Mary Kay and Me

I’m not a product endorser. I don’t try to convince any one to use any thing that I like. I’m not a sales person. Having said all that…..

I’ve known about Mary Kay for years. And to be honest, with the exception of the sales person telling me the products are good for your skin, I just nodded in agreement because there are tons of products out there that are good for your skin.

So after years of saying, “Yes”, “Maybe,” “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” I did and stuck to it like my consultant taught me to.

I’m not going to write about what a wonderful product(s) the Mary Kay line has. I’m just going to give you the bare details of my experience.

What I like about Mary Kay:

They stand behind each and every product they sell. Which means that if trying the product for a while does not work for you, you get a full refund. I bought a face powder, that was just not my color. I used it for a week. My consultant noticed when she came to see me for a followup visit, that it wasn’t the right tone for me. (This is the reason for the follow-up visits.) Can all the other companies say this?

My consultant met with me first, tested a few things, then had my information analyzed so that the rest of my skin care regimen can coincide with what she had begun to introduce me to. I would say 2% of the time, the analization is wrong but that’s why the consultant is there for you; to see for herself that it’s working or not.

The second time I met up with her, we had a make-up session party.  Yes, at my age, I can do this because it’s fun to go back to the days when we were young and could play dress up. But this was more than playing dress up, this was serious stuff. I had two more ladies join us for this party. No one was disappointed. I must also tell you that the age group in both parties were mixed. I would have to say that every age group from the age of twenty and up was represented.

How many consultants who sell you a product will tell you straight out that what they had suggested to you weeks before does not look good? Well, mine did. And she was right. She immediately went to work on finding a new product that did what it was supposed to do. I liked the first color the first time it was chosen for me but days later in the sunlight where I work, I saw a difference. I made a note to discuss this with my consultant and I didn’t even have to bring it up. She did. She got right down to it and worked until the right mix was found.

Of course, my consultant wanted me to step out of my box and tried to get me to do my eyes a different way. I did. But only on the day she was here. I could not let go of my eyelid wings even though she tried hard to get me to try a different look. If I had to complain about anything, it is that but I knew where she was going soon after I stopped using my eyeshadow and began to use Mary Kay product line. Her goal is not just to sell you good products that will make a difference in your skin care, but to also make you look young, feel young and feel good. I still wear my wings but she doesn’t see it and well, there are just some things one can’t change.

I loved how my makeup routine was now minimized into a ten minute set up, if not less. I loved how I used Mary Kay’s eyeshadow, ready to wipe off the excess powder that falls onto your cheek and nothing happened. Where was my traveling eyeshadow? It’s usually on top of my puffy cheek. Could I be doing something wrong? Have I been doing something wrong all these years? Then I experimented. Was it a fluke? I tried another eyeshadow on my other eye and there it was; the residue flaking its way down to my just blushed Mary Kay cheek. Mary Kay’s eyeshadow did not run away on my cheek. Yet again one less step in my make up regimen.

Mary Kay has a set of brushes that I know are worth close to half a weeks salary-when I used to work part-time that is. I received my set as a hostess gift. One of many gifts and discounts I received for hostessing a consultation party. I kid you not. This is not your typical girl’s night out (That happens after when we are all glamorized but that’s another story.)I would have paid every penny it was worth and then some. Putting on makeup with my new tools was like painting a new picture of myself.

Still skeptical, I had compared pictures that I had taken just days before using my old brushes (I hadn’t yet received all of my MK products) and I took a picture on my MAC with the new Mary Kay face. I felt younger, I looked younger and I was pleased that I had gone all the way with my Mary Kay. (Hmmm… could that be a new slogan… “Go All The Way With Mary Kay!”)

Mary Kay has many products and they are geared towards specific needs and ages. Yea, sure okay.. so do a lot of other companies and trust me I have spent many hard-earned dollars on them. I’ve seen some progress but not enough to justify the money spent. I can’t say that for Mary Kay. But this is a blog and time is of the essence but you can check out their products by going on-line to their site or you can call my consultant. Trust me, she’ll tell it like it is. And isn’t that what we all want when we are trying to maintain a bit of our youthful looks?

