(FL) Girl with a New Life

Book Giveaway: The Last Letter from your Lover

2012-02-22T07:24:00.000-08:00

Hello Bloggies. The time has come to unload more books from my personal library. On the auctioning block: The Last Letter from your Lover.

I categorize this book as a fun read. The Last Letter from your Lover is about a 1960's woman who wakes up with amnesia to find her husband strangely disconnected, and mysterious love letters from someone she does not remember. I gave this one 3 out of 5 stars.

To Enter the Giveaway:

1) Leave a comment asking me a question you would like to see answered in a future post.

2) For additional entries tweet me, like me, facebook me and/or twitter me and leave a separate comment for each of these actions.

3) If your comment does not link back to your personal blog, please make sure to include your email in each of your comments.

That is all. Come back next week for my usual programming

PS I promise to catch up on returning all of your blog visits and comments next week.

Hugs.

-Tina

Book Giveaway: The Lovely Bones

2012-02-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

Hello Bloggies. The time has come to unload more books from my personal library. On the auctioning block: The Lovely Bones. I have to confess, if I didn't happen to have an extra copy of this book I wouldn't be giving it away. That is how much I loved reading it.

This is the heartbreaking story of a young girl raped and sent to heaven, where she watches her family unravel, cope and ultimately survive the tragedy. I gave this one 4.5 out of 5 stars.

To Enter the Giveaway:

1) Leave a comment asking me a question you would like to see answered in a future post.

2) For additional entries tweet me, like me, facebook me and/or twitter me and leave a separate comment for each of these actions.

3) If your comment does not link back to your personal blog, please make sure to include your email in each of your comments.

That is all. Come back later in the week for another giveaway.

PS I promise to catch up on returning all of your blog visits and comments next week.

Hugs.

-Tina

Stories from Real Women: Transforming Her Life Through Fitness

2012-02-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

"...not simply to live, but to thrive." I love these words, Zahida. Please join me in welcoming another truth teller. Because that is what sisters are for. To lift you up.

The woman: Zahida Jaffer
Her new beginning: transforming her life through fitness.
Where you can find her: www.runwithzahida.com

I knew my life had changed the moment that...I crossed the finish line at the GoodLife Fitness Victoria Half Marathon in October 2011. I had never worked so hard in my life, getting to this moment. It was the culmination of a 3-year journey and 120lbs of weight loss. It was a chance to prove to myself that this new version of me at 31 years old was somehow ‘younger and fitter’ than the version of me I remember crossing the finish at her best half marathon at age 23.

I had set what many would have considered an “unrealistic” goal on the improvements I wanted to make on my finish time, especially since I was relatively new to running again and this was my first race as the new me. After requiring two surgical procedures in 2010, I couldn’t start a consistent running regime until the year of the race. I had less than a year to achieve the level of fitness I needed to reach my goal. I made a plan and stuck to it. I trained alone and I trained with a friend. I trained hard. I had fun training. I became a running machine! And boy was race day ever amazing: an incredible event with outstanding energy and I ran with one of my best girls who encouraged me with every stride.

We crossed the finish line together, side-by-side, both achieving our personal bests in a half marathon event. Mine was 30 minutes faster than my previous best from 8 years before! It felt so good to cross the finish that I was brought to tears. I not only finished the race in a very healthy time, but I proved to myself that I am capable of anything I put my mind and body to.

This change opened up an opportunity in my life to finally... Train for a full marathon, that elusive distance of 42.2km, this coming May 2012, in Vancouver, and to inspire others in their own health and fitness journeys through achieving this goal. During my training for the half marathon last year, I started my blog to tell my story. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the following I’ve got and how I’ve been able to assist and inspire others who struggle with weight, health, fitness, and so on. I love to write about every topic related to running and I love that so many have learned from me and my story – an average woman striving to do extraordinary things. I want to run this race for my readers, but mostly I want to run this race for me.

I’ve started my training for the marathon and so far it’s going amazingly well. The more I run, the easier it gets, and the better it feels. My body continues to change and my attitude continues to improve. I am ‘leaner and meaner’ and I am the happiest version of me I’ve ever been. I know this goal is well within my reach. I want to run this race to prove to me that I have no limits. When I was twice my size, few would ever believe, including myself, that I could one day be a marathoner. My size and my low level of belief in myself were barriers to achievement. I now see my ability to achieve goals - fitness, career, and life goals - to have no ceiling. The only limits on me are the limits I set for myself. So why impose those on me when I thrive without?

I hope that through achieving my racing goals for 2012, I can inspire others to remove the ceilings placed on their own dreams.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is... to always remember how strong I am, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I overcame so much to get to where I am now. It wasn’t simply about losing weight and building muscle. It was also about believing in myself, my ability to improve and change my own life, and having the will to take the steps to actually do just that. That’s something I need to always hang onto. I am not likely to ever be an elite runner who wins marathons. But I will always be a winner by simply participating, striving for my best, learning from setbacks, and celebrating my own successes. In sport it really isn’t about winning and losing, but it’s about constantly improving. And there’s a lesson there for how we should live our lives. We should strive to better ourselves every day, better the lives of others, better our communities, and to not simply live, but to thrive.

*Share your story by completing the italic prompts above and emailing me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com.

Little Things I Love On V-Day: Photos from My Life

2012-02-14T06:00:00.000-08:00

A gift for the girls. Because I like spreading the love too.

In the midst of all the V-Day hoopla, please don't forget to do something nice for yourself.

Me looking tousled from my Spa time.

