“In the time of chimpanzees I was…” not very phone savvy…

About five minutes ago, I set up my voicemail. Why? Because I had this memory pop into my head of Matthew leaving me voice message that said "Hey, you need to set up your greeting." Three weeks later, it has been completed.

Where is my giant thingsthatneedtogetdonebutikeepforgetingtowritedown checklist so that I can add a beautiful black checkmark to it?

The next few days promise to be cray-cray. Yes, that’s right- in the next few days, I will become incredibly hood perhaps even a bit OG if you will. I kid- that would be first of all unprofessional at work and although Matthew says I can be hood sometimes, I think if I actually was he might have some issues.

Nonetheless, things are going to be crazy. See, I had this genius idea that we would host Easter festivities at our house. This is the first time, we are hosting something as a married couple that will include extended family. For some reason that day I must have been feeling extra in love- inviting everyone over seemed- fabulous.

Now all I can think about is the menu and whether the house will look clean enough. And will it smell nice? Growing up our house always smelled nice a little potpourri-ish sometimes a little cinnamon-y. Will everyone be gone before the Walking Dead begins? Seriously, it’s the season finale. I’m so nervous- I can not focus on work (okay fine-making excuses for my slacking off).

The only thing getting me through this is the possibility of an Iron man laser tag game this weekend. What is worse than a bunch of little kids shooting themselves with laser guns? A husband and wife trying to take each other out! Bwahahaha!

Anyone else hosting any Easter events? Or am I the only ridiculous one?

Height acceptance

It’s been over a week since I’ve posted, mostly because I have been unmotivated and tired of life (or maybe I’ve been dealing with a huge ass audit that is finally over!).

My entire life I wanted to be tall. I shared the same goal as Cher Horowitz to be 5’10” like Cindy Crawford. Unfortunately, the Mexican gene is strong in this one and I’m only 5’4″. My sister reached a whopping 5’8″.

As I became an adult I started wearing heels. And I feel in love with them… I love wearing jeans all the time- with slacks or jeans or dresses. There is nothing sexier than looking at your reflection in a window and seeing the bottom of your pants grazing the top of your heels. *sigh*

So you get it, I love them!

Well, in an effort to get in shape Matthew and I have been working out a lot. And wearing heels all day can make working out painful in the evenings. I’ve learned to suck it up and deal with it. That is – till last Thursday.

At a function for work, I was asked to ensure that all guests were in correct meeting areas. This meant that I had to stand for three hours greeting people in a hallway. Three hours without a chair to sit on or table to prop on. There was a small carpet space that I occasionally stood on for cushioning. By the end of the event my ankles were ginormous!

I sat on the couch with my feet propped up and made a tough decision. One of the toughest decisions ever (divorce was a piece of cake compared to this). I needed to give up my heels and switch to flats. Ugh!

How do I reconcile with this? Well I get to buy cute heels for special occasions and going out but the flats will be for work. We went shopping yesterday. And I purchased the cutest Cole Haan flats! And they have Nike air technology (yes I did my research). I only purchased one pair because well duh they are Cole Haan but I see some Michael Kors in my future.

Things that I have noticed since wearing flats during the last two hours.

1. Travel time from the front of the bldg to my office has been cut in half.
2. Travel time from office to restroom significantly faster.
3. It is much easier to dodge students in the hallway.
4. I am able to balance my laptop bag, purse, water bottles , coffee and lunch bag much better being closer to the ground.
5. All my pants are meant to be worn in heels.
6. Just because I can hold a needle and thread does not mean I can hem like a pro.

Of boys and men.

Recently we started listening to a radio station that plays mostly disco and hits from the 60s and 70s and every once in a while stuff from the 80s.  Tonight on our drive home from the gym, I heard a song that took me back 16 years. 

