Saturday, January 29, 2011

January 28, 2011

2 lovely people got engaged
1 Mother, Grandmother, and GreatGrandma died unexpectedly
2 other lovely young people told their families they were going to have their first baby

It was just another day for me...appointments, phone calls, catching up with friends, lamenting over personality conflicts, working overtime, always doing something despite wanting to do nothing. I find myself always saying yes, but never feeling like I make any committments, especially to myself. I stepped on the doctor's dreaded scale this morning and got a rude awakening. I talked to the Dr about the health concerns and time and again and said that I didn't need the information on how to change, just the motivation. Really, I do know how to get it done, I just haven't been scared or disgusted into submission yet.

I see that list up above and think this:
I wouldn't agree to marry anyone unless I lost at least 65 lbs. Shit, I don't want to go meet the online guy for coffee until I loose 10 lbs not to mention the 7 I gained in the last 2 weeks.
I already feel like and old lady and I wonder how much longer I can push the envelope with my health as it is now. Overweight, high cholesterol, high blood pressure...yeah, I'm not f*ing around when I mean pushing the envelope.
I have spent more time trying not to get pregnant in my 20's than trying to and planning the day when I am going to drop news like that on my family seems like a different lifetime. (see excuse #1) Really, people with my health shouldn't even be "with child".

Now, I see the second list and despite the numbers and the feelings it really doesn't impact me like it should. Get up off the couch, Lauren. Go walk the dog, Lauren. Eat an apple instead, Lauren. Why are you paying a monthly gym fee if you haven't been to the gym in almost 2 years, Lauren?

God, what is wrong with me? I don't know when I settled for being malcontent and just lazy. Ugh, maybe this is it. Maybe I am disgusted seeing this in writing right now. What am I waiting for? The scale to tip to The Biggest Loser qualifications number? Maybe when my fingers are too fat to type or write excuses anymore, I might take notice? I'm such an American right now, geeze!

You out there...yeah, you. Don't talk me down from this. Just let me be disgusted. I need to be disgusted. I've got too much left on that bucket list to do...way too much. I want to be that lovely engaged person, and then then lovely having a baby person, and then that lovely lived a long, happy, family filled, died an old, sassy lady kind of life person.

I'm so over myself right now. See this, yeah #9, I really don't think I can swallow having another year go by and not being completly comfortable in my own skin. I just can't do it. I think I need to make a commitment to me. I need to be engaged to me. It's decided. Tomorrow, I'm going to ask me to be with me forever.

And then...I'm gonna walk the dog .

Saturday, January 22, 2011


on the bucket list...
"Get my Bachelor's Degree"
I am. Doing it, going back to school...
Did I tell you?
I didn't think so.

November, 2010, the lady from the online university sees an empty seat at the table I'm sitting at and has a seat next to me and we start talking. The next day, I give her all my info to see how much credit my work experience qualifies for. The next week, she tells me it's only 13 classes to a Bachelor's Degree. Open-book, self-paced, no classrooms to sit in...and a cost that is the equivalent of 1/8 of the monthly cost of my car.

So guess what? After almost 10 years of being out of school, I can't wait to get my newest textbook and finish my first class. I'm shooting for A's. Yes, A student material you have here behind this keyboard.

What pray tell am I studying? Well...Pshychology of course. The study of the mind, reaction, and human behavior. The self-reflection is happening. The labeling of me, my friend, my family, and my enemies has begun.

What am I going to do with said degree? Well, I don't have that figured out yet, but I think that I still want to be in the business of helping people. Maybe I can even help myself a little along the way. Here's to hoping...

“The major psychological insight I’ve arrived at in life is that the psyche isn’t logical.”

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Controlled chaos

I did it.

I joined eHarmony.