They even have men products at reasonable prices and the best? Every thing is guaranteed. You can return any used product for whatever reason, no pressure, your money will be returned but…. the consultant will work with you to find out what was in the product that didn’t work for you. No pressure. They stand by what they say. I can’t say the same for other products I have used.

As I write this with my new Mary Kay face, I feel young. I look young. I know beauty is all about what’s on the inside but it helps when beauty is on the outside sometimes, especially when you are feeling like you need some pampering in your life. Other’s go to spas, Mary Kay is a traveling spa, it comes to you.

What I love about Mary Kay? I get a facial for less than what I usually spend out there. I get that facial done in fewer steps than what I have had to go through in the past. But I don’t walk away feeling as if I’ve spent half of my hard-earned cash.

What I love about Mary Kay and their consultants? She comes to you. She sits with you. She truly does want to know what your issues are in skin care. She takes the time to work with you. NO PRESSURE!

I pushed Mary Kay away many times because for me, I want instant gratification. I love going to my make-up stores and bring home my products. But with Mary Kay, well, what can I say? It’s worth the wait and the wait isn’t long, it’s just that I’m impatient. I would mention the products I’m a die-hard fan about;products I myself have told other ladies about and they have become like me, die-hard fans. And now, they are coming to the Mary Kay side.

So if you want to look good…feel good… not just on the outside but on the inside, give my consultant a call. Her name is Antonella Guidotti Miccarelli. You can find her on the Mary Kay site. Trust me, she’s worth her weight in gold and your face and body will thank you for it.

 

My name is Sonia and I approve this message!;o)

Stick a fork in me…I’m done

So here’s the thing….

For years, in the name of peace, I have either kept my mouth shut when things were said, which led to me walking away and living in resentment for years…. or I would speak up and say the wrong thing which always led to me being the bad guy… so I figured, shut up and just walk away because you are going to get crapped on either way.

Then I had an epiphany… no ..that’s not the name of a person…

I realized that in the name of peace was not bringing me peace at all. And while I don’t need to tell someone off in the name of standing up for myself either, I don’t have to stay shut while they think they are getting over on me. How insulting is that? Should I stand by and let them get away with that or should I call them on the table and tell them.. either you deal with me on an adult level or get back to me when you have enough respect for me.

So I did just that…and boy does it feel good.

I stood up for myself.

I told those that love me or claim to love me, that with that love comes respect and if they don’t know how to deal with that or give that to me, that’s okay but they can’t be in my life and treat me with anything less than respect.

I feel good.

I’m still going to be the bad guy and that’s cool. Just because someone thinks I am or believes I am, doesn’t make it so. It’s their reality, not mine.

It’ll probably be a little bit lonely in the next few months or so but how is that any different than what I’ve been dealing with all these years? At least this time I’m responsible…for loving MYSELF and RESPECTING myself and demanding nothing less.

Try it.. you might find that the person you stand up for is not so bad at all.

Past Thoughts

MY YESTERDAYS–

These next few essays were written years ago. I came upon them when I got into a frenzied cleaning mode. I have been doing a lot of organizing lately since my mother and brother-in-law passed away, and they both knew my love for writing. I thought I had lost these essays a long time ago. Finding them was a gift. A gift I share with all of you.

THE INQUISITION

     Have you ever had a day when every thing you encountered, everything that you experienced with a person or persons was always met with a questions? I’m not talking about them questioning you, I mean YOU questioning them. I’m talking about having a conversation with someone and right in the middle of their babbling on and, your mind wanders and you look at this person and ask yourself, Why am I sitting here listening to this nonsense. Why is she wearing that foul smelling perfume? Finally I ask myself, Why am I putting myself through this torture?

     It amazes me every time this happens because I know I”m in control of my senses and yet, I find myself losing them when the inquisition begins. Have I slowed down in my old age? Scary, considering I’m only in my late 30′s.

