Confessions of a 30 year old Engaged White Female

Today's Subject...Mondays

2013-03-25T09:04:00.003-07:00

I took a sales job right out of college. The objective of the door to door presentation consisted of selling reduced rates on the fee that companies are charged for each swipe of a customer credit card. Back then it was about ten cents to every dollar. The sales team I was a part of was selling a service that would lower this fee. We had to visit businesses in the area, cold call and drive aimlessly for prospects. My first week coming to an end, the sales team gathered in the conference room that Friday to start our day with the typical "we will pump you up" sales pitch.

At the end of the boss's speech, he enthusiastically shouted, "Team, what do we say about Fridays?!" In perfect unison the team shouted back, "Two more days until Monday!!"

I quit that job the following week.

I hate Mondays. Along with many other Americans this day has become the "red-headed step child" in the family of week days. I really enjoy my weekends, one of my most cherished privileges is sleeping in as long as I can, keeping my pajamas on until it's no longer socially acceptable to do so, and reveling in that first cup of weekend coffee while Bitsy and I watch Dogs 101 on animal planet.

So maybe Monday gets a bad rap; if we all had to forfeit our weekend freedom any other day, I would hate that day too. Is there anything that can be done to help poor Monday improve its public image? How about implementing a new Monday tradition of "take a nap at work day," or "bring your favorite vodka to the board meeting day" or even better, "you can show up to the office, but we don't expect you to actually work day."

I don't think there is a cure for this dreaded day. In the meantime, here's to Mondays and all of those workers who cherish their weekends as much as I do.

Hang in there, only four more days until Friday!
Case of the Mondays!

Today's Subject...Planning a Wedding

2013-03-13T07:57:00.003-07:00

That's right readers! Your "still single" girl is no longer, hence the title change of the blog. No worries, I myself have not changed, or have I?

The good news is that I have never had to plan my own wedding before, the bad news is that I have never had to plan my own wedding before. No one tells you how consuming the whole ordeal is until it sticks to you like a wet swimsuit.

I am been blessed with lots of help, luckily my sisters and my mom have been through this before. They have been great in giving feedback and helping with the details. I don't know what I would do without them. Most likely elope or stop into a Justice of the Peace next Tuesday.

Overall, in the last three weeks I have solidified a photographer, a DJ, and a venue. Not bad for my first time.

While most people I know get wrapped up in the planning, the dress, the food etc...I am making a conscience effort to remind myself what is actually happening. I am marrying my best friend.

He is my best friend, and I am the luckiest 30 year old (engaged) girl in the world that he chose me to be his life partner. I cannot wait for the celebration, but in the long run the dress, food, DJ and venue don't mean a thing. If at the end of the day I can say I am married to my best friend, I consider that a success.

Today's Subject...Patience

2013-01-15T11:09:00.001-08:00

We have all heard the phrase, "Good things come to those who wait," but how many of us actually believe this to be true? I am not sure I do.

I have never really been a patient person. I know this now, due to years of self-reflection and analysis, but I didn't always know this. It seemed that as soon as I accomplished something or made it to a certain point, I was in a hurry to move onto the next project or goal. I never took the time to appreciate what I had done, who was helpful in getting me there, or how great the feat actually was. I was too focused on what was next. Sometimes the next step wouldn't present itself immediately, and that is when my patience was challenged.

I have tried, over the last 10 years of my life to "stop and smell the roses" if you will, but to this day, my lack of patience is consuming. So much so, that I have physical symptoms from this fixation. I can't sleep, I become obsessed with the topic and I tend to withdraw from personal relationships. I am hoping to see an ad on TV for a prescription I can take, it would state something similar to the following:

"Wish you could have everything you want on a moment's notice? Need help diversifying your daily thoughts? Ever want to quit your job, stop paying bills, and win the lottery? Well then, PATIENCETEX is for you! Side affects include difficulty sharing your feelings with others, irritability and inability to be honest with yourself. If you experience uncontrollable urge to scream at the top of your lungs, "I WANT THIS AND I WANT IT NOW!" please contact your doctor immediately as these symptoms might cause you to self destruct."

Yes, it would read something like that. It got me thinking, if one can exercise their body, and study a subject to help improve their knowledge, what can one do to improve their patience? I haven't found a cure yet, other than taking things day by day. And when I catch myself becoming impatient, I simply revert back to my training as a ninja and use "In time, young grasshopper" as my mantra.

I strive to focus on the little things in life that make this journey so incredible. Like the fact that each day that goes by, just means I am that much closer to the things I am working toward. That I have accomplished every goal I have ever set in the past, and future goals should be no different. I may not have everything I want when I want it, but I have what I need to get me there someday. When that day comes, I will need to remind myself to take the time to appreciate everything before rushing onto the next.

Confessions of a 30 year old (still) Single White Female: Today's Subject...New Beginnings

2013-01-03T14:28:00.001-08:00

Confessions of a 30 year old (still) Single White Female: Today's Subject...New Beginnings: Happy New Year readers! I am inspired to write today because of something I witnessed while at the gym working out yesterday....

Today's Subject...New Beginnings

2013-01-03T14:27:00.002-08:00

Happy New Year readers!

I am inspired to write today because of something I witnessed while at the gym working out yesterday. Yes, it’s true I have joined a gym. Shocking to most of you that know my disgust for sweat, but it must be done.

I was about 20 minutes into my routine on the elliptical machine when my mind started to wander to thoughts about the New Year. I suppose it was my attempt to distract myself from the desirable consideration of collapsing on the floor and breaking into a bag of Cheetos. Instead, as I pant heartily and struggle to lap water from my Nalgene bottle in mid stride, I am in a deep session of people watching.

The gym is busy; busier than it’s been in months. I am reminded of the many of New Year’s Resolutions I am witnessing in action, mine included. It got me thinking about how a new year brings new beginnings. It’s amazing to me that we as a society use the New Year as a muse for making an instant decision to better ourselves and/or our situations and yet if I pulled out my new year’s resolutions from last year, they are most likely the same as this year’s. Why does Jan. 1^st have to be the day to make a resolution? Why can’t March 13^th, or June 7^th be the day when we decide to change something? Well, I am here to say it can.

