Sending Love to My Single Gals During the Holidays

I've been thinking a lot about where I was last year around Thanksgiving/Christmas.  And by "where I was" I really mean where I was emotionally.  Because we all know my broken-hearted self had been spending all my nights on my sofa with Emily making her eat Domino's with me and watching a lot of Downton Abbey on DVR for months.  Or I may have been watching "The Holiday" and "You've Got Mail" on repeat (I mean, do those ever get old? I think not.).  Let's not forget the Great Sinus Infection (and ear infection) over Christmas of 2012.  I wasn't suicidal or anything but good Lord I was tired of the whole damn Universe from Thanksgiving onward.  

What I'm saying is...all my single gal pals {and guys, too I suppose} -- I know how freaking hard it is to be single during the holidays.  It's not that I don't have my wonderful and loving family every year.  I love that and it's awesome.  But at the end of they day they all kind of have their own people, The Housewife is building new traditions with her own family and spending time with her in-laws, etc.  We do a lot of stuff in my family prior to Christmas Day so by that time the last few years I just felt downright glum and sorry for myself by Christmas Day.   And then you get to countdown to the New Year.  You know -- that year that's supposed to be "your year" and "all about you".  But then there is that nagging fear it won't be all that different?  

I have all those fears, too.  This year has been completely different from the past few years so far and I know that I am very lucky to be where I am.  I am very happy this year.  Actually,  I feel like I really earned a damn holiday season of happies.  So I'm taking it all in.  

But all my loves out there -- call if you need a friend, a glass bottle of wine, or anything at all.  I wish you all the Merriest of Christmases.  And I know 2014 will be your year. 

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

Welcome to Gripe City. The Single Gal's Favorite Place This Week.

I just wanted to check in and let someone know that I resisted the Kendra Scott sale on Gilt this week, the purchases outlined in Monday's post that I wanted to make, and made myself stop dreaming of that Lilly Pulitzer swimsuit.  

The bottom line is I have really, really, really wanted to shop this week.  Mainly because things have been really hard and lame at work lately and I am just sick of it.  I am trying to be positive but I am kind of over that and just moving towards indifference.  I talk to a lot of cry babies all day whose definition of "fair" is extremely ridiculous.   I can't take it.  I can't take people spam calling me and not leaving a message.  As if they were 5 year olds and not actual grown ups.  Lord help me.  

I am hoping that my plans for a long overdue pedicure {haven't had one since I came back from NYC!} and a trip to The Dry Bar on Saturday morning with Em {birthday fun for her!} before lunch with an old friend from my old job {you know, the one I loved} will make me a bit more relaxed and not so high strung about all the small things at work that are getting to me.   I keep trying to tell myself to look at the big picture.  Maybe I'll get through to my own hard head before the end of the week.  

Also, I am assuming I will like work more in March.  Where I will get 3 paychecks, perhaps a bonus, finish my taxes, and just maybe plan a vacation with 3 Putt that I can look forward to going on.  

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

What If...

...

It's been a crazy week here at the Single Gal household.   I've been asking the dog and The Housewife some serious questions about life and love.   And spending the rest being completely afraid of so many things that I have been praying about falling into place.  

{My apologies for this vague post.}

~the single gal~

Where I Divulge that I Now Pick Up Men in Parking Lots.

Hopefully you have all made it to Hump Day unscathed.  I wish I could say the same myself.  Tuesday was pretty nasty.  It's one of my worst days at work every week (seriously Monday is cake compared to the crazy).  I woke up a little before 4 a.m from a particularly harrowing version of my recurring 3 Putt nightmare.  I had to get in 7 miles to get my long run in before the race on Sunday.  And I couldn't even get home at 7 p.m. in a reasonable amount of time because there was a gas main break or something near my house.

On the bright side, I went to bed at 9 last night and was able to get up super early to blog for you fine folks.  I think another reason I have been so tired is because my social schedule is even busier than I anticipated earlier this month.  For one -- I gave Super Tall another date.  

Also...met another dude.  I don't really have tons of details because I don't know either dude very well at this point -- but I thought you would all enjoy the fact that I am here to tell you about how I have given up on the bar scene and internet dating.  Because I pick up people in parking lots that I don't know from Adam. Or they pick me up. Sort of. 

Long story short -- I went to meet a friend after work for happy hour and while I usually valet my car I used public parking down the street.  It was a busy day. I didn't feel like getting a $20 out of the ATM just to give the parking guys $3 and I hate pulling out empty handed even though its "complimentary" valet.  

So friend and I sit down to have 2.5 margs and lots of good convo for a couple hours.  When we were walking to our cars this delicious guy jogs by with his dog.  As a dog lover I naturally want to pet all cute dogs that run by me.  Whatever. They leave.  Friend and I are still talking in the parking lot when dude comes back by....and since we have had 2.5 margaritas we shamelessly accosted him so that we could pet his dog.  And then we end up chatting with him for 30-45 more minutes.  Under more sober circumstance I may not have given this guy my digits in a parking lot, but it definitely happened.  

This completely derailed my original intentions to grab stuff at the grocery store to make dip for #1's birthday party the next day. You can imagine how thrilled The Housewife was when I ran in an hour late with store bought dip and a story of picking up a man on the street instead the next day. 

Concerns: He is 2 years younger than I am. He is a personal trainer.  He is from Boston.  He's pretty darn good looking and I don't know if there is room for two pretty people in any relationship I have. {Kidding. Sort of...}

On the other hand...

