Locker Rooms:Disgusting, Rude and Vain-Part 3

It's here. The final installment on the locker room chat. And, I can honestly tell you that it's a lot more...'clean'...than the previous two topics.

A scene from Steel Magnolias comes to mind with this one. The scene where Olympia Dukakis buys a football team and is hanging out in the locker room with Shirley MacLaine's character. There are many naked butts and bodies floating around the locker room without a care in the world. And why should there be???? They are muscular, in shape, athletes. Eye candy for the masses.

Well, out in the world of real people, for those without personal trainers or a regimented workout schedule, the locker rooms are filled with a plethora of body types. And in a way it is a small comfort to the general masses.

You can also go through a barrage of self esteem issues if your not careful. If you look one way you can feel thankful that your body is in better shape than the lady at the locker two doors down but in the same instance be jealous because the lady two doors down in the other direction is much tighter than you. And where you hate to stare, you really can't draw your attention away from her breasts to figure out if they are real or fake.

Okay, most of the times they are fake because those suckers don't move no matter which direction those ladies bend. Then you just find yourself staring for the pure physics of gravity. It's like being in science class all over again.

And the thing that astonishes me is how some of the older women with the body of a twenty year old walk around the locker room with the sourest expression painted on their faces. Really...if I looked that hot I would have a smile plastered on my face from ear to ear...constantly! Just goes to show that some people aren't happy no matter what their physical state is.

Honestly, some of the older women with the rock'in bodies do give their age away in the face. It's why I now understand the allure of Botox and the occasional nip/tuck that some women get. No use looking like someone cut your head off in a picture and placed it on someone elses body.

On the other side of the "I look fabulous" coin are the women I see in the locker room who have a difficult time pulling themselves away from their own reflections.

One day, as I was getting dressed and drying my hair, etc. I watched a woman admire herself after each piece of clothing went on. Put on sock...admire self in mirror...put on other sock...admire self in mirror...underwear...admire...bra...admire...leggings...admire. Okay, you get it. She made sure she took in her backside, profile and front multiple times. I started to wonder if she was ever going to leave the locker room. Then got pissed off with myself because I was loitering just to see how long she could do this.

Vanity is a fascinating topic. I'd never make it to over half the places I want to see and experience if I led my life this way. Most of the day would be spent in self admiration and the remainder would probably be spent wondering what everyone else thought of me as was this woman's lot in life. Sad.

I think if ever there was a topic for a psychological profiling of people, the gym locker room is an untapped resource for years of study.

So be careful in the locker room. You never know who's watching.

Locker Rooms:Disgusting, Rude and Vain-Part 2

I think since a couple of days have past that it is now time for the second installment of my locker room experiences. Don't worry. There are only three posts on this topic then I promise to move forward onto happier...flowery-er pastures.

So, we've covered the loogie hocker. Which was the disgusting and rude side of my experience. Now, moving on to the just plain disgusting.

Let me start by saying that in my own personal experience I have found that a true friend will tell you about the most embarrassing of developments with your physicality. Bat in the cave (aka:booger), food in the teeth, eye boogie, lipstick on the teeth, smudged makeup, and sometimes the fact that your butt crack is hanging out the back of your pants. And where it may be slightly embarrassing at the time, we are all grateful for the intel so we don't run around all day like a goofoon.

So, one day in the locker room a woman in her late 40's (totally just a guesstimate here) was changing into her gym clothes. She was flanked on either side by a couple of workout buddies and was turning to address each one as to what the days workout routine would be. So these two women were seeing her front to back and vice versa.

Well, when she turned so her back was to me I received the misfortune of seeing what can only be described as a 'female skid mark' up her back above her underwear. Just like with the 'loogie lady', I felt the uncontrollable gag reflex take hold.

I had to wonder what kind of friends she had that wouldn't inform her of her little problem there. I mean wouldn't she reek a little bit. I was just thankful I was done with my workout, showered and getting the hell out of Dodge.

