I say, "I'm really wet!" I am referring to the bag of ice that melted on me.  The man sitting across from me, however, is instantly alert and extremely attentive.  In fact, he's falling all over himself to start up a conversation.  We are not on the same page.

When that same man says to his PT, "Hey, stop rubbing my thigh you just gave me a hard-on," I definitely glance over.  (What?  You wouldn't??)

The difference being, he is clearly making a reference to something sexual and I absolutely am not.

If I send an email to a male friend saying, "I was thinking about you today, how are you?" it does not mean I want to do you desperately this very minute.  Also, I'm not sitting at my laptop thinking about giving you head.  (Sorry, I'm sure it would be a titillating experience and all, but ...!)  No, it just means something reminded me of you and I thought I'd check in to hear how you are.  That's all ... honestly.  And by the way, I hope you're doing great.

According to the article, a female complimenting a man is interpreted by the man as hot, steamy, moaning, desire.  (Okay, so I got carried away and threw the word "moaning" in.  Don't ask.) 

I'm now afraid to even say, "I like your shirt" to a male friend.  I don't want him to think I'm gearing up to strip off his clothes, rub myself all over him, and start sucking on his ... earlobes.  Really I'm just thinking his shirt might look nice on my son, RC.  Or maybe I'm thinking it's the same shade of blue I'd like to paint in my upstairs bathroom.

I tend to be a complimenter, but not an insincere one.  I'm very genuine about giving compliments.  I know most of us don't get patted on the back nearly as often as we deserve.  I make a point of praising people on their positive traits.  In the case of my male friends, are they interpreting those compliments as lust on my part?  This particular article  says yes, they are. 

If a male friend tells me he fixed a broken pipe and I say, "It's great you're so handy," does he think I'm saying, "I want those handy hands on me ... now!?"  Or maybe, "I want and need your pipe!?"

If he spends a day working on his car, I might tell him that's an admirable trait.  Does he instantly think I want him to lube my engine?

What if I say, "I really enjoy our conversations, you stimulate my mind?"  Is he thinking, "She said I stimulate her.  I'm a stud.  All I have to do is talk and she's all hot and bothered."  Is he thinking sex toys while I'm thinking Obama's economic recovery plan?

What happens when words like come, head, member or "throbbing member" innocently occur in conversation?  (Oops ... maybe not throbbing member, what's wrong with me today?)  The article said men will focus on those words in particular, females may not even hear them. 

I'll be honest.  I don't want to believe the magazine.  If the article is true, I don't know how comfortable I can feel with my male friends.  I treat my male friends like I would a best girlfriend.  How do I know if the article is true though?  I only have my own very female perspective.  I think I have strong, nonsexual, male/female friendships.  Am I kidding myself?  Do men read sex and lust into every communication with females?

You Name It!

I didn't expect such a huge response from my post about funny names the other day.  I received an overwhelming number of name submissions.  I was left wondering why all these men named Dick don't go by Richard or Rich instead?  Especially if they have a last name that makes them the constant butt (pun intended) of jokes.

I can't list all the names you sent me, but here are several in no particular order.

Stormy and Wendy Weather (sisters)
Mona Lisa Smith
Rusty Nail
Bunny Hare (who had a brother Rabbit Hare, a reporter)

Dick Seaman
Dick Uranis
Helen Hooker
Ima Whore
Ima Pigg

Mary Dicklich
Dick Johnson
Mr. Bonar (a Middle School principal, can you imagine?!)
Seymour Pecker
Phil McCracken

Jack Imhoff
Dick Dick
Candy Barr
Clay Money
Iletta Pew

Dr. Wry (say quickly - opthamologist)
Dr. Payne
Happy Dicks (a neurosurgeon)
Dr. Hacker (seen for a cough)
Dr. Au (allergist/needles!)

Dr. Bracey (orthodontist)
Mrs. Butts (a teacher)
Major Butts
Dusty Broom
Justin Case

Dick Chase
Brandy Wine
John Wacker
Mike Hunt (say quickly, repeat)

Beaver Liquors (a business, but worthy of mention)
Fu King (Chinese restaurant, Cooperstown, NY)

In addition, people submitted other name oddities.  As an example, the surgeon who performed my first three post-car accident surgeries was named Thomas Thomas.  What was his mom thinking?

Others you submitted:

Richard Richard
Johnny Johnson
Tracy & Tracy (first names of a married couple)
Leslie & Leslie (same)
Jean & Gene (same)

If I didn't include a name you sent in, I apologize.  My fingers are worn out from typing!

I don't normally post on weekends, but tomorrow I will post the responses from a fellow blogger I recently interviewed. 

