Out With The Old

I sit here alone in the house. The children have gone to grandma's for the day.

I sit here, coffee cup in hand, trying to find the energy to do what I have to do. I sit here staring out at the rain, avoiding.

I sit here preparing to do battle with my house. My house, my mortal enemy, with mice and ants, clutter and brokenness. There is so much to do, pages and pages of lists. I want to be able to check something off the list. Finish a task, finish a room.

Scrub. Organize. Toss away. Donate. No longer holding on to the past, it hasn't served me well.

Attack. Burn. Destroy.

Rebuild. Create anew. Fill with new memories.

Ruby Slippers

Ruby slippers are magic. Everyone knows that. If you click your heels three times, you can leave the world you thought you wanted but really didn't. Three clicks of those ruby slippers and you can be magically transported to the safety and security of home.

If I had ruby slippers, I would go clickety, clickety, click in hopes of getting out of my funk. Click. Click. Click. I would fast forward time to skip this winter of waiting. Click. Click. Click. Now its spring and I am full of hope. Click. Click. Click. Now I am holding my son. Click. Click. Click. Now I am home. Click. Click. Click. Now our home is complete.

But alas I do not have ruby slippers. I am destined to wander down this yellow brick road, wherever it may lead. I am the Cowardly Lion, often scared of my own shadow. I am the Tin Man, my heart is missing a piece. I am the Scarecrow, my brain has left me. I am Dorothy, looking for my home.

Ruby slippers are magic. There is a little girl with ruby slippers. She is dancing, singing and twirling. She holds out her hand for me to join her. I take it and the magic envelops me. I know that if I follow her lead down this yellow brick road, I will find everything I need.

Tonight I Wore Red Lipstick

Tonight I wore red lipstick.

Tonight I was a different, more mysterious version of myself.

I always wanted to be the kind of girl who wore red lipstick, the girl who stood out in the crowd. Instead I was the girl who stood in the back wearing lip balm. If I was feeling particularly daring, I would wear a tinted lip balm or lip gloss. For business purposes I would wear my tried and true MAC Twig, a shade described as a soft, muted brownish-pink. It really fit me to a T, I am soft, muted and brownish-pink.

Sometimes I would experiment. I would try bolder, more adventurous colors. Trying to make myself more bold, more adventurous. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes I failed. In fact, I have a drawer full of my failures.

Red scared me. Red was too vivacious, too daring. Red was too red.

But one day, I crossed that imaginary line in the sand. I bought a red lipstick. I don't know if it was the right shade for me but I bought it. Carrying it home in my bag, it felt like I was carrying an ancient treasure. I was carrying something that would connect me with famous femme fatales throughout history.

I got home. I ran in the bathroom. I closed the door. I tried on the lipstick. And I hated it. I thought it looked good but I didn't look like me. I looked like someone else, someone who was trying too hard. So I hid it away in the medicine cabinet. Occasionally, I would try it on before I went out. But I would always chicken out, I would cover it with a gloss or another color. I would change it.

But not tonight. Tonight I wore red lipstick.

I was different.

I was the same.

I wore the same shirt and jeans I had run errands in earlier in the day. I traded out my converse for some high heeled boots (because a 5'10" woman can always stand to have an extra 2 inches). I wore perfume. I wore red lipstick.

I was me and I was confident.

For those of you who made it to the end, here are the football picks:

Minnesota @ Pittsburgh

San Francisco @ Houston

San Diego @ Kansas City

Green Bay @ Cleveland

Indianapolis @ St. Louis

New England @ Tampa Bay

Buffalo @ Carolina

NY Jets @ Oakland

Atlanta @ Dallas

Chicago @ Cincinnati

New Orleans @ Miami

Arizona @ NY Giants

Monday Night

Philadelphia @ Washington

Combined Score 35

Be Nice, Brain

I recently started a class combining hypnosis and yoga. Its designed to bring your mind and body into balance and allow you to live a healthier life. In each class we talk about balancing certain areas of our life, stress, eating etc. This week we talked about the messages we send to ourselves, consciously or unconsciously.

Now we all know that we can be our own worst critics. We lable ourselves. We are our harshest judges, the Simon Cowell of our lives. We pick at our faults. This outfit makes me look fat. I'm having a bad hair day (month, year, whatever). My stomach, my butt, my legs are too big. I couldn't possibly wear a bathing suit, people at the beach might think I'm the great white whale. And so on.

If I said half of the things to someone that I say to myself, that person would hate me. I would never think of doing that. And I don't want to raise my daughter to think that way about herself. So why is it okay for me to think those things about myself?

Its not.

Part of the challenge for this week's class is to change the soundtrack our mind is playing. We are supposed to be nice to ourselves. To find the things about ourselves we like and to look at our "faults" differently. We are supposed to practice kindness with ourselves.

And its hard. Normally when I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror as I brush my teeth, I would press play on the tape in my head and the criticisms would begin. Now I search for a new tape to play. I might say I am glad I woke up this morning and was able to walk to the bathroom. I am thankful for my health, for my strong legs that carry me where I want to go.

Its taken me years to get to this point, I am not sure how much I can change in a week. Maybe its enough to recognize the bad thoughts. Once I know that they are there, I can try to change them.

Hair, The Musical

Let's just put it out there - I have good hair. Its the one thing about myself that I am vain about. I used to hate it but give me some good color and a good cut and I love it.

The cut and color are so good right now that I get stopped on the street and complimented about my hair. People have even taken pictures of it to show their hairdresser. It was better than someone complimenting your outfit. Your hair is a part of you, it is who you are. I was the girl with the cute blond(ish) bob.

Which is going to make what I'm about to say sound weird. Yesterday I cut it. I cut it all off.



Why would I do that if I am so vain about my hair? Because I also have a short attention span. I want change. I've changed jobs a lot (since graduating from law school 10 years ago I've had 9 jobs). But the easiest thing to change about yourself is your hair. You can color it, cut it, grow it out and do it all over again.

I was born with blond hair that grew into beautiful little waves. Then when it turned darker, my mom cut it short (boy short). Then I had a Dorothy Hamil and several million perms (what was I thinking). I started leaving it strait and it looked much better. It was short (really short), it was long. I also experimented with color, blonde, red, brown (my natural color, I think) and combinations of all of them. I always wanted pink streaks but never got them, maybe next time.

I discovered my safety zone is a bob with bangs. I had it in college, in law school, when I got married and recently. I know I'll always go back to it. But it doesn't stop me from trying new things.

So yesterday, I cut my hair short. It looks great. Its much easier to do. But I know that within the year I will start to grow it out and start all over again.