Happy Halloween!

I was given this luscious Halloween Sweet Treat Award by my friends Trinity and Bobby. Today is Halloween and I wanted to pass on this award to all of the wonderful people, friends and lurkers, who graciously come and read my offerings. Thank you.

SO and I will be doing Halloween Express. Halloween Express means we'll be decorating our home tomorrow during the day, eating, watching scary movies, handing out candy to all the little goblins that come by in the evening, and taking the decorations down as soon as we run out of candy!

I hope you all have a fun day.

Have I Hit The Big Time? My Content Stolen By A Scraper Site!

Oh I just really want to rant now! The post directly beneath this one concerning the "Unsexy" Celebrities according to a certain magazine is listed on a site I've never heard of and allegedly written by someone I've never heard of.

I learn something new every day in the blogosphere and so far it's been pleasant, this however just chaps my hide! The little bit of research I've done leads me to believe there's not much I can do about it; the copyscape logo wouldn't do much because these sites rarely have anyone that can be contacted.

If anyone has had experience with this sort of thing I would love some advice. I am just fit to be tied!

End of rant...for now.

Maxim's Top 5 Most Unsexy Women; It's Time For A Rant!

If you haven't heard, Maxim Magazine, a kind of soft-core porn mag, has released a list of their Top 5 Most Unsexy Women; it's time for a rant folks. My first thought is: why is this list necessary? SO says it's like being on Mr. Blackwell's Worst Dressed List, and there's no such thing as bad publicity, but is that really true?

The list is comprised of:

1. Sarah Jessica Parker
2.Amy Winehouse
3.Sandra Oh
4.Madonna
5.Britney Spears

I don't think being on Blackwell's Worst Dressed List is quite the ding it was many years ago, people either don't care or see it as a indicator of cool. Besides, the unfortunate Gaultier or Versace can be removed after an event, being on a list that for being "unsexy" (is that really a word?" well that hurts.

Despite what media "experts" would have us believe, celebrities are human, they want to be happy and feel good about themselves, why is it fun to undermine someone's self esteem?

I have reached a point in my life where I feel it's more fun to build people up instead of tear them down. When I was younger I had fun being snarky at other's expense but thankfully, I'm not that girl anymore.

Doris "Granny D" Haddock

Last week I wrote a post about the 85 year-old woman I met at the fitting room at Ross, and a couple of days later I saw a film about Granny D Haddock, a most remarkable 97 year-old woman. I'm sure the fact that these incredible women are crossing my path is no accident. I think that as I realize situations in which I'm not that girl anymore I'm being shown what kind of "girl" I can be.

There is a documentary currently running on HBO called, Run Granny Run. Run Granny Run" is a film about a woman named, Doris Haddock; known fondly as "Granny D", who ran for Senator of New Hampshire in 2004 when she was 94 years-old. If you get the opportunity to see this film, by all means do.

There are many interesting things about Doris "Granny D" Haddock:
-when she was 50 she and her husband successfully campaigned against hydrogen bomb nuclear testing in Alaska.
-when she was 89, she walked from California to Washington D.C. in order to raise awareness for the need for campaign finance reform.
-when she was 94, she ran for the Senate of New Hampshire against the incumbent, Judd Gregg. While Doris "Granny D" Haddock didn't win, she got 34% of the vote which was not bad for a woman who was determined not to take any special interest money.

So as my 50th birthday looms on the horizon in 2008, I see women like Doris "Granny D" Haddock and the energetic queen of the fitting room and I find myself sort of relaxing into my future.

When I was younger the idea of being 50 was scary, and not something I could even fathom but I'm not that girl anymore.

Do These Pants Make Me Look Fat?

Hey Everyone,

Been down with a cold, so sorry. SO is keeping me drugged up with cold meds and I've managed to escape for a minute. Enjoy the picture!

Blogging: The Ability To Connect With People

In early September I wrote a post entitled: "More Alike Than Unalike" which, on the surface, was about a reality show but was really about the similarities amongst people looking for love.