This is the stinky part, filling out the questions and check boxes. So far I've determined this about myself:

I live in controlled chaos.
I like both cats and dogs.
I don't know where my favorite non-US place is.
I prefer to go to steakhouses for a "big night out" Huh? Yeah...
I admitted to my love for zombie movies right after I professed the same love for The Notebook.
I can't think of who has been the most influential person in my life besides my parents.
Kenny Chesney, P!nk, and Dave Matthews Band are among my favorites and I only got that one right because you can't possibly get that wrong!

I feel like I don't even know myself after this. Where's the box that says: insomniac girl who says "fuck" too much, has bad credit but a really well paying job, loves to travel, takes care of her family, owns her own home, laughs daily, is not afraid of much, has long bouts of creativity, can blog your pants off, is mostly sane, sometimes overly passionate, just wants someone to spend time with, cuddle up with and watch B movies on the couch, and go on day trips, and pontentially choose to commit to if the whole thing doesn't backfire. Oh yeah, she keeps her word, she's not going to break your dishes in the middle of the street like a crazy woman, your mother will love her, she can cook, and she's pretty good in bed too. Yeah, I just said that.

Liberal. Center to left. Ultra-conservative. Middle of the road. ?!? Shoot me in the head already.


I haven't even't gotten to the "values" section of this life history.

Is there not a shortcut for this? I wish I may, I wish I might, I wish I could press the "easy" button for this tonight.

Friday, January 14, 2011

NO biting!

I always say that a camera crew should just follow me around. Always. Just for regular things, not even the big events. Regular life is beyond entertaining and always twice as interesting when there is a family member invovled. Yesterday was no exception.

The plan was to get dear Uncle Mickey at 8am in Woodland to make it to the funeral service in Antioch at 10am. Lauren time always runs at least 15 -30 minutes later than it should, so Noah volunteered to get Mickey in the morning. I didn't argue, it meant more time for sleeping.

8 am on the dot, Noah called to tell me that he was already on his way back to Vacaville with Mickey, I was still in bed. Damn. Mickey was dressed and ready to go at 720am, the poor guy has been waiting to get out and see some family for weeks, he actually woke up at 5am to get ready. He was not going to be to blame for missing this funeral service and he he was dressed fabulously, presssed shirt, new sweater, dress shoes, hair done. Noah looked fabulous too, new tie, new dress shoes. Good looking pair of guys to take to a funeral service.

930am, Vallejo, Noah's truck left at work, he jumps in the back seat and we're off hauling ass to Antioch trying not to be late. Mickey's pre-packaged vitamins and medication from the care home on board, it's time for the 9am dose which he's handed with a bottle of water. I brought extra water cause travelling with my adult family is like travelling with children. The supplies are always needed.

945am, crossing the Carquinez bridge, as I'm looking out over the water on either side of the bridge, I notice something on Mickey's face. Cheetoo dust? "What's on your face Uncle Mick? Were you guys eating cheetoos in the car on the way to Vallejo?" Mickey says "What? What's on my face?" as he turns to me, mouth open with a look of confustion, I see for the first time that it looks like he was sucking on an orange highlighter. Bright orange where it should be white, darker near the gum line. I've never seen such a thing. "Uncle Mick! what's going on? What is happening with your mouth? Look in the mirror." The string of curse words comes out, "What is going on? Oh geeze..what the F is this? I look like a #$%ing zoo monkey! What is this &^%? Is it on my sweater? Ah man, this is a mess. "

Noah's response from the backseat: silence.

Still going 75MPH, I hand him every napkin I can dig out of the console and he starts to wipe and talk spreads. Orange in the mustace, all over his hands, napkins covered in orange stuff, all over the top of the water bottle... Out of napkins, Mickey reaches for the newspaper he brought in the car and starts to wipe. Mystery substance and newspaper ink now being rubbed around.

Noah's response: I had a water bottle like that last week. ??? "Noah, get real, tainted water bottles? What are we dealing with here?" More silence from the backseat, just the rustling of bags. I think he's looking for napkins.