     I don’t just do this with people I meet. The Inquisitionbegins with just the simplest of things; watching television, cooking a meal or cleaning out a draw. Sometimes it happens when I just go down for the mail. I suddenly get philosophical or whatever word there is out there to describe my dementia and it annoys me to no end because I know that once the inquisition begins, the rest of my day is spent in a baffling frame of mind that seems to go along with the quizzical-I-can’t-believe-just-happened-look. Until this hot pursuit of mine ceases to penetrate my brain I am not the same. When it’s all over, my face hurts for hours because of the constant frowning I make it go through. I could be the poster child for raised eyebrow syndrome. I’m sure there is a disease out there like that. There has to be an explanation for my behavior.

     I swear I don’t start out this way. A typical day for me is just that, a typical day. But the Inquisition pops in at any time. It’s like a split personality. Can it be that there are two of me? 

        This morning, a typical day. I had every intention of spending it doing my usual chores. Simple enough. No hassles, no worries. No people to get me into the Inquisitional state of mind. I climbed out of bed and then it started. I should have known better but sometimes I just don’t.  I looked over unto my left and saw my husband laying next to me, staring at the ceiling. Surely he couldn’t be thinking what I was thinking; another coat of paint perhaps? No of course not. This is the look he always has every morning when he’s trying to wake up the rest of his brain. I asked him what he was thinking. Maybe a nice surprise for me? Not. Surprises for him are when he does something that is totally so out there, that gets him into deep trouble and then he says, “But I thought it would be a surprise for you honey.” Yea, well since those days, he’s been forbidden to think. But this morning, I asked him, "What are you thinking staring so seriously at the ceiling?" His response? "Nothing. Just looking. " Just looking? I think to myself. Dare I ask him at what? My right brain tells me to get up and get my daughter ready for school but my left brain is telling me to ask. I need to know why he has done this all of these years.

       “You do this all the time. What do you think about when you look at the ceiling? It really can’t be nothing. I mean really, what goes through your mind when you look up at the ceiling and think?” I ask sweetly.

      “Nope, nothing. I think of nothing. I just see a big ceiling. Well, okay.. I just think… this ceiling never changes.” he says in complete surprise.

     I get out of bed. A ceiling that never changes. I don’t know why I expected him to say something profound like, “I think of what my day will be and how I can’t wait to get home to you.” But that’s just wishful thinking.

    I decided that the rest of the morning I would not allow any more inquisitions into my head. A ceiling that hasn’t changed in years. If you want change, ever thought of doing something about it? But that right there would have been another struggle for he would have probably wanted to put a big deer’s head on the ceiling that Iwould have to not only stare at every night but dust as well.

      Sending my daughter off to school I decided to watch television while I cleaned out the living room that encountered a tornado the night before. Flipping the channels over numerous talk shows, I came across a sitcome that I had not seen in years. As I was dusting, I thought about where I was in my life when that show was on the air. I felt safe about that inquisition. It was a nice memory. Proceeding to do my chores, humming happily that themorninghadn’t been so bad after all, when the credits for the sitcame  began to roll and that’s when the announcer said, "Filmeedbefore a live studio audience.” My heart started to pound. It was happening. Filmed before a LIVE studio audience?? As opposed to what? A dead one?

      I changed the channel and felt safe. The sweating stopped. I began to gather books and toys and that’s when the Massengil commericalcame on. I ask you this: When was the last time you walked in a garden with ANYONE and pulled out a box of douche? When did you walk through a garden and say.. “Gee I wish my baby box would smell as sweet as this garden does? And why are there always commercials about women’s hygiene and not men’s? Why are there always commercials about women’s issue’s and not men? Oh yea, recently there was one about men not being able to last long in their love bed. Figures. We get the commercials where we all stink but someone out there cares enough for men’s boner’s. Nice. Real Nice.

      And these gentle laxative commercials. Why is it always a woman who suffers from that?    I don’t need a gentle laxative. I pushed a 7 pounder out of me and there was nothing gentle about that. Why aren’t the men talking about hemmoroids? They get them too you know? Or are they such perfect arse holes, they don’t get any?

      Don’t even get me started on men complaining about pain. The only pain I will accept a man having that is similar to birth is Kidney Stones. I know. I’ve had both. But if they aren’t talking about that, they aren’t talking about pain. Pain is child birth. When they can push a 7 pounder out of their penis’s they are welcomed into the club. If not, out of my way. I managed to live through 48 hours of labor, giving birth to a child and my husband’s mother. I am woman, hear me roar.

