Birthday Vacation Countdown: I'm Beyond Your Peripheral Vision

People talk a lot of shit. Eventually the shit-slinging will come your way. Sometimes it will come from someone you love and thought had your best insterest at heart. You can't control this. I know I'm not a religious person and that my relationship with all things Jesus has been reduced to catch phrases and punchlines, but one thing I've learned to do in my old age is to "let go and let god," whomever your god may be.

I read a quote once that read "What other people think of you is none of your business" and I was all WORD?? But it's true. If someone thinks I'm mean or rude or boring or fat or ugly (someone besides me & The Voices, that is) it's not my problem. This is me--take it or leave it. And if you decide to leave it, well, that's one less birthday cheer I have to write on the Facebook.



Please know that if you can look in the mirror and be happy with what you've accomplished that day, it doesn't even matter what your neighbor thinks. Fuck that neighbor. She's got too much time on her hands anyway. Why is she all up in yours when her kids are running the streets like vagabonds? Fuck her whole life. And just enjoy yours!

*smooches...loving me as is, at least for today*
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I could get used to this "wise" bullshit...

Birthday Vacation Countdown: The "38 Years Of Fabulous" Playlist

I've been around for what seems like a long time, but when you really think about it, 38 years is nothing. Katz Deli in lower Manhattan just celebrated 125 years, and the Brooklyn Bridge just turned 130. So really, I'm like a toddler in the grand scheme of things in New York.

However, look at the range of music that has dominated your radios over the span of my life; isn't it CRAZY? From EWF to whomever the fuck Mackelmore is. I guess I can say I've seen (heard) a lot in my day (I'm preparing for the stories I'll tell my grandkids)! I've highlighted my favorites:

1975 Earth, Wind and Fire - Shining Star
1976 Diana Ross - Love Hangover


1977 Stevie Wonder - Sir Duke
1978 Paul McCartney - With A Little Luck
1979 Peaches and Herb - Reunited
1980 Blondie - Call Me
1981 Kim Carnes - Bette Davis Eyes
1982 Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder - Ebony and Ivory
1983 Irene Cara - Flashdance... What a Feeling
1984 Deniece Williams - Let's Hear It for the Boy


1985 Wham! - Everything She Wants
1986 Whitney Houston - Greatest Love of All
1987 U2 - With or Without You
1988 George Michael - One More Try
1989 Paula Abdul - Forever Your Girl
1990 Madonna - Vogue
1991 Mariah Carey - I Don't Wanna Cry
1992 Kris Kross - Jump
1993 Janet Jackson - That's the Way Love Goes


1994 All-4-One - I Swear
1995 Montell Jordan - This Is How We Do It
1996 Bone Thugs-N-Harmony - Tha Crossroads


1997 Hanson - MMMBop
1998 Mariah Carey - My All
1999 Ricky Martin - Livin' La Vida Loca
2000 Santana feat. The Product G&B - Maria Maria
2001 Janet - All For You
2002 Ashanti - Foolish
2003 Sean Paul - Get Busy
2004 Usher - Burn
2005 Gwen Stefani - Hollaback Girl
2006 Rihanna - SOS
2007 T-Pain feat. Yung Joc - Buy U A Drank (Shawty Snappin')


2008 Rihanna - Take a Bow
2009 Black Eyed Peas - Boom Boom Pow
2010 Usher feat. will.i.am - OMG
2011 Adele - Rolling In The Deep
2012 Gotye feat. Kimbra - Somebody That I Used To Know
2013 Macklemore and Ryan Lewis feat. Ray Dalton - Can't Hold Us

I don't see any big hair bands OR Prince on the list, but T-Pain is only on there once so I feel like I made out like a bandit!

*smooches...groovin' and a-rockin' on my birthday*
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please note: these are the number ones for May 23 for the span of my life, not for the year itself. don't come for me if your favorite isn't on here!

