So, I’ve come up with a list. Among my friends, it’s become known as “The List”. The List is a series of questions I’ve been using during my off again/on again dating adventures since my divorce ten years ago. You see, I know a lot of men because I work with mostly men. Once thing I know about all men, regardless of age, race, education, or even country of origin, is that they all have the patience and attention span of a gnat with ADD. No offense, guys!

However, I am a girl that needs information. Data points, if you will. And that means I had to come up with a way to quickly get said data points from the guys I date. Well, really, The List is quite handy at a party, too. It can definitely be a conversation starter. But, that’s another blog.

The thing about the list is that it’s fun. And, the point is to start a conversation as much as it is to gather information. What’s more, it’s cute and charming and I’ve yet to have anyone I’m interested in not answer the questions. Those who’ve ignored the questions? Well, let’s just say they are no longer on the list of viable candidates. ☺ What I’ve found is that with each question, you get a smile and a small piece of data. For example, let’s take the first question: Plain or Peanut? Funny, yes? But, also informative. If the person answers with “Plain. I have peanut allergies.” You found out a piece of handy information. Or, if they answer “Plain. But, only if they’re the dark chocolate kind.” You’ve got a different answer, but still, you have a small candy coated piece of information. Without having to resort to interrogation tactics, which some women I know have been on the verge of endorsing with some of their dates!

So, here are my top ten from The “Famous” List. Feel free to use it. Or, better yet, if you think of things to add, drop me a line!

1. Plain or peanut?
2. Coke or Pepsi?
3. Biscuits or Gravy? (Hey, I live in the South!)
4. Lions or tigers or bears, oh my?
5. Milk Chocolate or Dark Chocolate?
6. Mac or PC? (Definitely a conversation starter!)
7. Beach or Mountain?
8. Sushi or bait? (Again, I live in the South, people.)
9. Ginger or Mary Ann? (This one is my favorite!)
10. Coffee or tea?

Must Be Santa Clause

Now that I’m solidly in my forty’s – and how the hell did that happen?? – I’ve been
pondering this question:  Am I who I’ve always been – just older?

I know, it’s a philosophical question and most of you were probably expecting a
joke.  But I’m serious.  Do we change over time?  By that, I mean, do our
personalities evolve as we get older.  Do our experiences change us?  Or, once
puberty is over are we done?  Is that it?  At twenty, is our basic personality,
outlook on life, beliefs, biases, and truths set and determinable?  Even
more than determinable – determined?  Are we still evolving as human beings and
men and women?  Or as Popeye says: “I yam who I yam, and that’s all I yam!”?

I have a friend who is in his late 30’s and who seems to still think he is who he was at 17 – and it still has a defining grasp on his life.  This belief he has, that he is who he always was and will always be, not only colors his decisions, but he believes that this is how others see him also!

I have another friend who says she is defined by the fact that she is a mother, and that has always been her goal.  All else is secondary.  She tried for a long time to have children, and once she did, her purpose was complete.  Or, maybe, fait accompli?

Yet another friend refuses to be defined by her past.  Her mantra seems to be
“To look forward is the only choice”.  She tosses baggage, and, to a point, experiences, behind her faster than it could be lost on a transcontinental flight.  Most of the time without “unpacking” at all.

So, here’s what I think:  I don’t think I’m made up of a conglomeration of my experiences.  But, I do think I am the person I’ve become because of those experiences I choose to give value and meaning to.  Now, that value and meaning could be good or bad.  And, those experiences could become some of that baggage we all carry around.  Bags with tags labeled “Fat girl”, “Highschool Dweeb”, “Techno-Diva”, and the ubiquitious “Parents – ‘Nuff Said”.  But, it’s whether or not I choose to place value that makes the experience a part of me.  If an experience has no value, then it has no more meaning to me than yesterday’s newspaper.  Less really, because yesterday’s newspaper is full of history.  Experiences that have no value have no history, and thus no meaning.  They just…happened.  Just another lunch via the drive through, not a meal worth savoring, much less remembering.