      I was almost done with the living room and was heading to the hallway, proud of my work when I heard the advertisement on the television for our local supermarket that JumboShrimp was $4.99 a pound. Isn’t shrimp small? How can a small shrimp be jumbo? They went on to say that tuna fish was on sale. Isn’t that redundant? Do you say, “Hey, Hamburger cow is on sale for $3.00 a pound?”We know Tuna is a fish, why say it twice? I switched channels. My brain was hurting.

     Then I saw the adds for the baseball game for  later on that night. I remembered my last Yankee game. I loved the wave. I loved the music each time a player came on but I couldn’t get the song. The song they sing every year; Take Me Out To The Ball Game.” Aren’t we already at the ball game?

    I changed that channel immediately. Almost done with my chores, I made a sandwich and sat down to watch a show. No, no, no, my mind screamed. Shows make you ask more questions. Why are young girls so proud of going on television to talk about the man they love and how many children they have from other men they thought they loved too? I must have missed the stupid train when I was 16. Thank God for that. I turned off the boob tube. I picked up a magazine. How much trouble could my mind get into with that?

    Capturing my attention, I began to read an article about a young woman who wanted to become an actress. Why? Why couldn’t she be an actor? Was a female doctor called an Doctress? It didn’t stop there. Why do they call a woman who is having an affair a mistress? What do they call the man? (Besides the obvious pig name that comes to mind.) Why do they call a woman who makes clothes a seamstress and a man a taylor? Why do they call a woman who stays at home, taking care of her family, a housewife? Is she married to the house? Or a homemaker? Does she make homes? Why can’t us women have titles, real titles like real men do?

     Why is there a Superman and only a Supergirl? Did she not grow up? And don’t tell me we have Wonder Woman. They say she’s Wonder woman only because she’s wonderful looking. Why in movies, there is always full frontal nudity for women and not men? While I do understand that the woman is by far a more beautiful species than man is, I just think it is a bit unfair that I can’t see from time to time the part of a man’s body that he always wants to expose anyway. Amd the body part that always gets him into trouble.

     I shut the magazine and ate my lunch in silence.

    I began the process of making dinner. I turned on the music and vowed that I would not inquire about anything any more. Even though the tiny sheets of paper on my husbands dresser with phone numbers and no names was driving me nuts. I vowed I would not inquire when he came home but that didn’t last long. When he told me he didn’t know what they were. I chose to get rid of them. When I heard the shrill of his voice explode, I turned to look at him. Why would he want sheets of paper with no names on them? His response? “I may need it one day.” Will someone please kill my brain or render his useless.

      The end of my day is drawing to an end. My child is asleep after having a good meal, done her homework and watched her favorite Care Bear cartoon for the 20th time that week. I went out on my terrace with my hot cup of tea to enjoy the beauty of nature. I saw some older children playing their little league games. I see other children playing and laughing, mother’s walking their newborns and it baffles my mind that something so simple can be so beautiful, so wonderful and it’s then that I thank my inquisitive mind for waking me up today allowing me the opportunity to marvel, to wonder, to inquire of all that is around me.

     I know that I never want to stop thinking about the why’s, the how’s or the becauses, to do so would then end the mystery that has kept this world spinning, turning and growing. If every one knew the answers then what would we have left to question? What then would happen to the minds of the young, who depend on their inquisitive nature to see and become a part of this world? If we knew the answers to every thing, life stops becoming a challenge and challenges is what life is all about. It’s what gives us the flavor to crave for more, it’s what makes us who we are. So from now on, when that other part of my mind wakes up and comes into focus, I won’t fight it. I’ll embrace it, hoping that in searching for the answers I will find another part of me, of my world, of my life and of course when that happens, they will be more questions to ask, and isn’t that what life is all about?