The notion of "more alike than unalike" is something that I have been observing more as my journey through the blogosphere and the process of blogging continues. It is also this notion that I believe my friend Bobby Revell from Revellian.com had in mind when he began his Blogging For Friendship Project. Bobby is one of the first friends I made when I began learning to blog, he is always willing to help and places a high value on friendship; indeed he freely admits he blogs for people as opposed to money. Bobby's friends, the team of NAFASG©™ , created the incredible badge shown here to illustrate the message.

Maya Angelou wrote in her poem, "Human Family"

...We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same...

Blogging did not exist when Ms. Angelou first wrote this poem yet today, with a couple of pecks on the keyboard, you could be developing a friendship with someone in China, Guinea, or Spain.

I don't think I'll be going to Malaysia in this lifetime, but my friends Nick, Nessa and Conan-cat have painted vivid pictures of life there.

• Nick has barbeques with friends, boredom at work, cuddle time with his wife.
• Nessa has amazingly funny children and loves to shop.
• Conan_cat is concerned about school and has a lot of wisdom locked in his young mind.

Not so different from lots of people I know right here in the States.

• Gypsy is in Australia, and has mentioned the big spiders they have there, her love for her beautiful young daughters, and the colorful times she had back when she was single.

And then there are my friends in the States, who I may not necessarily know which state they're in but are my buddies just the same.

• Anonymous Boxer-has a wonderful little dog that sometimes shows up in her posts wearing boxing trunks and gloves. She also really does box, but has an unfortunate Starbucks addiction.
• Maria-has a great little daughter who's an old soul inhabiting a child's body, and some of the most colorful relatives you'll ever want to meet.
• Frank-sometimes shocking and inappropriate, but so tender and sweet when talking about his wife and children you'll forget he's shocking and inappropriate.
• Josie-always a kind word for everyone, but racy and spicy and sometimes soul-searingly honest.

These are just a few of my friends. Others that I haven't written of because I'd really have a post way too long, but please know I appreciate and value you all. The real point of the matter is that these people exist not only in the blogosphere but also in the real world. If anything were to happen to them, I'd be undeniably impacted. This is the funny and amazing thing about blogging, the ability to connect with people you might not have before.

Here's What I Learned In The Fitting Room

Today it was time for a little retail therapy and I was very much looking forward to it. I had a couple of gift cards in my purse that were screaming to get out and I wanted to let them.

I found myself at Ross Dress For Less. I really have to be in the mood to shop there; the merchandise is pretty much shoved onto racks with little rhyme or reason apart from sizing. Today I was in the mood. SO and I have some social engagements this weekend and I fancied some new items. Sometimes a new shirt, pair of jeans, earrings, or a pair of shoes can just turn the switch to the "on" position personality wise.

I am pushing my little cart around the store, choosing items and mentally constructing an outfit around each item: "I can wear that black sweater I bought a couple of weeks ago with these jeans, but I'd better go try them on first", so off to the fitting room I go. When I arrived at the front desk where they give you that big hang tag number that denotes how many items you're taking into the room, I noticed the attendant was a senior citizen.

I watched this woman as she worked; she was like a hummingbird. She'd zip over to the desk hand out a number, zip back to the two racks holding discarded clothing, zip back to the front desk again. She was tiring and inspiring to watch. She also was running rings around the other employees who were younger by at least 30-40 years.

I have a few health concerns and I don't always move so well, not horrible but not great. Certainly I'm not up to climbing Mount Rushmore as a very dear high school friend recently did. Some days stairs can be a challenge. HOWEVER this little lady at Ross was moving!
I said to her: "How are you?"

"You really want to know? Come here, I'll whisper."

I leaned forward and she sort of stage whispered, "85".

I said, "Oh, I asked how you were, but I never would have guessed that."

"Oh I thought you asked, how old I was"

"That would be pretty personal" I laughed as I took the hang tag and went in to try on the jeans.

As I pulled on the jeans in the tiny dressing room I thought of the woman; I thought how sad that she has to work at 85. I then had to stop myself because really, I had no idea what that woman's story was but I was creating a dismal picture. She had way more energy than I did, and one thing I know is when you have a lot of energy, you can't just be sitting around. Maybe she's working in order to keep busy.

I wanted to ask this woman why she was working, but somehow that didn't seem like the right question, even insulting. As I left the dressing room and went to the desk to return the number I said, "what's your secret?"