So which is it?  Once we live through adolescence, we’re all Popeye’s walking around toting spinach?  Or, do our experiences make up our truths about ourselves and the world?  Whether we want them to or not?

Here are some of the pics:

Gavin’s headstone.

Gavin and Lauren

Lauren's Headstone

And then there was the crowds. They just kept coming and coming and coming…

The decorations were amazing:

And of course Charlie Brown showed up:

Even Elvis showed up! (He’s in the car, sorry, you can’t see him very well.)

Basically, a good time was had by all. Even the puppies

Anyway.

I’ve been avoiding the purchase of a PDA (Personal Digital Assistant not Public Display of Affection, just to be clear) for almost two years. Because I have a laptop, and I’m almost always in front of it, I didn’t feel I needed a PDA. In addition to that, there was the obvious expense. At about forty dollars a month, on average before taxes, for a data plan alone, plus a hundred bucks or so for the device, these puppies aren’t what I’d call cheap.

However, every one one of the smart women in my life, including my mother and my daughter, had one and insisted that not only would I love one once I had one, I actually needed one. To which I told them: I always have my laptop, so I can always get to my email and my calendar, the two most important things to me to live my daily life. So, I, in point of fact, I did not actually need one.

To which they sadly shook they’re heads, leaving me with the impression that I was perhaps being a bit hard-headed.

Which, ultimately, forced me to contemplate if I did indeed need one. First of all, I really do have amazing, intelligent women to call friends and family, and if they were insisting that I needed a PDA, then I probably needed to reevaluate my decision.

Plus, there were definitely things I did not like about my regular cellphone. Texting for one. I am a HUGE textor (texter?). My texting plan is actually larger than my teenage daughter’s. I probably send over three hundred texts per month. I text with my daughter, my mom, my friends, ex-husband, dates, even clients. It’s easy, quick, and fabulous for when you want to send a short message, answer a quick question, or touch base but not get pulled into a long conversation. However, on a regular phone, texting is a bit of a pain because of how many times you have to push buttons to get the letter you want.

Another thing I didn’t like about my phone was my inability to have my calendar on it. Like most people in today’s fast paced chaotic world, if I don’t look at my calendar then I won’t know where I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to be doing. Which was the biggest reason I always had my laptop with me. Back in May, before I went to Europe, I had purchased an iPod Touch to try to fix this problem. I have a MacBook Pro (my lovely Sophy MacIntosh), and I keep my calendar on iCal. The iPod Touch was supposed to be able to keep my calendar, plus Things (my task manager) my music, games, etc. However, in actual practice, I wasn’t thrilled with the results. Mostly because when it comes right down to it, I’m not a huge fan of iCal. I know, blasphemy for any Apple Fan, but there you have it.

Which means, I did indeed have to evaluate what my friends and family were telling me. So, I did what I do best and reached for the phone and Google and started gathering information. At first, I wasn’t excited. Moving to the iPhone would mean switching from Verizon to ATT, not something I wanted to do because ATT doesn’t have great coverage in my area according to friends and family with the iPhone. However, I could get a Blackberry and stay with my current carrier.

However, the Blackberry doesn’t really play nice with the Mac, so I’d need a piece of software in order to sync it with my laptop. Plus, in order to have my calendar on the Blackberry, I would potentially need to upgrade my Entourage software (Outlook for Mac), a $250 additional expense.

Sigh. Two steps forward, three steps back!

Time to go back to my people.

My friend Karen’s point was this: the blackberry just works. Every day, all day. It enables her to be anywhere in the world and keep in touch with her clients, her family, her world. Since I have a mother who has a very active life, a daughter that lives on the other side of the continent, and a travel schedule that can be erratic, this was a very valid point for managing my life.

My friend Lisa’s point was that I may always have my laptop with me, but it’s not always on. A Blackberry, or in her case an iPhone, would let me take a quick glance at my email just to make sure I didn’t need to go fire up my laptop and send something out.