 

 

 

The Promise

      As my mother laid in her bed, struggling to breath, she held unto my hand. She looked me in the eyes and I could tell what she wanted to say without her having to say the words. I begged her with my own eyes not to say it. I needed time to deal with the latest battle in my life and right now all I wanted to do was deal with my mother, not the betrayal of my husband. But there it was. The look. The look that said, “Please forgive him.” And my response was burning inside of me. It was turning me into a boil of fire waiting to explode but how could I tell her what was in my heart when I knew her heart was hurting. She was dying and she knew her daughter was ready to end her marriage.

        I held her hand and  prayed with her. I knew she wanted me to say something but I took the cowards way out. I felt if I could do any thing to distract from the issue, then I would be safe. But fire burns hotter when unattended and mine was fierce.

       Finally, she asked.

“Are you leaving him?”

“No, he left me.” I said. Even though it was me that told him to go. It just felt easier to say this to her. But in reality he did leave me when he chose to betray me.

“He left you because he’s ashamed of what he did. He didn’t know you would find out. He is sorry.” she said

“He wouldn’t have anything to be sorry about or ashamed if he had remembered that he had a wife, a home, a family. So if he’s sorry it’s only because he got caught. He wasn’t sorry all these months while he was having fun and I was lost in the hope that maybe he was trying to make our marriage work. He wasn’t. So he should be ashamed. And he should be sorry. But it’s all for the wrong reasons.” I tried to keep my voice steady, without shedding tears or showing anger. I didn’t want to upset her.          

“I love him. He’s been so good to me and I know he loves you and your daughter. Please, think about this before you do anything. Promise me you won’t leave him. I don’t want to go knowing my baby will be alone.” she pleaded.

“Mom, I’ve been alone for 12 years. And the one time I asked him to please be with me, stand with me, be there for me, he didn’t. He failed me three times before but this time, was the hardest, and yet, I asked him and he said yes. But he lied. Add that to what he has done to me and it hurts too much to think about anything you want me to think about. Can we just worry about you?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes.

“I know what he did was wrong. But he doesn’t beat you and he takes care of the family working so hard.”

“And because he doesn’t beat me and he brings home money to pay the pills that gives him the right to betray me?” I asked in surprise and defense.

“No. He was wrong. I am disappointed. But he is sorry. Maybe there was something you did that made him do it.” she said seriously.

I bit my tongue that burned with the fire inside of me. How was it possible that he committed this sin and somehow it’s my fault? I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I then went to make her some lunch. She fell asleep. I thought about all that had happened and I wondered if he was truly sorry for what he did or that he got caught?

I’ll never know.

Minutes later, my mother woke up and asked, “Will you forgive him?”

I told her I had forgiven him because to not do that will let him and the other woman live rent free in my head and neither one of the was worth it.

But I couldn’t forget. It is not something any person can forget when they have invested 24 years of their lives, for better or worse. I thought we had gone through the worse and then I found that I was wrong.

“Promise me you won’t leave him. Please.” she said.

The fire burning within told me to stand up to her. But I loved her. I’ve always wanted her approval and love. To do something that would please her and earn me brownie points was more important than the betrayal of my heart.

“I promise.”

She smiled. We hugged. We watched TV together as I stroked her hair and she fell asleep again.

And I wondered if I would ever be happy again.

And So It Begins….

