A Dicey Situation

Hubby and I have a regular discussion concerning who is worse off when it comes to shaving: men or women. Hubby claims that shaving his face everyday is very time consuming and there are concerns with skin irritation and razor burn. I've explained that women have more coverage area to shave than a man, we have the same concerns about skin irritation, and for some unfortunate women, shaving is an everyday occurrence. Eek! I've always let hubby believe I've accepted his argument until the next time the conversation makes an appearance.

Last week, I made a bold proclamation that caused a reaction though. I informed hubby that I was never shaving again. My reasoning ... in the past month I have injured myself three times and the final one may leave a permanent mark. During the conference, I sliced my knee and ankle pretty bad while preparing for the opening social. Thankfully, the nicks weren't noticeable that evening though it created a bloody mess in the hotel room. And while getting ready for some post-conference fun, I smacked my head on the underside of the shelf when rinsing my blade. For days, I had a bruised spot on the back of my head from that incident.

But the finale was while on my mini-vacay, when I slashed diagonally up the back of my calf. It took about half an hour to staunch the wound, which reopened when Mich and I were at lunch. Nothing more appetizing than a dripping bloody wound. Mich got me some Neosporin and bandages, but unfortunately, this wound does not want to heal.Ten days later and I still have what appears to be a healing scratch across my leg. Yes, I know this proves I am an absolute klutz, but we already knew that.

So I feel completely justified in saying that I will not ever shave again. Hubby seems to really be concerned about this as I have received emails and reviews concerning hair removal products. I've reminded him that I can always schedule lengthier sessions with Steve, my torturer, who is wonderful concerning my other beauty regiments, but hubby thinks I spend way too much time and money at the salon as it is.

Obviously, I will continue shaving, but my pronouncement and hubby's reaction proves my point that it is worse for women. Shaving is a requirement for most women because the alternatives are too pricey. Though I'm not a fan of facial hair, a man can grow a beard without comment, but a woman who doesn't remove hair growth will cause a stir. What do you think?

Dear Moms of the World

Dear Moms of the World!

Please do not start divvying up your personal items with your adult children when they visit. This can be quite startling and upsetting for your children. Please do not pull out serving dishes from our childhood, holiday candles and displays, the family nativity set, family glassware, childhood bells, or your milk glass collection and say, take what you want. It is more upsetting when you grab a plastic tub and start wrapping up the items to send them and your child on their way.

First off, the adult child fears something is wrong with you, that maybe you received a horrible medical diagnosis. Second, those childhood memories are supposed to remain in your home until well ... it is no longer your home. If you were moving into a smaller house or retirement condo, it would be more understandable, but not when you are remaining in our childhood home. Third, it can be very emotional to recall how much these items mean to you and we question why you are parting with them. Fourth, if your adult child does not have children, the need to share the wonderful memories of these items can remind them that they may not have anyone to pass this heritage on to.

So please do not give away any more of your items. It will help your child's heart.

Sincerely,
A Child of the World

P.S. At the end of our trip to Florida, my mother did this to me. I was in hysterics going through her things. I did claim some amazing items like the set of blue sherbert glasses that my mom's cousin made. Mom pulled them down, telling me about him making the glass and she mentioned Aunt Minnie. Well, I recalled driving one winter in the snow to visit Aunt Minnie Beatrice, who had been my mother's sole remaining extended family member. I also started discussing things I had discovered about Aunt Minnie in my genealogy, which made mom realize, I wanted the glasses. Now that I know the history of the glasses, I feel bad that I broke one of them playing as a child, but they made wonderful music at the time. The image is of the milk glass I accepted. I can remember the numerous times we stopped at glass shops in the Appalachians so mom could watch people make glass or so she could purchase more for her collection.

Our Story

I read a lot of relationship advice blogs because hey! it is hard work to keep a marriage going and any advice helps. Recently, many of these blog authors have been posting stories of how they met their significant other, so I thought I would share hubby and my comedy of errors which led to our marriage.

James and I met in library school during a rather confusing time in my life. I had decided to focus all my energy on graduate school and the beginning stages of my career. Men served their purpose as friends and fun dates, but I was determined not to have a relationship since it would be a detriment to my career plans.