"What's my secret?"

"Well yeah, you look great, you're moving faster than I am , what's your secret?"

"Well, I never drank, never smoked.."

"Good clean living?"

"Good clean living." And she gave me a very sweet smile.

So here's what I learned in the fitting room today at Ross:
-As long as you've got energy, keep moving,
-Do the best job you can,
-And be kind to silly young women who want to know your secret. They'll learn it themselves in time.

And Now A Word To All The Lurkers

There are as many types of people in the blogosphere as there are on the planet. There are funny people, happy people, angry people, depressed people; there are extroverts and the introverts and there are people with opinions about everything and people who keep their opinions to themselves. I just want to take a moment to speak to the last group I mentioned; in the blogoshpere we call them Lurkers.

Lurkers are the people who visit a blog, maybe frequently, but do not leave a comment.

Yesterday, I was reading a blog where a comment was submitted from a long time Lurker. This person said when they discover a blog with a lot of comments, they often won't leave one because it seems like there's an established community already and they wouldn't fit in.

I don't know if you can consider this a blog with "a lot" of comments, but we tend to get a little silly around here, like friends playing nicely together, and I'd like you to join in the fun, if you like.

And even if you decide to stay a Lurker, please know that I appreciate you. Thank you for reading what I have to say, know that you are welcome here and anytime you want, you are invited to play!

Sunday Scribblings: I'm Queen Of The World!

After much hard work I have finally been elected Queen of the World! While I have only just ascended to this position I have been groomed for quite some time. I am, after all the Menopauseprincess.

I have given much thought to the responsibilities and what would be my first act as Queen. My first proclamation is:

There Shall Be No More Prejudice Of Any Type Anywhere!

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they don't share the same color of skin; they have the same need to be loved as you, the same love for their families as you, the same desire for a better life as you.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are poorer than you; they have the same need to be loved as you, the same love for their families as you, the same desire for a better life as you.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are richer than you; they have the same need to be loved as you, the same love for their families as you, they desire and deserve a better life, just as you.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are older than you; they have a wisdom of life experience that you'd do well to listen to, and they deserve respect just as you.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are younger than you; they have a joy of life you'd do well to emulate, and they deserve respect just as you.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are thinner than you; for their own reasons this is the body they choose and it is beautiful.

There shall be no more prejudice against others because they are heavier than you; for their own reasons this is the body they choose and it is beautiful.

This proclamation is effective this day, Thursday, October 18, 2007.



This post was done as part of the Sunday Scribblings

I've Just Got To Do Something About My Blog Rating!

So I was over at my blog buddy, Herb Urban's blog and after a bit of excruciatingly painful laughter over his latest analysis of Grey's Anatomy, I had to leave.

As I was leaving I noticed that he had a rating for his blog; a rating like films are rated. I won't tell you Herb's you'll have to go to his site to find out. I was excited to get my rating because I'm just so pithy and edgy (in my mind). Imagine my chagrin when I was given this:

JustSayHi - Dating

I've just got to do something about this. I want to be like the cool kids that say bad words and talk about s-e-x.

Oh h-e-double toothpicks, if anyone has any suggestions I would be so gosh darned pleased!

Blog Matchmaking

Last week I gave out some awards to some of my blogging friends. The reason I did this is because I wanted to let these people know how much I enjoy their writing or how much fun I have when I visit their site. SO asked me if it didn't devalue the award if so many are given out; my answer to that is no. I think if people didn't care about their writing being appreciated, they'd write in a notebook and call it a day.

If you're anything like me, you probably have your favorites and you visit them frequently. Because I do visit my favorites frequently I kind of know who regularly comments. I was a little flattered when I noticed a comment from someone familiar to me, but not someone who'd previously commented on that site, that said they'd come there because they discovered them on my award post.

That comment felt like a compliment, but after it happened four more times I began to think something was up. I realized that what I had done was a fine bit of blog matchmaking because; those folks seem to be regular commenters on each other's blogs now. I couldn't be happier; it's so much fun when your friends like each other.

What Color Crayon Are You?

Hey Everyone,

I have missed you but I was up until 6:00 a.m. working on a last minute project and to say I'm fried like a piece of bacon would be an understatement.

