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Hello? Anyone there?

I'm baaaack! And I come bearing gifts. Well, one gift really. Knowledge. Knowledge is power, people.

As you may know, I took a trip earlier this month. Went to Bluffton/Hilton Head Island, SC, (to see N) and Homossassa Springs, Fl (for my nephew's wedding). Now, I may not be the smartest girl in the world, but normally, you couldn't pay me to go to the South in August, but I had events to attend. I didn't get to pick the dates.

Having lived briefly in Florida, for a time, I was well aware of the perils of humidity and the havoc it can wreak on one's hair, specifically my hair. My hair gets all crazy in humidity. Some of it gets wavy, the rest of it frizzy. It's not a pretty picture. I had even told N there was no chance I could ever move to SC because I would be ugly a good portion of the year.

I arrived in SC during the hottest, most humid week of the summer. But! I arrived armed to fight AND win the war against humidity and frizz. And, you will not believe me when I tell you this, but, I won! I freaking won!

How, you ask? I was armed to the gills. Armed with this and this!

OMG! Can I just tell you? The best stuff to fight frizz ever. We were outside in all manner of heat and humidity and my hair totally held up. It didn't get bigger. It didn't frizz. It didn't curl.









The proof is in the pudding, people. The picture above is from my nephew's wedding in Florida. Notice the smoothness and sleekness? All thanks to Matrix Sleek Look. (And, no, they're not paying me, but they totally should be.)


Homebodies of the World, Unite!

I think I'm lazy. Or maybe just a homebody? I'm not sure. But 9 times out of 10 I'd rather hang out at home then go anywhere. Is that wrong?

OK, maybe it's not really laziness. I get a lot of stuff done. Every weekend, I clean my house, do laundry, go grocery shopping, hit the gym at least once, and just basically, get all of the crap done that I can't get to during the week. I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when all my stuff is done. And generally, I try to get it all done by Saturday afternoon so that Sunday is a completely free day.

Then Sunday comes and all I want to do is lie around the house. Sometimes in bed. Even when it's gorgeous out. Take today for instance. It was beautiful, sunny and warm, which is unusual for this time of year here in Southern California. One would think I'd take up my friend J on her offer to come lay out on her deck. Or, take up the guy I met last night on his offer for brunch. But nope, today I lounged about the house until about 2 pm, when I finally got myself over to the gym. When I got back an hour and a half later, I got back into my pjs and promptly got into my bed to read some magazines. Is that so wrong?

Part of the guilt I feel is that my roommate is constantly on the go. Today he was out the door as soon as he woke up. He just returned a few minutes ago, jumped in the shower, and left again for God knows where. Plus, he used to yell at me to get out of the house if it was beautiful and I was lounging about. Now, he just gives me disapproving looks. I'm afraid he thinks that I stay home because I have nothing to go out and do, when in fact it's quite the opposite.

In the end, I really don't think laziness is my problem. Perhaps, I am one of those people who require a lot of down time to recharge. I enjoy being by myself. I enjoy a good magazine or a good book while lying on my couch or bed on a Sunday afternoon. I particularly enjoy a nap. And, oh lord, if there's an America's Next Top Model marathon on? I'm so there, even if it is a gorgeous day.

Besides, I find I get anxious and out of sorts if I have too much going on. Seriously. Last month, I had something (fun) every weekend for like 4 or 5 weeks in a row. I thought I was going to die. It was too much. My kitties missed me and I missed them. I guess I just need to find some sort of balance.

I'm pretty sure I've always been this way. Years ago, when I lived by the beach, my roommate and I situated one of our couches right under this huge window. On a sunny day that couch was the most coveted spot in our house. I always felt that lying on the couch, in the sun, feeling the ocean breeze, was almost equal to being outside. Right? Ah, who cares if it's not. These days I'm all about self-acceptance.

Hi, my name is Moo, and I am a homebody.

History Lessons

I've been thinking about my dad a lot the past few days. My dad and I don't have the best relationship. No one awful, terrible thing caused the rift. Just many years of little things. Plus, he's sort of oblivious to the whole thing. If you asked him, he'd tell you everything between us was fine. It's hard and I feel terrible about it, given that he is in such poor health. I hate that I'm carrying around this resentment, but on the other hand I find it really difficult to let it go. (Wow. Got a little deep there, didn't I?)