And the sad thing is that these situations are like car accidents. You don't want to add insult to injury by rubber-necking but, it's just hard to believe what your seeing. Then the stupid thoughts come into play. Was she in a hurry? Was she on one of those diet aids known to cause 'explosions' so to speak? Who knows?

I just think it was purely sad that the people she was with didn't say anything. And No, I didn't say anything either. But she didn't know me and I figured that would be doubly embarrassing. Besides, I hoped she was going to be taking a shower before leaving the gym.

The world will never know. Unfortunately, I do. And if too many more of these instances happen I fear that my retinas will burn right out of my eye sockets.

So remember, tell your friends when something is stuck, tangling or hanging out where it shouldn't. You will totally go up a few notches on the true friend radar.

Locker Rooms:Disgusting, Rude and Vain-Part 1

Now, you may think I am referring to the images we have all seen in sports films or news coverage from a sporting event or post game locker room commentary on ESPN.

But alas...No.

I am referring to the shocking behaviors I have witnessed in what should have been the calm and serene safety of the Women's Locker Room.

Yes, you heard me right. The WOMEN's locker room.

You tend to think of ladies as being polite, demure, clean. Well, I have witnessed enough sights and unfortunately, sounds, to put the men's locker room to shame.

It is all too much to write about in one blog so I present you with this, Part 1.

Let's begin on a lovely Friday afternoon. The birds were singing, the air was crisp and I had just finished a relaxing Pilate's class. I was feeling euphoric.

So, I casually walked into the locker room and started to pull my things from my locker. Then, I heard it. A sound that transcended all sounds. Not a fart. Not a belch. But, the sound of a 300 pound man hocking a loogie.

The problem is that it didn't come from a 300 pound man but, a small demure maybe 130 pound woman in her 50's.

Terrifying doesn't begin to describe how this affected me. At first it was sheer shock that sent my mind swimming. Did women really do this? Images of surly men walking down the street coughing up that disgusting ball of phlegm before spewing it out onto the sidewalk or out a car window came to mind.

At least with men they cough, spit and move on. This woman in the locker room didn't seem to have an off switch. The more times she did it the more I had to fight the urge to gag. And worse...throw up on the spot.

Then, to add insult to injury. This woman spit into her hand. Not a tissue, not a towel, toilet, sidewalk or out a car, but her bare hand.

I quickly grabbed my ipod, slammed the ear buds in and pressed play to drown out the vile sounds that made me want to retch. And where Pink's Bad Influence filled my ears to curb the hacking phlegm bombs this lady (and I now use this term loosely) was expelling, it couldn't cut the sight of her rubbing her own loogie in and on her hands.

I kid you not. I would never have imagined in a million years that this would be something I would bare witness to. Most certainly not by a fellow X-chromosome.

I got dressed as quickly as I could and high tailed it out of there. Since then I have made sure not to linger around when I see this same woman in or even around the locker room. Luckily, I only run into her once a week but she's there most mornings. I can see her working out as I pass the windows at the gym after getting my morning tea.

I feel a pang of pity for my fellow endorphin junkies as they shower and try to start their day after having to listen to the loogie Olympics as I now refer to this woman's antics.

Part 2 will soon follow being that I only have one stomach to lose per story. The next one is another tale to test the gag reflex.

Makes you think twice about the lady like qualities that should separate the women from the men. But I am getting a hard dose of locker room reality on a steady basis.

Time to Get Busy!

This post is purely an apology for lagging so behind in the month of March.

I seriously thought I had started a few posts and could sneak them in at the beginning f the month with a March date.

Unfortunately, I wasn't that smart and completely dropped the ball on the third month of the year. Soooo sorry if anyone is actually reading this blog and feel as if I flaked. I guess I did. So now I will try and make amends in April by offering seven posts to get caught up.