Birthday Vacation Countdown: "Something About--"

--your stance, your presence
holding grinding melodic tones
infusing me with rhythm

your sweat dripping, dangling
off the ends of each curl

your fingers dancing over
chords; their swiftness a
grandeur before me

I wait for that gust of wind
to expose your face, deep
into the riffs and progressions
I close my eyes and I can see it

Your music..
You...

are those your bedroom eyes?

do your lips taste sweet behind
that cloud of smoke, with ashes
scattered about your feet?

do you sway that way
when the lights go out?
if it were just us in a room
with no eyes?

just another cool cat in a top hat?
with something about him?

what would our song be?

*smooches...remembering how we became one eight years ago*
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Irene remembers; she was there when I got my first tat :)

Birthday Vacation Countdown: "All My Possessions For A Moment Of Time"

Beach bums, always!

I've been planning a trip out of town for my birthday for a while now, and originally I wanted to go somewhere exotic and new and just spend a week in another time zone experiencing new foods, lives and cultures with one of my close friends and my sister. When reality set in (read: I looked at my available vacation days AND bank account) we decided on a domestic adventure instead. And that was cool.

Then my very good friend had to pull out of the trip for health reasons and I was bummed, but hey--Mari and I know how to have a good time and you can't fault someone for being ill. So it was all still cool. THEN we find out our accommodations, which were going to be free and comfy, were no longer available, but again, I was OK. Then my calendar confirmed that my period was going to come right smack in the middle of fun times and, in the heat of PMS-ville, I was ready to just say FUCK IT.

But then I watched the series finale of "The Big C" (starring Laura Linney) and checked my diva at the door.

I have a well-paying job with decent benefits that allows me the luxury of planning and paying for a vacation. I have a sister that, although she is almost a decade younger than me, is one of my closest buds. I get to take this vacation, spend it with my sister, and make cool memories, like only she and I know how. I was a little bummed when it all began to unravel, but you know what? I get to leave New York for a while. YES! NO ANNOYING PARK SLOPE FAMILIES TO BLOCK MY MORNING COMMUTE!

In the past couple of years I've been dealing with a bunch of health scares--some semi-serious and others not so much. Any abnormal test results slap me in the face with screams of MORTALITY. I don't want to lay in my deathbed, look back and realize I wasted a perfectly good vacation opportunity because my period was due and that meant beach time would be limited. I want to look back and say "Oh man, Mari and I had such a great time; I was high on Aleve and Cuba Libres the entire time!" And the bonus here? I always indulge my cramps with whatever it wants to eat, and we all know that vacation eating is the BEST kind of eating around. FRIED PORK CHOPS FOR EVERYONE!

Of course, in the end I'll always want more time. Who doesn't want more time? But I want to know that the time I did have was well-spent and appreciated.

Who knew Showtime could make me feel real feelings?

*smooches...reconsidering my aversion to tampons*
-----------
perhaps they aren't the instruments of the devil; I've been known to be wrong in the past...that one time...

Birthday Vacation Countdown: Things I No Longer Give A F*ck About

No fucks given

It's happening, folks! I'm encroaching 'pon 40 at full speed. I caught myself looking back recently, missing the days after my divorce when it was perfectly OK to partake of shenanigans and tomfoolery of the drunk and naked kind, and then I got sleepy and remembered: my body is asking me to fuck all that and slow down.

They were good years, though. Partying until the wee hours of the morning, surviving on fumes and whiskey, barely making rent because my job paid shit. Oh, early 30s, what life lessons thou hast bestowed upon me!

But enough of looking back (besides, my neck hurts!); I'm looking forward now and have decided that the following no longer remains a priority in my life:

1. Unlimited Alcohol Brunches. First of all, that shit is expensive. Second of all, I get drunk off of ONE mimosa these days, and that means I get sleepy, and that means WELP, there goes my whole damn Sunday. Wasted again in Mimosa-rita-ville. Meanwhile my dishes are piling up and the laundry refuses to do itself.

