Oh, nice to meet you.

It's one of those days, the kind filled with "little surprises", close calls, and OOPS!

I've been fidgeting with this top all day, because, after I threw it on and got in my car to go to work, I decided it's hanging a bit low, but now it's too late to do anything about it. I've made it through most of the day without a major problem, when, on my way out of the breakroom, I make a tight left turn towards my office, but this room feeds right into a hallway... so I run into this guy --well, I came about 2" short of slamming into him, BUT he was about 5'4", and I'm wearing 2" heels, so I'm at about 5'6ish... he almost got a mouth-full of Frenchieboob.

I've been laughing ever since.

About this shot: My baby, Cinnamon. She used to make me laugh all the time!

Up. Down. Static.

That summarizes my quest for weight loss. If I got on a treadmill and ran after it I'd probably succeed, but I hate treadmills, so I'm fat. I hate exercising. HATE IT. Not even with a passion, I don't muster enough emotion for that.

I've recently discovered I do enjoy the way I feel POST exercise. I wonder is someone has figured out a way to bottle that feeling and sell it. I'd be America's Next Inventor if I had a clue as to how to go about it.

My health is (has been) suffering due to my weight and I want to live a long life, there's just too much I want to do before croacking. So I've been trying to replace bad habits with good ones. I've been exercising, I've reduced the amount of alcohol I drink, and I've been paying closer attention to what I eat. But when I read and read and read about all the variables to successfully lose weight, I end up frustrated.

I'm not looking for an easy way out, a pill that will make it all disappear. I know and understand that's not the answer, particularly not in the long run. But I kinda need some clues, a map of some sort, something to point me in the general direction of success.

So I keep reading, and reading, and reading, and looking for the right door.

About this shot: Entrance to La Catedral ~ Seville, Spain

Soulmating

I wonder about people out there looking for their soulmate. The One; not The Matrix version, but their own, real life, One and Only, perfect mate. Do we get a different soulmate for the various areas of our life? We should, because what are the chances you'll find that individual that's gonna fit you like a glove. Call me a cynic, but that seems unlikely; most of us end up with the OJ 'if the glove don't fit you must acquit' glove.

I don't want someone exactly like me, but then again, I don't think someone completely opposite would do either. And my physical soulmate, may not be may intellectual one. Where IS this soulmate? Am I supposed to find him in the US, since that's where I live? What if he lives in some obscure town in Minnesota? I'd NEVER find him, I've got no reason, or desire to visit there. What if he's stuck in Tierra del Fuego?!! I'm screwed!

That's why, I don't believe in soulmates, too much left to chance. Too many doors to walk through. My odds of winning the New Jersey Power Ball are way better.

Momma can smell it.

There's a Jill Scott song that cracks me up every time I hear it. In it she talks about making crazy love to her man all night long, then waking up famished, to find there's no food in the house. Out she goes to the store, as she walking there, she's reliving the previous night, she's thinking about what's coming next, and relishing the fact that she can actually smell all the sex that was had.

She gets to the store, picks up a few things, while she's checking out, it's apparent the cashier also recognizes the scent as that of the man she's been fucking. That song came to mind yesterday as I got home and undressed to shower again and head out, because I could still smell him on me. Condoms were used, showers were taken, slightly scented lotions were applied, perfume was spritzed on all pulse points, hours had literally gone by, but I still had sexaroma on me at the end of the day.

Then I couldn't stop laughing and it hit me. That's how mothers know when their daughters have been getting some; they REALLY CAN smell it on you, hours and lots of water & soap later.

About this shot: Columbus monument & Trump Tower ~ New York

To put out or not put out. THAT is the question.

Has anyone come up with the final answer on this one? Will someone clue me in? If you like someone and it feels right (pardon the cliche), why is sex on the first date such a big deal? A guy wants to get in your pants and, generally, that's exactly where we want you. So why we're labeled as sluts for this, I'll never understand.

But it happens, on a daily basis, hourly probably. I'll admit it, I've started editig my behavior when I meet 'someone special'; I no longer put out on the first date, but DEFINITELY on the 2nd! And I've also been known to stop a 1st date, walk away and come back 10 minutes later to begin date 2 and have guiltless sex.

Well, that's not exactly true. I do as I please; I'm, after all, a woman of a certain age . I think I've earned it! I paid my dues and taxes, and DO NOT believe in overpaying. I love sex. Sue me.

About this shot: Around the Louvre ~ Paris

Single... hood or doom?

I am single. Well, divorced, if that's different. It'll be 5 years in July, and I never looked back. I was married for 11 years, unhappy for about 7. I don't regret my decision, not once. My life was more comfortable financially, but still I wouldn't go back.

About 2 years ago, I signed up to a singles group. I finally had people to go out with at the drop of a hat. Others with whom I shared this status. It was great. IS. Mostly. I don't believe in bar pickups, or in justifying everything with the 'I was drunk' excuse. I think that's acceptable for 20 somethings, but once you hit your 30s, you gotta have some respect. SELF respect. Or maybe I'm just a big ole' prude.

