The Trouble With StereoTypes

I know we hear of the dangers of stereotypes quite frequently. Yet still many people find themselves guilty of profiling us all the same.

E.G. I am a lawyer. Therefore I am a dirty, rotten scoundrel. OK maybe not. But I am often prejudged as "boring" or "stiff." One of the industries I represent is full of "characters." Partiers. TV people. Crazy business people some in for a fast buck (some not all). They don't always appreciate the lawyers in tow. Yet how many times over the last year have I heard, "You're not the typical lawyer - you're FUN!"

OK so these people don't know me, and I'm not as offended. And hey, if they hire me b/c not only am I truly brilliant - well smart maybe anyway - but I am also a person to whom they can relate, then let the others be boring if FUN gets me clients.

But when your own "Friend" of 20+ years finds the gravitational alignment of the planet to be out of whack simply because you went to see a CURE concert, well, then I am amused in an almost-offended kind of way. At least somewhat taken aback that I am still pigeon-holed.

Cutting him slack, I am somewhat of a Bruce Springsteen, Jimmy Buffett, Billy Joel, Pop Rock, Country girl addict. And he saw my CD collection (ok record collection) in college. But my iPod has as much "other" stuff as any of this. I love my kids' music, I love old rock, ("classic" I believe it's now called), I even like bits of Mettalica and Linkin Park, and yes, I do like the Cure.

And yet on the other side, he of all people should know to expect the unexpected with me. I wear pink nail polish and pink toe polish while I am crucifying you on the soccer field. I bake brownies for my daughter's flute recital after being out all night salsa dancing. I hire the yardwork done but plant the gardens myself. I draft Federal Circuit briefs and read Nora Roberts romance novels. I am blond, I am not dumb. I am a lawyer, I am not boring.
I am a mom, I am not emotionally numb or without my own life/friends.

So the next time you think you know me, don't be so sure....

Small confession: I did not want to go to the Cure. My friend bought tickets for his birthday and asked me to go with him. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but he is a good friend, and I said I would so I went. And after the first encore I wanted to go home. But I stuck it out through all the encores because hey, who is going to walk out on a 32 year old band (the band not the guys!) when they are still rocking at 1 a.m.??? So I didn't BUY the tickets or INITIATE the concert trip, but I Went and I Had FUN!

What I Learned this Weekend

Much has happened over the weekend. Quick post:

• I am not too old to attend a 4 hour The Cure concert after flying cross country from a 3 day conference-from-hell (as in no sleep, too much "entertainment" and too much time away from home);
• I don't hate loud music and actually enjoyed The Cure;
• I didn't realize The Cure had so many hits;
• I can smile while the Ex belittles me about my tool choices in front of my son because my son has conned him into installing the garage door opener for me (thus saving me $120) and I am getting the way better end of the deal;
• I am mature enough to realize that I don't need a top-of-the-line level to hang pictures, a tool I will use a few times a year if at all, and being belittled for purchasing a middle of the road level is just funny;
• There comes a time when you stop letting the Ex fill your kids' ears with lies and very patiently tell them a few truths without belittling or mocking the Ex;
• Kids know when a parent is lying or being mean and will tell you;
• My son has become a man: without being asked he installed a new garage door opener (see above); fixed the drippy kitchen sink; bathed the dog; and brought his vomiting sister saltines and new downloaded music;
• mowing the grass is still fun even if you have to bag it;
• when you're bagging the grass you should empty the bag more than once per front yard;
• playing soccer in the pouring rain isn't fun - playing in the cold pouring rain is less fun but winning and scoring a hat trick in the pouring rain adds a little fun

Hotness and other Misconceptions

Someone says, "OOOh she's hot." And You're thinking "20's. Gorgeous. No cottage cheese..uh I mean cellulite. No veiny legs. clear skin. Tiny waist. High cheek bones. Boobs."

Then someone says it to YOU. You that 40-something, cottage cheesy, veiny girl. (OK I have boobs - by the way, I know I owe you all a post on that. It's coming, I promise...)

Wait. 'Splain for me please. How can a chubby, old, veiny, mom of 15 year old twins be hot? (And no they didn't mean hot flashes).