2. Your Pets. I'm really not going to make believe that all of those photos of your cats, dogs, bunnies, parrots, iguanas and all the other critters you've decided to bond with, are cute or worth a minute of my time. It's not OK if your mangy cat rubs up against my pant leg. I DO mind if your rude-ass dog jumps on me. And if your parrot doesn't want to meet my cleaver, it had better shut up while we're trying to have a conversation.

3. Your Kids. There are only a handful of babies I care about right now. The rest...yeah...no. Other people's kids, especially the ones that talk, are just not my cup of tea. I can barely stand my own.

4. Meeting New People. I always knew I would become one of those older people that kids and neighbors steer clear of, so I'm getting ready now. I don't do small talk because RARELY am I into meeting new folks. I've got my set of personal and business relationships and there are very few openings for your third cousin twice removed. Unless, of course, he wants to publish my stories and pay me a bundle.

5. The U.S. I am slowly transitioning from a full-fledged, ride-or-die American to one who is ready to chuck it all and give deuces to this bitch-ass'd place. No explanation needed. You live here. You see what's happening.

All of my over-35 readers: feel free to share the BS you've stopped caring about as you cruise into the golden years.

*smooches...making room for my real life to begin*
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this post brought to you by my birthday and PMS Week. This doesn't mean I don't mean what I've written, I just don't mind sharing it and am not concerned about sparing feelings.

Go On And Love Yourself

Yesterday during physical therapy, as I was trying to get through holding a plank for as long as possible TEN TIMES IN A ROW, I curled up into folded-leaf child pose and whispered to my body, "I hate you." Instantly I felt bad about that, but I meant it.

I hate that this body, the same one that showed such promise in modern dance all those years ago, could barely hold a plank for more than 11 seconds. And every time the PT stretched my piriformis muscle (GIRL I'm picking up so much in these sessions. Soon I'll be a freakin' PT!) I wanted to cry out, give up and go home.

It's just too much. It hurts so much. And yes, at that very moment of trying to compete all the plank reps, as well as at various times throughout the day, I hate(d) my body, for every thing it can't do and every things it does. It's clearly evident that I hate this body by the way I mistreat and mis-feed it. Somewhere along the way, my body and I had a falling out and have never sat at the table to talk it out. We only sit at the table to eat.

But those bitter thoughts aren't going to help me get through these sessions. I thought I'd be done by the end of May and instead it's looking like mid-July before I get a reprieve.



I'm trying to get to a place where I look in the mirror and smile at myself. A real genuine smile. I foolishly thought that male attention and validation would make me love my body but it didn't. I have to love it on my own terms. I'm not sure how to get there, but I'm looking to buy a ticket for that journey.

Folks, I want you to know that the only validation you need in life is your own. You need to go to bed at night at peace with yourself, knowing you fought the good fight, were kind to yourself and others, and really did your best. This is what I'm working on. This is what I want you to work on. I want all of us strutting down the street genuinely believing we are hot shit.

Can the church say Amen?

*smooches...realizing self-esteem is not my strong suit
----------
maybe I just need more suitors...or less gray pubes...

Tales From The Motherland, Part 3

Climbing up the mountain
to see Las Caritas

I went back to Santo Domingo again in March for another mini family vacation, and it was AMAZING. Last year our trip was so short and under the cloud of a death in the family, and while it was nice it was also very lacking. This time around we had a few extra days to lollygag all over the island, so we asked my Tia Iris to take us to La Descubierta. And let me tell you, it was the best decision ever made EVER.

Part of me doesn't want to tell you about this place so as to keep it safe from your touristy feet. I mean, look at what you've done to Brooklyn! However, I will tell you a few things to at least give you a taste of what an amazing time we had, and also why I've decided to retire out there instead of here in the States.