I'll always remember listening to a motivational speaker elaborate on her monthly flower tradition. It went a little something like this--no matter how broke she was she always made it a priority to buy herself at least one flower per month. Why? Because she knew in order to persevere, in order to cope with the inevitable failures and frustrating obstacles on her path, she would have to be kind to herself. I think I might have booked my first spa appointment that very day, and though sometimes I can't make time or room in the budget, and though there are plenty of months where it is just me and a bubbly bathtub, I never ever feel guilty for the times when I can. This is what it has taken me 34 years to embrace: There will always be room in my life for me.

My current nail color: Party in My Cabana. OPI.

Tempura fried cheesecake. Need I say more?

My fur baby in her new saucer. (PetDesign.Etsy.com)

Is this thing cute or what?

What are you loving right now?

In Memory of Whitney Houston

2012-02-13T06:00:00.000-08:00

Thank you for adding your voice to the soundtrack of my life.

My Fiction Series: Something Stolen Parts 1-8

2012-02-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

See my new sections in blue text below.

Something Stolen/Audrey

She had been seeing him secretly. I had known for some time.

Drifting through the perfumed pinkness of Marlena's bedroom, it was clear she still thought of herself as a girl. The lace covered pillows and cloying wallpaper made it difficult to orient myself. Standing in her empty room, our old conversations echoed around me.

"Did his parents like you?" She had posed by the closet door, her slender face turning in profile.

"Yes, I think they did." I couldn't have been more relieved. The entire weekend with my future in-laws had been a flawless success. My engagement ring winked back happily in the sunlight.

"Well I am sure they did, darling." Her voice sank farther back in the closet. "Dean's parents are such nice people. I bet there isn't anyone they don't like. They came to my wedding five years ago, you know."

Marlena always had a way of claiming some part of Dean for herself. Whatever history they shared rolled unsolicited from her frosted lips at all times.

"He probably doesn't tell you about his ex-girlfriends, but he brought one heck of a date to our wedding. Sam and I were so glad when he finally got rid of her." Marlena reappeared with her wedding album propped open. Her long manicured nail pointed to a young photo of Dean with a redhead dangling from his arm. "She was pretty though, wasn't she?" It was yet another stake she was hoping to dig into her territory.

I composed a restrained smile. "Very pretty."

"You can imagine how surprised we were when you came along. He had not mentioned you once." With a heavy thud the album was pushed shut and reabsorbed back into the overstuffed closet. "I guess he wanted to keep you a secret." She sauntered out, folding her arms wide across her chest. "I wonder why that is."

Marlena's bed groaned stiffly beneath me. Seeing her room alone for the first time was a strange epiphany. Each piece of furniture was turned at an uncompromising angle and every surface appeared worn with excessive polish. Despite its frilliness, it was severely composed.

Sam padded into the room quietly. "I'm sure you already know. Marlena and I don't sleep in the same room anymore." His eyes were still red from the news.

"I know, Sam."

"Is this the guy she is sleeping with?" He pulled out a brightly colored wedding photo.

I pointed to the third tux from the left. "That's the one." Thankfully, it wasn't my Dean.

After six years on and off together even I was surprised by Dean's proposal.

From the bedroom of my apartment he got down on his knees and shuffled to my place on the couch. He smiled up at me with those white teeth of his and said, "Marry me."

After six years of anticipation I would have thought the "yes" would come leaping out of my chest or shaking from my limbs. Ever since our junior year in college I had been testing the way his last name sounded after an inserted "Mrs." Mrs. Oliver. Mrs. Audrey Oliver. Sometimes, when introducing myself, this married version of my name voiced itself inside my head even before my own did. Hello, I am Mrs. Oliver. Nice to meet you. Yes, I AM married. And yes, he IS wonderful.

Funny that the "yes" didn't surface right away. Instead, I sat there perfectly still, taking him in. So much had changed since we first met. Dean had aged differently than I had. Now at 26, his face had filled in handsomely, giving him the air of a man in his thirties. No longer the stringy sweet faced boy of his youth, Dean's body had grown in square and strong. Secretly this made me jealous, that Dean raced forward in his years and left me behind. Me, the woman who was still mistaken for a college student, as short and slight as I was.

I stared into his face trying to remember what he used to look like, back when we were both the same age.

"Aren't you gonna say something?" Dean's amber eyes widened with curiosity. The diamond ring hung in the air between us, perched inside a pretty velvet box.

Mrs. Oliver. Mrs. Audrey Oliver. "Yes. Of course, yes." The word finally loosened itself from my heart and pushed its way out through my lips. "Yes. Yes. Yes."

I buried my head into his shoulder and cried. After six years he still moved me to tears.

Wanting/Marlena

I spread my fingers out in the grass. The soft blades tickled down my outstretched arm and through my hair. There was something in the sky, maybe a slight pause, a sudden stillness, that told me the rain was coming. I breathed it in, the ripening air, and commended myself for being right about something for once.

Out in the distance I could make out the glow of the house and the distinct warbling of conversation. They were talking about me; I could feel it.

When I was a little girl I used to stretch out here in the field behind my parent's house and sort through every possible outcome for my future. Would I spend my life jet-setting to exotic places? Or would there be a quite suburban home with a handsome husband? From that innocent place in my life it all sounded miraculous. The mere forward momentum of time, even the world churning on its axis, held nothing but promise for me then.

Laying down so close to the earth with the big empty sky rolling over me, I suppose it felt like the best place to speak directly to God. I swore that the world had a pulse and it vibrated there with every whirling hummingbird and every gust of wind--every detail sending a pleasurable tingle shooting through my legs and down to my bare toes. I had once interpreted this all as God's affirmation, that yes, I would have all that I dreamed of.

As the voices from the house grew louder, I knew they had come to that place in the conversation I had been dreading, the one about Sam leaving me.

A long hush fell over the trees, one by one, until the light trickle of rain was all around me. I asked God again what my future had in store for me and I smiled at the rain. All I wanted was to be right for once.