In any case, I often catch myself feeling embarrased for women who are desperate enough for male attention that they'll do anything to get it. Or is it that I envy their ability to just put it all out there? Could be a little of both. The truth is, I don't believe in fucking a guy simply because he's got the equipment, nor do I believe I have be in love with him. I do, however, have to be into him enough not to regret it after the alcohol buzz diminishes.

That's just me.

About this shot: Abandoned building near Downtown Houston.

As it turns out...

Mother WAS right. Guys don't respect the good time girl. After my divorce, I went through this phase where I decided I'd try on the slutty outfit. And slut around I did. I had a great time, and some awesome sex. No regrets. I'd been married for what seemed like forever, and I just wanted to have some fun. OK, I wanted to have sex. The good and dirty kind.

My motto was 'if you're looking for no-strings sex, we can talk'. It worked, for the most part; some of the guys I liked too much, some of them liked me too much. I wasn't looking for anything permanent. That said, I don't believe in dating games.

Tonight I got a glimpse at the male mind. I met a couple of friends for drinks, they had been at happy hour for a few hours before I got there, so they were VERY happy. By then, they had been working the room for a while, made some friends, made out with one their gals, while they felt up the male counterparts. I thought I was filming a Girls Gone Wild video. Not behavior I expect from women over 35, not behavior I expect from friends I've known for a while.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a prude, BUT I don't believe in making out with ANY guy, just because he has a dick, nor am I making out with some strange girl for their entertainment. There was just something about the way the guys egged my friends on, whispered among themselves, laughed... at them. My friends played a role in their boyish fantasies, but they weren't at all interested in them, they were amusement.

It made me sad. Sad for my friends. Sad for these guys who THINK they know who my friends are, or what they're about. Sad for every single woman trying to figure out what a guy wants. Sad for every single guy who perpetuates the game as a way to find a girl. Sad for every girl who thinks she has to play the game to get a guy.

About this shot: Electrical plug near a park on Allen Parkway. Houston, TX

The best birth control.

Other people's kids. Hands down. None of the pesky side effects, all of the reality. I chose not to have any of my own, and it was the best decision I made for many reasons, I won't bore you with any of them.

I love people's reactions when I tell them I'm 39, was married for 11 years, and don't have kids. It's a combination look, really. A bit of pity, a lot of fear, the kind of fear you see in people's eyes when the discover the serial murderer next door. It seems, if you're a female, you're supposed to want -no, NEED, to procreate. Not so much. Children and marriage are 2 things you should only do because you feel in your heart it's what you want. If you're trying to comply with society, friends, parents, your priest, YOU should have your head examined.

About this shot: Manhole cover. Houston, TX

On again, off again.

Better.
Best.
Improve.
Goals. Goals. Goals.

Can you be happy without them? Is goal achievement the measure of a person? I guess, to a degree, it is. Achieving goals gives us a sense of power, a taste of success. But it bites when you miss the mark.

My downfall seems to be my inability to set realistic or short-term goals. I can tell you what I want to achieve at the end of the road, but I never think about the steps to get there as a necessary part of my goal-setting.

To top it off, if I hit a bump, I just get off the wagon all together; you know, because I failed the objective. I'm a all or nothing kinda girl, it would seem, and it often is NOTHING at all.

I'm almost 40, and the second unhealthiest person I know. I want to change that before my birthday in December. I'm setting goals to accomplish my mission. Little, but vital, changes I want to keep up for the rest of my life. Change my routines or, at the very least, begin to have a few and turn them into habits.

For this week, I will concentrate on tracking everything. Food, exercise, water, alcohol, and money. Change my 'if I don't see/think about, it must not be real' attitude.

About this shot: Trees at Parque El Nispero. Valle de Anton, Panama.

April Fools

If I promise to be a better person beginning tomorrow, do I get a reprive because it's April's Fools?

I'm almost F.O.R.T.Y. - *gasp* *gasp gasp* 8 months from today, almost to the date. YIKES! Da hell happen to time?

Don't get me wrong, I've done things. I did the marriage thing. Didn't like the T-shirt. I did the 'make everyone happy' thing. Only got the aggravation t-shirt out of that one. I've done the travel thing. Wait. I'm DOING the travel thing, never got t-shirts though, but I've gotten some awesome memories. I'm trying to do the work thing. I know, at this point in my life I should've had that figured out. Let's just say I took a major detour sometime around 1990, and I'm JUST finding the road signs -(doesn't mean I read OR follow them).

What's left? The Love Thing. Yuck. Yuck. Yuckity. Yuk. Fuck. My friends tell me I've not done it yet. Though, I've done the excellent sex thing..., Please Sir, May I have SOME MORE? Who am I kidding? Let me have LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS more, please! What? Sex isn't love? Whatever. It feels way better.

About this shot: Eiffel Tower - November 1999