Category Archives: Habits

It’s Official.

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10

I’m giving up men for Lent.

I kicked the habit with a hell of an example within reach… far more than just the proverbial straw that broke the camels back.

I’m a glutton for punishment. I set this moment in motion hours ahead of time. I ask for this.

Hard to admit… but so so true.

He’s just not that into me…. and it hits me as I’m walking out in the midst of his “you’re a really nice girl…” speech.

I’m tapping out, with no one to blame but myself.

I have the worst taste in men, imaginable. Seriously…. to the point I could write a bestseller about my disastrous love life.

There’s a few must haves that guarantee I’ll like you.

1. Don’t call. Yeah ever. That’s hot… Ok I so don’t understand this about myself… but my gawd it works. Insult me with your disinterest and I’ll love you forever.

Reason #1 I should not be dating.

2. Cheat… or just care so little about me that you’re still shopping. That’s awesome. Something all the men I’ve been attracted to in the last year have in common, as well. 90% of them feeling completely comfortable shopping right in front of me.

Reason #2 I’m climbing out of the pool.

3. Lie to me. Frankly the truth seems to suck a lot worse from my perspective right now, so I’m not really kidding about this one. Blah.

Reason #3… As a service to womankind I should not be allowed to date until I stop encouraging men to be liars.

#4. Reject me, criticize me, make me doubt myself? I’m completely clueless as to why this is attractive to me…. but damn. I have to admit it’s a pattern they all have in common.

Plenty of reasons why NOT.

Along with the last guy I really liked… not being that guy.

I’m done torturing myself.

I’ve officially had it.

I can’t be trusted. My taste in men is detrimental to my health.

Nice doesn’t do it for me.

and BONUS points for February, apparently?

I knew early on, just looking at the situation unfold in front of me…

Three men seated in front of me, all beautiful. All ironed. All clean cut smelling amazing goodness.

My favorite dimpled sales rep is brazenly flirtatious and so damn cute it’s ridiculous. Frat boy delicious with a career.

The new guy is like Barbie’s counterpart Ken, come to life. Tall, broad shoulders, well dressed, in shades of purple even. He’s a visual treat…. and armed with nice words.

S- He told us we were going to a place where there were these hot sisters, pretty girls…etc. He exaggerates sometimes but he wasn’t lying. You’re a very pretty girl.

No I’m awkward now and walking away. The one guy out of three not saying anything nice? Yeah… I want that one.

If I ever complain, ever again, about the bad men in my life? Throw a fucking brick at me, because I create my own hell.

I’m swimming in good options and I only like bottom feeders.

In an entire orchard… I have an uncanny knack for biting into the one apple with a worm.

I joked about it with my sister last night…

J- I think I speak douche bag.

P- Yeah you do, fluently.

Ouch… but yeah… if it’s one thing I can pick out of a room full of men… it’s that guy we all need to try to avoid because he leaves so much to be desired.

I’m going to internet date for material and that’s it. Maybe it’s mean, but oh well- it can’t be worse than this.

I’ve been nice for long enough, I’m going to try being a nightmare for a while.

Nice girls are just as screwed as nice guys and I’ve never been a pain in the ass so perhaps that’s what I’m missing.

……Just as soon as I wash the disappointment of February off.

I’m so thankful there’s only a week left in this nightmare month.

Armed.

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15

I’ve refused to even consider having a gun in my house since I was barely 20 years old. I grew up with Buddhist parents, and we were beaten with the constant threat of bad Karma… not a belt or a frustrated hand. We knew early on that our actions determined our results in life, and that it was extremely important to walk calmly and peacefully through life… or make amends.

I apologize too much… I know this.

I see the good in people long after it’s gone… and my friends and family are worried constantly because I consistently regret it. It’s a mixed blessing really, and though it costs me dearly at times, I’d rather see the good than be jaded.

I trust deeply and it takes a lot for you to damage that trust to the point it’s irreparable.