Still, you have been on my mind and I'd like to give a little something to play with: The What Color Crayon Are You Quiz.

You Are a Yellow Crayon

Your world is colored with happy, warm, fun colors. You have a thoughtful and wise way about you. Some people might even consider you a genius. Charming and eloquent, you are able to get people to do things your way. While you seem spontaneous and free wheeling, you are calculating to the extreme. Your color wheel opposite is purple. You both are charismatic leaders, but purple people act like you have no depth.

What Color Crayon Are You?

This is pretty interesting because yellow is one of my least favorite colors, and I don't think I used it much as a child.

I was more of a red kid, but I'm not that girl anymore.

Mom's Cooking

My mother was born in South Carolina and like most mothers, her cooking style was all her own. I don't know how much of the region was present in her food; it was just "mom's cooking".

My mother tried to teach me to cook as a young girl but I was having none of what I perceived as her efforts to steer me in a woman's role direction. I would have a bright successful future and not mess around with that woman's work stuff. I hadn't figured out the eating part and just who would be cooking my meals.

Later, when I was in college I had figured out the eating part, Top Ramen, Ritz Crackers and weekends going home took care of who would be cooking the meals. I once tried to make an apple pie following the directions on a Bisquick box. The pie literally could not be cut, my roommates and I even hit it with a hammer; it made a loud clang when it hit the bottom of the trash can.

My mother made Southern food; some call it "soul food" but I think that's somewhat of a misnomer. My mother made "comfort food" greens, macaroni and cheese (my mom's resembled a kind of kugel), meatloaf, fried chicken, lima beans, biscuits, corn bread, these were some of her staples and they were like ambrosia to me.

Once during a call home from college, mom discovered I had been on a pre-digested liquid protein fast. This diet consisted of only ingesting a foul tasting liquid and drinking water; I was on the third day of this fast when the call occurred and to say I was hungry would have been an understatement. My mother begins to talk about dinner the weekend I come home, I say no dinner for me because I'm fasting; then follows a brief mother/daughter argument about dieting. Mom decides to take a different approach and begins to discuss what she's making, wow, all my favorite foods, how about that, what a coinky dink! Needless to say, I got to my mother's house on the "first thing smoking" and ate like a crazed weasel! Meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, green beans and biscuits-the health food of my youth.

Recently, as I was making dinner the thought occurred to me to make biscuits. I hadn't really tried to make anything like this since the pie debacle in college but somehow, I knew I could do this. As I was making them I saw myself making them the way I'd always watched my mother make them; right down to rolling the dough with a glass and using the opening of the glass for a cutter. SO exclaimed how good they were, and that they were "picture perfect".

Well of course they were. My mom taught me.

The Wussification of Vampires

My fascination with vampires began with Dracula, he of the widow's peak and and shiny black cape. I was too young to really understand all that blood drinking and swooning but there was something interesting about him. People were afraid of him, whole villages actually, but the ladies still had a thing for him.

A few years later I would discover "Dark Shadows" and Barnabas Collins. I was a still a child but still not getting it; what was it about Barnabas? He wasn't in the front of the line when looks were being given out, but there was just something about him.

Over the years there have been many other movie and television vampires; possibly you have favorites of your own. If you're an older person maybe you think no one could top Bela Lugosi or Klaus Kinski; at the other end of the spectrum many people are still mourning the loss of "Angel". One thing about them, they all had a certain something that made them compelling and strong and dangerously interesting.

We all know the rules; can live forever, must drink blood, mustn't get caught in the sun, must be invited into a place in order to enter. A wooden stake through the heart, holy water and the head cut off is the only way to make sure they're dead because above all these creatures are of great power.

There have been a few signs in the latter years of what I call, "The Wussification of Vampires". They have gotten better looking (what happened to the Barnabas Collins type vampires?), developed consciences so that they don't have to prey on humans (they either only feed on criminals or get their blood from a blood bank) and they have jobs. One thing that was a constant was that power that emanated from them.

The Wussification of Vampires has reached its peak in the person, so to speak, of Mick St. John in the new vampire television show, "Moonlight". I have watched a couple of episodes, so if I still possess the talent to have shows canceled then this drivel should be off the air shortly.