My cousin, Sarah, made the point that I could keep my calendar on it, and add to it as things happened. She also pointed out that as I start blogging more, and as I want to keep in contact with all the people reading my blog (you!), I could update my blog and my facebook on the fly.

My daughter’s point was that when I’m on a plane I can check email one last time before I’m out of contact for six or seven hours, potentially catching any emergencies or work before I take off.

My mom pointed out that I whine and b$tch every time I’m with her and have to text a long message. Leave it to mom to point out when I’m whining. ☺

The final step was to go to the Verizon store while I was in San Jose last month and see what a Blackberry would actually cost me. Because the new Blackberry came out that week, the Curve was on sale for $50. A price I could swallow. I wasn’t happy with the price of the data plan, but after everything I’d learned I decided it was worth thirty days of trial.

So, for now, I’m Blackberrying. And, at this point, I have to say the amazing women in my life were correct: this piece of technology has truly helped my life. Believe it or not, the thing saved me from a huge catastrophe within the first week. Which means the amazingly smart women in my life were right. I hate it when that happens. ☺

So, To Blackberry or To Not Blackberry? To Blackberry. At least for now. (Come on Apple, play nice with Verizon!)

Kill Your Darlings

Brief Synopsis:  A guy moves from Sweden to LA to become a famous writer and gets depressed when he can’t “make it”.  Then one day, for no apparent reason, this woman named Lola shows up and talks him into going to Vegas with her, basically by saying “I double dog dare you”. Meanwhile, ambitious psychiatrist Dr. Bangley and his agent, Stevens, go to Vegas to promote his book.  When two of his patients try to commit suicide, Stevens arranges for a wanna be tough guy to bring them to Vegas to see the shrink.  On the way to Vegas, the tough guy’s car gets hijacked and hijinks ensue.  While in Vegas the shrink gets caught up in the “celebrity” thing and his daughter has a hissy fit because he’s once again renigging on his promise to spend time with her.  And, oh yeah, Lola is a former patient of Dr. Bangley and she wants to go try to commit suicide off the building he’s staying in.  (I think.  The main plot was as crazy and illogical as she was.)

Review:  Okay, as movies go, it’s not going to win any awards.  For one thing, no one manages to commit suicide, which, in my opinion was a good thing because I liked most of these characters.  But, you know how it is, someone you love has to die for a movie to win any awards.  Also, the “main” story line of a Swedish writer who goes to LA searching for fame and fortune and then meets up with a truly crazy person named Lola, a former patient of Dr. Bangley, is just boring. By the end of the film I was more than ready for her to jump off the building and be done with it.  Or, throw the writer off the building, because that was the only way their story line was going to get interesting.

However, Alexander Skarsgard (Geert) and Julie Benz (Katherine) do a wonderful job portraying very unhappy people at the end of their rope, who really don’t want to die, but have run out of coping mechanisms for life. (And, if I giggled a little because she used to play a vampire (Darla in Angel), and now he does (Eric in Trueblood)…well, there wasn’t anyone in the room but me, so it’s all good.)

At the beginning of the movie, Skarsgard plays Geert, a depressed transvestite determined to set himself on fire, Benz plays Katherine, a woman trying to electrocute herself, both fail miserably.  Geert shaves his chest, puts on his makeup, gets dressed to the nine’s, goes into the garage and dumps what has to be five gallons of gasoline on his head, only to find that he saturated the matches and now they won’t light.  There’s so much hopelessness on his face that he can’t even kill himself right, but at the same time, his ineptness is so endearing, you just want to hug him, really horrible wig and all.  (The boy’s pretty, but even with a wig on, there’s no denying he’s a guy.)