On Monday I am going to be taking a humorous (!) look at male/female communication.  Honestly, it is a wonder the two sexes ever communicate at all.  According to an article I recently read, men read sexual desire into almost all female communication.  If that's the case, I'm in big trouble with some of my male friends .... 

Hmmm - maybe not so big?  I'll have to take a better look.  Ha!  Just kidding!

Have a great weekend!       

Losing a Friend?

The last two years have been a huge transition for me with my friends.  Since my car accident I have lost friendships with many people I felt close to two years ago.  People don't always rise to the occasion when faced with friends dealing with adversity.  A lot of people run away as fast as they can.  Even people you love dearly.  It was a surprising fact which hurt me immensely following my accident. 

I look at the friends I have now differently.  I value them more.  I look deeper for true character instead of being content with superficial charm.  If that means fewer friends, but truer friends, I can accept it.  I know the people who stood by me the last few years, and in turn, I would do anything for them.  Anything. 

The others?  Not so much.

This week, I may have lost a friend I've had for several years.  It makes me sad because I genuinely care about this person.  This is a friend I've confided in and looked to for advice for many years.  Someone I've respected and trusted.  Someone I've counted on without ever realizing I counted on her quite so much.  Someone I thought, it turns out incorrectly, I could share just about anything with.  (And for my regular readers, no it's not Nike.) 

I told this person about something that happened to me when I was very young.  Something I've not felt comfortable sharing with many people in my life.  It was not about something I did, but rather about something that happened in my life.  I didn't feel like it was as major of a disclosure as perhaps it was.  It was so many years ago, it feels like a part of someone else's life now, not mine.  

My friend informed me she was left feeling uncomfortable and wished I hadn't told her.  I was embarrassed.  Who wants to make a friend feel uncomfortable?  Also, who wants to put themselves out there with a disclosure and be rejected?  It's a risk to share some things; it takes courage to bare your soul. 

After she informed me of how she felt, we both felt uncomfortable.  Strained.  Awkward. 

I hadn't anticipated her reaction.  Obviously, I wouldn't have shared the information if I had. 

I apologized.

My apology was followed by ... a dose of more uncomfortable and awkward.  For both of us.       

I can't erase the fact that the subject was brought up.  I took a risk, without realizing it was a risk, and it fell flat.  I've either lost the friendship or, at the very least, I've lost a dimension of the friendship. 

I also know that I will never have the courage to bring that particular topic up with anyone again.  No matter how many years go by. 

Do you have a friendship you mourn the loss of?  What happened and why?  Or maybe you have a story of a friendship that was reconciled?  I'm feeling sad today.  Make me feel better - share your story in the comments section.

Tomorrow I will publish a selection of the very (!) funny names you submitted. 

 

Money Town Gossip With a Side of Margarita

Last Friday night we decided to wander down to Rosie's for dinner.  If you watch The Real Housewives of Orange County, then you know the real name of the restaurant is Rose Canyon Cantina & Grill.  All the locals call it Rosie's.  It is located in a nearby canyon and it is a dive.  It is a dive with horseshit outside rustic ambiance.  I remember being shocked to see it featured on the TV show.  Bikers, transients canyon dwellers, and the Money Town crowd all gather together at Rosie's.  

 

Wouldn't you think they would pick an upscale restaurant for a TV show?  But Rosie's is a favorite around here if you don't mind rats because it is just a comfortable place to be.  The food is pretty poor only okay, and you can say even less the same for the service.  For some reason people still like to go to Rosie's.  The margaritas and the outdoor patio (which is lit up by Christmas lights at night) might have something to do with it.  It is a comfortable place to just hang out.

TR is home from college (driven home - no more train rides!) so Briefcase and I went to dinner with all 3 of our kids.  That never happens anymore.  We had barely set foot in the door when we were greeted by acquaintances from Money Town.  They were so happy to see us.  Were they happy to see us because they love and adore us?  No, definitely not.  They were happy to see us because right now, our family is the source of gossip in Money Town and they wanted scoop.

Wouldn't this be an interesting post if I had some juicy secret to reveal about Briefcase and I?  Secrets about lovers, imminent pregnancies or divorce, latent lesbianism amongst the grandmas, or possibly news that my youngest child has fathered a new species?  No, you see, in Money Town it doesn't take much of anything to get them all talking.  Today's topic?  Briefcase and I have disbanded the elite baseball travel team we have run for years.  The team was kind of a big deal around here.  (Yes, you may now YAWN!)