Mick St. John is a private detective, which seems to be the popular vocation for vampires, (you know, they can work at night)and that brings him into contact with bad guys. On a recent episode Mick the Vamp had been chasing a bad guy whom he intended to kill and unfortunately was stopped mid-bite by the arrival of the police. He goes scampering into the night like a scared rabbit (WTF?) and said bad guy goes to jail; but now bad guy knows that Mick is a vampire and when he gets paroled years later he goes hunting for him.

Bad guy is really on top of his game unlike Mick the Vamp and he manages to make it look like Mick is stalking him (normal stalking if there is such a thing, not "vamp" stalking) and has attacked him. Bad guy has no aversion to injuring himself right up to, and including, shooting himself and so Mick looks like the psycho. Oh, I forgot to mention Bad guy shoots himself in Mick's APARTMENT! That's right, he broke in, and was waiting for him when the Vampire was away.

I don't know if you could hear me screaming: "What a wuss!" but I was. This guy is a disgrace to the entire Vampire genre and I am getting weary of his frightened, dear-in-headlights, expression which he wears all too often.

You'll pardon me for the obvious pun but Mick St. John and the show, "Moonlight" sucks.

How Addicted To Blogging Are You?

SO enjoys telling me that I'm addicted to blogging (which is somewhat accurate). Imagine my delight when I discovered a way to actually quantify it.

Um 65%, that's not so bad right? Right?

So what about you? How addicted to blogging are you?

65%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?

JustSayHi - A Free Dating Website

Priceless

While waiting for the weekend re-broadcast of "General Hospital" (yeah, I said it!) this commercial came on and I wanted to share it with you. I think if you come here every now and again it's because you find me mildly amusing and for that, I thank you.

Think of this as a little valentine to you.

Sunday Scribblings: Sorry--I'm Not!

On my visit to obtain the prompt for the week, there was this note on the Sunday Scribblings door:
Sorry, folks. Meg and I are both out of town this weekend and will not be able to put up links -- I think this is the first time in 80 weeks that we've both been traveling on the same weekend! We will be back next week with a great prompt. Hope you all have a fabulous weekend and we'll see you soon!
[Update -- It's 5 am and I'm heading to the airport & saw your comments -- aw, you guys, I feel bad! If you want to use "Sorry" as a prompt, I promise to post the links on Monday!]

My first thought was: "okay, see ya next week", because there's still that 8 year old with the potato inside of me, and there was a "getting out of homework" feel to it that was cool. Then the adult part of me piped up that no one is making me do this every week, I do it for me, and to some extent for you, my fabulous readers. I went back to Sunday Scribblings and noticed that lots of other people had reached the same conclusion; they were writing anyway, and later on there was indeed, a prompt-"Sorry".

What usually happens for me with Sunday Scribblings is something immediately pops into my head, all wordy and wanting to be written, so I sleep on it and the next day something else pops up, something not quite so full of itself and that's what gets into print. But, "Sorry?", I couldn't get anything positive with that, and for some reason I feel like I need to be positive. Not need to be really, but am...so I need to be.

So...I wake up today thinking about "Sorry", and I'm in a good mood just because I'm me and I realized that Sorry--I'm not.

• -I'm not sorry for any of the choices I have made in my life. Alcoholics Anonymous says in a portion of the Big Book: "we will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it". I think that is so eloquent and on point, because all roads led to now, and now is pretty cool.
• -I'm not sorry for the relationships I've had. I may have been plenty sorry when I was in them, but they were training grounds for the two real relationships I have now; with my SO and with myself.
• -I'm not sorry for having days when I just don't care what I look like, or who sees it. You don't like it, don't look.
• -I'm not sorry for being loud, I don't want to live like I'm in a library. I don't know if I'm really loud but SO occasionally tells me I am.
• -I'm not sorry for not wanting to be around people who are overly negative. We all have down times or periods in our lives, but if people only see the world through poop-colored glasses I'll send them good energy-from afar.

• I'm not sorry that I have a pretty open mind. If what you like and believe don't involve harming children or animals--have at it. I'll respect your right to like and believe it, I may even let you tell me about it, at length.
  