Katherine attaches the television to a long extension cord, lugs it out to the pool, tries to throw it in as she jumps in and the the TV gets unplugged right before they both hit the water.  So, she tries to do the same with the toaster and manages to knock a tall kitchen cabinet over on herself.
Both call their shrink, the wonderful Dr. Bangley, played by the equally wonderful John Larroquette.  Bangley is a guy who really wants to help people, but gets caught up in being a “celebrity”.  Luckily, he has his daughter to bring him back to earth.  Bangley’s agent, Stevens, played by the always hate-able Greg Germann, tells him not to worry about it, he’ll get the patients to Vegas so Bangley can see them, and still do the book signing.  Stevens calls Omar, the most lovable wanna be gangsta I’ve ever seen.  From the moment his cellphone rings and the ringtone is his eight year-old daughter’s laughter, you know this guy is a softie at heart.  He takes the job Stevens offers, and heads out to get Geert and Katherine, gently helping a gasoline sodden Geert up from the floor of his garage, and lifting the kitchen cabinet off Katherine, before hand cuffing them both and stowing them in the back of his SUV.

Anyone who will handcuff and then lock two helpless psychotics in the back of his SUV, all the while apologizing profusely, is a guy I can like.  And, when his day with his daughter runs a little long and they can’t leave for Vegas until the next morning, he brings them pillows and a blanket.  Of course, he keeps them handcuffed and locked in the back of his SUV overnight, but still.  Pillows and blankets.  The most touching moment in the whole movie is when Geert, Katherine, and Omar are stranded in the desert after getting car jacked and Omar is kicking himself over the whole thing and Geert tells him he’s not a loser and he’s “taking very good care of us.”  It’s oh so evident that Geert believes he can’t take care of himself.  I’m pretty sure this is one of Skarsgard’s first American films (His first was Zoolander.  Go play Spot the Skarsgard.  You’ll be surprised.) and the vulnerability in that small snippet shows the length and breadth of what he’s capable of as an actor.

And then there’s Lola, played by Lolita Davidovich, the truly crazy one of the bunch, and Erik, our hapless narrator.  After the third time Erik manages to get his car and his wallet and himself away from Lola, and then goes back for her, I was done with both of them.  After that, I managed to sit through their scenes, but only to get to Geert and Catherine and Omar.

Kill Your Darlings is a good movie, not a great movie, but a pretty okay one.  The main plot stinks, but the subplots are full of great characters and stories (and acting).  At just a smidge over an hour and a half, it’s also not a huge time suck.  And, it has a happy, shmaltzy ending.  My favorite kind. ☺
I give it a C+.

Starring: John Larroquette, Lolita Davidovich, Andreas Wilson, Fares Fares, Julie Benz, Alexander Skarsgard, Greg Germann

We’re back! With a new header (Thank you Holly) and a great new site (Thank you Adam!).

I still learning my way around things here, but expect some new stuff as often as I can get it posted.

Can’t wait to have fun!!

Which was a stupid decision!!

Yay Kristen!!! I’ve loved you since West Wing!

It’s been very depressing and frustrating.

For much of the time since October I’ve struggled with the thought that maybe I wasn’t meant to be a writer. By writer, I mean published writer, but I also mean just someone who likes to tell the stories floating around in her head. If I couldn’t manage to eek out a sentence in seven freaking months, then maybe I was just kidding myself. Writing wasn’t where my future lie. Because if I were a writer — a real writer — I wouldn’t have struggled with having the energy to write, would I? I would have been able to get up early in the morning and write before going to the day job. I did that for years, why can’t I do it now?

All of this internal angst served to do little else but make me feel guilty, depressed and frustrated.
Then, last week, I had a bit of an epiphany. I realized that I’m not avoiding writing, I’m avoiding feeling. I don’t know about other writers, but when I write I have to open a couple of doors in my head. The first door is the door to the basement where “The Girls” live. “The Girls” are the muses that send me story pieces and then I have to figure out how the pieces fit together. But, the other door I have to open is the door to my emotions.

For me, and I suspect for all writers, I can’t write with any kind of truth if I can’t let myself feel what my characters are feeling. If my character is feeling pain, happiness, sorrow, or even love, I can’t find the words I need to paint the picture of my stories without letting myself feel those same emotions. I’ve always thought that writers and actors have a lot in common because we both have to insert ourselves into a character’s head to fully tell their story.