But once I’m there… there’s no going back. Ever seen the movie Enough? She just keeps on dealing with it and apologizing and then one day… she snaps. I’m the most sensitive girl on earth, with a stainless steel spine.

One of my guy friends stopped by this morning and took me to go shooting… telling me he was sick of my baditude. Throwing a pair of jeans and my boots at me.

Ugh. I’m cool spending the day off alone… but no. He throws a Lunchable at me when I shut the door and I’m happy… until he starts in on me.

D- If you aren’t going to smile I”m taking you back home.

J- It’s a helluva two weeks, that’s all.

D- Yeah. My brother hung himself this morning.

I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or do and my own little pity party ended abruptly.

J- Oh my God… pull over.

He does… and I start to get all choked up. I reach to hug him and he starts laughing.

D- I’m such a dick… I’m kidding, but do you see how other people have way worse problems? Come on, you’re pretty, you’re sweet and you don’t need to leave to find love. We all love you just fine.

J- You are such a dick, come on, teach me how to shoot at you.

These are the people who keep me real.

We pull up to his Grandpa’s hayfield and he throws a Carhart jacket over my sweatshirt, laughing at me, and shoves me out the passenger side door. I’m a little sick to my stomach to think about touching a gun, to tell you the truth…. and he knows it from the smile on his face as he thrusts it into my hands. My heart is racing and I’m absolutely positive if I drop it it will kill us both simultaneously and he’s bent over, laughing… and takes it back out of my hands.

D- Ohhh the wordy Princess is afraid of guns??? That’s classic.

J- That’s not funny, be nice to me.

D- Quit feeling sorry for yourself and come help me put the saddles on.

J- Awww really? You’re the best, I would have come with you without hesitating if you’d told me there were horses involved.

He chucks a blanket at me and points me in the direction of my horse’s bridle. I start singing the Selena Gomez song that’s haunting me and he threatens to make me carry the gun on my horse. I know when to shut up.

My saddle is too loose… and he wont stop calling me an amateur, but he helps me tighten it and shoves me up and on to the saddle. Ahhh. There’s really nothing so therapeutic as a quiet ride in the snow. I’m so thankful for these quiet moments- this is what keeps me balanced and keeps my life at peace. Simplicity.

Sigh… the trees are lightly dusted, like God shook powdered sugar on the whole meadow. The other horses are voicing their displeasure loudly at not getting to come along… and I’m easing back into the saddle. It’s been a while, and I’m a little nervous. Nothing a nice quiet ride can’t fix.

Yeah right… my asshole friend digs his heels in and goes tearing off… and being that I weigh less and my horse is determined to keep up, I’m hanging on for dear life with every muscle in my body. I see that he’s laughing as we catch up and I blow by him, flipping him the bird, while slowing down so he can catch up and walk next to me. I have no idea where he’s taking me so it’s not the time to show him up.

D- Wanna cut through the woods? You’ve jumped before, right? I’ll let you know when so you don’t fall off.

J- Absolutely!

Ten minutes through the woods and I’m in love again. I have a barn… I could totally have a horse. <FYI, I’m fully aware how delusional this line of thought is, don’t worry>. The trail empties out into a big open field and we hop off and tie the horses up.

He loads the gun… which is interesting to me,in and off itself. I like puzzles… bullets feel a little like that when you’re loading the chambers.

It’s kind of… hot. Really. There’s something tantalizing about the whole process.

He wraps his arms around me and wraps my hands around the trigger and I’m a little breathless. I feel a little… hmmm… dangerous?

If anything I kinda wish I had heels and a cape on to really enjoy this moment, lol…

It’s cold and I don’t like gloves. The cold metal is heavier than I thought it’d be and I’m intimidated by it. He smells like shaving cream, cologne and sawdust… Country boy delicious, arming me with a deadly weapon.

He laughs from behind me, and aims the gun for me…. putting his finger over mine on the trigger and pulling it for me. I closed my eyes and leaned back into his chest and he smacked me in the side of the head.

