The week in review (or at least Saturday to this very moment in time!)

For three months I have been looking forward to Summer since my work schedule changes greatly. And here I am today preparing for a half day and completely exhausted.

Despite the lack of sleep and mental exhaustion life has been one happiness filled moment after the other.

Saturday night we had a date. A fancy shmancy date. The kind where you eat tons of bread but not before dipping it in oil and balsamic vinegar goodness. We stuffed ourselves senseless without taking into consideration the entire purpose of our date. S’mores!

Months back at this same restaurant we saw this couple on a date feasting on s’mores. The entire presentation was delightful and oh so junk food chic complete with the appropriate ingredients and a fire source. And now we find ourselves in the same situation, except we are not late 40ish with a leathery tan and on our first match.com date. Not that the couple shared this with me- I just assumed by all the boobage and very slick hair that they still had not seen each other in their birthday suits.

Where was I going with this…oh yes s’mores!

We were ready to make this childhood staple and movie quote subject (thank you Ham Porter) our little bitch. And then we were full. We did in the process learn that sometimes you have to set the graham cracker on fire in order for the chocolate to melt. Seriously, burn Hershey’s burn!

There are many reasons I adore my husband. But the one that speaks to me the most is that he is very aware of soulmate-ness. We have been completely in synch since before I love you was even said (it was thought though, believe me!). We know when something is wrong instantly even when we are far away. One of us will get a funny feeling off at work and out of the blue one of us will text, “you okay? Sometimes it is annoying but sometimes, like earlier this week, it is fucking adorable.

I love Love. I love being in love.

And I also love this cute hair ties!

Anthropologie sells them five for $12.00. I have not made the time to order them online. However, earlier this week while doing some hormonal induced shopping at Target- I found some! Five for $5.00. Suck it Anthropologie! Okay, I don’t mean. I just wish you were closer!

Focus on the hair tie- not the hairy pale arm.

Tonight we have our second swing dance class. Hopefully, there will not be a melt down this time around. More on that later.

A beautiful Friday to you and all those you love!

“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. 

Tapping the will power reserves

Sunday.

Yesterday, in the car, driving home from the gym, Matthew and I, had an endorphin fueled conversation about out workout. Mid-January we made it our goal to make it to the gym at least four times a week.  We exceeded our goal by one day! Holler!!!

Feel badass and riding the waves of awesomeness, we decided to tackle an even bigger challenge: Lent. Dun dun dun.

Matthew says very matter of factly- “you and I have not really tapped our will power reserve.” Challenge accepted.

Traffic lights by traffic light, we began to make a list of things we were determined to live without for the upcoming forty days. Matthew’s list- alcohol, sodas, and one other item that escapes my mind. My list: soda, fried foods and bread.  Oh and we also agreed to make it to church every Sunday during Lent.  Then came the list of threats. Wait…let me take us back to fee days ago.

Matthew attended a training for work in which he learned about SWOT analysis and using threats to achieve desired results. So we have been using this threat system to accomplish things. For example: making it to the gym five times this week was a direct result of us agreeing that if we didn’t, Matthew would not be able to play Halo 4 for a week and I would have zero Greg’s anatomy reruns.

This morning.

At the wee hours of 5:30 a.m as we prepared for our morning trek to the gym, as if we had both been struck by psychic abilities- we remembered the threats.

1. Consuming the crap we decided to give up. For this epic failure of the wills- The Threat: we will be forced to workout at the gym without our ipods.  Yes- we went there. Yes, shit just got real.  For nothing sucks more than not having music to tune out the heavy, sweaty breathers all around you.  Not to mention it makes an hour workout seem like two.

2. Skipping out on Church.  We are by no means holy rollers. In fact, I think we last stepped in to the house of God in November.  I have been feeling like I need more Jesus in my life and I figure if I’m working on my fitness-might as well hit the spiritual fitness as well. What happens if we sleep in and miss mass? Our threat: No Walking Dead for that week.  Yeah…I know, wtf are we thinking but threats are supposed to help us achieve our goals.  I hope this is true.

3.  A few blogs ago, in January, I wrote about trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I have decided I want to be a writer.  However, I lack discipline…sometimes. My commitment is to write everyday for the next forty days.   Sounds easy enough right? Lord, I hope so.  My threat: Deactivate Facebook for a week. Yes, we just went from sane straight into cray cray land.

As I write this, on the eve of Lent…er Fat Tuesday, I can not help but feel excited and terrified out of my mind all at once.  Yes, perhaps we are using this time of year to fuel are weight loss goals but the truth is there has to be something therapeutic, cathartic and cleansing in the process.  So invite you reader to follow along, hold me accountable (if you want-no pressure here, I am all about holding yourself responsible to you) and laugh.  Yes, laugh at my expense, I don’t mind.  It builds character.