Music has always been a big part of my life.  I have a theme song for ever major moment and a soundtrack for year of my life.  Growing up however, my soundtrack was mostly in Spanish.  Being a first generation Mexican-American, I was greatly influenced by the music of my parents- cheesy, romantic, love ballads and boleros.  It wasn’t till my first boyfriend (technically not my first boyfriend- but that’s another story for another time) introduced me to other kinds of music- specifically with lyrics in English.  And not just crappy pop music- meaningful music- music with soul, lyrics and depth. Seriously, up until then I thought The Beatles was as good as it gets, no one could ever top them.

One afternoon, our senior year in high school we were driving around looking for a place to pick up lunch. He drove this old 1980-something Thunderbird. Two-toned blue Thunderbird.  It was the size of the boat but had a cassette deck and we could hook up our disc mans!  Back when the cigarette lighter was our auxiliary port. 

A fun up beat song came on the radio- later I would find out that it was Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl- and my life would never be the same again.  I remember enjoying the breeze as we cruised around with the windows rolled down- and then my boyfriend started singing to me.  It was super cute and super cheese, very typical of this person.  And then I heard the chorus and it was about a girl with brown eyes.  That could not be right, I listened intently.  He must have meant blue or green, because brown is so not the color men sing about.  Nope. They were brown.  Then it hit me.

I was in a car with a boy who cared about me and was singing a song to me. There is no going back from that.  Expectations were sky high.  And young Denise was in love.  We dated well into college and then broke up.  Mostly, my fault. Ahem, entirely my fault.  I’ve heard sometimes girls go through a slut phase- not that I know first hand. 

Every boy that came after this particular boyfriend never quite came close.  I did not know it then but I had shared a few years of my life with a good man. Yes, we were young, but he was the kind of boy that grows up to be a good man.  He was kind, always did what was right. I was just a bit to free spirited to care. 

After him, all the other guys were these complete lame boys.  And I never allowed myself to get attached to them.  I had three serious boyfriends and one husband after him and I never invested 100% of myself, mostly because I thought love was supposed to be these grand thoughtful gestures.  Like the snoopy snow cone machine gift of 1997.  It wasn’t that I was still in love with this person, by no means.  I had stopped loving that person years ago.  I just expected everyone to be that spontaneous and thoughtful and caring.  So I set them all up for failure.  The truth is I had really loved that person and that break up hurt like a mother and I never ever wanted to feel that vulnerable again.  I never wanted to fall in love again.  I used logic and reason for most of my relationships and ultimately put myself in positions where I knew they would not succeed- self preservation if you will.

Tonight in the car with Matthew- It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Brown Eyed Girl came on the radio and I was reminded of the person and my youth.  Then I realized, I finally let myself fall completely in love.  And not the completely in love that I felt at 17 because as we all know, falling in love at 17 is 20% love 80% hormones. 

This was the completely in love where you chose happiness over what the world expects of you.  Where you say fuck you to Denise always doing everything for everyone else!  This time it’s about me.  A year and a half ago, I chose to give myself what I deserved- not what I thought someone else needed of me. 

As we sat in the car, driving home from the gym, still upset over an argument we had earlier in the day- I realized that there is no one else in the world I would rather be arguing with. 

I think I’m ready to stop being mad so that I can show Matthew this cool gun app I downloaded this morning.  I spent most of the morning harassing the cats with it.

As a side note- last week I thought there was a velociraptor living on our roof. Turns out it is a psychotic woodpecker that continues to confuse the window for a tree. Oh Lord.

Before the sun comes up

I slacked off this week.  I did the one thing, I have told myself not to do- brought work home.  Almost every night this week, I have worked in the evening at home and then went to sleep super late.  So we missed all our workouts this week.  For those of you that have read the blog about the threats- this means that I can not work out with an ipod next week.  Sucks right?  Well- yes, that’s what I get for slacking off.

Wrong! I refuse to spend the next week without music during my workout.  Do you have any idea how painful that can be?  This means only one thing- we will be doing two a days today and working out extra tomorrow and Sunday.  Loophole?  Maybe?  But technically- no!

P.S. Are people aware that those Harlem Shake videos are just people wiggling around- they are not actually doing the “Harlem Shake?” I blame Michael Bay for this lack of authenticity.