The Better Bride

I have seen mile-stone celebrations many times. Weddings, bat mitzvahs, baby showers, first birthdays, and I can't help but notice that there is wide spread competition between people to have the most unique, most expensive, most special, etc., etc. The point of the celebration is being lost for the display. And that is fine by me; until the facade extends beyond the fondant sculptures, flowers, lighting design and centerpieces.

You have a friend just like her. I know you do. We all know that one woman. She is attractive, smart (not dim enough to wonder if the can has tuna or chicken in it based on the brand, but no rocket scientist either. The misogynistic, traditionally acceptable smart-enough-for-a-woman smart.) and sweet. Oh, so sweet. Saccharine, really. The one who makes diplomacy look like an invitation to a schoolyard brawl.

I have that friend, too, and she is getting married. I am very happy for her and her groom, and truly wish them a lifetime of lovely memories and hope for them all that they want. But the more encounters I have with her during the months coming up to her wedding the more I want to stick a pencil in my ear. I am not very close to this woman and as such, lucky enough to have not been asked to be a bridesmaid, the torturous positions are held by sorority sisters, cousins, childhood friends and co-workers (There are about 12 bridesmaids). So, I do not know what it is like on the inside, though I can't imagine that her drippingly sweet speeches and close-to-tears expressions of sentiment flow as freely as they did during her exorbitant and pretentious bridal shower.

My interactions with her in the past have been limited, as our acquaintance is a web designed of six degrees of separation. She has always been incredibly sweet, not polite, not well-mannered - sweet. Beyond sweet, mawkish. Though somewhere buried beneath that soppy, nauseatingly sugary veneer lies a harridan, a spoiled brat intent on having her wildest whims catered to.

I can't help but wonder, which is better, the honest and flawed individual, or the devious and camouflaged? Which is the better bride, the overtly obnoxious or the secretly saccharin? As I reflect on this weekend's events, I am chagrined to admit, each must be tedious in their own way.

Married but lonely.... really?

I am home most days, looking forward to the trip to the grocery store because it serves two purposes: one, I get to leave my house without feeling guilty about wasting gas in this crazy economy with crazy expensive gas prices that continue to rise with no income of my own to speak of; and two, I get to shop. Unadulterated, unabashed shopping. I don't have to scour ads for deals because I rarely buy foods that have a manufacturers coupon. I get to buy what I want, when I want with little to no explanation and justification to my rightfully-so penny pincher of a husband.

So, yeah, I'm bored. I still avoid the housework, even though it would certainly give me something to do, it doesn't quite provide the type of stimulation I would prefer. So I spend time looking for and applying for work online. Then, after three hours of job search, I spend about eight hours surfing - the net. Just researching random data I always wanted to know, new stuff I just heard about, cyber browsing shoes I fantasize about purchasing for a new job that does not seem to be in my immediate future. I just surf. I am bored.

But, I am not lonely. So why, oh please WHY, am I receiving solicitation emails for "cougardating" (I am neither a cougar nor dating) and "Married but lonely, company for housewives" (I am bored, but not THAT bored). How does cyber-browsing Zappos (I LOVE Zappos!), cyber-house hunting, cyber vacation planning translate to "lonely housewife not getting any"? Those cyber-spiders and crawlers and all sorts of creepy names, have miscalculated the data associated with my email address. If it wasn't so boring, I'd think it funny.

I am bored, but also, given it is getting late into the evening, I am tired. So, I need to finally get around to my most pressing chore and finally load the dishwasher, cause the only crawlers I am willing to deal with are of the cyber variety.

One dish, One spoon

So, it’s been almost a whole year since my last post. So easiest and fastest explanation goes like this: lady problems, uterine cancer and hypothetical radical hysterectomy scare, relief of being 100% cancer free (spent weeks thanking all sorts of higher powers – God, Allah, Mohammad, Budha, Goddess, even Zeus, Thor and Jupiter and the gang got a thank you note), reality check of being high risk for cancer and new and totally pain in the butt beyond the realm of eat healthy and exercise new regime to prevent cancer, sinus infection, sinus infection, concussion, sinus infection, vacation (Bahamas, really kinda deserved that), vertigo, more doctors, four deaths in varying degree of closeness, grandfather in ICU, and pneumonia. Add onto that trying to finish an art project, which a collaborator I brought onto the project went completely crazy and spread all sorts of misinformation.

So, the last year has been a challenge, to say the least. There are many more details and lots more contextual subplot, but to discuss that would be boring for you and painful for me, so let’s leave it at, I had a really complicated year.

So moving forward. I am going to re-establish my daily writing habit. I am also writing a short story or two, a novel and have a screenplay running around my brain.

Truth is, I am still the unintentional housewife and I am going nuts not having job. Trying to get a job is a catch-22, I want one desperately, but when I manage to land an interview and I don’t get past that first interview, I get completely discouraged and contemplate housewifery forever, and then I look at the kitchen sink and realize I am not good at that either.