But, lately, there’s been one huge cloud looming on the horizon of my life that I’ve been studiously and actively ignoring. And, the only way to ignore it was to shove the door to my emotions closed and flip the lock. That “cloud” has been my imminent transition from single mom to empty nester. I’m writing more about this over on My Not So Empty Nest blog, but how the whole experience is affecting my writing goes here. What hit me upside the head like a giant two-by-four was that I’ve been avoiding dealing with all the sadness I feel about Sunshine going off to college, and in doing so, I’ve locked my emotions into a deep freeze. How am I supposed to write when I can’t bring myself to open that door? Subconsciously, because, again, big time ignoring going on, I’ve been scared that if I open that door, what I’m feeling about Sunshine going off to college will escape and dive bomb me like crows in an Alfred Hitchcock movie and I won’t be able to get the door shut again. Nor would I be able to crack open the door and just pull out those emotions I need. Nope, doesn’t work that way for me. I’m an all or nothing kinda girl. That door is going to be wide open and breezy, or closed and locked up tight.

So, what’s a writer who can’t let herself feel to do? Well, in my case, I came home, numbed myself with TV and skidded off into the ditch. For seven freaking months. I’ve read that the first step to fixing the problem is naming the problem. So, I’ve taken the first step. I’ve named it. Fear. That’s pretty much what it comes down to. It’s not pretty, but there it is, the Truth. Well, my Truth anyway.

I’m still having moments when I’m not sure I’m supposed to write. But, if I look at what’s going on in my head and in my writing space at home, my actions aren’t necessarily jiving with my thoughts. I still have my collage of the current WIP sitting on my desk. I still think about the characters. I still think about other stories I’d like to write. I’m still buying stickies to use for specific stories. Heck, I’m still writing dialogue in my head. So, maybe I do still want to be a writer. Now, I just need to get my Truth to overpower my Fear and get me out of the ditch.

I’ll keep ya’ll posted…☺

Daddy and me at Disney World the summer after I graduated from high school.

This past Sunday was Daddy’s birthday (And, yes, I called him Daddy and still do.  It’s a Southern thing).  He would have been 62 years old.  Way to young too not be here anymore.  Because it’s his birthday week, I’ve been thinking about him a lot.  His hands mostly, his fingers were like hot dogs and his palms as large as saucers.  Big and round and strong and rough and callused, stained from tobacco and working outside for so many years.   They always looked a bit dirty, even when they were clean.  He had large wide nails, very pink, the white part a bit yellowish.  He kept a pocket knife in his pocket and he would clean under his nails all the time.  Another Southern thing.  Don’t ask me why, I have no idea.  I’ve seen my brother and uncles do the same thing.

He always wore a pinkie ring with diamonds in it.  He also always wore a wedding ring, and sometimes other rings, and maybe a bracelet with big gold links.  Daddy liked his bling.

Daddy circa early 80's.

I have a couple of his rings and sometimes I take them out.  They won’t even fit on my thumb, they are so large.  My sister-in-law has one of them too.  She cut it down so she could wear it.  My fingers are too small for even that.  So, I keep them in my jewelry box and I take them out occasionally and smile and remember Daddy.

What is it about Daddy’s hands?

He had a big laugh and a wide smile too, his hair still a little blonde and fading back from his forehead.  I have his forehead.  Luckily, my hair isn’t fading back from it.

I don’t know why I remember his hands more than any other part of him.  I remember them working on the car.  I remember them picking me up.  I remember them holding my baby.

I remember them laying at his side in his coffin.  I remember my nephew, eight years old at the time, slipping a pokemon card in his right hand before the funeral director closed the lid.

It makes me cry to think about it.

I still miss him so much.

