My House is a Wreck, but I’m Happy!

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Are YOU living the dream?

Last week I was able to be a part of a small audience of Bloggers on the Anderson Cooper Live Show. What a fun experience!

Poster in Lincoln Square, NYC @me

And it was mostly because of this crazy blogging thing I have been doing since the beginning of this summer. Since I have stepped out of my comfort zone at the urging of many and started a personal blog, I have been able to be a part of a growing community of writers young and old, and I have had the chance to meet some of my favorite celebs in the blogosphere like Ree Drummond-The Pioneer Woman–and The Anderson Cooper folks. I have also met some peeps famous in the blog community that I admire. To say I’m a little starstruck is an understatement.  But what opportunities in the last six months!

So last week I went and had lunch with my gay husband who is moving to New Mexico with his partner this winter. Long time Atlanta residents, they are looking for a change and are excited and jazzed about a new life out west and starting over. I will truly miss him and he is the only one I know that can get me out of a police situation in the city of Atlanta. So no more sneaking in abandoned buildings with our photo gear to shoot graffiti or meeting me in Midtown to shoot DragonCon. Boo hiss. But I am so excited for their new chapter in their life. Living the dream.

My Photo Accomplice…@me

A lovely couple that I sold a house to over 10 years ago have opened the coolest new design and furniture shop in downtown Atlanta called Steve McKenzie’s. Steve used to have the big corporate job and has now opened a store with his own fabrics, art, and a line of the most fabulous French made furniture you will ever lay your eyes on. I walked in last week and said. “Congrats! You are living the dream!” and Steve exclaimed, “Yes! We are!” With a huge twinkle in his eye. Steve and Jill have such an incredible eye for design, their home has been in Traditional Home Magazine among others. And we both share a passion for folk art. They are stepping out and taking a big chance in this economy but I am certain they will be successful. Living the dream.

@Steve McKenzie’s

Sometimes, I make jewelry. When I am in the mood. And I tend to make more during the winter months because I sit at my kitchen table in terrific sunlight and get all inspired and shizz. Makes BC crazy when I crap up his spot at the table. But anyhoo…a new friend I met had raised three kids and then was served with divorce papers. After all was said and done she rehabbed an old cottage in North Georgia and has a very successful art and gift shop called Cool Bees. She brought FUNKY to my part of town and I sell my jewelry there occasionally. Where else can you find a hand painted Grateful Dead stool in Cumming, Georgia? Times sure have changed. And she is living her dream.

I am so proud and inspired by my friends.

Terry’s stool at Cool Bees @Cool Bees

I am still trying to find out what EXACTLY my dream is. I am writing for the first time in years. I am back in the antique market business rehabbing and blinging out vintage handbags. And I am doing my photography.

My house is a wreck, but I am happy.

Are you living your dream?

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I Flashed My Tan Off This Weekend

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Dark foundation all over-including half my bathroom!

It’s hard to be hot mom at Halloween when you are closing in on 53 and are always hot. As in the FLASH kind.

We have a neighbor who has an annual Halloween party every year that just about every one in the hood has been to at one time or another and yes, the adults DO dress up. And because of that, I love this party. Most folks really take the time to think up creative costumes. And the with the amount of effort that my girlfriend puts in to fixing up her house and serving us food and drink deserves that.

Trying to think of a great costume when the only one you KNOW you will be comfy in is the Honey Boo Boo or June outfit (you know, roomy, lotsa makeup, elastic pants..)take up a good part of my October. And those temporary Halloween costume stores are  overpriced. And the freaks who work there give me hives. And, did you notice that all the hot moms get their shit there? Did you also know it is headquarters for slutty women’s and teen’s outfits? I am sure you do.

And it is the ONLY store where I have to buy a costume in a woman’s size. Only. Really bad fucking marketing creepy temporary Halloween stores, really bad.   None of which do not include the words vixen, french maid, officer good body, or beer girl. More like maid, sumo, funny waitress, Baby Bop, kill me now.

So this year I decided to go as the New Jersey Tan Mom-easy peasy–all I needed was dark foundation, light glossy lipstick and I had a blonde wig from last year which I cut.

I was a hit!

Some of my friends really were creative.  One couple was LMFAO, one of my recently divorced girlfriends came as EX Bride of Frankenstein (it was hilarious), One guy came as a picnic table with food on it, there were also 50 Shades of Grey, Pitbull, and Waldo costumes. I had a great time.  Was over served too much red wine (well, I kept serving myself). And was extremely comfy.

Except I flashed all my tan off.