D- You cannot close your eyes and you have to aim.

We both start laughing.

I suppress the “I’ve been an adequate pain in the ass” giggles… and I feel his chest against my back, his arms against mine, pressing my hands together.

D- You can keep them closed the first time. Get a feel for it and I’ll do the rest.

J- lol… that’s what he said.

I can feel his heart racing against my back and his breathing is shallow… with the muscles in his arms jumping against my goosebump covered arms and I’m acutely aware of his breath on my neck.

D- It scares you, your hands are shaking. Now picture someone coming into your home and taking something from you. Breathe… let it turn you on. You’re not taking shit from anyone, ever again. Are you? Come on. Get mad. Show me you’re not the pushover people assume you to be. Oh Jenni… full of words and what? Where’s your balls darlin? That’s a pretty daughter you have…

And I pull the trigger immediately…. which is followed by a huge explosion…my ears are plugged and he’s coughing. Huh. Yeahh…. that was awesome… and I love the smell of gunpowder.

He made me open my eyes the next time.

He made me pull the trigger myself the time after that…and if you haven’t done it… exercise your right to bear arms at your earliest convenience because it’s fantastic. Time for a shooting range in my backyard.

He even helped me pick out my very own on the way home.

D- Congratulations, you’re officially deadly. Keep your damn eyes open and you should be all set. Lessons start next week, I’ll go with you.

I was scared to death to try… and found out I actually really love it. A perfect reminder that doing something that scares you doesn’t always end badly.

Well…

Unless you’re stupid enough to break into my house.

A favorite memory…

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1

My tattoos make some people uncomfortable. It’s only recently that I’ve been really comfortable letting them all hang out. I never really thought one of them through, though…. I got it in utter defiance to the mortification I was feeling.

It was January of last year, and my blog had been sent out to people I went to high school with for YEARS. My ass was verbally hanging out. Hey there, hi there… how do you do? My favorite bartender knew about my worst dates. The bitches that hated me in high school were laughing over my self proclaimed heartache and bad taste in men. I was in shock. I really am incredibly private otherwise. I don’t like men talking about having sex with me in public. I’m not a piece of ass, I’m a lady, regardless of my penchant for bad boys.

A lady who happens to be in touch with her sexual side… so shoot me.

It was chatting with my friends online that my dear friend Miss Creative coined me the Blogoddess. I was in hiding, wearing dark glasses to the grocery store and constantly faced with people approaching me about it.

I died a million deaths that month… and still it continues. Whatev.

I learned to hold my head up. I learned to fail. I perfected the art of falling prey to sweet talkers. Jesus… if I didn’t earn a gold medal in naivete this year, I pity the poor girl that did. I like falling in love- enough that I don’t mind the sledgehammer to the heart when it goes wrong. I’m happy when I’m in love. I glow… ask anybody.

I thought they’d removed my douche bag magnet but apparently they removed my common sense instead. I’m scheduled for the reversal, but beyond that- I’ve come light years in having more faith in myself and continuing to have faith in humanity in spite of the constant proof I’m given to the contrary.

I met my favorite tattoo darling that week, with my nickname carved into my arm and a friendship forged in confidence. But since then I’ve learned to be a little self conscious about it because I don’t want anyone else I know to read this crap, lol… and it requires an explanation that I’m generally hesitant to give.

“It’s a long story” is my canned answer.

But fighting back tears missing him, ordering burgers around 11, our very flamboyant cashier leans forward and smiles at me.

C- I love your tattoos. What does that say? That’s beautiful!

I’m delighted, because no compliment counts so much as one from a gay man.

He speaks up and says “She writes a lot online, thank you senor.”

J- It says Blogoddess…

and this adorable boy smiles at me and sets it all straight…

C- You are and those letters are beautiful- and I am a little boy, not a man, Senor.

We laughed all the way out… and it was absolutely the funniest tattoo experience I’ve had so far. I usually wrap something around myself. I love them, but some people judge you for them. I’m sensy.