What brought all of this on was that my uncle posted a bunch of old family photos to Facebook. We're talking old. My dad was born in 1935, and most of these photos are of my dad as a kid, up until he graduated high school. I am so grateful that my uncle posted the photos. I totally see a resemblance between my dad and myself (I have his eyes), in fact, all four of us kids (and some of the grandkids too) looked exactly like the photo I posted here as babies. So cute (if I do say so myself).

It got me thinking that I should focus on good memories of my dad, rather than all the little resentments. Like the time he took me to some historic village in New York one day (we still lived in NY at the time, don't think we hopped on a plane from California just for a history lesson), just because I was asking a bunch of questions about the "olden days".

Or the time he did what N christened "the dance of anger" (which was a whole lot of jumping up and down) over something I had done. It was scary at the time (I was 16, I think, and my dad is a large man), but by about 5 minutes later it was hilarious. Literally, he was jumping up and down. At 6'5" and like 300lbs, I'm pretty certain the whole house shook.

My favorite story about my dad and me is this one though. My mom stayed home with me until I was 3 and they could put me in pre-school full time (back then they didn't take kids until they were potty trained). When I was ready for kindergarten they were kind of worried about what they would do with me in the afternoons, since kindergarten was only half day. I guess it was decided that I'd go to day-care after school and luckily the day-care had a bus that would pick me up at kindergarten.

On the first day of kindergarten my dad was so worried that I wouldn't know which bus to get on to go to day care that he hid across the street from my school crouched down in his car watching me to make sure that I made it. He thought that if I saw him I would demand that he take me home. (He was probably right.)

It was only when he was already there... across the street from an elementary school... hiding... in his car... watching a bunch of little kids leave their kindergarten class... that it ocurred to him what a bad idea this was. Luckily neither the police, nor I, spotted him and I made it onto my bus without a hitch, none the wiser, until my mom told me the story many years later.

I do love my dad. Of course, he's my dad. And it's stories like this, that I will carry with me when he's gone. (Believe me though, he is not going anywhere for a while. Even in poor health, he is convinced, as am I, that he's going to be kicking around for another 20 years.) None of the rest of it will matter.

Being 36 Rocks, For Reals

I am a firm believer in the idea that every person comes into our lives for a reason, and generally we can take away something good from the relationship, no matter how it ended. (See previous entry. And I still haven't figured out how to make that a link to that entry, but just scroll down. It's there, I promise.) Well, it's been a year and a half since M and I broke up and I still struggle to come up with something good that I got out of my relationship with him. I know. Sounds a bit ridiculous, right? I mean, why the hell was I with the guy for 3 years? Temporary insanity? Deep seated insecurity? I don't know. But! Finally, today, I figured it out.

Are you ready?

M was the first guy I ever believed when he told me I was beautiful. (As I say that, if you could only see me now... Seriously. My hair is all jacked up from being shellacked into a bun for my spinning class. I have a spot of zit cream drying on my chin. My belly is hanging over my pajama bottoms just a bit. I am so totally not hot at this very moment.)

Let's face it, I am a late bloomer. I have only recently developed a makeup habit worthy of a teenaged girl. I absolutely cannot leave Target these days with out purchasing some sort of new makeup. I'm particularly obsessed with finding the perfect mascara. (I'm still somewhat of a neophyte, seeing as I still get tricked into buying waterproof mascara. I hate waterproof mascara. Feel free to leave your perfect mascara suggestions in the comments.) It took me until the age of 36 to come up with a real skin care regimen. (I think I already told you. Spent a boatload of money on it, and the good news is, it's totally awesome. My skin is dewy and fresh.) And, within the last couple of years I've developed somewhat of an addiction to the Brazilian wax.

Now, I know that makeup, dewy-fresh skin, and a waxed coochie aren't what make a woman beautiful. What makes me beautiful, and what surprises me, is that I am just now, in my mid-thirties, starting to get comfortable in my own skin. And it's not just about knowing how to do your makeup or what to wear. It's about knowing who you are and owning it. I finally know who I am. I finally think I am beautiful. I'm sure I would've gotten here eventually, but I suppose M helped me along. Begrudingly, I thank him for that.

All of this comes to mind, as I prepare myself for my first session tomorrow night with my new personal trainer, T. (I'm on this total self-improvement kick, since I quit smoking. I figured with the money I was saving not buying ciggies, I could afford T. He definitely costs more than a weeks worth of ciggies, but not much.)