I think every day we should resolve to make our lives better, even if they are pretty good already. Part of living that healthy lifestyle we all aim for is creating a peaceful, happy mindset. Maintain the attitude that we have the authority to change on a daily basis. So my resolution is to make every day a New Year’s Day. Start fresh every morning with a grateful mindset and a resolve to be a better version of who I was yesterday.

Here’s to 2013!

Today's Subject...Almost 30 and Already Fabulous

2012-12-06T10:19:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it has almost been a year since I have published my blog entitled, " Today's Subject...Turning 29." I also realize I haven't been diligent in writing but I am here now with some serious thoughts and valuable reflection.

As you can see I have had to change the title of the blog to match this upcoming decade I am about to embark upon...the 30s. I have heard that your thirties are better than your twenties from several people. Apparently one tends to get more settled in their own skin, we learn to react differently to others that offend us, and overall a greater sense of self.

I can honestly say a part of me is really looking forward to the next decade. I have spent my twenties setting myself up for this very moment. I have a house, a great career, a nice car, a cute boyfriend and an amazing dog. I have spent the last few years really surrounding myself with people I love, and who love me and support me. I have eliminated most of the negative people in my life and those that still linger, I wisely limit my time with them. I find myself much more selective with who I let in, and much more apathetic to people's opinions of what I do. I really enjoy this sense of control and it wasn't always this easy to let things go.

The other part of me is sad to see the twenties go. Many years of risk taking, indiscretions, partying, and frivolousness is in the past. I remember being able to party until 6am, wake up at 8am and take a final exam. The last time I stayed up until 6am was because of indigestion and it certainly wasn't from being out all night.

My goal for the next decade is to own my own business, publish a book and start my own family. I'll be sure to reflect on this a year from now to see if I have gotten started on any of this.

So here's to 30! I have made it three decades without any major injuries (minus the trampoline and rollerblading incidents), set-backs or disappointments. I have a beautiful family, a great job and the one I love loves me back. For the next year at least, I will be 30 and fabulous!

Today's Subject...The Minnesota State Fair

2012-08-20T19:24:00.001-07:00

I have lived in Minnesota my entire life and I have yet to visit the state fair.
It's true. I know you are sitting there, reading this with an immediate sense of disgust and outright anger at the above statement. Like most people I tell that to, you are probably questioning my loyalty to the land of 10,000 lakes and I willingly accept your disapproval. However, since I am so boldly confessing the biggest sin a true Minnesota girl could commit, I will spend the remainder of this post justifying this choice.

Reason #1 I will not attend the State Fair: The food.
Yes, I realize the food is usually the number one reason why people attend the state fair. It is my number one reason not to attend for the simple fact that for the last 10 years of my life I have made almost every attempt at shedding and keeping off the 30 pounds I have gained since high school. One might think it is within my control to opt out of eating anything that would sabotage my attempts, but I have yet to see "low carb" or "sugar free" in any of the advertising promotions for the food stands. The last time I saw a trailer selling cheese curds at a music festival, I quickly navigated my way through a crowd of 1000 people, eagerly stepping on small children and shoving the elderly out of my way for a shot at those crispy nuggets of cheddar gold. Only for my boyfriend to discover they were inhaled before he was done paying for them.

Reason #2 I will not attend the State Fair: The smell.
If I wanted to smell cow poop, stranger's sweat and week old grease all within an arm's length, I would drive to Iowa.
Reason #3 I will not attend the State Fair: The money
I will simply refer you to my blog post entitled "Today's Subject...Finances." I am broke, and the last thing I want to spend $200 is an opportunity to smell the above, lolly gag on my feet all day, and go home with a serious case of bloated heartburn. I am much more content watching Anchorman for the 100th time with my dog Bitsy.

Don't get me wrong Minnesota, I get it. I get the appeal, and I totally understand why thousands of you flock to this great get-together every August. I celebrate your passion for this annual event and I wholeheartedly thank you for showing your desire to experience the single biggest showcase of our great state. Despite your instant judgements on my fair hater attitude, please note that I am a true Minnesotan. I go camping up north, I enjoy fishing, hiking, lefse and the Twins. Paul and Babe got me through college and I have always loved the Vikings even through their Warren Moon phase.

Today's Subject...Transitions

2012-06-28T08:47:00.001-07:00

With every situation comes outcomes, and with every outcome there are lessons to be learned.

Today ends a four year chapter for me. I have recently accepted a new position and will no longer be working in my current role. This transition has forced me to analyze many things. Of course if you know me well enough you know that I can never just accept something; I need to mentally rip it to shreds as if the meaning of it was hidden deep inside. Picture a child tearing into their Christmas presents, that's how I am with finding my truth to each situation I find myself in. My significant other might not think this is my best quality, since he usually has to bear the brunt of my verbal thought processes.

Yes, I tend to over think things. That’s why I was so surprised that this new job opportunity was so effortless. I felt so comfortable on my interviews, and confident that even if I didn’t get the job that I knew I had done my best. I think God really appreciates when we try our best. So in response to my quarter life crisis that recently engulfed my life like ivy growing on the side of a house, I realized that I was in control this whole time. I had the option to choose my path. Was I going to stay in a stagnant role which didn’t challenge me, or was I going to make a change? If it wasn’t this new opportunity I would have sought out the next. I am in control.

I have always been the type of person who needs a healthy challenge. Whether it’s trying to court a man 1500 miles away, taking on a Graduate degree, or getting that stubborn chocolate stain out of my shirt. I find that when I stay in one situation too long I get bored, when I get bored I get in trouble and when I get in trouble, well you can imagine the rest. What is the most exciting for me now is what awaits me. This new responsibility will be more than a challenge. It will require me to elevate my professionalism, force me to work harder than I ever have before, and it gives me the fresh start to be the employee that I know I can be. I have found that sometimes the people in our lives who don’t have your best interest at heart overshadow our potential with untruths and inhibit our ability to really shine the way we are supposed to. I am armed now with more experience to be assertive because of these relationships and I am grateful for the roles those people have played in my life as tough as it was. I am stronger, savvier and more attentive to hidden agendas. I vow to be true to myself in every encounter, work to the best of my ability and take on this new adventure with gusto. I resolve to utilize my gift of servant leadership as I move on to what I hope will be greener pastures.