Mickey: still cursing and bewildered, refusing to be seen by the family, getting more upset he realizes what happened. The package of vitamins that I had heard him gagging on 20 minutes before contained a salmon oil pill which he couldn't get down. So he chewed on it, through the gel covering and all. Silently suffering through the taste of fish oil, he never said anything about the pill that popped in his mouth and was now seeping all over his face. Oil...we were dealing with an oil spill. Napkins coverd in oil, hands stained orange, he even ate a banana that Silent Noah produced from the back seat...nothing was getting this oil off.

My purse is the Mary Poppins model, so is my giant car. I happened to have a new travel toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouth wash with me. Mickey is calmed by that thought and we were only a few minutes away. He kept staring in the mirror like it was a trainwreck. Just his luck.

10:04, we pull into the parking lot of the church, barely late, I go to pull into the first spot I see, directly in front of the doors, we're gonna let Mickey brush up and get inside before we're even later. Instantly from the back seat: "don't park there." Huh? "Go to the end of the parking lot, I"m carsick, I"m going to puke."

!?!@$?!@@??!!!! What is going on? "Why didnt you say anything?" "I couldn't, I was just trying not to puke, why do you think I was going thru these bags, I was getting one to puke in. I saw the oil on Mickey's face but I thought it was lip balm."

Me: trying to find a place to park...

Noah: "I'm such a pansy. I"m so car sick, why do you think I've been so silent? I"m gonna puke."

Mickey: "Where's the toothbrush, this is staining my teeth, it's worse than the green tea."

Noah: "I have to tuck in my tie. I gotta puke."

Mickey: "Do you have more napkins. This stuff won't come off my hands. I need mouthwash. I'm gonna have to walk myself through the car wash to get this off."

Noah: "Don't come to the front of the car, I'm gonna spew. Just leave me behind. I need the keys, I'm gonna lay in the back of the car. I'm so sick."

Going 45 miles through the church parking lot, faster than the speed of vomitus, I parked in the back forty. With every single car door ajar, 20 seconds later Mickey's furiously scrubbing his teeth, orange foam coming out of his mouth now, Noah is dry heaving holding on to the front of the car for dear life, puke rags and orange napkins are piling up on the floorboard, and they're both walking in circles traumatized. I called Briana. Someone had to know what was happening. I was being punked by life again. Scrambling to find something for these guys to clean themselves up with, I managed to take 1 picture of this episode before I discovered the roll of paper towels in my car while searching for the beach towel that I knew was in the back seat (thank God that I'm a semi-hoarder and always have stuff in the car). At this point Mickey has now taken his top teeth out and is holding them in his hand scrubbing furiously, chorizo colored toothpaste is everywhere. Noah is still dry heaving and talking about how he needs to fart but he's going to shard himself if he does. I'm just trying to figure out how this explosion happened while both staying out of the line of fire and distributing long streams of paper towels.

1020, oil spill now under control, after being convinced not to just leave them in the parking lot, Noah mostly recovered from the carnival ride to Antioch, me managing to not get puked on or stained, we finally make it to the front doors of the church and with one swing of the doors, manage to make it in to the church mid service, no worse for the wear, no one any the wiser. I know, this sounds dramatic and overexaggerated, and in the midst of this episode, I realized that it would come off like that, hence the picture.

If you look you will notice:

Mickey's fish oil covered hand holding his fish oil covered teeth and fish oil soaked napkins. In his other hand, the orange bristle stained tooth brush.

You will also notice the roll of paper towels and the beach towel.

Direct your attention just below the rear view mirror and you will see, the very top of Noah's mohawk as he clings on to the hood of the car while gagging and moaning "nothing's coming up!"

Welcome to the scenes from my life. I cannot make these things up. I have an immense sense of humor, but even I am not this creative.

Post incident Mickey's recollection of the moment he saw his mouth: "I thought I was at the end, the orange stuff was coming up. I was ready to go to the Lord."