James first impression of me was not a good one. If you have ever seen me in a rant, you understand that no man would want to date someone who gets that riled up. If you have never had the joy, this image gives you an idea. (No, I was not a bridezilla. This pic is after our room had been changed four times, including an hour before the wedding, no electricity, and this is the moment I found out the cake was missing.) So, James didn't think much of me at the time, which was fine since I thought he was a perfect fit for my male friend, Aaron. Yep, you read that right, I was trying to set James up with another guy. Eventually, I learned James dated women, so Aaron and I enjoyed the eye candy James provided.

After a week of Aaron nagging me that James was a good guy and I should give him a chance, I finally asked James to have a drink after class. James and I closed the bar down because we were having such a fun and engrossing conversation. James and I had many more moments of miscommunication, including our first kiss, when he asked if he could kiss me. I told him to get out because I was shocked that he asked. He thought I meant get out of the car, so he did. This was the moment I realized this guy was not a fling. The first time I tried to express my love for him, I couldn't get the words out. James finally took pity on me and said, I love you too.

And the funniest time we had a breakdown in communication was Memorial Day weekend, four months after we began dating. I was sending out resumes and thought James and I should have the talk about what would happen to our relationship since our careers would take us in different directions. I was on a roll, explaining to James that should we end up in the same city, we could continue dating, but otherwise, I wasn't interested in a long distance relationship. I also told him that we should slow down, since we didn't know where we would end up and I had no intention of letting a guy get in the way of my career plans. In the middle of my diatribe, James tossed in the fact, he planned to spend the rest of his life with me and wanted to marry me. I ignored his comments and continued until it hit me what he had said. Yes folks, this was my romantic proposal, no ring, no bended knee, just a guy sitting in a coffee shop, trying to convince his girlfriend not to end their relationship.

Honestly, I didn't believe him at first. It required several hand-delivered bridal magazines for me to believe he was serious. The agreement we came to involving our careers was whoever received the first job offer that was acceptable to both of us, that was where we would move. We didn't realize at the time this would create the dynamic that would permeate our marriage. Because of my career, James has moved with me to three different cities and we now maintain a long distance marriage because of that decision. As for our engagement, I didn't receive my ring until seven months after the proposal. Many people began to question if James would ever buy me a ring or if we were really getting married. I used to explain that the wedding was on since James had paid for the wedding.

So there you have it! The crazy roller coaster mayhem that led to what will be my nine year marriage in February and ten year relationship with James in January, though, knowing us, does this story surprise anyone?

Fashionista

My BF, Michelle, is such a fashionista. She is completely patient with me when trying to explain clothes shopping and accessorizing. It cracks me up when we go into the stores on Michigan Avenue and she starts rattling off names in an awed tone. She sometimes even has a glazed look in her eye. I've heard her converse with a sales person about web sites to shop for handmade jewelry and when she walks into a shoe store, it's like watching Carrie Bradshaw. The gal can talk shoes. She pulls clothes off the rack for me to try and explains the clothing brand, which is utterly lost on me. It amazes me that she retains this fount of knowledge and for what purpose. She has taken me shopping numerous times, has informed me that I need to wear brighter colors, has insured I can tell you my purse brand, and has gotten me to experiment with my clothing selections. On our upcoming vacation, we're stopping at my type of store, L.L. Bean. It's comfy clothes, hiking clothes, and boots. L.L. Bean was my lifesaver when we went to New Zealand and moved to the great white north. I know it won't be the same, but it's worth the try.

The Curse of the "M" Name

Hubby and I used to joke when we first started dating about my name. It's a pretty simplistic name though multi-syllable, yet people have trouble with it. We met in a Research Methods class in graduate school, where we survived a passive aggressive professor. The short version of the story is she didn't like me and what I represented, so I was forced to re-take her class. Good news was I met hubby. But back to the story ... this professor would look at my paper, see my name, and call out for Michelle. Without fail, it happened every time. Then while answering phones at work, customers always thought I said Martha when I gave my name. I'd shrug it off and move on.