Let’s do this.

Those girls…the long and winding two weeks…there and back

A couple of years ago while working for a non-profit,  I was responsible for interviewing talented and skilled people to teach the students in our programs.  I interviewed all sorts of people but none made quite the impact as we will call her Lucy Lopan.

This woman walks in, mid-twenties, wearing the kind of perfume that engulfs a space and lingers long after she has left the room.  Her long hair was perfectly flowing in large waves of black that matched her outfit.  She had the kind of makeup on that covers every single pore and enough layers of eye shadow, blush and lipstick that an hour long power wash would not scrape the surface.  She was pretty…the kind of girl that you see working up and down the aisles of Sephora.

The interview was conducted by me and I had a —-oh wait— how could I forget the most important part.  She had fake lashes- the kind that look like they could be natural but are long enough to be noticeably unnatural.  Okay- so my coworker and I interview this woman.  Lucy Lopan leaves her card with her perfect photoshopped pic and walks out.  For the next ten minutes my coworker goes on and on about her.  And I let a thought slip out of my mouth- the kind of thought that you know should only be shared with your closest, bestest girl friends-not with your coworker man-child.   “I’ve always wanted to be one of those girls…”

The moment it came out of my mouth I cringed.  Loud obnoxious laughter followed.  Embarrassing, loud obnoxious laughter.  Challenge accepted.

For the next two weeks, I pulled out the big guns.  I’ve always had a love for makeup and have spent way to much money at Laura Mercier counter at Saks…and the Nars counters…and Kiehl’s because what’s the point of all that color is your skin is grody.   I digress.

Now I’ve always worn a full face of makeup but never to the max…not like those girls.  So I pulled it all out: bronzers, highlighters, tight-line, eyeliners.  I must have added like ten new products to my already expanse make up routine.  And then I topped it all off with a nice pair of eyelashes.  Yes, for two weeks this became my ritual.  Oh and I invested in this amazing volumizer.  I had the face and the hair…I became one of those girls.

How did I feel?  I loved the look but the work was too much and let’s face it- I worked for a non-proft working with inner city youth-the look was a bit much.  And the lashes everyday?  The truth is I have pretty nice lashes as it is.  I did struggle every morning to put them on, however, the last day I wore them, I put them on like a boss.

Every thing was going great till casual Friday.   I can not remember what I wore, but I remember feel great about the way I turned out.  A group of us went out for lunch to a local cafe, mind you two weeks have gone by and I am basking (not just cause of the bronzer) in my new look.  The coworker from the interview puts his hand to my face as I am about to take a bite of my sandwich, “Are you still wearing the fake lashes?”  All eyes on me.

I sit there in silence for what felt like thirty minutes, even though it was probably only a few seconds, “Yeah, and?”  I was horrified and a bit surprised that everyone seemed to have grown accustomed the new me.  Then everyone started asking questions about the lashes- “Do they hurt?” “How long does it take?” Blah, blah, blah.

That was the topic for the rest of lunch.  And that was the end of that.

I still have an unopened pack of lashes in my makeup drawer and stare at it fondly from time to time. I dream of taking them out on the town, maybe shopping for toiletries at Target or dinner at Whole Foods.  Sometimes I imagine that we are running through a waterfall and run out drenched they intact.  But it must remain a dream, at least for now.  Maybe I’ll bust them out on our wedding anniversary.  Or maybe they make an appearance at Sunday brunch. All I know is that I must not let that girl die- she had fun shellac face and all.

Puppy Bowl what? Kitty Bowl?- No, maybe that’s a Pitbull song.

Okay- so we are doing this…we are actually going to watch the Super Bowl.  Or at least start watching it once dinner is ready.  In high school I mostly watched the big game for the commercials.  This was important because the next day everyone would surely be talking about the funny beer commercials, dogs, etc.  But as college came and went I stopped watching.

So today…in a few minutes, we will sit down with football appropriate food and watch men run around throwing a pig-skinned projectile.  I will ask a billion questions and Matthew will answer them, happy because i am taking an interest in something that he enjoys…(can you say wife of the year…).

For a couple of years I have heard of this thing called a Puppy Bowl.  And today as I was scrolling through Facebook updates- I noticed several friends are excited about watching this particular event.  Genius, I say, genius.  Aim for that demographic that has zero interest in the Super bowl or those witty commercials. 

Now I prepare myself…getting in old Grey’s Anatomy reruns.  Estrogen-ing up!

Magnifico. And other things inspired by Queen.