At one of the many
local swimming holes

First of all, the town is about five blocks long and quaint as fuck. No Starbucks, McDonald's, Saks Off Fifth--none of that bougie bullshit America supposedly cannot live without. You can't really get a huge variety of foods--that whole "avocados don't grow here anymore" nonsense had me ready to leave--but what you do get is still delicious. There is dancing in the streets. Clothing...what is clothing? There are more chocolatey people than vanillas. The swimming holes have some of the coldest, crispest mountain water flowing through them. Kids are kids. And even when the power goes out for days, you find yourself more comfortable and at peace with life than you've ever been.

After a while, you get used to
the cold water.

There's a beautiful lake. Iguanas that walk up to you and say "que lo que!" Remnants of our Taino ancestors. Mountains; GLORIOUS mountains. And more family than I know what to do with. Haiti, just 25 minutes away by car. Sexy baseball players a few towns over (more on that later!). FAMILY HISTORY.

The girls and I had a lot of fun. I feel so lucky to have been born into the family I have, and to have roots in that island. I read three books and wrote the beginnings of five stories while I was there. What better place is there for me?

*smooches...itching to go back*
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only thing I don't miss? monster-sized roaches!

Pausing

"Did you say it? 'I love you. I don't ever wanna live without you. You changed my life.' Did you say it? Make a plan. Set a goal. Work toward it. But every now and then look around. Drink it in. 'Cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow." -Meredith Grey, "Grey's Anatomy"

A few months ago, I found out a family member, barely 40 years old, had open-heart surgery. Say WHAT, now? Yeah, if anything will make one stop and smell the roses is coming face-to-face with mortality and possible loss... Then there's my impending visit to see what changes, if any, have occurred in Uterine Fibroid Town.

Everyone keeps telling me, "stop with the What-Ifs until you get results" but you know what? I have kids. And debt. And many pending projects. I need to have a plan A, B and C at the ready. If my fibroids have gotten significantly bigger, I will most likely have the myomectomy. Just typing that makes me sad, especially when thinking of the money I spent on naturopaths and holistic counselors to avoid that fate. But I need to be prepared for that outcome; that's how my brain works. I need worst-case scenarios planned out to help me sleep at night. I just need to lose my shit before I can make myself feel better.

So for the next few weeks, if I seem a little less accessible or enthused with what's going on in your life, you'll know why.

Now, please excuse me while I go eat my feelings...fuck a bikini summer: I want empty calories NOW!

*smooches...wishing the weather would get better & fix my mood*
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the sun would definitely lessen my stress levels. BLERG.

Shop Talk

Just so you know, I'm surrounded by ain't-shit people everywhere I go.

Co-Worker: Should I schedule my OB/GYN appointment for my birthday?

ME: Why not? It's your vagina's birthday, too.

Co-Worker: True...

This won't require sensitivity training from HR, right?

*smooches...showing you why my job is awesome*
----------
the conversations we have here...man...listen...

Before Latinos Had Reggaeton...

...they ruled the airwaves with freestyle/house music.

Man do I remember those days! Here in NYC I think you can still relive the 90s house & freestyle era on WKTU (if the station's format hasn't changed. I don't listen to radio anymore. Commercials make me break out in hives!).

Need your memory jogged? Here are some of my favorites:

Geroge Lamond - "Where Does That Leave Love"


TKA - "Louder Than Love"


Corina - "Give Me Back My Heart"


2 in a Room - "Wiggle It"


Sweet Sensation - "Sincerely Yours"


Cover Girls - "My Heart Skips a Beat"


Do you have any near and dear to your heart?

*smooches...kickin' it old school today*
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did you peep this fashion, though? craziness!

She Is Frequently Kind And She's Suddenly Cruel

Part of being a recovering Catholic is dealing with residual guilt. About everything. Earlier this week K asked me to do her hair, but I was in the middle of my morning routine and it's so important to me to stay on course, so I told her no. The guilt followed me all day.