A big feat in and of itself being that it is currently April 17th. But I will not let you down. I have a few fantastic topics to go on from the west coast region as well as some great ones from my recent trip back east. Which is always a good source of entertaining fodder.

We all have moments where time slips by and we have to exclaim...WTF! But with a valiant effort to get caught up, anything is possible. Like seven Blog Spots. This will be my goal for the next couple of weeks.

That and trying to pull my life into some kind of organized chaos to accomplish many things at once. Mainly, getting myself organized and on a more dynamic routine than where I have been. Both for myself personally as well as professionally.

I'll keep you posted.

Arise and conquer...arise and conquer.

Could God be a Woman?

I started thinking about God the other night and wondered when people make the reference, why it's always him. Couldn't God just as easily be a woman?

We know Jesus was a man. That fact is a given but, what about God? Mary became pregnant by immaculate conception. Come on! If God was truly a man then wouldn't penis have been involved? Really, only a woman would decide to skip the dong and go straight to the source. And today we have the ability for women to conceive a child without a man involved. Unless the fertility doc is a guy but the only thing he's sticking in anyone is fertility drugs and a turkey baster. It's like we've come full circle to Mary's time again.

Then there is the ability for women to still have the big 'O' without a man's involvement. So many things have been created, whether by a man or woman, that can satiate that need when it hits. And this is all thanks to the ingenious minds of people that have been blessed by God. Again, if this were a man would these things be created for a woman's pleasure?

My guess would be NO!

Aside from the many, many toys available from sex shops there are many common unassuming items that have been created out there.

I'm sure the invention of the electric spin cycle washing machine in the 1950's brought many desperate housewives to their knees...literally. I'm sure laundry was never so much fun. Can you see June Cleaver counting down the minutes until Beaver and Wally headed off to school and Ward left for work. Just her and her Hotpoint. Bliss!

Then there was the invention of the massaging shower head. Equipped with both massage and pulse functions and a nice long cord. Seriously, I don't want to hear that it's great for washing the kids hair or the dog. Where women are concerned it serves one primal function. And again we hail the God above for giving some inventor that great little nugget. Shower...shampoo...Ooohh.

Now, I've seen in magazines these personal massage devices. Not the big ones that only aspire to dildo status but are lacking in design detail. I'm talking about the small ones. They are small enough to fit on your fingertips. How convenient. And they tote the ability to wipe away any headache or tense muscle. Unless there is a strong handed human digging there hands and fingers into my knotted body there is no way in hell that a tiny, fingertip massager is working out anything except one tiny muscle. You know where I'm going with this and frankly...you know where that massager goes.

So, if women were meant to only find that moment of bliss at the hands and other appendages of a man then why did someone bless us with the electronic age?

For these reasons and many more I am starting to believe that God is a woman. And she is smiling down on us all.

FOREVER 21-A State of mind.

I was driving into work and as I sat at one of the many stoplights on my journey, I saw an interesting sight.

An elderly woman was crossing the road at a fairly leisurely pace. I know, big whoop, happens all the time. Right? Well, it was more than an elderly person crossing the road. I was thinking how great it was that she was out and about on a beautiful sunny day. Then, I noticed what she was carrying.

She had a bright yellow bag with black lettering that read-Forever 21.

Now, for those of us familiar with the clothing store you know that it carries an abundance of hip, trendy, stylish, YOUNG clothing choices. So, to see this woman who had to be somewhere in her late 70's or 80's (I'm always a bad judge of age with people) with this particular bag, got me thinking and laughing.

I had a fun time trying to picture her strolling through the store and looking for fashion finds with all the young girls doing the same. Did she opt for a nice pair of skinny jeans and leather thigh high boot with a lace cami? Would she model her new outfit for the hubby at home in order to get him to remember to take his Viagra? Sooo many scenarios to choose from.

Okay, I know that the truth of the matter is that her daughter or grand-daughter probably left it at her house, but it's more fun to imagine something better for her. She looked like she deserved to have a little fun.