He always called me Chelle, and “Baby Girl”.  If he left me a message on my voice mail it would always be “Hey Baby Girl, it’s yo Daddy.  Call me.”  He was Daddy and I was his Baby Girl until the day he died.  It didn’t matter that I was almost forty at the time.  I was still and always would be his Baby Girl.  I call my daughter the same thing.

Daddy about ten years ago with my baby girl and my nephew.

As I’m writing this, it’s hard to see through my tears.  It’s been five years and I miss him every day.  He’d be so happy I’d moved back home.  That Sunshine and I were close enough that he could see us every weekend.  He’d be thrilled that Sunshine had gotten into her favorite college and everyone up at the local bar would know about.  When my brother’s new baby was born last year Daddy would have stolen him away to the local bar to show him off to all of his bar buddies.  He’s missed a lot by being gone.  And we miss him.

Happy Birthday, Daddy.

This particular toaster is not yet available, but once it is what a way to start the day!!

And for today, that’s enough.

Once I filled out the exhausting, and exhaustive, personality profile, I clicked on “My Matches” and was instantly…under-whelmed.  I’ll post about how I went through 176 matches and came up with ONE guy later this week.  Today, I want to talk about what kinds of pictures NOT to post on your profile.  Because seriously?  Some people need a clue.  So, I’m going to talk to the guys today.  Listen up and take notes because I’m not always this helpful. ☺

Here goes my lovelies, Auntie Chelle’s Top Five Pictures to FOR GODSAKE NOT POST ON YOUR PROFILE:

1. Pictures of you on a motorcycle, in your convertible, or on your four-wheeler.  Yes, YOU think you look cool.  The women who are looking at you?  All we see is a guy straddling his mid-life crisis.  Really, we’re pretty much over that before it starts.  The only exception to this rule is you on a horse.  We’re all suckers for a guy on a horse, and yes it probably does bring back memories of Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming, and yes we’ll deny it until our dying breath because damnit we can take care of ourselves, but — we still think a guy on a horse is hot.  Otherwise, take it down.

2. Pictures of you with any woman who looks to be of date-able age.  Okay, maybe she really is your daughter/cousin/sister/coworker/First-grade teacher/whatever.  To the women looking at your profile?  It looks like you’re trying to convince us you’re shopping in Victoria’s Secret for your mother and we’re not buying what you’re trying to sell. Take it down.

3. Dead Animals.  No, I’m not kidding.  I live in the South, so maybe it’s just my neck of the woods, but of the 176 matches eHarmony sent me, I counted no less than four men who’ve posted pictures of themselves holding the head of a dead deer.  Really guys, we prefer to think that our meat grows in those little white styrofoam dishes.  And while I know there are women who either don’t mind hunting, or are maybe hunter’s themselves, I still say put down the dead dear picture and back away.  Leave a little mystery.  Dead animals aren’t hot, cool, or romantic.  They’re gross.  Take it down.

4. Any picture of you dressed in camouflage holding any kind of weapon, and no I don’t care if it’s a toy or Halloween.  Again, maybe it’s because I live in the South but there was definitely more than one guy who thought this was a good idea.  It doesn’t matter. Weapons are only hot for other guys and I’m assuming if you’re popping up under my matches you’re looking for a girl.  Take it down.

5. Any picture of you not smiling or not looking directly at the camera or wearing sunglasses.  We want to see your face and eyes.  If we can’t see your face and eyes, we immediately start wondering what you’re trying to hide.  And that picture your sister took of you in your sweats watching football?  Not sexy.  Take it down.

6. Any picture where you are part of the background.  I added this one at the last minute because I just saw this on a new match I got today.  The guy had put a little caption under the picture to tell me that he was in the background, third from the left.  Uhhhh, no.  If the picture you’re posting isn’t of YOU, take it down.

Think of your profile and the pictures you post as your “interview suit”.  Make sure it’s clean, doesn’t smell, and most of all, represents you.  If you’re conservative, then “wear” that blue suit and crisp white shirt.  If you’re in a creative field, then you’re going to be able to get away with not wearing a tie.  But, be on your best behavior.  If you don’t think you can be charming without coming off as smarmy, then at least be respectful and nice.  A good rule of thumb: don’t say anything in your profile, or post any pictures, you wouldn’t want your grandmother to read or see.