Next time, I am going as a refrigerator.

Tan mom and 16

To Tat…or not to Tat….

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I just came across one on the funniest posts about tattoos that I can remember–you can read it at Adventures in Estrogen–a fall down hilarious and true blog that I came across today. And it got me thinking (oh, no, not that again…), what is the purpose of this permanent adornment of our body parts?

A couple of years ago, my BFF in Dallas and I were discussing what we were going to do on our 50th birthdays, which were coming up in a couple of months. And, we came up with the idea of the purest form of rebellion for our age group-and a sure way to piss off our husbands. Let’s get a TATTOOOOOOO!!

GOP, Dude! Source USA Today

So it was decided that we were going to meet and have a couple of glasses of wine. Then find a nice tattoo parlor and she and I were going to get cute little horseshoes tatted on our ass region as a shout out to the fact that we MADE it to 50, we were still married to the same guys, and that we are independent, but barely sober adults getting tattoos. We figured that later, in the nursing home when Gladys was changing our diapers, that it wouldn’t be that noticeable and maybe not too faded. I mean, what harm can this do?

Is it not enough that we wear clothes with labels on the outside (Tory, Kors, etc), handbags with LV’s and G’s and Baby Phat plastered on them, shoes with giant C’s on them, even underwear with messages like ‘Not Tonight’ plastered on the rear? Do we have to show to the world that we have just spent a ridiculous amount of money having a butterfly permanently inked on our lower back (tramp stamp) or better yet, a ‘Where’s Waldo’ tatted behind our ear?

Uh, ok… Source @The Secret to Humor is Surprise

Nope, not enough. 50 years ago, the tough dudes had MOM tatted on their arms and shoulders. Bikers had tattoos. Now it has become mainstream. Bummer.

Even my 92 year old mother-in law said in a convo about this a couple of years ago that she had always wanted a little rose tattooed on her ankle. Why does the neo-conservative set (BC included) think it is so trashy? If they are not obnoxious, I think they can be cute. I mean, I could have a Lily Pulitzer seahorse inked on my wrist and it would look so awesome with my multicolored bracelets and jewelry and shit. Hey-that’s an idea….

The neo’s are just scaredy cats. They are such weenies when it comes to expressing themselves. Hell, I think they reason why most of them are so uptight is that they won’t fart in public. Much less have an elephant tattooed on their shoulder. Would do them some good.

The tattoo shop near my home, in suburbia, no less, is really nice and upscale and probably over-priced. Did you ever think you would see upscale and tattoo parlor in the same sentence–anyway, they are next to a really cool martini bar. Maybe this was planned.

So, if me and BFF end up at the happy hour half priced martini bar when she comes to visit and then whip out our credit cards and drop trou at the parlor (darling) next door, I promise. I will post a picture…..

If it ain’t drippin–it’s draggin…

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GIRLZILLA!! Nice pearls…

Warning-this is for those of you who are entering the meno-zone or are there or about to. Or if you are just weird, fine, keep reading.

I am trying not to get all ‘menopausey’ on you all. But the truth must be told. There is a reason they call it >>>THE CHANGE>>>>

A couple of years ago, in my PERI days, one of my older gal pals would say, “If it’s not drippin, it’s draggin.” She is one of the funniest and coolest 60 plus year old’s I know. She also hoards cats and her car looks like she lives in it.
But she of the tan cowhide leather skin, moo moo dresses and hippie earrings was true. THIS is what we can look forward to.

THE CHANGE:    Coined, I am sure, by men, because all of a sudden that sweet little housewife who would fake orgasms on a daily or weekly basis has now turned into GIRLZILLA. Wearing a wonder woman bathing suit and ordering take out. She has raised children, driven a minivan, uses boxed hair color, cleaned his home, ironed his boxers, picked up his socks, endured teenagers, washed the dishes, cooked countless meals, put up with his beer belly, and all of a sudden she wakes up one day and says ‘ HOLY CRAP, I’M IN MENOPAUSE, AND I HAVE NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT!“. She starts speaking her mind, drinking wine, faking headaches instead of orgasms, finds a cool job, or finds a cool girlfriend, gets a bikini wax….

Who IS this creature?

Guys, she is nothing to be afraid of.  Girlzilla just needs some space.  Give her a big bottle of Merlot, a box of chocolates, and a Nordstrom’s credit card and you will be kept alive. For a brief amount of time, anyway.  Just be sure to keep the wine flowing and the credit card unlimited.  Then you will not be eaten in your sleep.

