I do everything in technicolor. Kind of like those flowers above. I am trying to figure out what that means – technicolor.

To me it means I do everything big like Texas hair in the 80’s.

When I cook it’s great and there’s tons of it. When I entertain its always a big deal. When I dream it’s in technicolor- I can taste, feel, smell and feel. When I give (whether it be my love, my time, or what have you) it’s big. I have a big ole heart that I wear on my sleeve and an ass to match. I wear loud colors, big diamonds, and I always smell delicious.

There’s just no missing me.

I am told I am the giver of energy. That’s probably why I am tired a lot because I allow people to suck the life out of me.

Oh who knows if I buy into all that “stuff”.

I know I probably should have had red hair to match my temperament and personality.

“Your too emotional” They say

“I’m must being myself”, I reply.

And so it goes.

Letting Go With Love



I had hoped that as I approached middle age that all the drama that we experience in middle school, high school and college would go by the wayside. 

I didn’t realize how mean spirited middle age women could be.  I continue to learn new stuff every day.

What I have taken away from this is that my responsibility is to make my amends, accept responsibility for my crap, keep my side of the street clean, and move on.

So I did.

It’s all about letting go with love — meaning not hating their guts, wanting to kick their asses, and hoping they get hit by a bus. 🙂




Old Habits Die Hard Or Something Like That



I feel like a kid who’s already been sent to the principals office and I need to write 100 times:

“I promise I will blog every single morning without fail.”

Ya right.  That is never going to happen.  Not in a million, trillion, gazillion years.

Regardless if my good intentions I will never ever be one of those morning bloggers.  You know the kind I’m talking about — coffee in hand, beds all made, dishes washed, first load of the day in the washer and most likely dried, folded and put away.

Nope not me — I’m lucky if I can navigate my way out of my bedroom most mornings.

I come from a long line of night owls. My great grandmother never went to bed until way after Johnny Carson had signed off.  Then there was my grandmother, she was most nights until at least midnight and then up at O’Dark O’clock to head to work — she did that for years.  Then of course there’s my own mom- for years she too used to stay up late.

So I don’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell.  I’m a night owl regardless of how early I head to bed to in attempt to get horizontal and sleep.

It never works — I end up thinking about the events of the day, the headlines on the news, the crap I read on Facebook, stuff my kid does, stuff my husband does, stuff I do — and I always have something to say about all of that. And it’s usually at night.

Right now what’s forefront on my mind is that fact that my chair hurts my backside — I have tried like 5 chairs and I can’t find the one that I like.  They are either too tall, too hard, too short, or they don’t feel right. 

I remember when I used to sit on a kitchen chair for hours.  Not anymore — my constitution is too “delicate”  It’s the whole being 50 thing 🙂

Don’t tell anyone but I am also taking a stab making a valiant effort at being sort of vegetarian. Now before you all freak out and think I have instantly developed a conscious about the slaughter of poor defenseless animals in order that I can eat don’t hold your breath.  I am doing this for health reasons.

As much as I love red meat I am realizing it’s not the best source of food for me or my body.  So my diet is 70% fruit, nut,  and vegetables, 20% protein from tofu (gag), and fish, and 10% of my diet from other stuff – olive oil, low fat yogurt and the occasional egg.

No grains.  No pork.  No Beef.  No Poultry.

And guess what – I broke up with cheese.  I KNOW RIGHT!?!?!?!?!?!? Ice Cream and I parted ways as well.  Diet Coke and I got a divorce – in fact I sent all soda packing.

It’s been ten days – and so far so good.  I jumped on the scale and the needle is headed the right way so I can’t complain.  The exhaustion is gone, my mind is clearing as well as my skin.  So that’s all good.

The only weird thing is typically I hate pancakes.  I mean I loathe them.  I wouldn’t eat them if they were the last food source on the planet — they are just too I don’t know, pancakey I guess.  With the whole butter and syrup thing – it’s just gross.

Ask me what I have craved all week?

Pancakes — I kid you not.  I can’t tell you how much I’ve been jonesin for a damn pancake.  I would almost think I were pregnant.

Oh Jesus – slit my wrists now. Pregnant at 50.