Saturday, December 12, 2009

Home Sweet Home.

One word: Ahhhhhh


I'm back in Florida after spending some time up in Washington DC. I learned a few things while I was up there.
  • I do not want to live there.
  • People are not friendly, for the most part.
  • While standing on an escalator, stay on the right – NO matter what.
  • It's every man/woman for him/herself.
  • The changing of the seasons is nice.
  • Freezing rain is not.
  • Trader Joe's is a fantastic grocery store.
  • Getting around on public transit is a good thing, people watching on it is even better.
  • I REALLY do NOT want to live there.
Dating is no different than here. I met the usual complement of men with issues. Some married/separated and claiming to be single even though they live with their ex's. I realize that this economy is tough to support two households, just don't lie about it.

I dated a man with whom I had much in common – similar career, he had a nice motorcycle, had his proverbial stuff together, and yet.... while he said I was an amazing woman I was just not enough to stimulate him. Not enough, as in not FAT enough. Yup, he likes REALLY big women. I've never been told I was too skinny – go figure.

So, I am back. Getting back into the groove of my life. Reconnecting with friends. Reclaiming my back yard from the tropical jungle (apparently the lawn guy I hired while I was away has a different opinion of what it means to mow the lawn and trim stuff up – I fired him today) Time to wash the vehicle and polish up my motorcycle. I need to get some color on my glaringly white body. Time for the holidays and visiting with family.

Monday, August 31, 2009

My first lover....

He was older than me, 29 to my 18. He owned a business next door to the place I worked and flirted with me constantly. Every day he'd come by and order an ice cream cone which I would then scoop for him. We started going out and then that fateful night - 5 minutes and it was gone. I gave him the gift of my virginity. A few months later he gave me an STD. My diagnosis also revealed that he'd been cheating. Perhaps that is why I am so adamant about not being involved with folks who cheat.


I broke up with him after learning about his cheating and never looked back. I left a few weeks later on a summer adventure overseas. I'd won a scholarship for a summer exchange student program to Greece and came back 3 months later - 30 pounds lighter, tan, and hot. My blond curly hair was bleached by the sun and was as unruly as ever. I remember seeing his head snap around that first time he saw me as I returned to my job next to his shop after my overseas adventures. It didn't take long before he was over ordering an ice cream cone. I scooped his order, and went back to work, ignoring his attempt at getting back together. His business went under shortly after and he moved away.


A few years later we crossed paths again. Gone was any of my remaining baby fat. My legs went all the way up, accented by some sexy heels and a mini. I enjoyed displaying my tanned cleavage. He drooled. I accepted a date this time. He went all out. Dinner at a high end place. Bottles of wine. Flowers. The second half of the evening included me tormenting him as much as possible. Kissing. Teasing. I was relentless. At some point he said we should go to his place and get reacquainted. We were sitting in the car and I teasingly asked if he had any condoms - he said something like, "Yeah, you never know what you could catch". 

He'd forgotten that he'd given me an STD. 

I couldn't help but laugh. My laughter offended him greatly. "What are you laughing at?", he demanded starting to get defensive. I said that I knew all about that from his gift years earlier. He immediately started backpedaling and apologizing. I just laughed again and then I kicked his ass out of my car and drove off, leaving him with the bluest balls you've ever seen in Seattle.

And then tonight, 22 years later, I get a friend request from him on Facebook.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The onions off my burgers....

My best and oldest friend in the world came to visit me recently. It was a much needed break from life. She and I have been friends now for a long time. Since roughly 1981, we figured out. As it turns out we have little in common. We never did. She is a girly girl who takes over and hour to get ready to go anywhere. It doesn't matter where.. just know that it'll be an hour until she's ready. More than an hour if she's opted to go out with straight hair. Then you can count on 2 hours. I'm more of a half hour from grime to shine kind of gal.

She does the nail thing. I waited an hour an a half for her to get them 'filled'. I have never had my nails done. No acrylics'. No fills. Sometimes polish, but rarely. I am, however committed - even addicted- to regular pedicures. A gal must have cute feet, right?