So my situation needed to change, I took control of the outcome and got the fresh start I was looking for, and the lessons I have learned mostly about myself will provide the foundation for a happier, healthier me. This in turn will allow me to be a better partner, daughter, sister, auntie, and friend and employee to those people who make me want to be the best I can be.

To those people who shared the same envrionment as me these last four years that have lifted me up, respected me, and provided me with absolute truths…you know who you are-Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget the impact you have had on my life.

Today's Subject...Quarter Life Crisis

2012-06-12T16:20:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot on my mind these last few weeks to the point where I can’t seem to finish a single thought. Have you ever felt that way before?

I knew you would say yes, so hopefully you can relate to the following as I attempt to ease my suffering on virtual paper.

Last night I had a dream that I was a tower guard at a castle in the olden days. Picture Monty Python’s The Holy Grail era (and no, there wasn’t a defensive bunny in my dream and I didn’t have a set of empty coconuts). I was adorned in the standard chain mesh netting chest plate, a metal hat that looks like the bishop on a chess board and I was armed with my rudimentary bow and arrow. I was defending the castle, with all of my training and precision-it was up to the aim of my arrow to protect this homestead. I dreamt I was shooting at the enemy through the arrow loops in the turret, and shouting at the archer on my left as we plan our next move. The dream was so vivid; it almost made me think this was an experience I had in a previous life. What does this all mean? I woke up this morning thinking of the arrows, the castle my armor and it left me wondering how this all relates the endless thoughts that have been all consuming recently. Naturally I “Google” the term “meaning of dreams” and find a website dedicated to interpreting symbols and events in one’s subconscious. Sounds legit.

As I approach the last stretch of my 20’s, I have been evaluating my career, my relationships, my purpose and I have discovered that I am more than what I have been. What I mean by that is I seek a higher level of myself. I know I am capable of being better than who I am. This revelation is all very confusing and it has left me wondering if I need a new career, or a change in lifestyle or just a new haircut. What does it mean? HELP ME! Now I know what John Mayer was referring to when he said he is having a “quarter life crisis.”

I recently got some news that leaves me questioning the stability of my current situation, oddly enough the all wise and knowing dream dictionary stated that to see a castle in my dream means I have an extreme need for security and protection, and to dream about a knight symbolizes that I have honor, protection and security in my life. The bow and arrow mean I am aiming towards perfection-if perfection even exists. So with my research and fact finding-extensive I ensure you-I can only come to one conclusion.

Everything will be okay.

After getting the stability shattering news, I needed to turn to my best friend-the love of my life- for guidance, reassurance and advice. After telling him my worries and uncertainties about the near future and what this change might mean for me….his response was “we will be okay.”

It dawned on me today, just now actually, that he is my knight, my castle, my security, my protection, my aim for perfection-which does exist. We are in this together, protecting our fortress with our bows and arrows taking on the outsiders that try to break in. Behind us, fighting with us is our families who are so supportive and loving. Without this “inner circle of trust” as Jack Byrnes from Meet the Fockers would call it, our castle would crumble. So as I reflect on all of my unfinished thoughts, there will be more questions that need answered, more decisions I will have to make and certainly more enemies to combat but regardless of what the world throws at me, “we will be okay.”

Today's Subject...Bitsy.

2012-05-17T20:42:00.002-07:00

Today's Subject...Bitsy.

It's long overdue, a post about my dog.
My family had a few dogs I think before I was born. There was one mutt however, Wally-we only had a short time together; I was too little to remember him. The rumor is that Wally "ran away."
Then after multiple hamsters, bunnies?, turtles, and fish there was Duchess. Duchess was the family cat. I remember she had one blue eye and one green eye, and she brown. Sadly, the pet we all loved is a faint memory now. My brother used to torture Duchess, don't worry he didn't put her in the microwave, and she woke me and my sister in the middle of the night because she was crunching a mouse. My parents "took Duchess to an Old Lady's House" on a Sunday, my siblings and I didn't notice until the following Thursday. In fact, it wasn't even us who realized she was gone. It was my best friend who was over for the day. Can you imagine?
"Uh, Leslie...Where's your cat?"
Calling out: "Duchess? Here kitty, kitty!"
Cricket, Cricket...
(Now if I wrote movies I would insert a scene here where I find a goodbye note from the cat that says she's sorry but she hates it here and has to leave to pursue her dreams, I would fall down to my knees with tears, screaming into the air with bursts of sadness, of course it would have to be raining outside.)
So after that, we didn't have a pet for a while aside from the random fish.
Flash forward 22 years.
I got an email from my sister with a cute little picture of this black and grey furball of a puppy. The subject line was-We got a dog! They named her Bitsy. One day Bitsy came to my house and never left! I stole her. Or should I say, she stole me? We had a connection and my sister could see the love between us and that it couldn't be denied. She became my pet, and has been for about two and half years now.
Bitsy is funny, and tonight I am inspired to write about her because of something funny that she did tonight when I got home from work. We did our normal meet and greet, you know, if you are any good dog owner meet and greet consists of jumps, tail wagging so fast she actually elevates, kisses, belly rubs, ear scratches and a treat. She needs to be let out to use the yard and she sees a toad on the back patio. He's sitting on the cool concrete, relaxing enjoying his evening after a hard day's work. Out of nowhere he is attacked by this huge, furry creature with delicate paws and a snorting nose in the process of seeking a huge sniff of him. If I was that toad I would be crying for my mother with my thumb in my mouth and in need of a new pair of undies.
So he jumps a bit, scaring the big furry creature into jumping a bit as well. And so it is, this dog and toad game went on for 30 minutes. Bitsy would not give up. She was determined to figure out what this thing was, and the toad was determined to still motionless for for a minute in hopes the grizzly beast won't find it.
The whole dance made me laugh, and it made me appreciate the jovial curiosity each of them had for each other. Toad eventually got away and Bits eventually forgot. But I'd like to think we made a new pet friend tonight. Mr. Toad and Bitsy...sounds like a series we can add to the family.