But being with someone that wanted me present in the moment made me leave the wrappy thing in the car. I love them, that should be enough for everyone and if it’s not, well then… fuck off- don’t get a tattoo. I left it in the car, only to have the sweetest of compliments paid to me.

It was one of many cool moments in a whirlwind of chaos.

Some fires burn too brightly to burn for long… this experience has been a flash fire in my life, and I’m damn proud I can take away the good moments because it really was fun.

Just one more lesson in a very long line…

I dropped my entire suitcase off at the thrift store, happy to never see any of it again; closing a painful chapter in my life, once and for all.

Ordering a pizza, while breaking out my little black book and ordering some new panties. Misery loves company, and why not be wrapped in cute little red lace panties when I greet him at the door?

Vice Parade

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6

Ok so I’m a creature of comfort. I like it. Domesticity=heaven in my book. Making breakfast in heels and panties makes me happy.

A wannabe pin-up for sure. I’d put my hair in pigtails if it wouldn’t risk ruining the perfect eggs.

Looking at the day ahead and breathing, finally. Itching to go for a run in the fog.

Cleaning the kitchen… emptying the dead food from the refrigerator and deciding to sink into my own little parade of vices.

So I iron a dress, and curl my hair. Fake lashes, the whole nine. Why not. I feel better and nobody needed to see me for the past week- I’m starving and there’s nothing to eat. Hell I might even go to two stores, or even three. I love grocery shopping. Love it. Especially at Super 1 after my whole Mr. Flintstone crush.

Call it a retail high, or my Mormon roots shining through… but I go down every aisle, happily. I curled my hair for this, I’m gonna enjoy it!

First things first, a dozen roses. Fuck Valentine’s day this year, period. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be tortured by the displays and not see roses in my kitchen. Nope. That’s the beauty of being a self reliant, single woman. $15 is cheap to avoid another boyfriend.

Olive bar… oh gawddd… this is gonna be one of those days. Prawns, fresh basil, grape tomatoes, fresh mozzarella pearls…prosciutto and marinated artichoke hearts. Be still my heart.

Pizza… bacon… and my favorite little Ham & Swiss Lunchable. Oh my. You absolutely CAN buy happiness.

This girl intends to feed this broken heart until it’s full again. Emotional eating? Absolutely- don’t judge.

Fresh tuna, lobster tails, wasabi and baby fingerling potatoes. Everything to make Husband soup. Inoki mushrooms, praise God.

Rootbeer, vanilla ice cream… and everything to bake myself into the white zone.

Two bottles of Sauvingnon Blanc and a bag of beef jerky… because I’m still that pathetic broken hearted girl and it reminds me of him. I’m being honest. Ugh. Ouch. Time to get baking.

Dicing vegetables is zen. I’m meticulous. I have to have perfect little square potatoes, and they have to be fairly uniform. I don’t like haphazard soup… and I enjoy the process. Washing mushrooms and peeling carrots. Making the dough for the noodles and diving deep into my favorite things to save myself.

I’m sad, and it’s awful- and I miss him… and I know that I just have to miss him from now on… and it sucks when you know you just have to survive it, because the pain is not going to end until you let it. It was so right… so incredibly everything I ever wanted… and it’s confusing how it all ended and it’s hard having him hate me. How’s that for truth. Ugh.

Making noodles makes me feel ridiculously attractive. Funny huh? I’m the sexiest noodle making old fashioned girl on the block, lol. I like doing things the old fashioned way. I love making it from scratch. I’m Jenni Crocker Stewart on overdrive, consider this my public service announcement. Y’all are about to gain some weight if you stop by.