I've been forewarned that T is going to ask me to name some goals. I definitely have goals that relate to my physical appearance. Hell, I'd like to get rid of the muffin top currently puffed out around my pajama bottoms. I'd like my arms to be more toned (less jiggly) and my butt to be a little bit perkier. (One thing I have noticed with age, aside from crow's feet, is that my butt ain't what it used to be.) But, the more I think about it, the more I realize that not all of my goals are appearance related. Some of my goals are performance related. For instance, I'd like to be able to do 10 regular push-ups (no sissy kind with the knees). I'd like to be able to do at least 1 pull-up. (I have never in my life been able to do a pull-up unassisted.) Most of all, I'd like to make it through an entire workout with T without whining. I'd like to think that the sense of accomplishment I have when I've reached those goals will make me feel even more beautiful than a perky butt! Although, a perky butt sure will be nice.

Can I Quote You On That?

I got an email from Oprah today. You know. Cause we got it like that, Oprah and me. Anyway, she was asking her friends (like me) to share their favorite quotes. And while some of my favorites come from my mother, "After me, you come first." And some come from N, (back then known as the Prophet N) who famously said, "Why grieve for the future when you can dwell on your past?" I also have a favorite quote from a book...

"Every life is different because you passed this way and touched history." ~The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver

Something about that quote really spoke to me so many years ago when I read it, and continues to speak to me today.

There is something profound to me about the idea that a seemingly small decision that one makes can have enormous effects, both good and bad, on others lives. We all think about that when it comes to something like drinking and driving; getting in that car is a deceptively small decision that can have such profound consequences. But what about when good stuff happens? (My mind spins trying to come up with examples.) Or what about all the ways that we touch others' lives without even knowing it? The things we do without even thinking about them that have positive impacts on the lives of others? How crazy is it to think that we have all touched history?

It just makes me feel good to know that no matter how small my life feels sometimes, every life is different because I passed this way and touched history.

What's On Your Ipod?

I stole this idea (she said it was ok, though) from one of my favorite blogs, Jen Lancaster's Jennsylvania. (By the way, I've read all of her books; Bitter is the New Black; Bright Lights, Big Ass; and Such a Pretty Fat. They are hilarious. I highly recommend them.)

Anyway, the idea is to put your Ipod on shuffle, see what comes up, write something about the song (preferably funny, but I make no guarantees). Here goes...

1. "What's Going On" Marvin Gaye
I love this song. It totally reminds me of my brother and the summer after I graduated high school. Also, I can't think of Marvin Gaye without thinking of "Sexual Healing".

2. "Touch Me in the Morning" Diana Ross
Clearly my Ipod is on some sort of Motown kick today. I think I downloaded this as part of a Diana Ross/the Supremes Greatest Hits package. Whenever I think of Diana I think of her in that concert at Central Park in the rain, imploring everyone to "reach out and touch sombody's hand".

3. "Pearls on a String" Ryan Adams
I adore Ryan Adams. His style of Alt Country is about the only kind of country that I can listen to. Well, him and Wilco. Whatever you do, do not go to one of his concerts and request that he sing "Summer of '69". He will have you thrown out, or so I've heard.

4. "Trouble" Coldplay
This song reminds me of driving through the desert with my ex-boyfriend C. It was late summer and still pretty hot out. I just remember it was dark out and we had the sunroof open. There's nothing like driving through the desert at night. It's so dark and clear. The stars are twinkling. You know how a song can take you right back, and you can feel and smell a memory? That's what this song does for me.

5. "Smile Like You Mean It" the Killers
I went through a total Killers phase a couple of years ago. Seriously. This CD never left my car stereo. I was with M then, and we used to go up to his cabin in the mountains like every weekend. I always took my own car, since I would have to leave before him to come back to the city and go to work. I listened to this the whole way up there, every single weekend for months. Now? I'm kind of sick of it. My brother and I are going to Coachella this year. The Killers are headlining the night we're going. I'm mildly excited to see them.

6. "Heal it Up" Concrete Blonde
OMG! I absolutely love Concrete Blonde. Not many people do. I especially love that the lead singer's name is Johnette Napolitano. Johnette. For real. You think her dad wanted a boy? Anyway, Concrete Blonde is a totally underrated band. I owe my love for them to my big brother. As a matter of fact, I totally owe my love for music to my big brother. And he never lets me forget it.

7. "Tyrant" the Bravery
Another 80's New Wave revival band, like the Killers. Love them too. Another CD that very rarely left my car's CD player a few years ago. I still like them, although I've heard they kind of suck live.