Until I get my own show, I will be my own camera crew.

Friday, January 7, 2011


Tonight I said these words: "I'm looking at 30 coming up like I'm staring down the barrel of a gun."

Sitting in the driveway 10 minutes ago with all the lights blacked out and a A Woman's Work streaming out of the speakers, I had ALL these thoughts coming at me like raindrops falling on a sidewalk at the beginning of a storm. Even with rushing right into the house to pound them out on the keyboard, they were streaming by too fast for me to remember them all. I always think so clearly in that car. Always...

Essentially, this is the thought that I couldn't escape: I want more than this.

I hate the feeling that thought leaves me with...I dislike putting it out there even more, but to be honest, all the recent trysts are just appetizer to an appetite for a happy life. Things like this are never enough to satisfy you competley , it's just an introduction, a taste, a runner up to the main course. To the real thing. It's like eating the frosting off of all the cupcakes, eventually, it's going to be too sweet and you're just going to puke up sprinkles. I hate sprinkles. They're like rainbow colored mouse turds. I know what I'm writing is spiraling out of control fast so yes, to clear it up, I am talking about my.secret.lover. Ugh...I know you can hear it too. Let's all run our hands through our perms and brush off our shoulder pads...go ahead let out a dramatic groan. I know. I know. I hear the song playing in my head and yes, "Seeeee-cret loooooovaaaah..." Whew.

Secret, huh? Yes...we make appearances together in the time and space that fills the setting and rising of the sun, the-breakfast-is-always-good-at-1am cohort, the pillow talk conversation under the flicker of early AM infomercials, and the goodbye kisses in the parking lot. Just recently, I accidentally fooled the F in the BF by using his actual name in a text and not one of the myriad of nicknames. He's that guy...that ____(fill-in-the-blank)____guy.

I know what those 20-something relationship odds look like. They reflect back at me from my friend's lives like I'm looking in a funhouse mirror. I don't mean that as a knock against any of them, but I'm quasi-glad to just be an observer at those distorted visions where clear reflections of lives full of love and promises should be staring back. I'm not trying cast my own bubbling shadow of happiness on anyone's heartbreak and I certianly don't think that I'm any better off in the long run for not having gone through a divorce in my 20's, my scars are just a different shade. It's a conundrum...I'm glad that I'm not one of those statics & I wish I was one of them all in the same feeling. Recently, I've been on the receiving end of questions like "Do you want to get married? Do you want kids? Do you think you'll ever get married?" Yes. Yes, yes, yes!!! Have I really painted myself into THAT corner that I have made even the people who have been with me for years not know the answers to that without having to actually ask me? Casually over dinner, those are the questions that feel like I'm sitting on the end of a cocked trigger. Loaded.questions >>> full of gun powder and lead.

Honestly, truly, and well only partially, (because I'm not totally self-depricating) I can add up all the accomplishments in life and feel good about myself except for when it comes to the relationship part of that pie. I feel like a failure there. Well I guess you can't fail if you never really try but still the feeling remains.

Mostly I've just run out of excuses & I stopped believing the ones that I want to feed everyone else.
It's been long enough that I can't use "being fed up with the games."
I wouldn't fool anyone with "I'm just too into my job right now for a relationship" (that fucking ship sailed years ago).
"I'm too busy"...yeah, no. Not for the real thing. Never.
I don't need anymore "me" time on the books, I'm all stocked up on that and crazy.

Just for good measure, just tonight these thoughts almost drowned me as I was barrelling down the freeway with the cruise control set enroute to the night's rendevous:
Tomorrow's plans for a girl's makeup shoot were cancelled because the main model was accidentally head-butted by her 2 year old while she was putting her to bed. I was headed for bed too, just not mine. The irony was nauseating.
The only light that I had to stop for in all of the downtown thoroughfare was the one that was RIGHT next to the bridal shop where the glare from the white dresses nearly blinded me. It was like a train-wreck, I couldn't stop staring. That feather dress that I keep locked in my hope chest memory bank. It.was.stunnning.
Finally, muttering the words "...staring down the barrel of that gun..." to Tryst himself was a scene in itself. I'll spare you the details of that one.
This is the serious vein of thought in the tiny adventure that was my day...there was moderate comedy, but that is an entirely other blog in itself. The humor is always there bubbling under the surface and thank God for that. It's those doses of funny that keep my universe from spinning totally out of control.