Today's Subject...Love

2012-02-13T17:06:00.001-08:00

You either love it or hate it, but there is no denying that Valentine’s Day is a part of American culture just as much as beer pong and Bruce Springsteen.

Valentine’s Day and I have a love hate relationship. I hate to love it. It’s cliché, the entire holiday. I am fully aware of how fabricated the entire idea is, and I am ashamed to admit I am a hopeless romantic for the whole ordeal. Yes, I want the roses, the ~~chocolate~~ zebra cakes, I want the sappy card with the poem that is inside, the candle lit dinner etc... if every man could only expel the wicked expectations that Hallmark and Hollywood have engrained in every women’s mind there would have never been a relationship that crumbled on this made up celebration of one’s love for their partner. If my partner showered me with these fake grandiose romantic gestures, frankly I would question the validity of my significant other’s sanity for he knows my love hate relationship with this celebration. Are these really the ultimate expression of love?

Here comes the love hate relationship part: I love this holiday and everything it stands for-the idea of celebrating your love with someone special is truly a great thing. But it is far from the ultimate expression of love-it is the acknowledgment that Hallmark and Hollywood have duped the American public yet again. Shouldn’t we be celebrating the love we have in our lives every day?

Every day I am shown the ultimate expression of love-which ends up being more important than any flower, Little Debbie or wax dripping on my table cloth. There are days when I don’t have gas in my car-so he will fill it up, and wash it too. There are days when I don’t have anything good for dinner –so he will stop and get groceries to make a home cooked meal. There are days when work has taken everything out of me, and he is there with a hug and a listening ear to fill me up, recharge me for the next day. There are days when my shoulders hurt from sitting at the computer, and he is there to rub them, melting the stress from the day away. There are days when I debate walking away from my house, my job, paying my bills-he is there to keep me grounded and shows me there is so much to be grateful for. There are days when I have to fire someone, have a conflict with a co-worker or I have to abandon from a 20 year friendship that brings toxicity to my life-he is there to tell me I am a good person and I do the right things. Every day he asks me how my day was, he tells me he loves me, he says he’s sorry when I am hurting and willingly shares the pain. He celebrates with me when I am joyful. He supports me in my life trials. He tells me I’m beautiful, asks me what he can do to help me, shovels my driveway, makes the bed in the morning; loves my dog as much if not more than I do. He listens, pays attention and follows through. And best of all, he lets me put my cold toes on his warm legs at night.

These actions put any Valentine’s Day poem to shame, the most beautiful bouquet of flowers wilt over time and that box of Zebra cakes clearly doesn’t last very long either. These acts of selflessness are the ultimate expression of love and it occurs every day including February 14^th.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of those hopeless romantics like me, may you find the one who does it all.

Today’s Subject…Little Debbie’s Zebra Cakes

2012-01-12T17:54:00.001-08:00

Apparently they aren’t made from real zebras, because if they were zebras would be declared delicious.

I have yet to see a news article proclaiming the above statement, therefore I have to assume these little cakes, carefully wrapped as a pair, covered in frosting and chocolate drizzles are made from the sweet wings of baby angels. And don’t forget the layer of diabetes that awaits you in the middle.

My place of employment resides close to a discount grocery store. The convenience and affordability requires me to visit regularly on lunch breaks. Every time I enter in the store, there is an end cap of Nutty Bars, Star Crunches, Swiss Rolls and Oatmeal Cream Pies strategically placed at eye level, packaging adorned with colors so vivid and an all appealing picture of the treat I so desire.

And there she was, Little Debbie herself, staring at me with those big blue eyes and her dimples welcoming me to “Unwrap a smile.” I was lured to the display daily; I would stare at the small layer of cardboard and plastic wrap which was the only thing that stood in my way as I searched for my moment of zebra bliss.

As I grabbed the flat white box I instantly felt ashamed, for like an addict in need of a fix, I felt the rush of excitement zoom through my body followed by a surge of remorse. For I knew if I purchased this box of snack cakes, each set would not survive the six hours I had left at work. I knew this because the last time I bought a box of Zebra cakes they magically disappeared; to this day I swear the box ate itself. My friends held an intervention for me, despite my best efforts to deny that I had a problem. I suppose the residual frosting plastered to my lips, and the cake crumbles that rested so comfortably on my bosom gave me away. I needed help.

I have been Zebra Cake free for 7 months…until today.

It was 3:00pm. It was cold, and I was hungry. I wanted a snack so I went to the vending machine at work. Not having exact change for the item I wanted, which by the way was Baked Lays, I made my way back to my desk when there I saw waiting for me two were two little Zebra Cakes in their saran wrapper leaning on my keyboard. Someone had left them for me as a treat and I couldn’t resist. They were perfectly shaped, frosted thoroughly and drizzled with dark chocolate zigzags that were equidistant in length and width, just as I had remembered. As I picked up the heavenly duo, I immediately regressed into my previous behavior. Oh to feel the crinkle of the packaging in my fingers again; the intoxicating smells of the saccharine love that I once knew. And alas, the first comforting bite of that smile that Little Debbie had promised me.

I guess you could say I fell off the Zebra Cake wagon. I am hoping this fix will last me another 7 months. For if I relapse once more, my obituary will most likely read, “Woman, 29, dies of Zebra Cake Overdose,” which is not my idea of a proper legacy.

Today's Subject...Cheesecake

2011-12-19T11:54:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don't know him, my dad is a man of many talents. He is smart and funny. He enjoys camping, golf, anything to do with the United States Marine Corps (once a Marine, always a Marine) and a glass of McAllen Scotch on occasion. Amongst all of his hobbies, cooking may fall into the top spot of things my dad is good at. I have learned many things from my dad as a result of his passion for the above mentioned for example, how to build a campfire using the crisscross Nicol technique, how to keep my head down during my back swing, and how to kill a man with a gum wrapper (ok that last one is a stretch, I was convinced growing up that any Marine could accomplish this at a moment’s notice). One talent I have that I can credit to my dad is making cheesecake.