In most communities this would be a non-event.  No one would care, notice or comment.  In Money Town, where many families have either played for our team (a few), wanted to play for our team (many more), or wanted to see our team fail (most of them) - it is big news.  Money Town people are exceedingly competitive.  If their kid can't make an elite team (or didn't do well if they were briefly on the team), then you can damn well count on the fact that they are wishing the team to fail.  The people around here who care the least about our earth-shattering news?  Well, that would be us! 

We are so burnt out by egotistical and difficult sports parents that we are friggin' overjoyed to be done.  Which is not to say we regret the many years we were involved.  We have a lot of fond memories of asinine fathers screaming at their kids and the coaches.  We also have many phony good friends from the experience.  There were some wonderful and absolutely bizarre families involved with us over the years.  But the non-wonderful ones?  Well, that's the reason we're done.

The acquaintances at Rosie's barely took a breath before they told us, "Everyone is talking about you disbanding The Team and what you might do next!  We just came from XXX and that's all anyone can talk about!  The Team just won a State Championship, why would you DO that?!"  They then prattled on about all the different options they have decided we must be thinking about.  They kept their eyes steady on mine, wanting to read my reaction.  Hoping to read, "That's it!" if they guessed our "top secret" future plans so they could go tell the rest of Money Town and be first with the news.  The truth?  They have put a lot more thought into our future plans than we have.  We simply wanted out. 

Are you listening Money Town?  We have no future plans!

We finally managed to extract ourselves from the baseball parents and get seated.  Only in Money Town would something so small, turn into something so big.  So "everybody's talking" about this innocuous announcement?  Well, in that case, it's definitely margarita time ... with salt please!       

Lawyers and Legal Crap

I am having a stressful week.  I shouldn't tell you why, but I will.  I am up to my ears in legal crap this week.  Legal paperwork and legal meetings.  I don't think I am allowed to tell you why that is true.  There is some absurd rule with legal cases that if you talk about them you die ... or something like that.  I have actually had dreams/nightmares that I accidentally slip-up and have a lengthy conversation on the case only to be marched out in front of a firing squad for execution.  No one really needs to impose this "no talk" rule on me, because the fact of the matter is that I don't know what I'm talking about in legal terms enough to make any sense whatsoever anyway.  And anything I might say is probably some huge misinterpretation or misunderstanding on my part of what is really going on.  The point being, I am pretty much a worthless source of information even on legal matters I am involved in.  Oh - and yes, I was in a pretty bad car accident nearly two years ago.  Some asshole guy ran a stop sign and ... Oops ... was I not supposed to say that? 

I worked in a law office for 3 years while in college to help pay for school.  I ran errands like making bank deposits, running documents to and from the courtroom, helped out with bookkeeping, etc.  Whatever they needed on any given day I would do.  The office I worked for paid well and was flexible with my hours which was always a huge help around finals.  I enjoyed the job and I especially enjoyed that the Senior Partner in the firm owned a Porsche which he gave me free use of.  He was the nicest boss.  I even got to take it on weekend trips and I have loved Porsche's ever since.  I considered going to law school because I made so many lawyer friends while working there and I had a strong academic record.  However, financially it did not seem to be an option for me at that point in my life.  Instead, my college boyfriend (not Briefcase) went on to law school and I was the supportive girlfriend but did not go myself.  Supportive girlfriend - yes, the expression makes me gag even now!          

Because of my law office experience, I really thought I liked lawyers.  I know you hear all the lawyer jokes and blah, blah, blah, but I have never had any legal headaches.  I made a lot of lawyer friends through that job - some of which I still have many years later.  In fact, my son, PR, is named after a lawyer friend I met at that point in my life.  As the years have gone on I have had many other friends who are lawyers too and I have always had respect and appreciation for the fact that they had to suck up the years of law school and get through bar exams to accomplish their goal. 

A few years back I heard that my old college boss (Mr. Senior Partner with the Porsche) was serving time in prison.  I was SHOCKED.  I was more shocked when I found out why.  Apparently he was convicted of embezzling funds from clients.  I immediately flashed back to when I would run from bank to bank depositing money from one account to another for him.  I never knew why I did that - he just told me to.  Did I aid him in embezzling?  What about the bookkeeping I did for him?  How long did he embezzle for, and when?  Was it taking place when I worked there?  To this day I don't know the answer.  I do remember some elderly clients that he managed trusts for and I have been told that those were indeed some of the accounts he dipped into ... supposedly with the intention of eventually repaying.  I was young and naive, and possibly he used me to help him.  (Hmmm ... should I be writing this?  Can I be arrested all these years later?)   