As I sit here writing this, I can't say I can think of anything I'm sorry about. I'm all full of my "I'm not that girl anymore"-ness today, and that's a good place to be.



This post was done as part of the Sunday Scribblings

Mini Interview with Josie-One Word Wednesday

There's been some fun stuff going on in the blogosphere, or at least the little portion of it I circle. It's the newest thing that all the cool kids are doing.

My friend Josie of Picking Up Pieces sort of started it; she was interviewed by another blogger and enjoyed it so much she decided to extend an invitation to her readers to be interviewed if they wanted. Quite a few brave souls rushed blindly into the abyss of Josie's questioning and lived to tell the tale.

See, Josie's a real curious sort and she's pretty damned intuitive and bright; she asked these folks questions that sometimes had them pulling their raw feelings out for all to see. I respect these people immensely because that's not always an easy thing to do, but they stepped up to the plate with grace.

For me reading the interviews was kind of like the feeling you might get when contemplating getting on a roller coaster: you think it might be fun, but you're scared. I couldn't step up to the plate for the 5 question interview that Josie was meting out but when she started One Question Wednesday I thought I might be able to handle that. You get to ask one question but you've got to answer one in return.

So, without further ado here is Josie's one question for me, and because I just have to be different here it is on Friday:
I love your "I'm not that girl anymore" byline. Why aren't you, when and how did that change?

That's an interesting question and if I think about it I probably haven't been that girl for some time, years even. It's a thought that fleshes itself out for me more and more as I write these posts. The first thing I thought of when coming up with that name for my blog is my body isn't the same, some of this I elaborated on in my very first post. It's more than that though, my thoughts aren't the same, my desires aren't the same. I think I'm more and less concerned about me, if that makes any sense. I am more compassionate than I was but at the same time I know that the martyr, everyone's-needs-before-mine state of being doesn't really help anyone.

When I was younger, in my teens and twenties I didn't have the best self esteem, though you couldn't tell that by just looking at me. I was a pretty girl but I didn't own that; I had relationships with men who were unworthy of me, friendships that didn't sustain me, toxic familial relationships, I was not cognizant of my own power to change these things. Probably all that began to change when I really started working on my spiritual beliefs in about 1989.

As I became more aware of myself and my self worth, I was able to really connect with people and make very satisfying friendships. A very dear friend died in 1995, and my love for him propelled me to do volunteer work which really fed my soul, introduced me to my SO, and helped me to "get over myself".

My relationship with my SO helped me to learn to stay put in relationships. I grew up with the idea that perfect couples never fought or disagreed ergo, if I am in a relationship and it doesn't feel good then it must not be perfect. This is the first relationship where I've been able to disagree, talk it out, and be happy.

I am learning things about myself all of the time, seeing other ways I'm not that girl anymore, but it's okay because I really like the woman I've become.

The Potato Story

Hello Friends, as promised, The Potato Story.

I grew up in what is now known as South Los Angeles, South Central or Watts depending on which channel is reporting the news. The area is now primarily known for being dangerous, a place that you have to be extra aware of your surroundings but when I was a child that area was a regular, integrated, working class neighborhood. Children could and did go outside to play. We'd skate, bike, play at each other's homes, and the way you'd know it was time to go home was that it was either dark or, your mom would come outside and yell for you.

I was about 8 years old when my mother told me that potatoes could grow from a single potato and I was beyond amazed. I liked potatoes and was curious how this miracle would occur. One day my mother gave me a potato, we inserted two toothpicks and submerged the bottom of the spud in a glass of water.

Then we waited. After a long time (actually about 7-10 days) there were roots in the water and my mom said I could take the potato outside and plant it in the ground. We didn't have a garden in the back yard but there was a large cement area which was probably a mini parking lot. The cement area was bordered on one side by hibiscus plants, on another side there was a chain link fence covered with morning glories, four small garages and a large dirt mountain by the garages. The dirt mountain is where I planted my potato and I couldn't wait to see what would happen.