On Wednesday, when the rain was out of control, N reminded me that she didn't have an umbrella, or rather she didn't know where her umbrella was. I responded with, "Why should I give you mine and get soaked because you don't keep after your stuff?" Again, guilt followed. I ended up giving her money to buy an umbrella and walked her to the bus stop with mine.

Times like that I have to remind myself that I'm a good person. I love my family and I do for them whenever I can. Same with my friends. So if once in a while I decide to look out for me and my happiness, I should not feel guilty about it.
 



I'm still a good person. And most of y'all are good people, too (except for YOU; you know who you are!). Don't let anyone make you feel bad for taking some time to enjoy your own company or do the thing you really want to do for yourself, whether it be a solo movie date, a solo ice cream-fest or a solo day on the couch with iTunes and overdue library books.

Personal time is my right; it does not make me "bad" to indulge in it.

*smooches...about to engage is some selfish activities*
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and I won't apologize for it, either!

What I Learned Last Night

My mom raised me to be an independent woman who could do for myself. To never need anyone and to always know how or find a way to keep a roof over my head and food on my table, by myself. And I've always prided myself on achieving just that. Not only do I bring home the (uncured, grass-fed organic) bacon and fry it up in the pan, I know how to unclog my tub, fix a leaky toilet, troubleshoot my computer, patch up a hole in the wall, build Ikea furniture AND cut a motherfucker's throat if he TRIES IT. Who needs a man? My Mami taught me to do for me! I don't need anyone!

I decided after my divorce that if the mythical ONE ever presented himself to me, he wouldn't be someone I needed because remember: I don't need anyone. He'd be someone I WANTED. And I figured that should be enough for him, right? Because to be wanted is a gazillion times better than being needed, right?

But here's the thing--WANT turns into NEED. Did you know that? I didn't know that! Completely took me by surprise. All of a sudden, you're minding your own business and the thought pops up: I DO need someone. And not to fix shit or pay bills, but to be a soft, safe place for me to land. You know who had that? My Grandma. Papi was her soft, safe place to land, and they had a cool marriage. She cursed him out, he laughed it off; it was perfect.

Last night over drinks and nachos (yes, I had nachos. Shut up.) and relationship talk, I realized that what Papi and Grandma had, I want.

And NEED.

Wait- is this what grownups talk about? AM I FINALLY A GROWNUP?!

*smooches...finally getting some of that wisdom I was promised*
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youth is really wasted on the young...

Bikini Summer?: A Healthy Jaded Update

Where to even begin? Last time we spoke I shared my MRI results with you and the fact that I was told to go to physical therapy to fix my back. I've been going (UGH!) but I've not found my groove yet and neither has the therapist. Frankly, this whole process is going way too slow for me. Every week I ask "Can I work out on my own yet?" and every week he laughs and says "Maybe in a few weeks." It's been a few weeks and still my gym membership is on pause. Fucking-motherfucking-fuck!

I did get a maybe on yoga, but he added that I should avoid any of the forward bends. (Well, there goes my social life. RIM SHOT. PUN INTENDED!!!) But, errr, isn't 50% of yoga forward bends? What would be the point of going? And there's still a definite NO on personal training and HIIT workouts, and a "change of subject" when I asked about socacize. PHYSICAL THERAPY IS THE DEVIL'S HANDIWORK AND IS RUINING MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. There, I just needed to get that out.

The better news is my eating has been okay. Not great, but I've not resorted to eating McDonald's again. I'd say that 80% of the time I'm eating well and clean and healthy. That other 20% happens when I'm stressed or PMSing or I've breathed in oxygen; these things trigger my desire for Haagen Dazs, pizza, wings and chicken mole tacos from Maya Taqueria on Vanderbilt. OH MY GOD I want one right-the-fuck-now! Sorry, I'm supposed to be focusing on the good.