She loves the beach but will never, EVER go swimming in the ocean. Ever. Don't even ask. In a former life, I taught diving and sailing. I love the beach AND the ocean. I will swim in it whenever I get the chance. It matters not that my hair will get wet. I don't care if my makeup is ruined. Give me the sea.

She wears the most gawd-awful shoes. Seriously. She sports blisters most of the time, yet refuses to toss the offending shoes. If shoes hurt my feet, I get rid of them. That might be a metaphor for my life, actually.. if something (or someone) causes me pain on a regular basis, I hit the eject button.

There are many other things in life where we are polar opposites. But in the end it doesn't matter. I know she is there for me no matter what. She always has my back. And she knows she gets the same from me in return. Whenever either of us has a crisis in life, the first question we ask of each other is this, "Should I come?" Usually the answer is no, but it means so much to know that we would both stop our lives for each other.

While she was here we stopped at McD's for a quick bite to eat during our shopping bonanza. We opted to share a quarter pounder. I went to order and automatically requested 'no onions' and was immediately chastised for being so inconsiderate. You see, she eats the onions off my burgers. She always has. Starting way back in high school I always hated raw onions on my burgers and she loved em. I'd order and then scrape them off for her. It was our thing. Silly? Yes, I agree it's silly. But it simply is the way it is. So now, whenever someone asks me why we are friends that is the answer I give. We are best friends because she eats the onions off my burgers.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Home is not where I left it.

A few years ago my folks sold my childhood home - a smart move given the size of the house, the upkeep it needs, and their desire to downsize and travel. My question is this:

Why in the hell did they have to move to a place that is SO cold?

My first night there the thermometer bottomed out at 0 degrees, Fahrenheit. Translation, MINUS 18 degrees Celsius. WTF?

I know I'm a wimp now that I live in Florida. Ok, fine. I'm good with that, "Hi, my name is Karla and I am a cold weather wimp!". It was about 75 degrees the day I left home, only to arrive in the frozen tundra of the north to over a foot of snow on the ground and subzero temps. My first flight was delayed causing me to miss the last flight of the day to the Podunk town my folks now live in. I am stuck trudging through snow in my loafers sans socks to the courtesy van to the hotel since the airlines kept my luggage hostage. Thankfully though, my room was paid for by the airlines because the delay was mechanical and not just weather. I felt very fortunate as I saw other folks stuck sleeping in the airport. The king sized sleep-number bed with the fluffy down comforter and a 6-pack of pillows helped me fall into a deep slumber. It turns out to be my best night of sleep the entire week given the double bed in the guestroom where I tried to sleep the rest of the week.

But wait, it gets worse. In an effort to check in at the office (I know.. I'm lame for doing so, but really it'll make my life so much easier when I get back) I head to my mom's computer. I see the icon.

Dialup!

Seriously? Come on now Mom! Join us in the millennium! Go for broadband, or cable. I had fond memories when I heard those dial tones but the nostalgia faded when it took no less than 2 minutes to load ANY page I tried to access. Dialup? Yikes. I must say, after that it was a lovely 5 days without checking email. No spam. No stupid joke messages or forwarded chain letters to delete.

It was 10 degrees this morning when I left for the airport at 4am and 78 when I landed back in Florida. My recent musings about missing cooler weather have been stifled. I figure I'm good for another 3 or so years before I start to miss the snow again.

I return home to friends happy to see me, a wiggly beagle, a beautiful sunset over the Gulf of Mexico, and my glorious bed waiting.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

The man who lies to the world, is the world's slave from then on....

Tonight I learned the man who claims to love me lied to me about nearly every aspect of his life.  

I am sad, heartbroken, disappointed, shocked, angry, frustrated, amazed, relieved, and now I am Single.

I realized that in the end, he was only lying to himself.  It was never about me.  It was about him. He lied because he didn't believe himself to be enough so he created this person of what he should have been.  I don't get it.  Why lie about who you are?  I don't do dishonesty and as a result he now has to find another place to live.  Not my problem.  I'm done.  I feel nothing but heartbroken relief. 

And then I saw this quote:

People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim.  What I've learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one's master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked.  And if one gains the immediate purpose of the lie - the price one pays is the destruction of that which was intended to serve.  The man who lies to the world, is the world's slave from then on.

Ayn Rand