8. "Magic" the Cars
Love this song! Takes me back to the 80's. I loved the video, with Ric Ocasek walking on water in the pool. He is an unusual looking man, to say the least. He must have quite a personality to have married supermodel Paulina Porizkova. Oh! Which reminds me! America's Next Top Model starts tonight! Yay! (I am such a teenage girl when it comes to Tyra and ANTM. I love it.)

9. "Wonderful Life" Gwen Stefani
Aww. Who doesn't love Gwen Stefani? A few years ago N and I were so excited to see her in concert, we joined her fan club to get discount tickets. We called ourselves "Ste-FAN-i's". The $25 was totally worth it, we got 7th row seats. Gwen rocked it. The concert was awesome, aside from the totally disgusting couple right in front of us who kept making out. Gross.

10. "Lay Low" My Morning Jacket
I don't have any memories associated with this one. MMJ is sort of a new discovery for me. They're not new by any means, just new to me. I have fallen in love with them.

Those of you with blogs (you know who you are) consider yourselves tagged. It's fun.

More Moo to Love

There's this thing going around on Facebook, 25 Random Things About Me, that everyone is doing. I've already done it too, and I won't bore you (all 4 of you, hee hee) with a rehash of what I've already written, but I've thought of more interesting Moo facts. So here they are.

1. I've never broken a bone. This one came to mind because a former coworker of mine just fell down a flight of stairs and broke her leg in 2 places. She pretty much broke her foot clean off her ankle. I mean, it's still there, held together by tendons and skin, but yikes.

2. Speaking of injuries, I had 2 black eyes within a 6 month period in 2008.

• The first happened at N's nephew's 6th birthday party in June. I've never missed one of Little C's birthdays. I've known him since he was born. In fact, I quite love that according to Little C, I'm just part of the family. Anyway, all the kids ran off to beat the pinata (I know that "n" in pinata needs a little thingy on it and I don't know how to do it.) and N, her brother G, and I decided it would be fun to go jump in the bouncy house. We're jumping, having a great time, when G, the big ole queen that he is decides it would be fun to do back flips. And it was fun. Until he kicked me in the face. Hence black eye number 1.
• The second black eye was entirely my own fault. My friend T and I (sometimes we call him Black Girl) were at a club in Gay Town. We had a couple of drinks and decided we'd like to go to another bar. We're walking out the door, I'm strutting really, when all of a sudden it hit me... the door that is. Or rather, I hit it. I walked right into a freaking glass door. In front of a whole line of people. I am an idiot. I ended up with a knot the size of a golf ball on my forehead, a concussion, and within a few days black eye number 2.

3. I have a really good sense of direction. Uncannily good. I used to travel a lot for work, often times to cities I'd never been to before. Generally, I rented a car that had GPS, but they weren't always available. I don't think I ever got lost! But, this also kind of makes me like a man, in that I'm usually pretty hesitant to stop and ask for directions.

4. I work for the best company ever. N knows this. We're super busy right now (I'm on my lunch, not writing on company time.) and the other day one of the owners of the company, whom I just love, came in with a case of Sugar Free Red Bull just for me!

5. I have a rock-n-roll crush on Dave Grohl. I really don't know why. He's not super hot, I just love him. After Kurt Cobain died, who ever thought Dave Grohl would be the one to make it big? Weird.

6. I also have a huge rock-n-roll crush on David Bowie. Yum. Always have. Since I was like 10 and the video for Let's Dance came out. While we're at it, I also used to love Bryan Ferry. I think I might have a thing for British musicians.

7. Keith Richards is my favorite Rolling Stone. I know, who has a favorite Rolling Stone? Well, I do. There is just something endearing about him to me. What? I'm weird.

8. I totally Facebook and Google stalk ex-boyfriends and people from high school. I have found out that my high school boyfriend, another M, is a married mortgage broker living just a few miles north of here. Don't know why I needed to know that, but I did. Thank you, Google.

9. One time, my mother asked me, in a restaurant no less, how the sex was with a guy I was dating. I was mortified. Literally mortified. I must've turned twelve shades of red. Gross.

10. I have never, knock-wood, gotten a speeding ticket or been in a car accident. It's not that I don't speed, I'm just lucky enough to have never been caught. I'm so tempting the car gods by writing this down. You may not want to get in a car with me for a while.

11. I am just superstitious enough to have seriously considered deleting number 10 and ending this post at 9. Seriously. I'm consumed now with fear that I am going to get a ticket this weekend, or worse yet have an accident. Don't worry, I'll be careful.