Wanting Part Three/Marlena

It was raining like this when Sam and I first met. From the edge of my textbook his soggy profile pushed into the warm coffee house with the rain battering the door behind him. His pale hair was slicked flat to his head and his clothes were dripping a small puddle at his feet. He might have been more embarrassed except that we all looked the same--all of us frizzy haired refugees from the sudden downpour.

With my physics book propped in front of me and my mascara smudged around my eyes, I was hoping to make myself invisible. Unlike Sam's never-ending calmness, I was a wreck. Being seen anywhere in public in such a state was enough to make me want to crawl out of my own skin. But I had no choice. The rain was coming down in solid sheets. Escape was not an option.

Sam was grinning for no reason in particular, his coffee propped happily in one hand, when he stepped away from the barista stand, lost his traction, and came hurdling toward my textbook fortress. Even as I watched his body lurch forward in slow motion, I shivered at the thought of being discovered by him. He was handsome in every way a college girl wants a man to be handsome. His face was angular and familiar, the kind I had seen advertised in movies and men's razor commercials. He was the kind of man the world had already taught me to want before I understood what it meant to want myself.

His outstretched hand was the first to arrive, folding itself over the top of my book with the perfect squares of his fingernails glinting in rainwater. As his weight pushed my pages flat in front of me it was his chest that came next, landing directly on top of my table with a loud thud. The approximate weight and feel of his muscles were already calculating in some primitive corner of my brain. It was the top of his head that came last, staring me down while the rest of him struggled to get upright. He flopped there like a prized fish, his coffee still balanced in the air next to him, before rearing backward and falling into the chair behind him. We both sat there, wide eyed and breathing hard, facing each other from opposite sides of the table as if on purpose.

"Well that was weird," he chuckled, his brows raising into his forehead. After a long silence his carefully positioned coffee made it finally to his lips and down to our table. "My name is Sam, by the way."

I would spend years of our future marriage trying to demystify that very moment, the one where our first date happened by complete accident. Had Sam really chosen me? Or were we chosen for one another by a wet floor and a lucky chair? Had the rain not intervened that day, would he have even noticed me at all? With Sam it all came too easy to tell. His mood was unflinchingly content. He accepted every happenstance as divine order, including our meeting in the coffee house that day. In all of our years together I would see him unravel only a handful of times, and one of them was the day that he asked me to leave.

With a blue pen he had scribbled his phone number in the palm of my hand with the words "Don't forget about me" inked neatly beneath. I was so terrified of actually calling him that I let his note linger on my palm for days. By the time I finally scrubbed it off the final loop of his "e" had embedded itself permanently in my skin, like a tattoo.

It is still there today, faded and blurry just below my pinkie. And I haven't forgotten about him. Not yet anyway.

Wanting Part Four/Marlena

I used to like the way my jeans looked curled up and abandoned on the floor of Sam's bedroom, back when we couldn't be bothered to stay dressed for very long. Back when five minutes of breathing in each other's atmosphere was all it took to send us careening into a horizontal position with our clothes torn from our bodies. Things were easier then.

"I promise to be gentle." That was all he had said on our first night together. I remember it distinctly because there would be few words spoken in bed after that, I suppose because none were required. The intent stare in his eyes, the way they glossed over as if he was almost on the verge of crying, they were all the confirmation I needed. I knew he loved me long before he made the tender confession.

My favorite part of his young body was his shoulders. They stood wide and solid against him. In the mornings I would snuggle up to his chest and lay my head there, over a strong shoulder, feeling safe and peaceful for once. Those moments were always rare for me--feeling safe, that is.

He must have assumed I was a virgin, though I never bothered to correct him. It was sweet watching him handle me so carefully. His fingers working me lightly. His hands pulling me into place. The strain of the muscles in his chest as he propped himself over me. How precious and delicate he must have thought me to be.

I used to adore being treated that way.

In our married years, those shoulders, my once beloved shoulders, had slouched lower on his body, shrinking somewhere more pathetic, cowering even. His smiley optimism had not changed outwardly. He still laughed with confidence over his old dreams. "It is only a matter of time, Marlena," he assured me, "before business picks up." But behind all of his late nights hocking potted plants and yard decor, few customers were hiring him out for landscaping, and that is, according to Sam, where the bread and butter was. Betraying the happy song on his voice, it was weariness that drooped from his shoulders.

Somewhere between his pretend happiness and my inability to play along with him, we grew apart from one another. Not on the outside, mind you. On this inside. Our interludes in the bedroom had become scheduled ordeals, each of us arriving showered, shaved and already in pajamas. My jeans folded neatly in a drawer somewhere. No words exchanged. How tidy and organized we had become.

Still, there were his eyes. Those watery emotional eyes. And he still loved me, despite everything I did wrong. Everything I would do wrong.

Something Stolen Part Five/Audrey

I watched from across the street as Marlena and her new guy tripped into the tattoo parlor bleary eyed and grabbing at one another. "Poor Sam," I said aloud to myself, clicking another photo from my blackberry. Sam and Marlena had only been separated for a month now.

The Blazing Saddle. That was the name blinking in indigo and orange colored flames just next door. Mostly filled with middle aged regulars still dusty from a hard day's work and a mechanical bull that hadn't functioned since the 80's, this is where I had caught her the first time.

Laughter ricocheted from inside the parlor where Marlena's friend had laid himself across the tattoo bench and began unbuttoning his shirt--his grin slanting wickedly. Marlena was pointing to the inside of her palm, though I couldn't make out why.

The sidewalk was covered in snow when I was here last, following Marlena to the parking lot where she and a surly bar patron pulled into the backseat of a Cadillac. Why was I following her? I imagine it had something to do with the way she looked at me and my Dean. There was jealousy there; I could see that. But jealousy I was used to. What irked me most was that look of disbelief, the slightest raise of her eyebrows and that knowing smirk that implied: Sam and I used to be just like you. That was the look that burned a hole in the bottom of my stomach and kept me awake at nights staring into Dean's face.