          And the summer begins. What awaits me is any body’s guess. It’s like being at a horse race….”And their off……” Sending me on an emotional spiral trip to nowhere land. I’m not quite sure what to expect but I’m at the point in my 51st year of life that whatever comes knocking on my door or flying through my window will be greeted with optimism, excitement, sarcasm and caution. In my life, those are basic necessities if only to keep my sanity intact or my insanity; depends on which way you look at it.
    Family will play a big role in this and I’m hoping that it won’t be a summer with the usual he-said-she said drama. I’ve done a good job in the past of avoiding that or as some would think, “running away from it.” But I’m running out of air. And I’m tired of running in the same circles over and over again. It gets old. I’m hoping that this season of warmth, fun in the sun, frolicking in a pool while my pale
skin tries to tan will set us all if not some on the road to a positive
journey into the fall and the holidays I love so much. If it doesn’t turn out that way, I can at least hold unto the anticipation of what the holidays will bring. I’m ever so grateful that at my age I still have not lost the child hood fascination and love of all the glitter, lights and magic of Christmas. It is a beautiful warm and cuddly time of the year for me. It’s when I want most to do my best as a human being. It’s when I feel that miracles do happen and life is truly a buffet of so many wonderful and amazing things mixed in with some not so wonderful and amazing things. But that’s all part of the life plan. We all need to deal with the not so amazing so that we can appreciate that which truly is amazing, even the little things. But I digress. This is about the summer.
    I look forward to being with family and friends during the long hot days of summer. I love getting invited and asked to cook their favorite dish. I just dread the thought of what goes through their minds when I can’t attend their planned soiree. It’s not really that any one will get upset that I didn’t spend a weekend with them or even a day at a BBQ. It’s more a matter that I chose to be with someone else other than them. And it’s not like it’s a popularity contest or that the party just won’t be the same without me.  I’m not that delusional to think that their upset is about not having me over. It’s just one of those
things where if I chose to visit one and not the other, I somehow become the bad person while they cackle over not only the choice I made not to visit with them but the things I did years ago when I was young, angry and ignorant and that winds up making me a prisoner for the summer in my own home. Rather than causing a family war, I find myself in a self- imposed vegetative state under my thick sea foam comforter counting the days until Christmas.

       I don’t get it sometimes though. It’s not like they can’t wait to be with me, and when I’m finally there it’s an outpouring of love. They don’t hate me but I don’t think they like me much or if they do, it’s on their terms. They like me when it makes them happy other wise, I feel sometimes as if I’m just fodder for their
day. So why if they feel that way, do they get upset if I don’t want to spend any time with them? I don’t comprehend. That might just be another lesson to learn in another summer of my life. Of course this could very well be about me. I could be the one imagining all of this and if that’s the case, what a bunch of wasted summers I have damaged. I refuse to dwell on either one of these theories as I have found now in the half a century of my life, that to dwell on things like this doesn’t change what’s already occurred but will definitely direct what will occur. I need to be more in control of the positive thought in order to let go of the negatives. I never thought at my age, I’d still be learning to do things. Life is all about living huh?
    Last year didn’t turn out so bad. In fact, when the summer was coming to it’s close, I found myself feeling pretty sad because the weekends I had chosen to spend with my family were happy, lazy, easy going and just plain old fun. I didn’t want it to end.

       I started the joys of summer on Father’s Day with an impromtu BBQ which led to almost every other
weekend visiting with someone. The joy and love I felt during those get-togethers made me realize how much I had truly missed over the years while hiding under my comforting comforter. It started out well
enough but soon the comments about me visiting one family member more than the other was met with sarcasm. It wasn’t even so much as the things that were said, it was more of how they were said, body language and all. And the digs that were sent my way were more of a main course than a side dish. Alas I chose on the 50th year of my life that comments made by others had nothing to do with me. They
said it, they felt t, therefore, they owned it. As a result, I had a wonderful summer.  I only
visited with my comforter on days of summer rain. And it was pure joy.
       The summer ended with my immediate family’s first ever cruise. It was intense at times to say the least as spending 7 days in a cramped filled room with a bathroom no bigger than a shoebox, accompanied with
some bouts of seasickness was a bit daunting for some but I’m always one to make the best of a bad situation and that’s what I did on the trip. I ignored it all. You can get lost on a ship. And it does help
that for refuge you can have ice cream and all the pizza you can handle to waste the time away. If they ever have a Survivor show for a cruise, I’ll win hands down.
    I spent a few days in Puerto Rico with my niece and her husband exposing her to a bit of the island culture which she had missed growing up. It was like watching my daughter on her first trip to
Disney. I was seeing Puerto Rico through her eyes and it was amazing. It happened to be my daughter’s first trip as well to the island and watching her gaze at all the splendor around her was breath taking.
    We all marveled how the Puerto Rican men loved their curvaceous women. They walked down the street, dressed in island fare, looking proud to be holding the hands of their zoftig lover. We walked a little taller and hunched a little less, standing in unity with our pleasingly plump island sisters. Suddenly my hips did not want to lie and my cellulite was doing it’s own version of mambo in the sun. I loved being
a woman in the home of my parents parents. I was happy to have enjoyed that experience with my niece and daughter. Of course the men in our family were oblivious to what we had experienced. To this day they talk
about the food, El Morro, The Barcardi Factory and how much money was spent in the Coach factory. It’s all about perception, I guess. Still it was a beautiful time had by all and one that I hope we can all visit
once again on a much grander scale.
    Now we have the summer of my 51st beginning and as I write this I’m watching the manly men in our family put together a pool deck. The new addition to our summer, which I hope will become a bit more permanent for the joy it brings to my daughter’s life is her new beau. I’ve enjoyed watching my daughter embrace this new emotion in her life. Each time she had met a young man and thought she was in like with him, I knew she wasn’t. A mother just knows. I told her about a year ago that I would know when her feelings were sincere… not just a “I like this guy” kind of emotion but something on a more intense level. Of course I didn’t tell her all that she may or may not experience because I wanted whatever was to come to be something totally unexpected. As it should be. And it seems to be. The best part is that this young man has stolen a part of our hearts as well. And I’m hoping that this is the summer of love for her or an intense version of like.