Here’s the deal: your picture needs to be a good shot of your face.  Take off the ball cap, comb your damn hair and smile.  And don’t give me any of that crap about you can’t find or don’t have a good picture of yourself.  Just about everyone these days has a digital camera and almost all of them have a timer.  Get out the manual, figure out how the timer works, put the camera on a flat surface, and take pictures until you get a good one.  If you’re not sure about the pic, then ask a woman friend.  Trust me, they will be more than happy to help you.  We looooove to do that kind of stuff.

You know what we think when we see all those pictures I talked about?  We think you don’t really want to be there.  That you’re half-assing it and secretly hoping no one will contact you.  Well sugarplum, you’re going to get your wish.

If you want us to contact you, or respond to your “ice breakers” and “nudges”, etc then we need you to BE YOU.  Because YOU are who we’re looking for, and we can tell when you’re not keeping it real.  And, okay, maybe you are Hunter-Harley guy.  Fine. Good.  No problem.  But remember, you’re on an interview.  Put your best foot forward.  Tell us all that other stuff later.  First, let us fall in love with your pretty face, nice manners and clean suit.

More than anything though, act like you want us to think you’re hot!  I’ll let you in on a little secret, if we’re on a dating site we WANT to think you’re hot.  We WANT to find you romantic.  We’re there because we’re looking for our freaking Person and we WANT it to be You.

Don’t screw it up by making it easy for us to click Next.

Well, things are changing here in Chelle-land.  Because I’m looking to do some new things with blogging over the next couple of years, I’m moving away from LJ.  For now, I’m going to try out Wordpress, which means if you want to read whatever I’m rambling about, you’ll need to go there.

For the time being, here’s my new link:

www.chellewrites.wordpress.com.

Now, in a bit (as in as soon as I figure it out) you’ll be able to go directly to:

www.chellewrites.com.

But, I’m still figuring that part out.  I’ve almost got it, I just need to get Paypal to cooperate and I’m done! (I think.)

Oh, and I’m starting a brand new thing.  As you guys know, since I spew here fairly frequently, I’m getting ready to be an Empty Nester.  However, I don’t think that means what it used to mean.  So, I’m starting a brand new blog to chronicle all the ways my nest is not so empty.  Here’s that link:

www.mynotsoemptynest.wordpress.com

Which will soon become (again, the Paypal thing):

www.mynotsoemptynest.com

I hope to see ya’ll over there!!!

Love,
Auntie Chelle

Here’s the deal: We’re all tired of either being alone, serial dating, or dating guys who, let’s face it, just aren’t that into us. We’ve all decided it’s time to find our person. Man Plan ‘09 is here to change that.

So, what are the rules?

Well, lovelies, the rules are simple. We’re looking for guys who:

1. First and foremost, are AVAILABLE.
2. Who are looking for a relationship too.

Now, I said the rules were simple, but only on the surface. In reality, the rules are actually quite difficult. Let’s take the first one: He must be AVAILABLE. We’re talking about more than just not having plans on the weekends. Nope, we’re talking about much, much more than that.
We’re talking about AVAILABLE — in every sense of the word. That means:

-No workaholics. Or, as my friend the Lovely Miss Tina said: no more of a workaholic than YOU.

-Not in a relationship. Now, it would seem like this would go without saying, but saying it I am because some guys — not those who are eligible for Man Plan ‘09, but some guys — can be very slippery suckers about this. As you would expect, no relationship means that no ex-girlfriends are calling him and he’s not calling any ex-girlfriends. But, it also means:

-No momma’s boys.

-No one who wants to hang with the guys all day Sunday EVERY Sunday.

-No guys who have a deep and meaningful relationship with their Apple Macbooks, or pentium processors.

-No guys who have filled up each and every night with soccer teams, bowling teams, Ultimate Frisbee, running clubs, etc.