This is also about the time that said husband may have a mid-life crises and buys a corvette.  Fine, guess what-WE have midlife crises too.  Because our hormones are now dictating just about everything in our body.  They are saying things like “I need more shoes–I need a facelift–I need a tummy tuck–I need a Gucci bag or  the Gucci coochie (another post on that later)–I need a tan pool boy…”

Parts start to shift.  If you never got implants, now may be the time for those half-cookie things to raise’em up. A full on bikini wax may not be such a good idea if you had kids –those parts start hanging down and looking pretty angry (hence the Gucci Coochie-seriously, it’s a surgery),   Acne can show back up again.  Age spots show up on our hands and legs-especially if you tanned, like I did, in the 70’s with baby oil and iodine and one of those face reflectors.  Maybe tampons are a thing of the past.  But HELLO maxi pads-they aren’t just for periods anymore….

And a Flash Mob has a different meaning to us.  The reason more couples get divorced during this time is, I am sure, that they have fought over the thermostat one too many times and he has just given up.  I now know why the best-selling top at Chico’s is the tank top.  I have 30 of them.  And this heat thing shows up differently on many of us.  All of a sudden I just get sweaty–not too bad–and then my personal summer disappears.  I know some Girlzilla’s out there get full on red-faced sweaty, not all experiences are the same.  And many of our mom’s were of the generation of not talking about it. ( Big momma would but she had a hysterectomy in her late 30’s and has been Girlzilla ever since). So we are sweating thru this alone.  Just think of it as your inner child playing with matches……

Comes with tiny tissues and tiny fan

I know, I know, it’s sometimes hard to find humor in the fact that you are now going to the dermatologist to get skin tags taken off under your boobs.  But, we have such a full brain of knowledge, empowerment, and crack comebacks to our challenges that this can be hilarious, if you let it.  I truly believe God knew what she was doing when she let us have all of these experiences.

But no worries, Girlzilla’s, I have your back. It’s not over.  So go out  there, put on your Jockey French Cut Underwear and conquer the world.  There is still time….

I Put my mom in facebook jail

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Sorry but the Plate should say BULLDOGS

I had to put my mother in Facebook Timeout. It’s what you do when you get a lecture about being online entirely too much by a family member.

This is not the first time we have had this conversation. She was at a family function about 6 weeks ago and my cousins, who are around my age laughed and said I was on it all the time. Now, you know, if you are logged in and not ON Facebook, it shows you as on-line. In my other life I am a real estate agent as well as a trainer for a large wonderful real estate company. Social Networking for agents is what I teach. Over and over again. I also show them how to create business pages and create Twitter accounts. So, I am online like, ALL DAY, mom…..

She is 75 and recently got an iPad. She has become dangerous with Facebook, texting, suggesting apps, and reading CNN all day long. She also creeps on my news feed. She doesn’t miss a thing. Oh, and she is also a real estate agent. Just sold a 700K house. That is more production than me this year, but I digress.

Yesterday afternoon, I called to check in and she started asking me questions about who is sick on my timeline, who just had a baby, and what is this mermaid thing. Then she added–‘You really are on Facebook a lot.’ For the umpteenth time.

Mom, I am 52, have a teenager, been married 23 years to the same man, try to keep my house clean, have a great job, have lots of friends, am not in rehab, and haven’t asked you all for money since 1986.

So, I came home and blocked her. Well, actually I accidentally unfriended her. Last nite. It took her about 8 hours to call me this morning and whine-YOU UN-FRIENDED MEEEEEEEE!!!

I kinda like the term, Facebook Timeout. I had 24 hours of freedom-I should have posted nude photos of myself and stuff but Facebook would have called DFACS and taken my teen away.

Now, the mermaid-well, I guess I am busted. Mom, if you show up here, just be ready to accept that I may use some words like: douchebag, penis, vagina, WTF, FBomb, and my favorite word of all time–SHIT! I will try to enhance my vocabulary and get out my Roget’s Thesaurus to try to find a comparable word but I don’t think that is gonna happen. I may also joke about my religion, my bodily functions, and male strippers. But this is all in fun.

After all, you were the one who told me about the 50 yard douche (water skiing), read 2 of the Grey books, and also told me before I got married that the secret to a happy marriage is this: If he isn’t horny, make him a sandwich!

Don’t forget about nature vs. nuture-my sense of humor is from you and dad (the man who would not pay for the band for my wedding unless they played “Shout“). So now I gotta figure how to bail big momma out of Facebook jail.

I love you, mom. And enjoy…..