Get this. Me. The geeky girl who tried all throughout high school to hide her geekiness. I was so cool. (HA) I wore wide whale courderoys in pink with a kelly green fair isle sweater, a turtle neck an oxford and a polo shirt (yes all at one time). Totally cool. Ok. Not.

I wore a pink minidress with black swiss dots. Very "Maniac." (Flashdance?) Cool. Um Not.

I was smokin at 110 pounds, silky running shorts, tank top...til I added izod sweatbands....not.

NOW 25 years later, I embrace my geekiness. I admit I love the law. I love to read. I have no fashion sense. I cannot fix my computer. I have trouble uploading YouTube videos. I-Am-A-Geek. And where does that land me? Smack dab in Hotness.

WHY? Because admitting I am a geek somehow makes me cool.

I swear I am not on drugs, and I've only had 1 glass of wine. I am not delusional. OK I am only minimally delusional. But my friends tell me that embracing my geekiness makes me hot. WHY DIDN'T SOMEONE TELL ME THIS 25 YEARS AGO??

Keeping Up with the Jones takes on Whole New Meaning

Some people are "perfect grass" people - no sticks in the yard, no weeds, perfectly trimmed, etc. Others are not. Would I like to have perfect grass? Of course. Do I have the time, inclination etc to actually have perfect grass? Um, no.

But there's this guy next door....

So Friday rolls around, I realize my lawn man - aka my teenage son - is leaving for the weekend with Dad. He's playing rugby and, quite frankly, too busy to keep up with 2 lawns. Next door, the grass is short, trim, nice. Fertilizer has been dutifully strewn about, not a stick in sight (which is saying something in our neighborhood of 3 million old, stick-dropping trees). Meanwhile, my backyard looks like the house has been for sale for a few months and no one's been by to clean up the hurricane damage...you know, the one that only struck my yard.

I have the tools - big tractor, push mower, backpack blower, gas trimmer, clippers, gloves, trash cans, gas, oil mixstuff for the gas for one of the mowers, portable air compression tank to fill the tires... but I have no idea how to use any of it. I did ask throughout the 19 evil years. Repeatedly. "Please show me how to use this stuff in case I never need to." "You don't need to - I'll do it, and I'll show our son and we'll handle it." Yeah right.

But I'm a well-educated woman, kind of handy, very inspired and determined, so I awaken with the resolve to figure it out myself (without ruining any tools in the process if I can help it).

10am...

Step one - pick up sticks. No problem. I can do that. Gloves, check. Can, check. Ex'sWild dog on leash so she doesn't escape, check. (Dog sitting while he's out of town with the kids). Picking up sticks, lots of sticks, oh so many sticks, hours and hours of sticks. Start chucking sticks under bushes. Start chucking sticks under trampoline, start chucking sticks in the neighbor's yard. (KIDDING sort of). Call it quits after an hour of picking up sticks. Daylight is upon us. Time to tackle the mower/tractor issue. And capture the dog who has escaped and broken her extendo-leash. (Add to list trip to pet store to replace leash).

11am

Step two - find keys to shed, remove wagon and push mower to get to tractor. Check tires - FLAT. Find air compressor in shed, fill up 1 tire. Air compressor empty. Check other tire FLAT. Hmmmmm...maybe roll tractor out. Push. Pull Grunt, get verrrrry dirty. tractor won't move. Can't take the mountain to mohammed. Try putting tractor in neutral and removing parking brake and unwedging the side of it from debris. Tractor rolls slightly.

1145am

Step 2.1 find air. Ex has big air compressor in garage - this compressor says it's refillable. Go on internet, figure out how to refill portable/refillable air compressor. All I find is "like a bike tire." Hmmm. Go to ex's garage, find big air compressor. Play with nozzles, gadgets, etc. Give up on refilling tank. See if Ex has portable tank. No. Eye ex's new lawn tractor and contemplate "borrowing" it....nix idea as bad idea.

noon

Step 2.2 See nice male neighbor. Ask about air. Hand pump! Yes! Hand Pump!! Pump up tires. Note to self: don't do lawn work in a white tank top. Lawn tools are covered with 6 months of old dirt and dust. Return hand pump triumphantly. Return to shed, roll tractor out of shed. Get on tractor. Read 6 million warning label. In Neutral. Blade disengaged. Blade up. Clutch in. Brake on. Turn key to start.....nothing. See nifty gauge called "DC power." Battery is dead. Gee, couldn't have noticed that oh, 2 hours ago.