The men are doing their manly grunt backyard work as the women sit and drink coffee and dwell in the cool summer breeze after the sun has warmed our skin for hours. We watch as they heave and ho with their heavy task. We talk about relationships from our past and remember the good so the bad won’t be too hard to handle. But we keep coming back to the men in front of us. Moaning and groaning about all the hard work they have to do. Five women…2 married, 3 not. 2 in a relationship, 1 not. And each one has a different take on romance and relationship while the 2 married women smrik and giggle about how that will all change in the years to come. And then I thought to myself…. I don’t have the right to destroy the future of any one in love just because my love story has ended. And it felt good to know that my cynical ways were beginning to be buried with the cement being poured into the ground that day.

The 2 husbands will remember the hard sweaty work of building a pool deck. The young man helping will remember how good it felt to bond with the two men in the lives of the young lady he’s dating, (my daughter). But I could also see and maybe it is just wishful thinking on my part, but I could also see how every once in a while he would look up to where my daughter was sitting and he would smile. It wasn’t his smile that got to me, it was what his eyes were saying.

This is what the men will remember about the summer of 2008 while we, the woman remember the trip we took to Disney, how happy the kids were and memories of our fun in the sun last year in Puerto Rico. I wonder if we’ll walk just as tall and embrace our curves and cellulite as we did last year? Will the memory of that be strong enough to carry me through another summer that’s starting to make me feel self conscious about my once youthful body? Time will tell.
    I made my first faux pa though for the summer of 2008. I did not attend a birthday party for my niece and I’m sure though nothing was said out right, it was thought of. Why did I not attend when I was just an hour away? I had every intention of doing so. I even bought her an extra gift. But I wanted this weekend to be a smoke free, easy going weekend. Well okay, that’s not the entire truth but it is a partial one. I guess if I have to be honest, I would have to admit that while I did consent to go to the party at first it was only after the invitation was extended a week prior to the event. The party was planned months ago.  take pride in being a home made party planner and I know parties like this are not planned in a weeks time. I tried not to be hurt but I was. I was an after thought. I was invited simply because the host chose to include my family and me at the last minute to avoid any he-said she said drama. And while I had agreed to go for the same reason as the time drew near, it wasn’t in me to do the right thing. I was doing the right thing for the wrong
reasons. I was okay with the fact that if my niece had an issue with it, she would discuss it with me and if any one else had any else to say, that was not my problem. As it’s not their business. I’m 51 years old. It’s time I grew up. It’s time I make my own decisions and not feel the need to define or defend my choices. And it felt good to do that even though I knew the negative thoughts were going to be spoken. Such is life. It feels so good not to feel responsible for the thoughts of others.
    What will the rest of my summer be like? I can tell you what I have planned and the anticipation of that is exciting but things don’t always turn out the way we plan them. So for now, I shall wait to see
what the summer of 2008 brings me and enjoy each day with great anticipation as I wake to pursue another memory. And if per chance someone else chooses to make another comment about me, I’m happy that I
could be of service to them.

    Happy Summer!