Why not make bread if I’m making noodles, right? Sure. Honey whole wheat rolls, for my daughter to pack for lunch this week too. If this nightmare has taught me anything, it’s to stick to my core values and true feelings. I knew something was wrong when he wasn’t waiting for me at the airport. I’m a fucking hypocrite if I tell my kids to listen to their heart and ignore my own. I ignored some red flags here and there because it was just so good. Funny and intimate and amazing. Until it wasn’t. I’m really determined to be thankful for the good moments because the pictures make me smile and the memories are priceless in knowing what it feels like to have someone be wonderful to you. It’s a hell of a story, if nothing else.

My life is a damn movie, lol…

Complete with Puerto Rican Police and being roofied. Word. Come on, laugh with me about it. I’m still in shock. A week ago today I was walking in the rainforest with him, so in love and so sad to be leaving him I dissolved into tears all day. It was fantastic and I am thankful for the memories.

Bake, woman… stop thinking… grating lemons, melting butter… mmmm…. Meyer Lemon Bars.

Fresh pesto with the basil I bought… Mmm the house smells amazing. My bread is rising, my noodles are drying and the broth is simmering lightly on the stove.

Success. Grin. Let the fun begin.

A delightful cigarette before filling a glass of wine… and a bubble bath with my favorite coconut scented bubbles. Scrub my feet and shave my legs… anything to get rid of this tan that is a constant reminder that I just got back. Bruises here and there. My aching heart. It all just sucks to go through. Haven’t I done this enough already? Haven’t I learned my lesson? What the fuck is wrong with me and my judgement? Seriously.

He’s more worried about how I portrayed him than the fact someone put something in my drink… while telling me I don’t know what real love is. To be honest, I think he’s right. I don’t know what it is… but I do know what it’s not.

This is a prime example of what real love ISN’T. Perhaps it could have been, but without faith, love doesn’t stand a chance.

I have an hour before I have to shape my dough into rolls… and I’ve avoided my knitting because I’ve been too depressed. Knitting makes me happy and I have brand new fuzzy brown yarn. Within a few stitches I’m at ease. Calming down. Breathing deeply and allowing myself to miss him even though it’s gone so horribly south. It’s a lot to deal with in a week and I’m still reeling. Nevermind the impact of the climate change on my body, my whole world has been turned upside down and I have been in both heaven and hell in the last 7 days. I don’t recommend it.

This darling little bunny face is shaping himself in my hands and I’m wistful. He wanted me to knit him something and I naturally start. I’m so ridiculously predictable it’s sad, lol. I’ll make him for myself and it will be a reminder that I shouldn’t do too much. Cute little seed stitch ears, a little pink nose… he’s adorable already and he’s simply a decapitated bunny head. Sitting down to quietly make something with your hands, even if it’s nothing more than folding rags into squares is soothing, routine, and peaceful.

Sunday cleaning, fresh fluffy towels in the bathroom and clean sheets on my little darling’s bed. Fluffy white socks, a freshly washed blanket and one of many glasses of wine needed to face this day. Stupid shows about weddings… ya know- cause that’s what you watch when you want to wallow in your breakup.

Because ultimately… if it can work out for that crazy bitch on the TV?

It can definitely work out for you.

Cheers… and give me a call if you’re hungry :)

Preconceived Notions…

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8

I’m always amused by the people who read my blog and think it’s a description of my character or even a shadow of who I really am.

I’m especially bemused by the people who believe everything they read. I’d be willing to bet these are the same folks that watch Fox news.

This is my verbal exhale, my wordy little cathartic playground. Play nice or fuck off. Yeah… that’s how it is.

I couldn’t care less if you’re critical, judgmental or hell-bent to dislike me. Go ahead- drink your big ol’ glass of Hater-ade and keep on reading. If anything you inspire me to be spicy…just to get under your skin and piss you off.

I’m an amazing woman. I’m a great daughter, a happy mommy and so very much more than a bunch of words typed in anger, sadness, disappointment… or even joy, love and hope.

If I’m going to be judged by anyone? It’ll be by the people I love and care about that I choose to have in my personal life. If you know me personally? Then none of this comes as a surprise.

