Companion

I have a new love in my life! He is kind of high maintenance and a huge commitment, but playful, cuddly, and so handsome.

He's a young golden mix rescued as a stray - with NO training to speak of. So he has some communication, impulse, and abandonment issues. But who am I to judge?!

I had the kids at school suggest names and got a whole bunch of fabulous ideas. Then on one of our first walks together, my "This American Life" podcast mentioned Bacon County, GA named after Senator Augustus Octavius Bacon, and his fate was sealed. So welcome to the family: Agustus Octavius Bing-Crosby Duke Teddy Pineapple Noodle Luke-Skywalker Fredsterly Kozmo Fuzzy-Wuzzy Zonker Coolio Colonel-Smarty-Pants Bob-Barker Lucky Bacon. 

Though we will just call him Gus. Maybe Gus-Gus for short.

...and working on training him to high five.

Let the Diamonds Sparkle Anyway

I surrender. I am too tired and sensitive for this.
Life is too short to give so much energy to what you think may be missing.

How about trying to focus on what I do have, rather than what I don't?!
Maybe embrace all the kinds of love that are already in my life.

If/when I find a partner, lovely. But I can't seem to work up the energy to put in any more effort at the moment. And I'm actually pretty content in my little life at the moment.

Recently, my parents were changing safety deposit boxes and brought out the diamond ring my grandmother left me. I had always figured that someday I'd use it to make an engagement ring. But I tried it on, and I felt suddenly much more adult - like at least my hands were now more equal with the women who get to wear the expensive sparkly badge of being loved.

I decided to just start wearing it on my right hand. I added a little purple to make it more "me" and hopefully a little less engagement-y. Yes, now at first glance my hand might communicate "not available" to men, but hopefully just to those who don't know their right from their left and/or who aren't interested enough to stick around for a minute and find out.

Enough with the waiting.

Alien Abduction?

Just when I was so proud to be brave enough to try again...
He disappeared. Poof. Into thin air.

So, what are you supposed to do with that? Was I dumped? Should I be hurt? Did something happen to him? Should I be worried? Is he really so scared to face me? Should I feel compassion for him? Or is he dead?! Should I call hospitals?

Once I decide it was most likely that I was dumped... and I go through some good old-fashioned self-doubt and hurt... and then some hearty fury... I move into complete dating surrender. Pretty sure dating is in NO way worth it. I decide I am DONE. Finito. Fertig. Finis. Over it.

(Until, luckily a cute guy at Lulu Lemon who writes his grandma every week started to snap me out of such drastic thinking...)

We had often discussed our mutual experience with depression and battle with the accompanying instinct to withdraw from the world. So I am hoping it is safe to assume he retreated (not died) - either to avoid a difficult conversation or to avoid the world in general - 'cause I'd feel bad about being so hurt and angry if it turned out something actually happened to him.

But then, upon remembering his openness to the possibility of extraterrestrial life...

Maybe they came for him?!

Snakes vs. Aliens

So, you know those great newly-dating flowing conversations about everything and nothing? When you dig into life, love, dreams, greater purpose, etc. and find out all sorts of things about the person for the first time? I love those conversations.

But what do you do when those great conversations veer towards an admission of serious belief in, um... extraterrestrial beings?!

He actually has some great arguments based on historical and scientific research. And the fact that his mind is so open to other ways of seeing things is very attractive to me. And he is aware of how absurd it all sounds to most people.

But I feel a little like it's the snakes all over again. I mean, I want to be open minded and not make rash judgments.

But aliens?!

How Skinny is Too Skinny?

I've always said I can't date a guy who wears smaller jeans than me. Sorry, my fragile body image can't handle being the larger one in the relationship - I need to feel feminine and attractive, so smaller - right? Not that I would ever judge people by appearances (ha!). And not that I would be at all horrified if a guy judged me by those kinds of superficial standards.

So by any chance am I finally mature enough to put happiness over body issues? 'Cause his jeans are definitely smaller.

A friend said something to me a while ago that I have been mulling over. She said she likes me at my current weight better than when I'm thinner - this weight "suits me better". Huh.

More surprising to me than the comment itself was my reaction to it. First, I let myself consider what it might be like to believe her for a moment. Then, I became confused about why I'd never even considered that possibility for myself before.