Maybe she just bought some jewelry or a nice scarf.

Forever 21...A State of Mind no matter what your age.

Change of Topic...The writing.

Just to stay with the main thread of my blog, the writing is still happening. Of course I am a glutton for punishment and decided to go through the first book one more time as I continue on the memoir. Both are going well. My new goal for the year is to start queries again by October.

IBTC SISTERS UNITE!

For those who are not in the know, the IBT Committee has been in place for many. many years. At least I hope it has seeing that I was indoctrinated in the fall of my freshman year of high school. And being how cruel kids and teens can be I'm sure this has been in place since even my mother's generation. Maybe even my grandmother's.

IBTC simply stands for 'The Itty Bitty Titty Committee.' Why would I even bring this up or choose this embarrassing topic?

Well, I was out this weekend trying to find some cute bras and underwear. And I went to a very well known department store that was having a fabulous sale and had an insane selection of cute bra and pantie sets. I was like "Score I've hit the mother load of lingerie." NOT!!!!

As I spotted a cute bra, I would bee line it over to the rack only to be met with disappointment because there was none in my size. After the fifth rack and no 34A I stormed out of the store cursing that the world is full of beautiful things for the B's, C's, DD's and Larger but alas the poor A cups are left out in the cold. Literally, with our little Ta-Ta's freezing. Why????

Do they think that we don't need cute or sexy Bras because basically our breasts can stand up on their own. (Okay, they can stand on their own which is a nice perk to smaller jubblies.) But that's not the point. We want to feel pretty and sexy with fun colors and lace and leather, okay strike the leather, but fun, sexy, flirty underwear just as much as the next chick with big boobs.

I was also a little pissed because I started having flashbacks in the store of being that newly post adolescent teen who waited, and waited, and waited for the boobs to grow. Hell, my grandma had a huge rack, couldn't genetics have smiled down on me there. No, she decided to play a little joke on me. Then the girls and guys would tease, about being a member of the 'Itty Bitty Titty Committee.' Kids and teens are so cruel. By the time I was a sophomore(in college) I had lost all hope. These things weren't going to grow anymore and I just had to face facts.

Some friends have made the comment 'Maybe you're being sensitive and hard on those larger cup ladies because you don't have big boobs?' BTW-thanks for this contemplation Caroline. I don't believe I am envious or harsh on my buxom buddies because frankly I had larger breasts and I didn't pay five grand for them. They came compliments of my son.

Pregnancy gave me a taste of what living the life of a C cup would be like and where many friends and family I know cherished this larger look during their pregnancy, I hated it. I felt like my chin was practically resting on the things. It was like having a little friend constantly sitting on your shoulder except it was 2 friends on my chest. And frankly they were heavy and my cute tops were not fitting right or getting stretched out which was going to be a serious problem when those bad boys shrinked back to snack size.

So really, I do applaud all those larger breasted women out there. Whether natural, bought, or rented you all look fabulous!

But I will hang on to my little friends. They don't hang down to my belly button and although they aren't as perky as when I was in school, they still stand at full mast.

Tally-Ho everyone...Tally-Ho.

BTW-Did finally score on the great Bra search. Thank you Macy's.

WOULD YOU BE MR. BUTTON?

I recently found myself glued to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The movie not the book.

And it brought up the question: If you could reverse the aging process and go from being old to young, would you?????

In my opinion your screwed either way you look at it. You start out helpless and pretty much end helpless in both scenarios. Yes, getting older blows a big one. The skin sags, metabolism slows to add those extra pounds that no matter how much you exercise or diet will never leave. It's like having a house guest that comes to visit and never goes home.

Wrinkles proudly make themselves known. They start off slow with only a few here and there. Then you look in the mirror one day and swear they were getting busy like a pack of sex starved rabbits. And then the question screams from your inner sanctum: When did this happen? And should I call the best plastic surgeon in the city??????