When I still lived at home, not a day went by when my dad wasn’t making something in the kitchen. Everyone knew when it was cheesecake day. He would bake several at a time, for a bake sale, Christmas party, dessert for people at work or donate them for a Holiday silent auction at church. I remember walking in the front door when I got home from school. The smell of vanilla and sugar gram crackers would fill the air. The house was warm from the all-day heat of the oven it would make my glasses fog as I came in from the cold winter. He would be sitting at the kitchen table completing his New York Times Crossword in-between cheesecakes. There was always two or three cooling by the window that was open just a crack, and at least two more in the oven. It was certainty cheesecake day. The best part is he would always let me have the leftover homemade gram cracker crust crumbles that resided in the mixing bowl.

These memories are very valuable to me in my adult life; for it is this talent of cheesecake perfection that I strive for each time I attempt to recreate his tried and true recipe. I have to say, I am pretty good. Every once in a while I will stray from the reliable vanilla and add a dash of cinnamon or butterscotch prior to baking however nothing is as good as the original master’s.

I started making my dad’s cheesecake about 5 years ago, when my significant other informed me that this was his favorite dessert. In an attempt to win his heart through his stomach-I began the process of reaching “Dad status” in the elitism of cheesecake making community. I remember my first attempt; I followed the details on the hand written card that was stained with years of baking expertise. I thought it wouldn’t be too hard, right? Wrong. The first attempt came out looking like Cream Cheese soup, Fail. I made a second trip to the grocery store, and preparing the second attempt at vanilla perfection, I realized this was going to be an art that needed nurturing and time to develop. After all, my dad had been doing this for years, and I just a lowly student taking my first lesson. Well, I didn’t get it right the second time either as I am certain the final product wasn’t supposed to be the color of dark chocolate or have the smell of burnt hair.

So as it stands, five years later I have to say I am almost to the point of muscle memory. I have the formula memorized, the technique near flawless and the final product is boyfriend tested and approved. In lieu of gifts, I have dedicated Friday December 23^rd to making cheesecakes for each party I have to attend. My house will be filled with the sweet smell of vanilla and sugar gram cracker crust, the kitchen will be toasty with the heat of the oven and I will most likely be doing the Daily Crossword in-between cheesecakes. Thanks Dad. You have not only taught me how to bake a killer cheesecake, but you have left me with a cherished memory (amongst many) that I hope my future children will have someday.

Today's Subject...Turning 29

2011-12-13T10:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I will officially have to change the name of my blog to "Confessions of a 29 year old (yes still) single, white female.” For as of Friday I will no longer be 28.

I am the youngest of four siblings. The story goes that my mom and dad were tossing the idea around of having a fourth kid. One day my dad says to my mom, “You know, I think three kids is just fine. We are in a good place financially, we have a nice house, I am not sure we should have any more.” My mother burst into tears, and through her gasps for air tells my father that she is pregnant to which my dad replies, “Four is ok! We can handle four!” in his best attempts at comforting her. So there you have it, 28—no 29 years later here I am. I am sure I was planned, by at least one parent, but none of you would be reading this right now had my mom thought, “three was enough.” So what do I owe to that decision? My life, and what a great life I have.

Turning 29 has me thinking back on my 20s and what this decade has done for me; I am overwhelmed at everything I have accomplished. When I graduated High School I didn't think I was smart enough to go to college. I resorted to the local community campus to take some general education classes. Once I realized that I was actually capable of succeeding in school I made an effort to get into a state school where I flourished. I loved college!

I knew that one thing I needed to do once I graduated was to become a homeowner. This was important to me for several reasons:

Firstly, as much as I love them, I didn’t want to live with my parents for any longer than I had to.

Secondly, homeownership is the American Dream right? I wanted something to call my own, something I could be proud of. Shortly after I got my first “Big Girl Job” I was able to save enough money for a down payment on a quaint little two bedroom townhome. Ah, at last the financial freedoms I had referred to in endless journal entries…or was it? Still at 28—I mean 29, I am nowhere close to being financially free, but I had something that was mine, no one could take it from me…except for Wells Fargo.

College Degree-Check

Townhome-Check

Now what? What’s left of my 20s but one year, and I am not sure where to go from here. I guess you could say I am lost. I have a decent career, Wells Fargo hasn’t kicked me out yet, my car runs when I can afford to fill it with gas and my family unit is tighter than ever.

I suppose I could feign for the cliché marriage and kids but isn’t that overrated? What happens to me then? The me I know now will disappear into a blur of cooking dinners, poopy diapers, projectile vomit, soccer practices and PTA meetings.

What will happen to that MBA I earned, will I be able to implement the concepts of that degree into my marriage, parenting? I can see it now, “Ok, kids I see we are having a conflict-let’s do a few case studies, read four hundred pages and write a 30 page research paper on the topic. One week from now, we will reconvene and discuss the best possible solution to who gets to ride in the front seat on Sunday.” Not quite.

I have heard several times that your 30s are better than your 20s. I hope that’s true, if it is than I have a lot to look forward to. Maybe settling down wouldn’t be so bad, to be needed by someone other than my dog might be a nice change. I guess it’s the unknown that makes turning 29 so scary. I am entering into a new decade of my life and hopefully I will find it to be one filled with more firsts, more opportunities for personal growth and a greater sense of who I am. It seems only then will I be a better person for the fictional family I have invented for my future self.

So here I come 29! I am not scared of you or the daunting number that comes after you!

Today's subject...Best Friends

2011-12-01T17:43:00.000-08:00

There are thousands of people that we encounter throughout our lifetime. Out of those, only a few hundred make an impact. From those few hundred, only a small percentage influences us to the point where we make a change for the better in our lives. The term "Best Friend" has been used for some time now to separate those we feel adhere to the rules of regular friendship versus über friendship. My thoughts this week have been filled with the term best friend, and struggling to define this honored title.