Um, duh? At some point didn't we decide something about thinness and an unhealthy illusion concocted and perpetuated by inauthentic popular culture? And about the endless pursuit to be thinner actually being a misplaced attempt to cover up deeper emotional needs? I actually do prefer women's bodies that have some softness and curve. And I would whole-heartedly argue that a healthy well-balanced internal and external life leads to a healthy well-balanced body - and that weight, whatever it is, is when someone is most attractive.

But somehow I'm still sure I'd be happier if I were just one size smaller and if everyone stayed on their side of stereotypical gender body norms. Nice.

Luckily for now, he has found ways to express his appreciation for the curves...

What kind of guitar do you have?

So I had an introduction. I walked into a party and my friend got excited and started saying, "Where's Mike? Where's Mike?" I responded, "Uh, who's Mike?" Apparently, Mike is her coworker who she thinks I should date, and her not-so-subtle way to communicate this is to talk to me about it loudly while pointing directly at him. Then, she goes across the room to him, talks excitedly in his ear, and gestures directly at me. Totally not obvious at all. No pressure.

Other folks at the party get in on scheming about how to make this happen. Finally, my friend's husband suddenly yells over to him, "Mike, what kind of guitar do you have?"

Nice. Awkward "guitar" conversation ensues while we all pretend to take this pretense seriously.

But then we relax, the others slip away, and real conversation begins...

Gun Shy

I saw this pendant on etsy recently and was a little worried by how much I loved it...












This winter, one of my fabulous single friends (one of the two, that is...) hatched a plan for us to follow directions from the book "Love in 90 Days" to get back up on the horse. It sounded like something that I would usually be up for (embracing how silly it might be). Yet for some reason I couldn't get myself to even crack the book when it came from the library. (She had told me that the author made you start by saying "hello" to 5 guys, and that was too much for me.)

I've spent the nine months since the end of my last romantic entanglement feeling like dating was the last thing I wanted to do, even though I wanted to want to - feeling like the last outsider at baby shower after baby shower, but powerless to even take a first step anywhere near that road. The only flutters I've even felt have been in completely unlikely or unwise circumstances. I may be guarding my heart from anything that could be real, i.e. anything that could actually hurt. Again.

And I seem to have even gained some weight back to make sure to keep them away.

But the good news is actually that I'm feeling like I might be able to stand to consider trying it again - if and when an opportunity arises. Maybe.

The Trouble With Trouble

You should be very proud of me. My librarian friend's nephew was laying it on thick at her birthday party (i.e. When was I going to let him take me out to dinner? Wasn't I going to stick around for the rest of the evening?). He was plenty cute, ridiculously funny, and the chemistry was definitely ON. But I happen to have enough insider information from hours on the ski lift with his aunt to know that he's definitely not what I'm looking for. At least not right now, if ever. Yet I felt this irrational pull to abandon principle and responsibility by staying and indulging.

Somehow I managed to drag myself away, though a lot more reluctantly than I'd like to admit. Luckily, I had help from a friend who saw exactly what was going on and reminded me to "aim higher".

A little electricity and I'm ready to dive head-first straight into bad decisions? I've been down that very road more than a few times now, and there's no way I don't get caught up and/or end up with an awkward related-to-a-beloved-coworker hangover.  But bad decisions can sometimes be so cleverly disguised... as our Middle School director reminds us, "The trouble with trouble is it starts out as fun."

But the Nephew knows where to find me if he really wants to. C'mon, there are certainly worse ways to pass the time... right?! I still remember fondly the fabulous bad decision who I called "Capital T." to his face (you know, the "T that rhymes with P that stands for pool.") And that turned out fine. After I recovered from the day I couldn't stop crying...

Things that make me happy...

Of all the many open parking spots in the lot, the other Ruby Sue owner chose to park right next to me! (Something I would totally do.)















I didn't have time to stick around and see who the other owner was, but their car was a little messy inside, so I'm kind of hoping it was just a kindred spirit and not actually supposed to be my soul mate - I have enough trouble keeping my own Ruby Sue clean.

Not the Flirt I May Appear to Be

I happened upon a women's "Couch to 5K" running class out of a running store by Greenlake one Thursday night recently, I decided it was serendipitous, and I joined in right there. I figured I've laid some solid ground work on the "couch" part and could use a little push to get going. I don't make that many spontaneous decisions, but the instructor is wonderful, and the group of women is a great mix of ages and athletic ability. It seemed like just what I needed.