The discovery of his crime and resulting imprisonment was my first experience with lawyer-friend let down.  This is someone I had looked up to and respected.  I felt betrayed - who WAS he, really?  Obviously he was not the man I thought he was.  And had he really used me to help him?  If so ... how could he have pretended to be my friend and mentor?  Now, many years later I have had other experiences of lawyer-friend let down.  People I thought I knew, trusted, and respected as friends who turned out to be shallow, fake, insincere and intentionally hurtful.  I realize that in any profession there are good and bad people.  Sincere and insincere.  When it happens with a lawyer though people act like you should expect it ... it is their profession to manipulate facts, so why be so surprised when they try to manipulate you?

That brings me to now.  Sitting here stressing over legal papers strewn everywhere.  Staring bleary eyed at ten-part question after ten-part question written in legalese.  Wondering why the hell lawyers can't just ask a simple ten word concise question like the rest of humanity?  I can't think of a single positive thing to say about lawyers at the moment.  I am also stressing over the legal meetings I will be sitting through this week.  How many times will I need to ask, "Can you repeat that please ... in English?"  How many times will my lawyer remind me during those meetings, "A simple yes or no answer is always best"?  The fact is ... a simple yes or no answer is almost impossible for my willful, stubborn personality.  Will I be able to control my tendency of being a smart ass?  How about my sarcastic sense of humor?  One of my current lawyer friends cautioned me against "trying to out think the lawyers".  Clearly he knows me too well, because how can I NOT be thinking a few steps ahead when I know they will have "crafted" their questions in an attempt to manipulate the answers?  Today I procrastinate working on the remainder of this mountain of legal paperwork (yet again) by getting another coffee refill, changing the play list on my iPod, writing this blog, and glancing at the clock while pondering how many more hours of work I still have ahead of me.  Coffee anyone?                  

   

Can Men and Women Be Friends?

This weekend I spent an afternoon with my long-time friend, Nike.  Nike and I have known each other for about 14 years.  We met when our firstborns ended up in the same kindergarten class.  Two years later our second born kids also shared a kindergarten class and the boys became close friends.  We live about a block apart but in different neighborhoods.  Our families have gone on vacations together over the years and shared many kid and adult activities together also.  Every summer we have a tradition of meeting down at the beach early on Friday evenings.  We hang out and watch the sunset while we chat and nibble on appetizers, maybe sip a cocktail ,and then we head off for dinner once darkness arrives.  I savor those summer evenings.  Nike is the type of friend that you know you can call up in an emergency and count on without hesitation.  She and I are very different in many ways but the bond of friendship runs deep.

Nike had a birthday last week so, as we always do, we went out to celebrate.  It was supposed to be drinks on Friday night, but kid events intervened and we ended up out for lunch on Saturday.  Lunch itself probably only took 20 or 30 minutes.  The conversation, however, went on for 3 hours.  Three hours of catching up and it had only been a week since we had seen each other.  Our conversations tend to cover everything from day to day life to deeper issues on life, marriage, politics, personal convictions, etc.  Nothing is off limits.

The big topic of the day was a discussion of male/female friendships.  Nike and I find ourselves on polar opposites regarding this.  It is a discussion I have been having with several people lately and I find the responses from everyone very interesting.  I decided it would be a good topic to bring to the blogoshpere so I have been informally polling friends for their opinion. 

The question is ... can men and women have successful friendships that are JUST friendships?  I say yes - absolutely.  Nike says no - absolutely not. 

I named off some men that I know have been in Nike's life for years and she insists they are not friends.  They are husbands of friends, but not her friends.  I grew up in a neighborhood of mainly boys and have always had close male friends.  In fact, I have always felt like I relate more to men than women and can't imagine not having my male friends in my life.  Not that I don't cherish my female friends because I absolutely do.  However, I have always been able to turn to male friends and feel a connection that is not impacted by any of that girly stuff that can get in the way.  I am not a girly girl and never have been.  Men tend to be honest, real, blunt ... qualities I appreciate.  Possibly it is the way I grew up, but I can't imagine life without my male friends.   

I do believe that male/female friendships are probably easier to form and maintain prior to marriage.  I also believe that male/female friendships in the work place are more likely to last over time just because there is ongoing contact to help maintain those friendships.  However, I do believe that it is entirely possible and beneficial to have opposite sex friendships at any point in your life.  Granted, if you are married you have to be with a spouse who is not threatened by opposite sex friendships.

In talking to people about this subject I have heard every type of response imaginable.  From one man who told me, "Sure I can have female friends, but I still want to #$% them.", to another who said, "I've had female friends with no sexual undertones MANY times in my life."  One woman told me she has given up on having male friendships because, "Men always ruin it and try to make it something else."  Another girlfriend told me she has several male friends that she counts on as her closest confidants.  What do you think?  Do you have successful friendships with the opposite sex?  Do you believe men and women can be just friends?