"Are you going to stay with me?" I would sometimes whisper to Dean's sleepy profile, curling my engagement ring to my lips. He never answered, of course, but I always hoped he would, as if his sleep would render him irrevocably honest.

I stole another photo of Marlena from across the street. "I am nothing like her," I assured myself.

With numb fingers I composed the text.

Angry. I’m so angry. Sorry Sam. Marlena. She’s done it again. Have proof. Different man this time. Following her since 1am. Can’t stop. Please tell me to stop.

I never hit send.

Wanting Part Six/Marlena

Charlie was everything that Sam wasn't: unsure, flawed, and desperate. With smooth dark hair always slick from his laps in the pool and lean sinewy muscles, Charlie had the makings of a Greek statue, except for his nose. His nose was unforgiving with gaping nostrils and a knotted bridge from which the rest of it came jutting forward. The combination of these qualities, beautiful and strange, played on my sympathetic impulses--impulses rarely stirred by Sam's unwavering perfection.

It was on a crisp Fall night, after leaving Sam and Charlie's dorm room, that I discovered Charlie's letter stuck inside the pocket of my red wool coat. His words were scribbled in small shaky script, "Since your heart belongs to Sam I will never say these words to you in person. I love you." That was all. No flowery poetry. No grandiose musings. Just those two sentences and his name signed at the bottom. If only I hadn't wished for him, then I could hold myself unaccountable.

From that moment on it was always his face, that pleading puppy-dog face, that would greet me quietly with eyes cast downward. It was that face that would stare longingly as he rose from the edge of the pool fresh from each victory. We never spoke of the letter, but we didn't have to. His face was enough.

On my wedding day Charlie finally charged into my dressing room and put his lips against mine. Soft and searching, he held me there for a long time, as if dangling me in a dancer's pose. My back arched, my arms extended, my toes pointed--his graceful body carried me on its fingertips. He almost seemed as if he were going to say something then, his eyes big and inquisitive and his mouth forming silent words, but he never quite finished. Instead he placed me on my feet, tugged on his tuxedo jacket, and walked away. The exchange was painfully brief, just like his letter had once been.

When I saw Charlie again, now paunchy from middle age, and he pulled me into the backseat of his battered old Cadillac, he beamed at me with that look as intensely devoted as ever. Naked and smiling he whispered, "I think I am going to start swimming again. Be young again. For you."

Tucked inside Charlie's embrace, I wanted to feel new.

Something Stolen Part 7/Audrey

"Why do you care so much?" Dean's hand fell to the small of my back, guiding me through the revolving door with his body pressed behind me. As we emerged into the lobby a scarlet clad bellhop nodded his approval. Dean reciprocated with his usual, a self-congratulatory half-smile.

"Because Sam is a good friend of ours. If Marlena is unfaithful to him, and we know about it..." My voice retreated to a whimper.

"I still don't understand what's got you so upset. I mean, you barely know Marlena. And they are separated now." A low rumble of conversation and a tinkling of silverware summoned us from the end of the wood-paneled hallway. "If I have to listen to another late night of you ranting about Marlena and whatever new boyfriend she has... Can we let it go already. She and Sam are finished. Game over."

I tugged at the bun pinned tightly to my scalp. A headache was already throbbing at my temples. The body shaping torture device beneath my dress wasn't helping things either, though I was pleased with the little trick it played--making me look thinner than I felt.

"Audrey..." Dean's fingers snapped me to attention. The ballroom doors stood directly in front of us. His co-workers were spread throughout, some leaning over tables and others surveying the room from the edges. There was his hand again, guiding me inside. "Just smile and be friendly." He muttered at my ear before launching himself forward for a round of handshakes.

Dragging him towards the bar, the women were quick to rally Dean's attention. The few to look in my direction appraised me with their mouths tightened into apologetic slits before moving cautiously out of my earshot. Tucked together in corners, their glances darted at me between whispers.

"Everyone does not hate you," Dean would assure me, again. Yet my nagging headache remained. The words swirled in my head, the ones Dean had refused. Unfaithful is unforgivable.

Something Stolen Part 8/Audrey

"Three, two, one!" Dean and a smattering of his coworkers tipped their shot glasses in the air and threw them back. As the liquid ran down his throat, Dean's eyes flickered. "Ugh," he gulped, "what was that?"

The bartender turned his chin down in consolation. "That was the Four Horsemen."" He cleared the discarded shot glasses, casting a knowing glance Dean's way. "Don't drive home tonight."

"Four Horsemen?" Dean staggered. "Like the apocalypse?"

"More like Mr. Beam, Daniels, Walker and Jameson."

From my lone seat at our table, I could see Dean was already struggling to walk. He had left me sitting here for the entire party. "This is a work function," he explained before bee-lining for the bar, "I have to mingle."

Just as I thought he was finally moving in my direction a blond with a plunging neckline intercepted him, tucking her hands around his waist. "Let's have another round," she motioned to the bartender.

Even though Dean threw his hands in the air, like a stick-up, there was a smile rising on each side of his mouth. When he noticed me watching he wrestled it back down, but it was still there, a restrained smirk.

Another round was hoisted in the air and back down again. The blond was speaking low and close to Dean's face. There was only one of her words that made itself audible from my distance. "Again." The possibilities of that word, again, swung in my head like a pendulum. Again. Again. Again.

Half-slamming my purse onto the black granite of the bar, I waved to the bartender. "I'll have one. Or make that two. I need to catch up." Appraising the other men at the party and watching Dean's hand levitate farther down towards the blond, I wondered if I really could—or if I would forgive myself.