In an effort to define what makes someone become “best” in friend status I am forced to think about my own best friends. What characteristics do they possess that granted this this distinction?

Over time I have had several best friends, when I was in kindergarten it was my neighbor’s grand-daughter, Alisha. We used to play together almost every day after school and on the weekends. I have memories of us putting pennies on the railroad tracks by her house, playing at the park down in the cul-de-sac when the firemen would come to flush out the hydrants and building snowmen in every yard on the block when the snow fell for the first time. She was my best friend because she always wanted to play, and we wanted to play the same games.

My next best friend was in elementary school, Erin. We used to roller blade in her basement, sled in her back yard, ride horses in the summer, swim in the pool, tag-a-long on cabin and boat trips and so much more. She was my best friend because she showed enthusiasm for my ideas, and we would spend hours creating new games and adventures. She listened to me complain about my petty quarrels with my sisters and any other daunting issue any 4^th grader would have.

Then in Jr. High, I made a few new best friends, Molly and Kelly. We would celebrate when a boy asked us to the dances, cry together when they decided to take another girl, create schemes and games to play on the weekend sleepovers and call the boys we crushed on to see if they thought any of us were cute. I loved these girls because at a time when I was not comfortable with myself-they still loved me for who I was and who I was turning into.

Molly held the title of best friend the longest. We really got close since were on the same dance team. We would spend every day together. Carpooling in the morning on the way to class, since now we could drive, gossiping about the girls we didn’t like. We would sneak out, stay out late and try to get as much attention as we could from the upper classmen. My High School best friend was amazing because she was kind, attentive, fun and beautiful.

In college, my best friend Jackie was funny, outgoing and was the life of the party! She taught me how to live life single girl style without giving a second thought on what other's opinions of me were. She loved me after every “what did we do last night?” morning.

Today when I reflect on all of these girls and what they had to do to earn the title of Best Friend for that time, it amazes me to think the things I loved most about them are essential to the necessary criteria for “best friend hood” in my adult life.

Now, my best friend is always open to do the same activities. She shows enthusiasm for my ideas, even the dumb ones. She listens to me complain about my petty quarrels and provides me with a voice of reason. At times when I was not comfortable with myself-she still loves me for who I am. I can tell her everything and she listens without judgment, only complete acceptance of me.

I never really knew the amount of love and respect I have for her until this week. I had to see her lose her job after being a loyal employee. In a situation that would have forced even the most calm and collect individual to lose their cool, she maintained professionalism and dignity as she walked out of the building. She was the very definition of classy and the rawness of her absence still resonates in the air.

So what makes a friend the best? I've realized this week that if they are a good person when no one is watching, they treat themselves and those around them with respect and the way they handle themselves when things aren’t so great. It’s those characteristics that make someone the best-the friend part... anyone can do.

Today's Subject...Persistence

2011-08-23T13:58:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things about this time of year is being able to open all of the windows to let the cool August breeze move through my townhouse. I love to hear the birds chirping, the sound of a lawn mower in the distance and the leaves rustling as the wind brushes against each branch. With the unbearable heat of July far behind us, I was looking forward to soaking in whatever summer had left to give. What I did not anticipate was listening to my neighbor's, (who are equally enjoying the luxury of nature's air-conditioning as well) tween daughter's first encounters with learning the clarinet.

Every morning at 9am and every evening after dinner, I have been an unintentional audience to every awkward stage as the girl works through each note hoping to make it through the scales flawlessly. Her determination is evident in that every wrong note inspires her to start from the beginning to make sure she gets it right.

I have to admit, I was royally annoyed with having to be a victim of her learning curve. I would be going about my business enjoying the sounds of nature which are now suddenly drowned out by the painstaking sounds of this musical instrument that was inspired by the noise a kicking rabbit makes when it is caught in the jaw of its fox. I would loudly slam my windows shut thinking, "Why can't they shut their windows?" and "Do they realize how annoying that is?" or "Why are you making the rest of us suffer through your child's poor choice of woodwind?" I accepted defeat, realized this was just a phase she is going through and that I would have sacrifice my love of the fresh air in the house for the remainder of the summer.

It wasn't until this weekend that I had a change of heart. I was in the middle of much delayed spring cleaning on Saturday morning when her first practice of the weekend began. The irritation that I expected to feel wasn't there. I heard her make it through the entire piece without having to stop to start over! The girl's practice was paying off as she glided from one note to the next and successfully finished "Hot Cross Buns" for the first time in a month. I was unexpectedly overwhelmed with appreciation that I was able to be privy to her development in the arts. I gave a mental kudos to her parents for holding her accountable for her practice sessions and I suddenly admired their daughter's persistence. Where was this appreciation before? And why hadn't I realized how beautiful this whole situation really is? This is persistence in a tangible form. I audibly witnessed her persistence paying off just in time for her to start learning the next song in the book!

As she moves forward to the next stage of learning, and essentially starting all over again with the same fumbling fingers, her new song awaits to be mastered. Each song is a challenge, just like the challenges God puts in front of me; her musical journey sort of like my relationship with God. I struggle to play the right way, but I fumble through the mistakes, hit the wrong notes, and sometimes I have to start all over again in order to make it to the next challenge that God has in store. Just as her practice is making her a better player with more music to share, God’s challenges make me persist to be a better person with more give to others.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my parents and childhood neighbors for opting to play the trumpet in 6^th grade band. Thank you for putting up with persistence and learning curve as I worked to perfect my version of “Hot Cross Buns.”

Today's Subject...Finances

2011-08-04T17:48:00.000-07:00

So I would wave a white flag, but I can't afford one. I give up!

Does living on a single income ever get easier? Let me correct that, does surviving on a single income ever get easier? The term "paycheck to paycheck" is used to describe a lifestyle, or a cycle. I am beginning to think this term refers to a choice. Certain choices I have made in the past 5 years, like opening a credit card account(s), are now forcing me to make certain choices today...gas or groceries.

Five years ago... (Queue blurry screen and twinkle flashback noise).