In other words, AVAILABLE to spend time with YOU:

-Lives in the same city, or no more than an hour away. Because, come on, more than an hour is a day trip – NOT a relationship.

-If he has kids, and once you’re past twenty-five many men do, then he still has time for you separate from the kids. And I’m talking quality time, Ladies! Not any of this one weekend a month from 2-4pm on Saturday crap.

-Any other way that prevents him from spending quality time getting to know YOU.

Okay, on to the next rule: A guy who is looking for a relationship too. I’ve had several of my sisters in the dating game insist that no guy is looking for a relationship. Well, I reject that premise, my lovelies, and I’ll tell you why. The next time you’re at the mall, the grocery store, the gas pump, or the movie theater take a gander around at how many men are there alone? As we all know, because we’re all scoping out a guys left hand, not too darn many.

Now, some women will insist that the only reason they aren’t alone is that the only way to get consistent nookie is to be in a relationship, but I disagree. Not that I’m disagreeing that guys like consistent nookie, that would be silly. Hecky durns, I would assert that we all like consistent nookie! But, that’s a blog for another day.

No, from what I’ve observed, and the guys I’ve spoken with, a guy wants a relationship — not just nookie, but a relationship— just as much as we do. That’s why you see so many couples. Not because one has tricked or trapped the other, but because they both want to be there.

And that, Ladies, is the guy we’re looking for! The guy who WANTS to be there. He’s out there. The problem, as I’ve said before, is that you gotta kiss a lotta frogs to find your Person. Oh, and as an aside, be nice when throwing those frogs back. One girl’s frog is another girl’s Person. Let’s try not to do any lasting damage to the poor froggies, okay? We want them to keep kissin’ too!

Man Plan ‘09. The Next Frontier!

But first, as a lot of you know, Kentucky was hit very hard earlier in the week by an ice storm. More than 3/4 of the city is still without power — including me! Don’t worry, I’m safe and sound with Sunshine at a hotel and I heard a rumor this morning at Starbucks that my area may have power back by tonight. Fingers Crossed!!

In the meantime, here’s some pics from my neighborhood and from around the hotel. The ice is actually quite pretty when the sun shines through it.

I think this one is my favorite. The magnolia leaves are just incased in ice!

This is the hotel patio. I hope you can see the ice sickles on the chairs and the ice coating the tree.

Another one outside the hotel last night. The ice makes the trees look like they have crystal thorns.

I like this one because you can get an idea of how sunny it is here today, and how pretty the light is through the ice.

This is my neighbors picket fence, but you can also see the tree in the background. The whole neighborhood looks like it’s covered in crystal…

Okay, last one. This one gives you a better idea of what the whole city looks like.

It’s beautiful in it’s own way. Now, if all the trees would just stop breaking and my heat would come on, I’d be happy!!

Love,

Auntie Chelle

-Sunshine graduating from High School (and how the heck did THAT happen?)
-If I’ve saved all my pennies right, a trip to London and Paris and Munich. (Joerg, we haven’t forgotten about you.)
-Sunshine heading off to college.  She’s already been accepted to TWO!

And, drum roll please…!

-For the first time – in my ENTIRE life- I will be living alone.  Yep, I’ve never lived alone.  Ever.  I got married at 21 while I was still living at home, and went from there to base housing with my new Marine husband and then law school, kid, moving 20 times (no I’m not exaggerating).  I’ve never lived alone.

I think I’m in for a huge adventure this year and I’m hoping to get up off my ass and blog about it all.  I’ve spent a lot of the last year talking to the Divine Ms. K about what I want this next part of my life to look like.  Now we’ll see if I can make it happen.  And, all the little stumbles, foibles, detours, wrong turns, and misdirections along the way, I’m going to try to put here.   Because, one thing I learned from what I did blog about in 2008 is that I think better when I can SEE what I think.

Here’s to a fabulous 2009!!!

Love,
Auntie Chelle