Now that this is recorded in time for mostly me & only me, don't you think that for even a minute that I'm going to start renting box seasons of The Gilmore Girls and drinking fertility tea while sitting in my velour bathrobe on the couch. I believe in love...I also believe in safe sex. I'm still gritty and sassy and too stubborn to give up what I think is the control of my destiny, but I am admitting without reservation that the writing on the wall is too now far too bold for me to keep ignoring it. I am really staring down the barrel of a gun. It's the now or never bullet. It's the make a decision bullet. It's the take a gamble bullet.

I know it's not attached to a number and 30 is just that, a number, but still, that painting that I started creating in my head when I was a young girl about where I would be in life as a young woman is missing some brush strokes.

Now, mostly because I am running out of metaphors and also because the tea kettle is whistling, I am going to hang up this blog post, put the biological clock on snooze, and go crawl into bed. Good night, 4am, good night.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Fuckin' perfect

Made a wrong turn
Once or twice
Dug my way out
Blood and fire
Bad decisions
That's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, missundaztood
Miss "no way it's all good"
It didn't slow me down
Always second guessing
Look, I'm still around...

Pretty, pretty please
Don't you ever, ever feel
Like your less than
Fuckin' perfect
Pretty, pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like your nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me

I <3 her. Always have...I play her voice when I want want to relate to something, anything. She's gonna be a Mama...I totally dig that too.


ONE time when I was little … I painted my brother white from head to toe. :)

ONE day I hope to … be a mommy.

ONE movie (or book) I would never tire of watching (or reading) is - The Notebook.

If I had to create with ONE color for the rest of my life, I would pick - green. It has so many shades that I think all represent LIFE.

ONE of my best strategies for fueling my creativity is … music. It's breaths life into me in so many different ways.

If I could add ONE hour to my day, I would … want to say that I would be more productive somehow, but I think I would just sleep some more.

ONE thing you really need to know about me … I wish I could go back to being a kid.

ONE thing I know for sure … family is the only thing that matters.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

thought of the day

So, this is it, huh? This is life?

More "less"

When I wasn't paying attention, Thanksgiving, Christmas, & New Year's came and went. I didn't make a list or count up all the cool things I had done all year long. I made some half-thought out "resoultions" which I don't know how resolved I'll be to accomplish. I mostly just slept a lot and not enough and then a lot and then not enough again, but that's nothing new. At all.

This time last year I was on day 2 of a cross-country road trip. Today, I'm still recovering from the flu, sleeping in the space in the bed that's between the pile of laundry at the end of the bed and the actual end of the bed, and dreading the shift change turn around. I'm going back on graveyards.

I want something new, something tangible, but not something I can crumple up on the bedroom floor. I want to be kind of, dare I say it, selfish. I want days off to paint the walls and take pictures. I want to go to Starbucks with a laptop and drink to many lattes. I want to sit in my backyard and edit pictures until my fingers are sore. I want to redo the entire house.

Or...I want to do nothing, despite what everyone else says. I'm proposing a year of trying to do more "less".

Saturday, January 1, 2011

1/1/11 blank page

I just read this quote:

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day. -Edith Lovejoy Pierce



I love it!

What happened? Where'd I go? I got busy and I got behind...really busy. But nothing's changed and I still have plenty to say. I never wrote for you. I wrote for me. Taking a little more time for me is one of my resolutions. Write more. That's another one of them.

The rest...are still unwritten.

Happy New Year!