"Feeeelingssss. Nothing more than feelingsss." The grip of the microphone scratched beneath my fingers. Opening my eyes to the rest of the room revealed everything flipped in the wrong direction. Bodies extended upwards toward the ceiling and eyeballs blinked back at me from above their eyebrows. A disembodied voice continued to gurgle into the microphone in front of me, though I wasn't convinced it was mine. "Why is everybody upside down?"

"Because you are upside down, dear." A pair of hands wrenched me upward into sitting position. Looking down I realized I was sitting in the dead center of a dining table, the centerpiece spread out and crushed beneath my tush. I must have laid myself across the table, back down, letting my head dangle down the other side. Just beyond my bare toes were a couple of men grinning on in amusement, each holding one of my patent leather pumps. At first I thought to demand them back, but then I thought better of it.

"You can have them," I sneered, climbing down from the table.

The same pair of hands guided me into a chair and placed a large glass of water in my hands. "Here you go," the feminine voice encouraged me delicately. "Drink up."

After two sips her face came into focus. Mrs. Freeman. The bosses wife. I had noticed her sitting alone in the corner for most of the party. Unlike me, she appeared to prefer it. Her soft mocha colored skin and big expressive eyes peered directly into my center, the same way my mother's would have. "That a girl. Keep going." She spoke to me like a child.

"What exactly is going on here?" I finally thought to ask, though my tone was more accusatory than I intended.

Mrs. Freeman kneeled down to face me, her silky white gown folding in gathered lengths around her. "What is going on," she paused, gauging my focus, "is that you had too much to drink."

"Phbbbbbbbtttttt." I blew air through my lips in disbelief. "This is a party. Everybody is drinking." I could feel my arms lifting up around me, though I had not asked them to.

"Hmmmm." Mrs. Freeman continued patiently. "Well, just before you started singing, you promised those two men a night with you in this hotel." She pointed back in the direction of the two men cradling my pumps. One waved a hotel key card in the air.

A burst of shame and sobriety shuddered inside my skull. "Oh God," I clutched my head.

"I believe their names are Ed and Gary. Work in the office mail room." Mrs. Freeman was smiling now, restraining a laugh. "But don't worry, they won't remember anything tomorrow either."

It was then that I finally noticed Dean's absence. Surely he would have stopped me from climbing onto a table. "Where is..."

"Dean?" She finished my sentenced. "Where is Dean? I'll help you look for him as soon as you are feeling up for it."

Instinctively I remembered the blond. She wasn't here either. I lurched to my feet but was quick to loose my balance. My head was still swirling. Mrs. Freeman guided me back down into my chair.

"Honey," she clutched my hand in hers and looked into my face more seriously, "if you want my help we're going to do this one step at a time. The first thing you need to know is how to take care of yourself. I'm not helping you track down any man until we've got that point settled." She nudged the bottom of my glass, pushing the water closer to my mouth. I took another sip, looking back to my shiny pumps still being held captive. Her eyes followed mine to Ed and Gary. "At the very least we can be grateful you didn't do anything rash tonight." She flashed a weak smile.

Staring into her face, I managed a grateful nod. At least I had that.

My Valentine's Day Movie Picks

2012-02-07T08:47:00.000-08:00

See all of my movie recommendations and instant downloads at RentChickFlicks.com.

One Day 2011. On July 15, 1988 Dexter and Emma almost fall into bed together but there is something holding them back. Their youth. Their differences. Their visions for the future. While Emma goes on to chase her working class dreams of writing, Dexter chases down the life of a wealthy playboy. One Day follows the lifetime friendship of Dexter and Emma, always landing on the anniversary of July 15th. Based on the novel of the same name, this film is romantic, tearful and sweet.

50/50 2011. If you are looking for something less sappy I highly recommend this film. Adam is just another regular guy with a selfish girlfriend and a crack-up for a best buddy. When Adam is unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer at age 27, his perspective on everything is forced to change. 50/50 offers the rare combination of laugh out loud funny and incredibly thoughtful. Without being sentimental, Adam's story shines a life affirming light on love and friendship.

What movies are you watching?

A More Meaningful Valentine's Day & A Love Note from Tolstoy

2012-02-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is one of those holidays I've always had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, celebrating your loved one is beautiful. On the other hand, the pressure of expectations (i.e. an overpriced bouquet to prove your happiness to the rest of the world) feels a bit shallow.

I say drop all the pretense and speak directly from your heart. I discovered this love journal, What I Love About You, at Barnes and Noble. The hubs and I can fill in sentiments like, "Without you I never would have..."

For a homemade solution, why not create a meaningful journal and write your own love notes, copy your favorite poems and record your favorite moments through words or photos. Extra bonus: it might be something to gift to your children one day.

Celebrating single this Valentine's Day? Do something nice for yourself. Self Worth is the road to love, after all. Start a gratitude journal, a diary of your favorite days, or an album of your proudest moments.

How are you feeling this Valentine's Day?

Written from Count Leo Tolstoy to his fiancee Valeria Arsenev. November 2nd, 1856

"I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious -- your heart, your soul. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily; but the soul one must learn to know. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour, even love, the most beautiful and natural of feelings."

The Smart Chicks Book Club: Our Leading Men

2012-02-02T05:34:00.000-08:00

In honor of Valentine's Day we have pulled two romances off the group bookshelf for the month of February: Before Ever After and The Last Letter from your Lover. The first is supernatural and the second is a bit more old fashioned.

Vote in The Smart Chicks Book Club Poll below.

Poll

What leading man do you most enjoy reading?