I was walking in the door for the second week of class when I heard a voice say my name. Low and behold, it's an old friend from college (who I very briefly dated and) who I haven't seen for at least ten years. So I stayed outside to catch up with him (has a girlfriend, btw). Little did I know that inside the store they were voraciously teasing me for ditching class to flirt with a boy. When I finally got inside, I realized what was going on, turned an appropriate shade of red, and tried to justify my actions to the crowd. I hadn't seen him in years! I didn't know he even lived here! When the subject came up again later on Facebook, I tried to explain that while I am not above ditching class to flirt with a cute boy, that wasn't what was happening!

I made sure to get there on time the next week to avoid any further abuse. And all was going well until our half-way break, when who walks up but the Banker and his dog?! So of course I had to say hello to them! It seemed like an appropriate time since we were stopped and waiting for others to catch up. But apparently I was so wrapped up in my conversation with him I didn't realize the instructor was trying to get us going again...

I was just being friendly, I swear. But I think this is how you get a reputation.

Does He Have a Garden?

So I went to France and very nearly had a torrid foreign affair - unfortunately it only existed in the imagination of the 13 year old girls who I was traveling with... who were sure I was meant for one of the cute young German counselors at the institute where we were staying. I'll admit if I had been at least ten years younger, I would have swooned right along with them. But when I tried to explain the difference in maturity and life-style between a 20 year old guy and a 33 year old woman, saying I am more settled with a house and garden, they simply adjusted their strategy and stared asking guys if they had gardens.

Though I eventually got tired and embarrassed about the adolescent-sized fuss over my love life, their tenacity and amazingly good taste began to convince me that if put to the task of seriously finding an age-appropriate guy for me, these girls could quite possibly get results. (I was kinda hoping the gorgeous ice cream guy in Monaco "had a garden".) So perhaps now when someone asks me about the state of my dating life, I'll just refer them to my new generation search committee for a status.

Almost Famous on the Tangled Web

I have spent some quality time on other blogs lately, and I am in love, love, love with two blogs these days, one of which is What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear? (the other is Gertie's New Blog for Better Sewing). I can't wait to see what they will be posted next. It's like a present in my inbox when a new posting from one of them pops up in my RSS feeds.

So what happens when one of these amazing women comments on my fledgling style blog?! I run screaming through the hall to my friend, who luckily understands the magnitude of this event in my mind. The WWEPW lady didn't really even say much, but she's following it! It's like a legend came to visit ME!

I spent some quality time floating on air, explaining this momentous occurrence to anyone who will listen (and receiving mixed responses), when... up pops another comment on the blog, this time from the actually kind of famous Gemma Cartwright, from Big Girls Browse. Only she's not so happy because I called the name of her site "horrible". Oops. Mortification ensues.

Turns out, I don't know the British phrase "big girl's blouse" to refer to an effeminate man, so I did not understand the name of her site at all. It seemed like she was calling us "big girls" who are only able to browse in the world of fashion? It didn't make sense to me given her perspective of celebrating fashion for non-model sized women, but obviously I should have asked a question or two instead of publicly criticizing what I didn't understand!

And so I learned a great lesson in making sure you really want to stand by what you publish, even when you think no one is reading.

Given this roller coaster of events, I am experiencing a blog-dentity crisis. Does this attention mean I should keep up the style blog as well? I was thinking it was just temporary phase. Someone else was supposed to represent the curvy women. And I'm not sure what my real point is...

What are we all doin on here anyway? Narsisitic self-indulgence? Fishing for connection and community? Waiting for a book deal to find us? Hoping to finally feel heard? I'm not sure why, but I obviously feel compelled. Thanks for indulging me, blogosphere.  :)

Elements of Style

I was sick in bed (again. of course.) for nearly a week and spent some quality time surfing the internet. Somehow, one vintage clothing/sewing site lead to another, and I found a whole list of new favorite resources that I can't believe I didn't know about before... retail sites like ModCloth and Ruche for affordable vintage inspired clothing (a lot like Anthropologie, but without the price tag) and blogs like Gertie, What I Wore, and Sally Jane Vintage.

Thoroughly inspired, especially to use more of my vintage items and things I'm usually too scared to take a risk on, I started putting together outfits. And soon they were hanging all over my room...