I'm still making sure I eat breakfast most days; about 99% of the time. Today was the first day I bought take out at work in over a month (and it was just $3.50 for two pieces of jerk chicken and five pieces of plantains from Christie's on Flatbush...although I was so tempted to get a chicken patty with coco bread!). And I've almost completely stopped shopping at Foodtown in order to get fresher food at Trader Joe's. I feel okay about these changes (which seem to have become permanent changes) but I know I could be doing more.

And of course I need to be doing more in terms of eating right because my Nazi physical therapist won't let me train hard. He's all "I'm going to put this on the lightest weight and just give me ten reps real slow." ARGH!! HULK SMASH! I don't even break a sweat! I have to resort to putting the warm-up bike on a super-high resistance and "gunning it" just to feel like I did something. All that beautiful gym equipment and I'm in the therapy room doing pansy-ass leg lifts. LEG LIFTS!

Listen, I'm going away for my birthday, to a place where the sun shines so bright and makes you so happy to be alive. And all I wanted for my birthday was to be able to rock a bikini on the beach like a true badass, as a precursor to playing mas in the West Indian Day parade. This past weekend, I even bought the stupid bikini, and it looks okay as long as I stretch my torso, suck in my gut and never breathe, eat or sit. If I can do that I'll be the sexiest bitch in purple EVER.

This photo was Take-100 because I had to make sure and
give you the illusion of a fit Jaded body!

But I wanted to look MORE than okay and time is already running out. YES, I should just follow the therapist's orders and NO I shouldn't be so worried with my looks and instead focus on being healthy, but you know what? I DON'T CARE.

Don't be fooled, folks- I'm in this for the bragging rights. For the pure pleasure of making bitches cry when I walk in the room looking fabulous. If I can bench-press your mom or run up the steps at West 238th Street in Riverdale and not get winded as a result of working out, well, that'd be a nice cherry on top. But on the real? I just want to look fly!

*smooches...having a Come To Jesus meeting with myself*
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the good thing is, I still understand that it will take hard work to look and feel great; no easy outs for me. but sometimes, I do wish there was a pill...

Still The Same Ol Jadeds

K: Why isn't anybody listening to me?

ME: Because you're insane.

K: I'm insane?! You're not wearing any pants!

N: Who wears pants?!

*smooches...from my computer desk, pant-less*
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we've always been clothing-optional; I don't know why K is acting brand new!

Mari Is A Poet

I don't know if Mari remembers this poem she wrote, but I feel like she'll need a healthy reminder to get her through this week. We'll be in the sun real soon, boog. And I love you!

I Am
by Mari

I am from the hopes of an immigrant family
struggling to find purpose in the deception of the land of opportunity
I am from the tears of poverty and
the joys of an urban childhood
I am from the home of the latch-key kids
forced to grow up way before our time
I am from plastic covered couches and tacky curtains
I am from the vibrant rhythms of merengue and the sultry passionate bachata
I am from the city that never sleeps,
where people are too rushed to look each other in the eye,
where the subway system is as complex as the cultural makeup of the neighborhoods and barrios
I am from Salami Induveca, platanos and Tang Mango
I am from the hand-me-down clothing that my sister once wore proudly and I wore grudgingly
I am from the communal Bedford Stuyvesant Head Start, the Afrocentric PS 3, the culturally resistant Big Tree Elementary, the cultural mixing bowl Ben Franklin School 13, the rigorous and utopic Townsend Harris High and the "open doors, open hearts, open minds" of Cornell University
I am my mother's daughter, my apple of my grandpa's eye, the pride of my older sister
I am the great Dominican hope, the ticket to greater success
The "smart" one
I am from a sheltered past that forced me to break free
I am from a warm church pew where I was taught to love, serve and give my all to worthwhile causes
I am from a double consciousness- an awareness of the American privilege afforded me yet a need to reaffirm the culture that is smeared across my face, in my hips, in my speech- It permeates all that i am
I am from a place of utter complexity and desired simplicity
I am from so many places and so many things
I am they and they are I

*smooches...eager to get #SisterSummer2013 started*
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just me & my Boogs causing trouble all over the south!