Taming Mr. Ungettable. Mr. Unavailable. Mr. never-thought-he'd-settle-down until now. The man behind the glasses. The quieter, gentler, not-to-be-underestimated man in the background. The supernatural lover. Fangs, wings and/or time travel are not out of the question. The convert. The previously unlikeable stinker who makes himself into a better person in the name of love.

comments and details · show results · invite friends

What books are you reading?

Check Out My Interview: A Duck In Her Pond

2012-02-01T07:31:00.000-08:00

Check out my interview at A Duck In Her Pond on why I became a writer, my upcoming novel, and my favorite pie.

And don't forget to read my latest "Stories from Real Women" below.

Xoxo. -Tina

Stories from Real Women: A Passion for Dance

2012-01-31T06:00:00.000-08:00

"I was shy at first - petrified of looking bad - but they encouraged me and clapped and I took the bait. It was a very short dance. A few wiggles of my nonexistent 6 yr. old hips, some body waves and "waterfall" hands dripping down next to my popping right hip. Finally, running out of ideas was the motivating fear that prompted me to run out of the middle of the circle, launching myself into my mother's lap and ducking my head into her. Miraculously, over the thundering of my heart, I started to hear these wonderfully generously kind women applauding and woo-hooing. The jack rabbit fear in my chest switched gears into excited jubilation. That was it, the defining moment where I became hooked on belly dance."
--Through the Veil, a blog by Kat Fahrer Mckay

The woman: Kat Fahrer Mckay
Her new beginning: Discovering her passion for Belly Dance.
Where you can find her: http://www.conchi.us/

I knew my life had changed the moment that... my mother brought me to the belly dancing class she was teaching when I was 6 years old. Every week I watched the women dance and laugh, as if the two went hand in hand. At the end of the session, she would have everyone sit in a circle, lights down low, candles lit, and one by one they would step into the circle and perform for each other. Finally, when everyone had gone, my mother said, "Kathy, you want to give it a try?" Never shying from anything my mom asked of me, I got up and danced. My life was never the same.

This change opened up an opportunity in my life to finally... forget the world around me. When I dance, everything disappears but me and the music and it's bliss.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is... to trust my gut and be true to those feelings. Nothing puts you more in touch with your emotions than dancing!

*Share your story by completing the italic prompts above and emailing me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com.

When I'm Wrong

2012-01-30T10:23:00.000-08:00

After 6 months of settling into our new home, my attentions have finally turned to sorting out my office. Peeling back the layers of old documents this weekend led me to uncover all the little mementos of my life--the ticket stubs I never threw away, the handwritten messages that deserved preservation. It amazes me how old notes and cards have so much more impact on me now than when I first received them. Call it the busy whirl of life and obligations, but it always takes me a few extra steps, and a little distance, to fully appreciate things. As much as I try to be present, I still have plenty of room for improvement.

Here is my greatest downfall: I'm a pretty demanding person. Not demanding in an out loud sort of way, the years have slowly drained that impulse from me, though not completely, as my husband will attest. Mostly now, I am demanding in a quieter way. My heart wants a lot from people. I am quietly offended when I am ignored, discounted or misjudged. I am bitter when mistreated. Even more, I am put off when others are not as genuine or gracious as I am, which is to say I am disappointed often. What it has taken me many years to make peace with is that we are all imperfect, me included, and that making room for the imperfections of my loved ones is as important as hoping they will make room for mine. Reading through my old farewells and thank-yous and congratulations reminded me of the stuff I sometimes miss.

Sometimes I don't recognize all the kindness that passes through my life.

The Best Years of Your Life: A Quote

2012-01-27T07:37:00.000-08:00

"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny.”

-Albert Ellis, psychologist

I'm Going to Blissdom. Are You?

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I am finally going to my first blog conference. Eeek.

I can already feel one of these coming on...

One Date Night Movie, One Anti-Date Night Movie

2012-01-24T09:02:00.000-08:00

With Valentine's Day on the horizon, I am recommending a movie for each side of the fence.

See all of my movie recommendations and instant downloads at RentChickFlicks.com.

The Company Men 2011. I know what you're thinking. Unexpected pick for a romantic night at home? Well, I think so too, but hear me out. The Company Men is a surprisingly thoughtful story about the men, families, and relationships affected by a failing job market. Beyond the laughs and the all star cast, this is a journey toward discovering what is most important--what keeps us going. I walked away from this movie feeling a little more grateful for my partner in life.

Anti date night...

The Other Woman 2009. Becoming the second and despised (younger) wife. Becoming the inexperienced step mom. Losing a baby. The Other Woman explores the less than perfect perspective of a young woman lost to her new found place in the world. I thought this was a subtle testament to the power of women, especially as we grow.

Buy it here.

What are you watching for V-Day?

Stories from Real Women: A Life in Service

2012-01-23T09:18:00.000-08:00

The woman: Sam Morgan
Her new beginning: Joining the Peace Corps and moving to Cambodia
Where you can find her: http://samnhal.blogspot.com/

I knew my life had changed the moment that I looked down at the phone, checking my e-mail, and it said that my status on the Peace Corps website had been changed. My husband and I were on vacation and had almost given up hope of serving with the Peace Corps as all invitations to serve were currently on hold due to the budget crisis. I logged into my account and couldn't believe my eyes when it said I was an invitee! Being an invitee means that after having waited a year since applying, we were finally going to be able to serve. We had to wait an excruciating week to receive the package from Peace Corps. We sat down on the couch in our small apartment and opened the package together. We were both a little shocked when it said "Cambodia" with a departure date less than 3 months away.