I was 23, a recent college grad, working my first "big girl" job. I was living at my parents-yes I was a boomerang child-they sent me out but I came right back. It was my dream to own my own home, and be financially independent. I am sure that was my parent's dream as well. So I made it happen, I saved up enough money for a down payment on a house and I moved out. I was living the American dream-sans the white picket fence.

After living in my new place for about three months, one evening I came home to an inch of standing water in my entry way. I had the natural reaction that any young girl living on her own would; I cried and called my dad. He talked me off the ledge, welcomed me to homeownership and told me we would make a trip to Home Depot to look at our options. There was one minor detail...it was going to cost me about $400 to replace and install the new unit. I didn't have $400 saved and being the financial independent person I was, it was only obvious that I had to take out store credit to pay for it. Duh. Well, soon enough that became my answer for several things… “needing” a new flat screen TV, or “needing” a new mattress for the upstairs bedroom etc…it was amazing, not only how easy it was to take out credit, but how suddenly there were thousands of dollars’ worth of things I just couldn’t live without. You know a new dining room light fixture, a new dishwasher since mine wasn’t trendy and especially every season of How I Met Your Mother on DVD. Good thing I have all of these things, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

So I humbly admit my defeat. After 5 years of fighting it, I am ready to admit I need help. I have gotten in way over my head and my measly income just isn’t cutting it anymore. I need a raise…oh wait I just got one and all that did was give me an excuse to spend more money. So how do I get out of this mess? Where do I go from here? Financial Advisors cost money, the bank charges me money for not having money and I wholeheartedly admit I don’t have the discipline to use aggressive tactics. Making minimum payments each month isn’t getting me anywhere. And not to mention the damn credit card companies that want to keep me underwater! It’s not enough that I cut up the cards and throw as much money at them each month as possible; they still send me paper checks to use in lieu of the card I just demolished! It’s like some credit card guru is sitting behind his desk puppeteering my financial demise, “Let’s make her choose between eating and driving this month!” (Insert evil laugh and hairless cat strokes).

Please folks, I don’t need you to feel badly for me. I am taking full responsibility for my 23 year old ignorance. I got myself in this and I can/will get myself out. It is only a matter of time. What I wish I could have done is taken a crash course in how to save money, I wish I would have been told the evils of credit cards, and I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all disappear. I wish, I wish, I wish.
I figure I have several options:
1. I take my chance on the Powerball.
2. I forego all of the luxuries a 28 year old should have, like clothes for work and a social life.
3. I marry a 90 year old sugar daddy and kill him in his sleep (only after ensuring I was in the will).
4. I give up and move to Mexico to wax surfboards for minimum wage and live with Mexican nuns.
5. I sell my organs (just the ones I don’t need) on the black market.
Or 6. I work hard at getting my debt paid off and remain grateful for all of the things I do have.

I like number 6 (Although 3 and 4 seem appealing). It is hard not to feel deflated by the overwhelming amount of debt I have, but what pumps me back up is the fact that regardless of what the bank account says, The Lord (and my parents) miraculously provides for my basic needs. When I think I have no chance of getting what I want I usually don’t. But the more I rely on the Lord-I am comforted in knowing He will grant me what I need and at a more necessary time. I keep the big picture in mind, knowing none of these issues matters in the long run, none of this comes with me when I die, and I am rich with love from those in my inner circle. Is that not all we need- to be rich with love? Charlie lived in the smallest, most dilapidated house with his family and yet he was happier and filled with more love than Willy Wonka who lived in a mansion by lonely and by himself with nothing but his candy and freaky midgets to keep him company.
So I guess I take it back, I am rich! I have the love of my family, true friends, and my whole life to live! Not survive… but truly live for each day, from this day forward.

Today's Subject...Gratitude

2011-07-27T20:12:00.000-07:00

Gratitude in this short life is just about the only thing that keeps us level headed. Between living paycheck to paycheck, and fighting with a friend, to a car breaking down, or even trials at work we are moving so quickly to try to live in this world and live up to what the world expects us to be. If you continually think about what is wrong in your life, or allow the negative feelings to overbear our energy only one mindset can bring us back to what really matters in life- Gratitude.
I remember last winter I had gone out during a rainy and snowy day to get some food. I knew my gas tank was low, but I was willing to use what was left to drive to the grocery store. I threw on a jacket over my pajamas, didn’t bother with socks-simply slipped on my Chuck Taylor’s and hopped in the car. Reliable as ever, my Honda Civic started right up, that little orange gas light blinked in the dash. I ignored the warning as usual; being on a single income, the orange blink was simply a sign that my paycheck was about two days away. Overtime, it became the norm and I was on my way despite. It wasn’t until I reached the stop sign about two miles from my home on the way back that my trusty Civic had taken a stand. My car just wouldn’t go, didn’t even turn over. No gas. It was then I realized the magnitude of my situation, for just that moment I remembered I had used everything but $5 to buy food, the mental preparation for the short shopping trip didn’t involve grabbing my cell phone, and I had no gloves, hat, scarf or even socks, mind you, to walk the two miles in the sleet to the nearest gas station. What to do? Just as I was about to start the long walk down “You know better than this Leslie” lane, a red SUV pulled up alongside of me with a blonde haired lady in her mid to late 40s. She rolled down her window and asked me if I was ok. In retrospect I thought this was funny, would a man have asked differently? Perhaps, “Do you need help?” But she asked me if I was ok. I wasn’t, and I did need help. At that moment she was my only hope. At the pump I filled up an empty jet-ski gas can she just “happened to put in her trunk that morning” with the $5 I had left. She stayed with me until the Civic roared with a little bit of gas to get me home. I never saw the lady again; I never even got her name-but I am grateful for her because she took the time to stop and asked me if I was ok.

The days you get yelled at by your boss, the days you have a fight with your partner, things overall just aren’t going right; keep the things you are grateful for close to our hearts and at the forefront of our minds, the other day to day mishaps are just that…mishaps, hiccups, oopsies.

Gratitude is that little bit of gas we keep in our tanks for those bad days-like today-when you get news of an old friend’s death. My heart aches for those who are closer to him than I; I am grateful I had the opportunity to know him during the years our lives crossed paths.