This is about to become a post about cats. In all actuality it is a post about cats-not the musical. I have been a cat person most of my life. There have been a few dogs in life (both literally and metaphorically) but for the most part I have remained a loyal cat person.

So as I approach my mid thirties, and my biological clock starts ticking like its overtime during nba finals, I now begin to want to take care of things, nurture things, make things my own. Here enters Magnifco.

A week ago I spotted Magnifico attacking some garbage bags full of food that I had left on the porch. These bags were filled with  food that was in the fridge the night electricity was out.  I noticed right away that she seemed quite too skinny for her tall lanky body.  After pleading my case for the billionth time that day, Matthew caved and okay’d me to feed her.

Fast forward to yesterday. I have some how managed in the span of a week to turn our home into the Heaviside lair. Last night a cat climbed up our door and was dangling from the window. Another tried to run inside as soon as I opened the door. Then there is the orange cat that pretends to be cute and adorable but I am pretty sure is out to get the other cats.

The problem is that we already have two feisty yet pansy ass indoor cats. Seriously, our indoor cats are all talk. Matthew and I are certain that they are plotting our death, but they would never last in the great outdoors. The weather alone is enough to send them running inside.  Now to make things worse we have pack of streets cats calling our porch home.

The end result. I have had to cut down how often I feed Magnifico. And I have to stand there and watch her eat to ensure that the others cats do not attack her. Seriously, there are like four freaking Macavity’s on our porch.   So I’ve concluded two things:

1. Magnifico is a pushover, much like my other cats.  (This used to be a prerequisite for any man I ever dated.  Thank God, I married a man.)

2.   We need to have kids.

in the mean time, we are preparing to adopt a dog. Bruce shall be his name.

Junkie, junkie love

I grew up watching novelas (spanish soaps).  Dinner was followed by two to three hours of cheesy, dramatic, love tales.  Each novela much more intense than the other.  It was common knowledge that the six o’clock soap was good, the seven o’clock soap better and the eight o’clock soap…THE BEST.  By no means did we ever run errands after 7:00 p.m. as this would only put us at risk of missing the best soap of all!!!

From a very young age I became obsessed with falling in love.  I wanted the moment of recognition when two people realize that they are meant to be together and the music changes into a dramatic, intense melody.  I wanted those drawn out declarations of love where my favorite two favorite actors would admit that they have loved each other from the moment they met, that their hearts were meant to beat as one and that they would never ever again spend another moment apart (ugh smother much…).  From the age of five I wanted to fall in love.

And so I did many, many times.  My favorite part of every relationship consisted of the first two weeks to a month- when all those falling in love feelings are there: the constant thinking about each other, the long phone calls that begin in the evening and last late into the night, the wanting to spend every moment together.   That was my favorite part of a relationship and I found it comforting that in each relationship that feeling felt exactly the same.  It was like watching a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan romcom- you know what to expect and yet you are still delightfully excited.  It was a predictable falling in love.

I began dating 18 years ago (I hate when you get to that age when you can say that things happened more than ten years ago).  A few boyfriends, some really bad mistakes and one ex-husband later and I am still obsessed with falling in love.  Except now I am in love,  completely in love in a way that does not mirror any of my other relationships.  Yes, yes i know, everyone says it, “I’ve never felt this way before…” but the truth is I really haven’t.  My feelings for each person before were the exact same feelings- but this time, it’s so unreal and unknown and completely scary (in an absolutely wonderful way).  And those feelings have lasted well beyond the first two weeks- we have been together for fifteen months and married for nine and my heart still stops when I see him walk in a room or he sends an “I love you” text.

So what does all this mean- It means that now romantic comedies seem so mediocre and I can not watch novelas. The truth is I have not tried to watch a novela- and there is enough drama that I may just give it a shot.  But romantic comedies do nothing for me.  And believe me I have tried.  Matthew has been dragged to so many chick flicks in the time we have been together and has seen me disappointed time and time again.

The romantic comedy was once fuel for my hopelessromaticism.  It motivated me to believe that at any moment, I could get my Gucci heal stuck in a crack on a street, have a dumpster roll towards me and some hot looking doctor would rescue me.  The romcom made my believe that true love could be conquered by all at the top of the Empire State building.  And then I fell in love. And shit got real.

My rose colored glasses were broke and I could no longer relate to this genre of film.  I thought of this earlier this evening as I was watching the Biggest Loser on hulu.  I sat there crying my eyes out and could not recall the last time I cried during a romcom.  It has been months.  Has falling in love broken me from the deep desires of watching chick flicks.  I definitely need to work through this stuff out.  Chick flicks were such a part of my life before…what now?

What now?