I’m the one that leaves dinner on your doorstep, takes your kids when you’re sick and knits your mom a hat when she has cancer and all her hair falls out. True story.

I love deeply… I forgive quickly… and I do not carry a grudge. I move through my life with respect to everyone and everything around me. I say nice things. I do nice things. I believe in Karma before all else, and if you think for a second that I don’t judge myself a million times harder than anyone? Think again.

There’s a lot you’ll never know about me, because for as much as I share… I am intensely private and constantly concerned about hurting someone’s feelings. I don’t like it when people dislike me- and I will go to the ends of the earth to apologize when I’m wrong.

My mother told me nearly every day as a child… “To err is human, to forgive, divine”. We were browbeaten with the golden rule & taught to help, love & nurture the people and things in our lives.

So shoot me if I’m a bit of a vixen behind closed doors… shouldn’t every fantastic woman be?

I’ve put my trust where it wasn’t valued, and I’ve shared my heartache with the masses. If that makes me a bad person in your eyes then I apologize for your inept holier than thou attitude… OH and I have a list of guys I’d love to set you up on a date with… <snicker>…

I’ve made turning the other cheek an art form and have learned to keep my chin up even as the water flooded in up to my pearl-clad earlobes.

I’m a woman, Phenomenally… Phenomenal woman, that’s me. – Maya Angelou

Feeling a little sensitive this morning, obviously… and definitely annoyed that people still waste time judging anyone else- but whatev… If it’s one thing I’ve learned by blogging, it’s that you can’t please everyone, and sometimes it’s just a lot more fun to tell someone to kick rocks, plus I’m pretty good at burning the verbal house down.

Would life be any fun if we were all the same? No. Would it be better if I wasn’t outspoken? No. Should I give a fuck what anyone thinks? No. That’s their shit- not mine.

I happen to think I’m pretty sweet. I think you’d have a hard time arguing with me if you were a friend of mine, or loved by me. In fact, I know this- because I make an effort to really truly love the people I’m blessed to have in my life.

All of whom would go to the ends of the Earth for me, because I’d do the same.

Some things you don’t know- and should… because obviously I care what you think even though I wish I didn’t, lol….

~ I’m a sentimental hoarder. I save all the art projects, all the report cards, etc… that my children have made. My favorites are laminated… ya know… because they’re my most priceless possessions. I have a china cabinet in my living room full of homemade “treasures”. People look in it and laugh… but if the house caught on fire I’d risk my life to save its contents.

~ I’ll hold your baby while you eat, even while I’m working. I’m that nice lady that refills your drink and charms your little monster long enough that you can eat hot food. Regardless of the tip or if it affects your opinion of me. I do it because I love little people and I’m a supermom.

~ I remember what your favorite color is, your favorite candy… your favorite flowers- because I’m thoughtful and I want you to have what you love on your birthday.

~ I write under pressure of a deadline because I’m writing a book and I would love to not have to ask “Would you like chips or fries with that” for the rest of my life. I look at the big picture, not the thumbnails. I care about the example I set for my children and though I’m proud that I’m able to support this crazy expensive household… it’s more important to me that they see me do what I love and what I enjoy because I want that for both of them.

~ Regardless of money being ridiculously tight- you can have my last $5 if you need it. I give freely with no expectation of the same being returned. I won’t hassle you to repay it- but if you don’t it will definitely be the last time. I’m nice, not stupid :)

~ I make heart shaped pancakes… and I’m so OCD I separate the batter so that some of them are pink and some of them are white… I know… it’s silly… but those are the little details that make me have a wonderful day….I don’t eat them. ♥

~ I feed the cat tuna fish and the dogs chicken and rice every once in a while… purely because I would be miserable if I had to eat the same old boring dry crunchies every day.

~ I put my extra pennies in the take-a-penny dish at the gas station.

I’m nice, dammit… and a blessing to have in your life if you’re so lucky.

So there.

Hmph…. I’m burning these damn people pleasing panties, once and for all.