12:30

Eye Lawn Boy push mower. Remember seeing owner's manual in ex's garage on lawnboy and remember something about "mixing fuel." GO get owner's manual. Find gas. Find mixing tank. Find little green jar of lawnboy oil to mix with gas. Mix gas/oil for lawnboy. Unscrew gas to fill - find tank full. Remove bagger capacity, put mulch shield on. Prime engine. Pull string - SUCCESS!!! A RUNNING ENGINE!!!!!!!

Time lapsed 2 hours 45 minutes.

12:45

Push mower around far back, get hang of self propeller bar. Forget to let go of selfpropeller around turns and plow into tree. laugh. let go of throttle. stall motor. Lather, rinse repeat. Get the hang of mower, go get iPod, dance behind mower singing, "I will survive" and thrill in the moment of sunshine, freshly mown grass, and determination.

1:30

Get backpack blower. Get owner's manual. Figure out how to start it. Put on backpack blower and blow the hell out of the back patio - buh-bye cherry blossoms, buh-bye sticks, debris, junk. WHOO-HOO this is fun. Blow off driveway. Over too quickly. Blow off front walk. Contemplate blowing off entire street. this is way too fun. No wonder they won't show me how to use their toys.

2pm. Phone rings. Call for help from sis-in-law to visit ex's parents and intervene. Put away toys. Shower. Visit mother & dad. First take photos...

Yard before

Yard after (still need to remove old weeds)

Success!!! A little dirty, but happy nonetheless. Next time will be easier! (Oh I hired the chemical part done. Some things are not worth my time)

The Pink Thing

I admit it, since he moved out, I have a pink fetish. Blue has always been my color. I have seriously blue eyes (the one feature I honestly love about myself - oh and the new boobs I bought myself, but that's another post for another day...), I look good in blue, I love blue. Fortunately, the ex loved blue, so the whole house is blue and white, some yellow, mostly BLUE. I am not much of a decorator and have limited creative talent, hence lots of blue - go with what you know! But for the last year or so pink has been creeping in - pink clothes, pink shoes, pink purses, pink polka dot purses (two), pink socks, pink IPOD case, pink accents in my wardrobe and my life here and there.

Then he moved out, and it was time to reclaim (claim?) MY bedroom. MY bed. Where I get to sleep ALONE - YIPPPEEEEEEEEE. I bought a ginormous superpillowtop bed a few years ago and finally got my sleigh bed. It's mahogany and gorgeous. I love it. But the blue and white handmade wedding quilt my Aunt made with all the family names on it (including my long-since dead grandparents who signed the squares before they passed, God bless people who plan ahead), well duh it had to GO. Despite being blue and beautiful. But what to replace it with? I looked at lots of blue - blue flowers, blue nautical, blue blue blue. And then, on a whim in TJMAXX it jumped off the shelf and into my basket, and I knew it was perfect. The pinkest, cotton candy pink, fluffiest Nautica Comforter you have ever seen. Pink Pink Pink. The back is white with pink and blue ticking stripes. Perfect. And the sheet were there, too. I got the whole set - king sized mind you - for under $150. Crazy sale. Crazy comforter. Happy Me.

My teenage son saw it in the back of the car when I picked him up from school - "WHAT IS THAT?!" Followed by "Mom You really seem to have a Pink PROBLEM."

Yes, yes I do have a pink problem. And It's My Problem. My House. My Bed. And I love it. I added cute white and pink lamps from Target, some cute tiny pink candles in little champagne glasses in various shades of pink. Tossed some blue throw pillows on the bed to pick up the blue ticking. Perfect. The curtains were white, so it all works.

The Icing on the Cake [bed]? my daughter and I were shopping, killing time, and I found the perfect pink throw pillow with my initial on it. A beautiful "m" in script. Although daughter agrees with her twin brother that mom's gone a little pinko, she also agreed the pillow must be purchased. She doesn't know that secretly, the M stands for "MINE."

The frosting flowers on the icing on the cake? The day he came over to do something for the kids in their room, walked by MY room and did a double-take when he saw the PINK bed. He hasn't been upstairs since...

Such a silly thing to make me so happy, but it does....

(this is pre-"M" pillow)