Because no matter how we look at it time won't stop to wait for us. Despite all the things we still wish to accomplish. Time is a fickle creature and in some cases very unforgiving.

This is why reversing the aging process and going from old to young wouldn't be any better if you really think about it. Yeah, having your old wrinkly skin slowly morph into a taught smooth surface would be exciting. It would be like finding the fountain of youth without having to lift a finger or fork out any money. No skin products, no nip and tuck.

But then there would come a down side. As we get older we complain about how time has sped up and there aren't enough hours in the day to satisfy our personal needs. But when we were younger time would crawl by. So if in theory that time table was still the same we would not even get the chance to enjoy the new found youth as the years roll past. And I'm not sure I would want to get smaller. If only we could stop somewhere in the middle. Like the movie Logan's Run where everyone is retired at the age of 30 and it's this ethereal ceremony called Carousel that leaves you wondering if they will be reincarnated. Then again you'd have to go through that childhood thing and die just when life was getting good.

Chalk it up however you like. We start in diapers and let's face it, most of us will end in diapers. It's life's cruel little joke. So laugh it up and buy stock in Pampers or Depends.

5 min? 10 min? 30 min? An Hour????

Okay, this post may not be for the feint at heart. My time reference in question is to why some people spend so much time on the toilet. Basically, men. But I can't be biased because I have walked into the ladies room at work and seen my fair share of women lingering as well. Although I do believe that the reasons for the long stay is drastically different for the sexes.

I thought about this on many occasions. Why is it that for the most part, women in general, will get in and get out. Is it a smell thing? Is it that we are busy individuals with a life that never stops so copping a squat for more than ten minutes puts us behind schedule. It's just a bodily function. Nothing more.

Now to men, it appears to be more of a ritual. A chance to escape into the man cave where the manna of stench keeps all others away and in dropping a load your territory is marked.

Or if it's like it is in my house, the bathroom becomes a second office for the men. A place where they disappear with cell phone and laptop in hand only to emerge 45 minutes to an hour later. I realized the depth to which these bathroom escapes meant when one afternoon I went to see what my three and a half year old was doing. I called his name and heard a little squeak come from the bathroom. I thought he was playing in his room but when I peeked around the door into the bathroom there he was with his Toy laptop perched on his legs. Like Father, like son. My first reaction...get the camera. Yes, I have this moment documented for blackmail usage as he hits those teen years should he decide to give me grief.

Is it that the act of taking a crap is so monumental that the distraction of mind and spirit is essential? Hence, the need for the computer and smart phone. I also wonder if it is a comfort level for my son seeing that he also needs to remove all clothing from the waist down to be able to 'do his business.' I can't help but wonder if he will grow out of this phase someday. Might be a tad bit embarrassing once he gets to middle school for others to see a pile of socks, shoes and pants near the stall door. Especially since most jokesters would take the chance to run with the clothes leaving him naked from the waist down. I think that's a nightmare I've had before. The one where your in school and then realize your not wearing any clothes. Yeah, I hate that one.

I guess we all have our own time duration for everything and the bathroom is no different. I just never quite understood the need for entertainment as I go. No newspaper. No book. No computer. I would prefer to read while curled up on my couch with a cozy, warm blanket and a scented candle. Add to that a glass of wine and an overcast rainy day and that's my idea of quality reading time. Not with my backside on a round piece of cold plastic.

But as I always say, to each HIS own. Or HER, depending on how you want to look at it.

Turn Signal Rage

OMG! I'm sorry to say it but I have to admit I am a borderline, closet road rager. What does this mean you may ask?

Well, I try not to act on my emotions. But trust me they are there.

And what brings this out in me? People who don't really know what that amazing little stick on the side of their steering is for.