A decade later, I have a current customer who likes to "flirt" with me regularly, but every time we'd chat, he'd call me by a different "M" name. I finally told him just to call me "M." He recently brought me a book he'd published in which he wrote an inscription for "M." So this week, I met Randy Seaver of Genea-Musings blog fame. In the course of our conversation, he asked my name twice and repeated it. So imagine my shock when reading his article about his visit to the center in which I'm named Michelle. You can read his article, "Day 7 on the Seaver Midwest Genealogy Tour" posted on September 12.

As you can see I try to be good humored about it, but if you have real trouble with my name, you can always call me Mel. Do you have this issue with your name?

Measurements

Sarai sent me this pic from her birthday dinner. It's a cute photo of me and hubby, which is always nice. But when I look at this photo, I think damn, I'm practically falling out of my shirt. I had asked hubby earlier if my cleavage was showing too much and he said no. Of course, this is the man who didn't notice that I had cut inches off my hair. Oh well! I had recently discussed with Becky that I felt some of my tops made me look busty, but she said it was due to me looking down, whereas other people are looking straight on, with the exception of our customers. For some reason, our department's desk is lower than everyone else's, so apparently, people are able to look down my top. Scary thought!

With me feeling yucky most days, my workout routine has really suffered and I think due to my recent ailment, my weight has increased. Either way, all the weight that used to go to my thighs is now settling in my stomach area. I've always had a flat stomach so this is disappointing to me. The other day, I had to take some measurements and discovered that due to the "swelling" in my stomach that my waist is the same size as my bust. So as you can see, looking at this pic, I have some concerns over the size of my waist.

Discoveries of the Week

I discovered several things this past week that I felt the need to share:

1. Starbucks has this amazing caramel flavored coffee. Yum! I bought a package to make at home. Truly, yummy!

2. Sarai and Kevin are the cutest couple ever. I can't help it! They are still in their honeymoon phase, but it's darling to watch. This weekend was Sarai's birthday and Kevin made the arrangements for her party and baked and decorated not only one but two cakes. Seriously, this was so adorable.

3. Don't call me on my day off to fix the website then give me attitude when I call back to verify that the site is up on your end. I was sleeping when you called as it was my day off and did not give you attitude, so return the favor.

Hey Tina Fey

Amy, "my twin," and I had lunch this past weekend. I think between cutting her hair shorter and darkening it, people will hopefully not mistake us this year. I'll try to maintain my red and a longer style just in case there is any confusion. People have stopped her while she's researching asking her for help at the library and others have stopped me to comment on my presentation, when it was Amy's presentation. And when people see us together, we've been asked if we're sisters. Besides resembling Amy, I apparently look like Tina Fey.

I've had several customers remark on it the past six months and my birthday weekend in Chicago sealed the deal. While we were visiting the big city, a guy and his friends kept calling me Tina Fey. I mean every time they saw me, they commented on it. When we were walking down the street, the group yelled out, "Bye Tina Fey." And I returned to work to have another person tell me I looked like Tina Fey.

I personally don't see the resemblance, but others apparently do. Does that mean I look like Sarah Palin as well? Do you have a "twin" out there? Or has someone commented on you resembling a celebrity?

Do They Know They're Insulting

I'm going to make a confession: I'm proud of my accomplishments. Yes, I even have an ego over some of the things I've managed to achieve in my limited years and I feel I should be allowed this self-indulgence because rarely do I rub it in anyone's face unless provoked or if I'm joking. One of my many pet peeves is when people question my work ethic or knowledge. I'll readily admit when I don't know something and am always willing to ask for help.

Yet, one of my colleagues once asked me what experience I had to get the job since this particular individual had been doing their own family research for twenty odd years. I, of course, responded with my vitae of accomplishments, which includes managing an entire collection and two satellite centers, thank you very much!

Then yesterday, I had an individual who asked about my entry level position. I didn't want to insult the person but felt the need to mention that my position requires a masters degree and several years of experience. The person followed this up by saying, they didn't mean to sound rude, but what experience did I have. As my other colleague can attest, this was all said in a somewhat astounded tone. My response of course was the "I managed an entire collection for a few years to gain experience."