This change opened up the opportunity in my life to finally dedicate my life to service. We both knew that service was something we wanted to be important in our lives. It was something we wanted to focus on with our children in the future. We realized that if we wanted our children to learn about service, we had to start that pattern by serving ourselves. I so badly wanted an adventure before we had children, we both did. We were so lucky that this came at a point in our lives, our schooling, and our careers, that we could just pick up, sell almost everything we owned and move to a third world country. We'd had such a hard time in the application process of the Peace Corps, but we both felt like it was the right thing for us to do, so we left it up to our Heavenly Father. If we were supposed to go, if this was our path, then Peace Corps would send us and we would go. We have been living and serving here in Cambodia for almost 6 months now. Some days it can be so frustrating and all I want to go is go home. In times like that I try to remind myself, I'm here for a reason, I wanted this, I wanted this so badly, I can do this, I'm supposed to be here. The people of my village deserve to have me stick this out, I came here to serve them, and service isn't always what you imagine it to be, but the best thing about service is that you always get more out of it than you put in.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is to make the most out of the time I have here in Cambodia. This is my chance, my opportunity, my adventure and I want to make the most out of it. Sometimes 2 years and 3 months seems like an eternity. The reality is that we just began our only full year of service here in Cambodia. I am so blessed to be living in this village, and this is my chance to serve them, and to accomplish what I came here to do; so I will dedicate myself with a renewed motivation towards serving the people of Cambodia, in whatever opportunities may come my way in the next year and a half.

*Share your story by completing the italic prompts above and emailing me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com.

My Weekend Movie Rental Pick: Get Low

2012-01-20T11:29:00.000-08:00

Get Low 2009. Robert Duvall. Sissy Spacek. Bill Murray. Based on a real person, Get Low tells the story of Felix Bush, a backwoods 1930's hermit who locals have grown to fear. With his health failing, Felix decides to hold his own funeral while he is still alive and able to share his truth with the entire community. Both laugh out loud funny and deeply touching, this film speaks about death, forgiveness and finding beauty in unexpected places. I absolutely loved it.

Buy it here.

Little Things I Love: Winter Pick-Me-Ups

2012-01-19T07:45:00.000-08:00

Ever since I left my home state of Florida, I've had a fast education in all things Winter. These are my favorite Winter Pick-Me-Ups.

A Splash of Color. Adding more splashes of bright color to everything I do in the Winter helps energize me. Above is a photo of me in my new red necklace. Below is the necklace while still in the store--begging me to rescue it. PS I am in love with fabric jewelry right now.

All things Tropical. Coconut scented candles? Pineapple flavored lip gloss? Tiny umbrellas in my glass of water? Yes to all of the above.

Vacation state of mind. Since I have to carry more moisturizer around this time of year, I like to pretend I'm still on vacation and enlist the tiny hotel bottle from my Summer travels.

More luxurious bath products. Warm weather products usually don't cut it in the dry Winter climate. For me this is the perfect time to indulge in an affordable upgrade.

Music. Music always lifts my spirit.

What are your favorite Pick-Me-Ups?

2.5 Years Into My Novel in Progress

2012-01-18T10:23:00.000-08:00

Various drafts of my Novel-in-Progress

In the summer of 2009 I began writing my first novel, and this blog, in earnest. Did I have any idea of the journey ahead of me? In short: no.

I recently read an article where an author compared aspiring writers to the contestants of American Idol. The point being this--there are zillions of others trying to accomplish the same thing you are, there is plenty of rejection in store, and there are only so many spots to fill. Call me sensitive, but this seriously hurts my heart. Still, I would be kidding myself if I didn't acknowledge the immensity of the challenge in front of me. With so much noise in the world it is difficult to find a willing audience, much less make yourself worthy of one.

In January of 2011 my terrified little manuscript hit the road for group edits. For me, this was the most difficult step. Egos are always fragile, mine included, and exposing your baby to harsh critique is never easy. Despite the challenges, this step taught me two incredible lessons. #1, in order to survive this process I need 100% conviction in the value of my project. #2, a thick skin is a necessary part of a writer's life.

My first break came in September 2011, when after a handful of rejections, I found an editor who loved my project. This might seem like a small accomplishment, but finding someone with credentials who advocates my work and calls herself a "fan," well that is enough to send me dancing in circles. And crying. I have done both, sometimes at the same time.

After four months of letting my manuscript "breathe" (a break recommended by all my writerly friends) I began the task of working the recommendations of my talented editor in December, and we have been in collaboration ever since. My polished manuscript went out in the mail today, and we should be very close to a final draft.

Will I spend another 12 months in search of a literary agent? Or will I bite the bullet and self publish? Friends, I can't say for sure. As an aspiring first time author without much experience, self publishing looks like a very good option. Does that make me another failed American Idol contestant? Well, yes. It does. It also means this. According to Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 hour rule from his book Outlier's (20 hours of weekly practice for ten years) I am three years closer to success.

3 years down. 7 to go. Cheers to a long and fulfilling journey.

On Love: A Quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.

2012-01-16T08:30:00.000-08:00

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

--Martin Luther King, Jr.

My Weekend Movie Pick: The Iron Lady

2012-01-12T09:17:00.000-08:00

Sadly, my local theater isn't showing The Iron Lady. If yours is, please gather up your girl mafia and show Meryl Streep some love.

"I've got a woman's ability to stick to a job and get on with it when everyone else walks off and leaves it." --Margaret Thatcher

"If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing." --Margaret Thatcher

Photos From Florida: A Walk Around the Orlando Grande Lakes

2012-01-11T05:00:00.000-08:00

I do love a good walk.

Breathe in deep and enjoy the view.

The clouds are amazing, right? Where do you love to walk?

What I'm Reading: The Smart Chicks Book Club

2012-01-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

We have been in open reading at The Smart Chicks Book Club for the holidays, but that doesn't mean we have stopped reading all together.

What I just finished reading: The Secret Life of Bees. I happened across this book while pouring myself over the shelves of a Florida bookstore. When I read the first two pages I knew I had to have it. My rating: IT WAS AMAZING.