I'm talking Turn Signal here. Seriously, I was driving into work and more times than not a driver in front of me would slam on the breaks and turn right, or my favorite, they would cut across three lanes to get to the left hand turn lane. No signal. Just a blind faith that everyone else around them would get the mental GPS going on in the driver's head and react accordingly. Which basically means not ramming your car up their tailpipe. Trust me, if I didn't like my own car so much and feared for a higher insurance rate I would step on the gas and give it all I got. Then, I would look the person in the eye once we got out of the cars and simply say, "Turn Signal Broken." Then hand them a card to my mechanic.

My favorite variation of this is when instead of the turn signal they stick their hand out the window and point in the direction they are heading, as if they were on a bicycle. Because you know the time it takes to roll down your window and stick your hand out is much less labor intensive than flipping that little stick, right by your hand, on the steering wheel that your hands are on. Maybe the men I've seen doing this (And, yes, it is always a man) are just interested in showing off a new watch or something. Maybe they just got a manicure and the air will help harder the clear gloss top coat.

Whatever the reason, I find it a little Bass Ackwards. And I know the day will come that I will see that nasty crash as a result. I just hope it's not me.

Drive Safe, Buckle Up, and reach for that Turn Signal. Some automotive genius went to a lot of work to create that cool little stick that blinks colorful lights at people. Let's honor him for his contribution to the daily commute.

How Do You Let Go?

Many things have come to light as I sit and work on my next book. Maybe it's been harder to get a handle on my emotions with this one because it is personal and it is REAL. There is no escaping the reality of life and diving into the realm of the supernatural with this one.

It has made me ask myself at least a dozen times a day: How do you let go when so much of yourself is wrapped up in something? How and when will you get to that point where you throw your arms up and go, Okay that's all I can do, it's all I can process and now I need to let it go.

This is my dilemma in life and unfortunately I have never truly had a handle on being able to just let something go without a lot of emotion behind it.

Example: I loved my first car and even though people get excited about getting a new one there was still something that tied me to that car. Was it the fact it was my first car? Could be. Maybe it was because my hard earned money went into it and even though I couldn't sell it for what I got it for it was still MY earnings that made owning the Mazda my personal little victory. I knew the car inside and out and got the oil changed and other maintenance when it was due.

In the end I finally broke down and sold my car to a friend and took over my husbands Passat Wagon as he got a New Mazda. For months, maybe even a year after my friend bought my car, I would look at it fondly sitting in front of their house and have one of those slow-mo flashback moments like you see in movies.

I now get to suffer through this same kind of emotional attachment/detachment over the possibility of moving from my current home. I can't help thinking how nice it would have been just to get a turn key house that didn't need any work. A home that I didn't put so much heart and soul into. I do remember moving from my previous home with a heavy heart.

I realize that this is due to the memories that are created. The little details that make a house/apartment/condo a home. It's that little piece of your heart and soul that breathes life into the place you call home each day. It's that feeling that hits you as you turn the key in the lock and walk into your sanctuary. It's hard to think of leaving. A bittersweet symphony as the song goes.

So as I get ready and try my best to mentally prepare for the hard road ahead I can't help but wonder if I will ever be able to let go to the point of feeling that warmth of being able to look at a new place and call it HOME without having the flashbacks overwhelm my mind and recall all the memories of my current home, like the birth of my son and every little milestone he accomplished on his way to his seventh year. Walking, talking, playing. The insane amount of blood, sweat and tears that went into renovations. Every detail picked by hand. Taking care of the house like it was my second child.

I am not sure how to let go but I have decided to take it slow and can only hope that when the day comes when I am moving that I have been able to let go a little and even though I will leave with a heavy heart I pray that new memories will help to balance out the old ones.

The Moment Time Stands Still

Okay, this post is a compliment to my last one where I rattled on about how time zooms by us with lightening speed.

This weekend I discovered one of those rare and amazing moments when time actually stands still. Or at least as close to still as I will ever get.

My friend Renee, who I met in 8th grade and who has been the friend I've had the longest, and I decided to catch up. Now, it has been well over a year since we have talked and heard each others voice. We have exchanged an email or message here and there but, seeing that we are both working moms with a lot going on and an entire country between us it's hard to find time. Cue the lightning flash.