A part of me wants to believe these people truly don't realize how insulting they are, but admits that yes, they do. They qualify their statements in hopes of disarming and then follow through with their insult. It's all rather annoying. But I have to admit, I love rubbing people's faces in my accomplishments because I do try to be humble under normal conditions.

Vampirism

Did you know vampires truly roam the earth, hunting for victims to drain? I can attest to this fact, as I've slowly been drained over the past few months. The docs began with some tests that required four, count them, four vials of blood. This was followed by more tests that required another four vials. The following week another vial and this week another. At this point, I'm beginning to question what they're doing with all that blood. Not only are they draining me of my blood and patience, but now I've received the bill. Wowza! Now they're draining me of my money as well. Truly, if I didn't feel so crappy and had hopes after the past few months of getting better, I'd quit going to the doc. And of course, they shave another grand plan for me. The docs want to strap me down so they can run further tests. This should be fun as I'm claustrophobic and bondage doesn't appeal to me.

Status

The sling is off! I'm ready to throw it in the trash and say good riddance. But now begins physical therapy. I expected the physical pain, but wasn't prepared for the emotional beating. Your range of motion is bad, you need to push harder, don't push so hard, can't you move it more, you won't make your goals, you're too weak for that exercise, we'll have to start you slower, this will take months to heal. Boy, I needed a therapist after the first session.

You're So Vain

For a long time, I didn't believe I was a vain person. In my 20s I barely wore makeup, only on important occasions. My hair started graying, I shrugged it off. It made interesting highlighting. I noticed the lines around my eyes and mouth. Who cares? I smile and laugh a lot. It shows I'm a fun person.

But when hubby and I returned from New Zealand, I was a little distressed to learn that people on our trip thought I was older than hubby. Considering he's five years older than me, it was upsetting. I decided to cut my long tresses and had it colored, only to have people tell me, I appeared ten years younger. What! I was shocked and appalled. I slowly established a routine of covering the gray, wearing makeup and smearing facial cream to cover those lines I used to believe were a mark of my humor.

In the past year, I have upgraded my closet selection to include cute shoes and boots to match my recent acquired outfits made for my pear-shaped body. Now I have decided I need a further change. I want to have a makeover. Yes, one of those things we used to have done before prom, but you never bought the makeup they slathered on you. This time, I will buy the products, if I think they look good.

Here's where I need your help. Any recommendations of where I should go to have a makeover? Does anyone want to join me? Just for fun!

Unobservant

As much as I love my hubby, he can be extremely unobservant, which can be a benefit to me at times. In the first four years of our marriage, I gained 40 pounds. That's not a typo. My hubby never noticed the weight gain, and of course, when I lost 25 of those pounds, he didn't realize my wonderous weight loss either. He can now look back at pictures and realize my weight had changed, but he still claims my weight never reached the level I claim. I recently received medical records from that time period and showed him the changes in my weight noted within the files and he still couldn't admit it.

This past week while recovering from my procedure, I have been extremely swollen around my stomach. To the point my pants don't fit me. Once again, hubby claims he doesn't notice anything different. Everyone else has been telling me how pale I am and hubby states, I'm always pale. But my favorite comment this weekend was concerning my hair. Hubby asked if I realized I had blond streaks in my hair. Um, yes, I highlighted my hair over a month ago.

So it's a blessing he doesn't recognize my physical flaws.

Vanity

I generally think I am not a vain person, but my vanity has been pushed to the limit. I have accepted the lines I've noticed near my eyes and mouth. I'm dealing with the chunks of gray hair I have now thanks to my mom. I watch my weight, but only for health purposes. Now I face the latest adjustment in my life. I have to wear the "black shoes". I mean really this is a travesty. My vanity has finally been assaulted.

I have accepted the doctor's edict and wear the shoes to work and have a stylish white pair at home. They blend very well with my work clothes. I have never been one who wears stylish footwear, but this truly has made me realize...I have to make adjustments on the road to...gulp...getting older.

Thought some humorous fun was in order.







(image from newbalance.com)