As I surfed deeper online, I realized that as much as I loved what I saw, I was constantly having to mentally edit and adjust to accommodate what I saw for what I know about what looks good on my body. Even when they aren't super skinny, none of these people have anywhere near the curves I am blessed/dealing with. Where are the good style bloggers with real bodies? I'd think the democratic, unregulated world of blogging would be all over this. I'm still looking. And wondering if High Five needs to branch out into fashion... but I'm super hesitant to declare myself any kind of style maven or put my own curves up on the internet to be scrutinized any more than they already are in my mirror. But here goes:

One of my "it may appear like I'm dressed up and presentable, but it actually feels like I'm wearing sweats and tennies" looks...























Hoodie: Forever 21
Shirt: Horny Toad via Outdoor & More
Skirt: Lolë via TJ Maxx ($15!)
Scarf: Urban Outfitters sale corner
Leggings: cheap sparkly silver, left over from Tin Woman costume circa Halloween 2007
Shoes: Privo
Lanyard: school ID tag (sorry, shoulda taken that off...)

I'm posting more outfits at High Five Style... until we find someone else who is shapely and more well-qualified than me to style and model.

Fabric Wrapping "Paper"

Sometime around Christmas, a conversation with my mother about a friend of hers who sewed fabric gift bags for her family to use instead of wrapping paper gave me brilliant idea... why not make reusable fabric wrapping paper?! Sew some ribbon to the sides of a fabric rectangle and wrap it around you present. I was sure this was how I was going to simultaneously make my millions and save the planet, but unfortunately someone already beat me to it.

I figured I could make them for way cheaper and was looking for a fun project, so I went to Jo-Ann fabrics right after Christmas, bought fabric for 70% off, and tried my hand at it. They turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself...



I made a few bags as well for good measure, though I do I prefer the act of actually unwrapping when receiving a present.



Now I only have to wait 11 more months to actually use them!

Wing Women

I was out on the town last weekend with my boss and a coworker and his wife. We were sitting around having drinks after attending a student's performance, when a relatively attractive guy comes around offering us hors d'oeuvres of homemade sausage (yes, you can snicker) from the party he was at there. My boss and coworker's wife looked at me and motioned "he's kind of cute, no?" When I nodded, within seconds they had somehow invited him to sit down with us, made him sit by me, and moved around to the other side of the table so he had to talk to me alone. It was some amazing workwomanship.

So I started friendly conversation with the sausage guy. After going through the how/where/why of homemade sausage-making, we moved on to work and play. He was in software design of some sort and was involved in some film projects, which was intruguing. I'm not sure exactly how it came up, but I knew this wasn't going to be a match when he didn't know who Judd Apatow was. He not only did not recognize the name, but hadn't even heard of the 40 Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, much less Freaks and Geeks. Not that I'm the hugest fan, but I think they are funny and kind of pivotal in popular culture humor at the moment. Especially for a guy interested in acting and film making, right?!

So I gently set him free with well wishes. But I could not have asked for better wing women. (Though it is kind of a shock to have a boss play this roll in my life.) I didn't even know such a high level of skill in this craft existed. I may be taking them everywhere I go from now on.

Inked

You may not believe it if you know me very well, but I actually put my money where my mouth is and got that tattoo I've been dreaming of!

Over Christmas break, when I was down in the dumps as usual because of the dark time of year, the change in routine that vacation and the holidays bring, my familial legacy of unfortunate brain chemistry, etc... I yet again withdrew from the world (hence the Twilight).

One day on a walk, the fog lifted slightly and I had a moment of clarity (or insanity; still waiting to decide). I needed to carry a reminder that "life comes back" like I have written about. I needed that tattoo. I needed to throw out worrying about whether other people approve of me and allow myself to risk.

I knew what I wanted. I pinned down a design in the the delicate vine and scroll style I've been playing with - that to me symbolizes life and growth and goodness. The most shocking part of the decision was to put it on the inside of my left arm below the wrist, so it can catch my eye when I need it to.

As soon as I got it, I felt cooler. Kind of in awe. Who is this person who gets tattoos?! Now and then, I do experience some "what the hell have I done getting a tattoo - especially in a place where everyone can see" panic. Luckily, it usually passes as I remember that the whole point of this tattoo was to remind me to let go of exactly that kind of fear that can so easily keep me paralyzed and hidden from life.

My goal is to live long enough and happy enough for it to outlive it's usefulness and to joyfully regret it. But ask me in 30 years.