And the greatest thing when her and I do make contact is that time for how ever long I talk with her slows down and I feel like a rush of fresh air floods my lungs and clears my head. It's not like she's miles away in Pennsylvania. I feel like she's right in the room with me and no time has passed. At least until we fill each other in on all the things in our lives that have transpired over the months and years.

Then that's when a twinge of guilt hits and I feel like crap for not calling sooner.

No matter the time though, as we sit and talk it's like time has taken its own break and for the brief moment that we have we can breath a sigh of relief and relax into our time together. No kids demanding attention, no dishes needing to be washed that minute, and no errands to run. Just time that is ours. For how few and far between these moments are, I will cherish every one of them and welcome them with open arms.

Time Keeps on Slipping...Slipping...Slipping into the Future!

I so dated myself with the Title of this Blog but..Oh, well. I couldn't resist. Especially since two (okay actually three) months have gotten away from me without a post.

I don't know why but, there is just something creepy and scary that happens once the month of October hits. It's as if we are all sucked into a vacuum of time and there is no way of knowing where we are at. Is it really Monday or have we overcome the beginning of the week and are already at hump day? Maybe it's really Friday and that means all the crap I was suppose to take care of three days ago is now extremely late. Oh, well. What ya gonna do? Strap on a safety harness and hold on tight because this roller coaster isn't over yet.

So Halloween blended into Thanksgiving that fed into Hanuka which fell into Christmas that spit us out right at the beginning of a shiny new year. Because frankly you have to think of the new year as shiny like that bright copper penny the checker at the grocery store just gave you. That penny is just starting it's journey and has many months to go until it is dirty and tainted. Which will be by the time that creepy little month of October sneaks up on us again.

I remember as a child whining about how long it was between the holidays and why didn't they come sooner? Now I try to hold myself back from telling my son when he says the same thing to: "Please quit asking because they come too fast for mommy."

It's unfair if you think about it really. In our youth we are blessed with a high metabolism, excess energy, need less sleep and feel like we have an infinite amount of time. And then as we get older and wiser in our years instead of being rewarded, little by little we lose the metabolism and need more sleep which in turn sucks away more time from our already busy lives. And the holidays that we use to look forward to are now just a stress factor to an already chaotic existence. And I ask you, How in the hell is this fair? I know life's not fair but come on for crying in the sink. Throw us a bone every now and then, that's all I'm asking.

Anyway, I'm back. For reals this time and after talking to my friend from Arizona, let's call her Arizona Stacy so as not to confuse anyone, I have decided to put all the effort I can into blogging at least 4 times a month. I'm going to try and do 3 more posts before the end of January just to keep it even. So I will be busy writing the next 4 days. (I started this post and never finished so today is really 1/26/11) But once we launch into February I will post every Wednesday. (Thanks for the idea Stac)

If I feel like there is something that just can't wait I'll post an extra blog. Think of it as a BB-Bonus Blog.

I am still writing and have yet to restart the query process. After seeing the success of many people in my writing groups who have gotten agents and publishers I myself have taken a step back to reevaluate what I want from the process. I LOVE writing and telling stories but right now they belong to me and I can take my time to craft them and give them my heart and soul. I like that. Once they cross over into the next realm of the agented and published author I will be playing in someone else's ballpark and not my own.

So, I will keep writing with the goal of having 4 works of Fiction completed and one memoir that is currently in the making before I actively pursue publication. Don't get me wrong, I will still send out stuff but, it will be more like a trickling stream instead of a raging river.

With a full time job and a full time child it's hard to imagine a full time writing career at this time. I was never very fond of deadlines in High School and College and right now I don't feel ready to go back in time to those time constraints. So I am off to the zen world of writing until the writing gods tell me it's time to move into the next arena.

Happy New Year Everyone! SHINY PENNIES FOR ALL!