Lily Owens is a 1960's runaway in search of her dead mother's past. Her clues lead her to a pink house and a charismatic household of beekeeping black women. As Lily acquaints herself with bee society, learns about the Black Madonna the sisters revere, and finds love in her new family, Lily discovers that her mothers are everywhere.

If you enjoy slowing down and getting close to your characters you might like it too. If you want something fast moving and exciting, I say skip it.

What I'm reading now: The Lovely Bones. This book opens with one of the most tragic scenes I have ever read--a young girl raped. The magic here is the thread of hope and the compelling voice of the narrator.

Have you read this one? What are you reading, bloggies?

Take our quiz for fun.

Poll

What is your favorite ending for a good book?

Happy. Life is already serious enough. Complicated. Having an ending that is too far to either extreme feels unconvincing. Hopeful. I like to think that my characters can always hope for better times even if they haven't discovered them yet. Unexpected. I like an ending that throws me out of my chair.

comments and details · show results · invite friends

Stories from Real Women: Defining Divorce

2012-01-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

I want to take today to thank all of my lady truth tellers. You know who you are. You bring us your truth, even when it might be different, even when it goes against the grain, because you know, despite whatever ridicule you might face, that your truth will set someone free.

In November, Joanna spoke to us about finding her one, Ellen Goldberg shared her new life on the other side of the country, Tina Boscha realized her dream of publication, and Tina Moss-Fiala learned how to love again. In December we welcomed Taslim Jaffer and her journey toward becoming the person she was meant to be. I encourage you to spend time reading their words. They are inspirational.

Today, please meet our newest truth teller, Angela. "I make a promise to make a difference in someone's life everyday. Even just a smile, holding open a door, or a kind word for someone can be all it takes to change someone's day." -Angela

The woman: Angela Ferguson
Her new beginning: Transitioning her life on her own terms.
Where she pays it forward: The National Tourette Syndrome Association, Inc.

I knew my life had changed the moment that I decided to file for divorce. I was not in a typical situation. I knew that filing for divorce would not get me away from the man that I wanted to be away from. We owned a home together, and neither of us could afford the payment by ourselves. I knew that we would be stuck living together, even after the divorce papers were filed. We both knew that our marriage was over and it was time to move on. Both of us being children of divorced parents ourselves, we agreed that we wanted to make this as easy as possible for our son. My ex-husband even tried to suggest that we stay together until our son graduated High School. 8 more years?? Really?? I couldn't do it. I was struck with the largest serving of guilt that I had ever felt. I was taking the security of a family and ripping it away from my son. But the decision had been made.

I had spent years suppressing my dreams, and my true personality of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to contribute to the world just to keep a man loving me. I had had enough. I moved out into the spare bedroom of our house and the divorce proceedings started. That was almost 2 years ago. As of today, we still live in the same home as it sits.... for sale. I know what most people are thinking. I've heard it, "just let the house go into foreclosure." In this economy it would be easy to do. But both of us want to be responsible adults (sometimes easier said than done), neither of us want to create bad credit by letting the home go into foreclosure. We basically live as roommates, split the mortgage, all home bills and our son's expenses.

This change opened up the opportunity in my life to finally renew my Faith in Christ and let my son find his Faith in Christ. I had made so many sacrifices throughout my marriage. After filing for divorce I was lost. The relationship between my son and myself was volatile and suffering badly. Despite both of us now being ridiculed and mocked, we started regularly attending church together on Sunday mornings. I remember the first Sunday that we went to church while listening to the pastor preach--it was like a huge weight lifted off my chest. I knew this was where we belonged. I knew that I was meant for so much more than being with someone who wanted to keep me from being more. I knew that Christ had a plan for me, and that with him there wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

In February of this year my son was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome. A diagnosis that, without Christ, my son nor myself would have been able to accept. I was prepared, his dad was not. I know that we handle it very well because we both know that Christ will never give us more than we can handle. Tourettes has not prevented my son from accomplishing any of his goals. He is a gifted student and participates in 3 sports throughout the year. We are Blessed. Over summer vacation Bible school, my son accepted Christ and on July 31st was baptised dedicating his life to God. Our relationship during this difficult time and living arrangement is stronger than I ever imagined a parent and a child could have. We worship together and we pray together. I feel as though the bond that we share together has provided me an opportunity to be able to raise my son, with dignity and respect, teach him self worth and that he is one of God's many perfect creations.

The promise I make to myself moving forward is to wake up every morning and know that everything happens for a reason. That just because something bad has happened or things didn't go the way I wanted them to doesn't mean that God is punishing me. To know that when I am faced with difficult times, I will know that challenges are not sent to destroy me. They're sent to promote, increase and strengthen me.

***Want to share your truth? Please email your life changing moment to me at selfexpressionevents at yahoo dot com using the above format.

Decorate My Living Room: Picking an Area Rug

2012-01-05T09:42:00.000-08:00

Though I have lived in a series of apartments, condos, and townhouses, some of which I owned and others that I rented, it wasn't until age 33 that I moved into an actual house. It is incredibly comforting, finally setting my stake in the ground. While I still have an adventurous spirit, home is the place I am always happy to return to. I am a tumbling tumbleweed no longer. Thank you for celebrating my personal sanctuary with me.

In April of 2011 I posted my dream board for my future living room above, before I even knew what home we would end up in. We moved that August.

In October of 2011 I posted the above photo of my living room in progress. Many of you agreed that a creamy colored area rug would go well. PS I listened. (Visit the old post here.)

After saving up some money, I finally bought this 8 x 10 rug on clearance yesterday. With the mossy green and coral colored accents, I knew it would tie in. The clever designer/owner of the store convinced me to lay it on an angle to break up the room and save me from having to order a bigger (insert more expensive) rug.

And the cats like it.