Then I waited. I would race home after school, change out of my green plaid jumper and watch Dark Shadows, after that I went out to the dirt mountain. I would run out to the mound
and examine the location where the potato was buried. Actually, I would just stand over the area and stare. I would stare and wonder how I would know when the potato was ready. Had it been long enough? No, not yet. Then, I'd get on all fours, get my face very close to the ground and look for something, anything that looked different. Nothing. Disappointed, I'd go back into the house for the evening.

This process went on forever with very little variation. After an eternity in child time (real time about 3-4 weeks) I could stand it no longer. Surely enough time had passed. Think about how children process the passage of time; you know, "are we there yet?"

I had no idea how long the potato should remain planted and I don't remember asking my mother how long it would be. All I knew for certain, with the wisdom of my 8 year-old mind, was that it had been a really long time and I had to know if there were any potatoes!

So I dug it up. Once the first little handful of dirt was tossed to the side I couldn't stop. I kept digging with my little toy shovel and my hands until I'd unearthed the potato, roots and all and examined it. I looked at it and to my surprise there were little, Barbie-doll size potatoes at the ends of some of the roots. I took one off of the roots and bit into it, it tasted like a potato. It was a real, honest-to-goodness potato!

I looked at the potato in my hands, and all the roots with the little potatoes on them and a vague sense of disappointment descended on me. I thought, with the true wisdom of my 8 year-old mind: "I bet if I'd left it in longer, that would have been better".

The metaphor for my life was revealed to me at an early age and to be honest, I wish that I could say I've learned from it. My lack of patience, my inability to leave the potato in the ground long enough has been one of the major challenges of my life.

I know that in a lot of ways I'm not that girl anymore...

...but in some ways I still am.

I'm not that girl anymore is two months old today!

It seems like only yesterday that I wrote my first post explaining what "I'm not that girl anymore..." meant. I've written a number of posts since that first one and you have been kind enough to join me in my journey, for that I thank you.

Being two months old in the blog world is interesting; I've made some wonderful new blog friends and learned a bit more about the blogosphere but I'm still not old enough to be considered a serious blogger. You see, this time period that I'm in separates the girls from the women (or boys from men if you prefer) because it determines who may stick around for the long haul.

For me, while it's extremely frustrating because as I mentioned recently I'd like to monetize my blog a bit (and you can't in many places until you're three months old), it's probably just as well because the one thing I lack is patience.

Tomorrow I will tell you a story that is probably the defining experience in my life, the overall metaphor if you will. My very close friends know it, and tomorrow so will you. Tune in tomorrow for: "The Potato Story"




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Super Long Fingernails? I'm just saying...

Do you ever wish you could see through the eyes of another person? Ever wish you could see what they see? What makes them wear certain things, do their makeup a certain way, wear their hair in a certain style? Well I sure do, but because I'm not that girl anymore, I try not to pass judgment on the appearance of others.

But hell, I'm only human, and not blind.

So.... I'm tooling down the aisles of the grocery store buying some accompaniments for dinner when this woman passes my line of vision, she's wearing a very colorful sleeveless dress, has full wavy hair, and high heeled sandals. I couldn't see her face but I could tell by her overall body she was in her thirties or forties, well good for her, you go girl! She was definitely strutting her stuff. I always like to see women in my age range dressed well-it gives me hope!

Anyway, as luck would have it we both end up at the cash register at the same time, she is just ahead of me. The woman hands her card to the cashier and I get a glimpse of this long talon that is on her thumb, you know the type, it curves under and sort of forms a hook. I take a look down at the floor and sure enough, the toe nails are long and curving off the end of the shoes.

Now, I turned in my fashion police badge a while ago, but goodness! This is where I want to see through another person's eyes, what is it that makes someone see bear claws at the end of their feet and think: "I'm bringing sexy back"?

The talon on the thumb would seem to indicate the whole hand is like that, which just makes my mind work overtime. What does she do for a living with those nails? Can she type? Use an adding machine, use a telephone? a pdh? AND what about the bathroom?

I'll tell you that I live for artificial nails, the glue on kind, they're pretty and pretty cheap, and I can wear them when I want to. Those nails are not very long, but they can get dirt underneath them and I just pop them off after a week and let my natural nails breath. So if I can get dirt underneath my removable nails, what's underneath those super long fingernails? Ewww!