So I lied, I am going to tell what I am grateful for. The Lord, Family, my best friend and soul mate Jeremy, true friends, my dog Bitsy, my job, my house, reliable (most of the time) transportation, the food in my pantry, the clothes on my back, love, forgiveness, laughter, hugs, kindness, hope.... life.

Today's Subject...Forward Motion

2011-07-23T11:22:00.000-07:00

If you got into your car, turned the key, put the shift into drive and hit the pedal and nothing happened, what would you do? Probably be confused at the fact that the car was not moving forward.

Everything moves. We as human beings are creatures of motion. We are not designed to be in one place for too long. Our culture has gotten so stagnant that we have to remind each other to literally move our bodies for 10-30 minutes a day. So if we are destined to move forward, why do we resist change?

When thinking of forward motion in terms of relationships with co-workers, friends, boyfriends, or our kids there is an unspoken pressure to continuously progress. This can be true of the co-worker who pushes to keep the meeting on track or the crazy girlfriend that is nagging her boyfriend to propose. Progression in its truest form is using past experiences as a foundation in life learning and applying those lessons to future possibilities. One cannot allow the past to interfere, but rather guide future decisions and enable forward motion to happen naturally.

Moving forward is natural right? Relationships evolve to grow closer. Take for example my sister and I. My sister and I really didn’t get along when we were younger. We fought consistently, said awful, hurtful things to one another (I remember once telling her I wish she had AIDS, before I even knew what AIDS was-who says that to someone they love? An uneducated 10 year old, that’s who) and the silent treatment was a common thing with us. Today, she is one of my best friends. Over the years we realized that sisters are destined to fight, we can eliminate the personal feelings from our past quarrels. Our relationship has grown so much closer as we got older.

So if we are determined to move forward why are some of these changes so scary? It’s the fear of the unknown, fear of loss or overall uncertainty…I am not sure. Sometimes forward motion means relationships can run their course and the two parties go separate ways.

The girlfriend that wants her boyfriend to propose might truly be ready for the idea of marriage but putting pressure on her boyfriend to move forward in taking that step might only push that boyfriend further away from proposing. Such irony. The desire to progress to the next step has now jeopardized that girlfriend’s potential of ever moving forward with her mate.

Forward motion can have an effect on friendships too. If we ask our parents how many friends from their childhood they still talk to, I bet the answer would be few. I suppose the term “Best Friends Forever” is conditional. Those pacts in elementary school should have gone more like this, “we will be friends forever unless/until…” doesn’t that sound more accurate?

Life happens, forward motion happens; careers, families, significant others and life decisions get in the way of the “forever” part. That’s ok. Just as such, that same forward motion brings new people into our lives that grow to love who we are now.

Think about the first day of college, or making a transition to a new career, moving to a new state, getting married, having a child. These steps require moving forward with some uncertainty, we do it anyways to assist in our personal and professional development.

Forward motion is positive, if that ultimately means we are growing in our individuality and evolving into better, stronger, wiser human beings who make better choices. Moving forward gets us to where we are meant to be, regardless of the speed we are moving.

Today's subject...Gossip

2011-07-07T12:38:00.000-07:00

Fact: everyone has talked about someone at some time. We are all guilty of it; the wicked sin of gossip.

Recently I found out that a friend of mine had some opinions about me and for some reason felt she needed to bring them up with everyone but me. Although, I am truly flattered that she chooses myself to be the topic of her conversation, I can't help but revert back to the days of my 7th grade year in Jr. High.

7th grade was the most difficult year of my life. I was a young adolescent on the verge of womanhood, which in itself is awkward enough. To make matters worse, I was ostracized from the in crowd. I could never quite fit in with the popular group. There was a group of girls who made my life horrible. From 7:30am-3pm, Monday-Friday, September-June, I was teased and tormented. They made fun of my multi-colored glasses frames, which I had gotten brand new that summer and was so excited to show off throughout the school year. They teased me for wearing the same pair of jeans on a Monday that I had worn the Friday before. They even went as far as to convince the boys that liked me, not to like me. What made matters worse was that my best friend throughout all of elementary school was right along with them, micromanaging my lameness. These girls were watching my every move to ensure that I never climbed the “popular ladder.” I never understood why they chose me to pick on, why they hated me so. I suppose I was an easy target, vulnerable and exposed. Slowly realizing that being me wasn’t cool…or cool enough. So I ask again, why was I the subject of such cruelty? Girls are wicked, especially at that age-so as an adult I have to ask myself what I learned from that experience.

Several things actually, and it took me many years to realize the life lesson that was to be applied to my adult life. If these pubescent girls and now co-workers have nothing better to talk about than me, isn’t their own life somewhat boring? If they are paying attention to what I wear, when I wear it, who I talk to, and how I talk to them…doesn’t that mean they don’t have enough to do? I mean, is it jealousy? Sometimes, I suppose. Maybe those girls were jealous that I had amazing breasts at the age of 14, or that boys did like me (probably for said breasts).

In my professional life now, I have to assume that the only reason my friend would see any reason to gossip my name in conversation is that she is threatened by me somehow, why I am not sure. Possibly because I am younger, I have a cuter boyfriend who is more successful than her boyfriend, my dog Bitsy is more amazing than her dog, I am more educated and better at my job, obviously more humbleJ, and according to her ugly tattoos it seems that I haven’t made the same poor decisions as she in her younger years. Just to name a few…

I truly harbor no ill feelings towards any of my offenders; it only makes me realize that when I am the subject of someone’s gossip-I wish I could be there listening to the conversation as it must be a fascinating. We can’t escape it, wherever we are. Recently I was at a wedding and one of the guests had the audacity to trash talk the bride at the reception-whom she has only met once! This gossip coming from a woman who was 30 years my senior!

So it never ends? Are we destined to talk negatively about each other until we are in an Assisted Living complex playing bridge with bosom buddies? And even then, when all friends are dead and gone, do the plants in the apartment get the privilege of hearing what Suzie in 5A did that weekend?