Jaded Photographs: May 2013 Edition

"Island Living"

I love that this is the place we get to call home at least once a year.

*smooches...planning for my retirement already*
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I can't even wait to go back next year. like, I've already planned it!

You Got To Know Your Role In This Living Masquerade

Okay, so listen. No matter where you work or who is in charge, there will exist a situation where someone else fucks up and leaves you with a mountain of shit to scoop. It happens all the time. None of us will be left untouched by this phenomenon. It. Will. Happen. And when this goes down, you're going to want to whine about it, and complain, and place blame on the fuck-ups and tell the world how terrible they are and how burdened you've become with having to play fix-it to their faux pas. You will want to tell everyone within a flung-cat's distance about your woes in order to gain more allies in your "Woe Is Me" campaign. I know because I've done it.

But you know what I've learned since being at my current job (almost THREE WHOLE YEARS NOW, BITCHEZZZ!) and having to work with the KING of all complainers? Sometimes, in order to get the job done, you've just got to shut the fuck up and suck it the fuck up. Plain and simple.



Nobody likes cleaning other people's mess, but standing around complaining isn't going to make the mess go away. You have to face the situation from whatever the starting point is and MOVE FORWARD. Get the job done. Later, we can sit at the conference table and have a post-mortem about who fucked up and what is the best way to avoid that in the future. Or if it can't be avoided and the perpetual fuck-up can't be replaced, how to best anticipate their sloppiness. That's all you can do. OR, you could up and leave.

Me? I've learned to just assess the situation and problem-solve as best I can. I mean, what I look like getting my pressure all up for some shit that's not even important in the grand scheme of things? Every time I'm faced with that I just play mas in my head and push on, and every two weeks I'm handsomely rewarded with enough money to keep a roof over my head and food on my table.

Besides, it's usually the ones who do the most complaining about OTHER PEOPLE'S MISTAKES who fuck up the most. Just saying.

*smooches...wishing folks would just be happy for once*
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and I mean, look, if you're not good under pressure and can't think on your feet, then this ain't the job for you.

No Country For Reluctant Cougars

ME: I think I'm a cougar :(

FRIEND: Why? You don't even like sex.

ME: Wait- is he gonna want sex? OH LAWD!

FRIEND: Yes.. lots of it

ME: But... my back!!! *weeps*

FRIEND: You could always just lay there

ME: Did you just tell me to Kim Kardashian my way through sex?

FRIEND: Look where it got her!!

*smooches...I might need new friends*
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who just lies there in the bed like a dead fish?!

Look What The Cat Dragged In

Yes. I decided to pick this whole blogging thing up again. It was a very peaceful break and I truly enjoyed my time away, to the point that I toyed with shutting down altogether. But before we get into all that, we dance!



Anywhores, I decided to stay for a bit and see if maybe I can learn to love this again. The thought of quitting for good was a bit frightening, especially because the idea popped in my head during PMS Week, and we all know that's a horrible time to make major decisions. Today I woke up sans cramps, so, you know, I won't quit just yet.

So what's been happening since we last spoke? Lots! But if I tell you everything here I won't have material to last me the month, and frankly I'm trying to make it to the end of May without dippin' out again.

I will give you this much: I'm still happily employed at a job I love, I'm still writing, both my kids are relatively happy and healthy, and I'm giving my pseudo-romance another chance. AND there are cats in my cubicle; they get me through the day.

There's also a bunch of stuff to read on my other sites, too: BaobabWellness.org and RaquelPenzo.com. You should definitely stop in for a read (and see how I've been shamelessly cheating on The Jaded NYer).

How have YOU been?

*smooches...trying to get comfy in this space again*
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is anyone still even reading?