- He is a personal trainer. So if you stand real close to him, it's kind of like standing next to a rock.  A really hot, tall rock. 

- His dog is super cute and adorable. 

- He is fun.  We have had dinner/drinks twice. And he is a twin! And seems pretty smart. 

So...moral of this story? Not sure yet. Verdict is still out.  Thoughts? Advice? Judgements? Leave 'em. 

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

Am I There Yet?

Happy Sunday, Y'all.  It finally feels a bit like Fall outside. I legit got my first hot coffees of the season instead of my die hard summer order of an iced coffee at Starbucks the last two days.  I got to wear my arm warmers for my first four miles {12 total} of running today.  I am starting to need long sleeves to walk the dog.  The Dawgs lost to the Gamecocks in a game so terrible that I couldn't bear to finish watching.  The windows are open. So yes, it's kind of official.  It's October. 

It has been a week! I took a minute to look at my calendar for this month and I am already booked solid.  Between #1's Birthday Bash at The Housewife's, brunches, training for half-marathons, actually racing the half-marathon, "getting back out there", dinner with the girls, and a trip Jacksonville for the GA/FL game I am seriously, seriously busy.  {And already planning for November stuff!}

I bring this up because I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed.  And, the week before Em and I went to dinner in Roswell on Friday night which turned into an all night affair.  Short story -- I met a nice dude.  Who is super tall {this never happens to me}.  Anywho -- I did it.  I bit the bullet and had an actual Post-3-Putt-First-Date.  We met up and had a really nice dinner at Salt in Roswell.  He asked me how Hogan was doing {brownie points} after his test results that I was awaiting.  He was a total gentleman.  He's employed.  I felt short standing next to him {unreal}.  

I cried all the way home. 

I wish I could tell you what the hell is wrong with me.  Or I wish someone would tell me that this is normal so I don't feel so badly about it.  I mean, I'm sure those 3 giant glasses of wine helped but sheesh.  Dude didn't even do anything wrong.  

So the thought of the week/month/year is: "Am I there yet?"  I worry this is a sign that maybe I am not ready to be "out there" {read: super scary awkward dating world} yet.  I've got a lot of other stuff going on and I just don't know if I can deal. 

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

30A and Letting Go

Has anyone ever seen people riding around with one of those weird looking 30A bumper stickers? It's blue and makes a sun out of the zero.  They are everywhere around my neck of the woods and I never knew what in the world it meant.  Well, now The Housewife and I are in the club.  We made the trip to Santa Rosa Beach in the Seaside area and stayed off of Highway 30A at Blue Mountain Lake.  While it is pretty family friendly it was quiet and not crowded at all so The Single Gal was very happy.  I am sure The Housewife has her own vacay recap planned but here is mine. 

First, rest and relaxation can do wonders for anyone.  I think my only huge failure over the last week or so was missing TWO long runs.  Definitely not great for training and my race is in less than a month.  But -- I just decided I was going to get up early every morning and relax and spend time with family and drink my coffee every day since I don't usually have that luxury even on the weekends.  We rented a great house with a private pool that was also on a short walk to the beach.  I was so tired from spending all day out every day (aside from the one day it rained) that I fell fast asleep on my sofa bed every night and didn't even care that it wasn't a real bed.  The boys even let me play golf with them one day which was so much fun.  And I must have played fairly well because they invited me back the next time they went. 

Here are a few photos I snapped when I wasn't holding an adult beverage. 

{yes, I see there are only two. don't judge}

The view of the lake from our house! 

Instagram of #1 and my brother in law on the beach.  Hard to keep her still
and even harder to keep sand off of her face. 

We went into Seaside/Watercolor several times for dinner and adventure.  There are so many great shops.  One of my favorite things were the food trucks they have set up on the walkway! Too cute.  I tried the grilled cheese truck and it was delicious! Expensive, but delicious. 

Food trucks!

Here are my other photos when I was holding an adult beverage: 

Tervis + Beach = Happiness

In general, the main event of the week. Just add sunshine.

I feel pretty refreshed. I had a great trip.  I thought about life a lot.  I got to have a big family dinner every night.  Stacy's In-Laws are so kind and fun, and they didn't blink an eye when I poured my first drink of the day around 9:30 every morning.  I sat on the beach all day.  I got a tan.  I listened to the ocean.  I laughed a lot.  I actually just relaxed and didn't worry about much for days at a time.  I am finally feeling better at the three month mark for the breakup.  Not all the way there but I think I am starting to get a healthy distance from it.  And it's not that I'm mad about it but I am at the point where I truly just don't want to see him, talk to him, or ever hear of him or anything he does ever again.   It's not part of my current life.   

Main lesson of vacation -- you really can get a certain amount of clarity with some time off of work, an ocean view, and a several cases of beer.  

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

I've been debating a lot about this post.  Tactically speaking I love to use humor to displace my sometimes uncomfortable Single Gal situations, conversations, and just plain awkwardly painful encounters with the general public.  But really, the last two months have kind of been shit.  And I know that when I write this post I'm not the only one who has been here.  I get it.  But at the urging of The Housewife you get a post that may very well bare a good portion of my soul.  But seriously if you read it don't accost me about the post in Target or at dinner for God's sake. Let's just keep it in the inter webs for now.  Between inter web friends.

One of the greatest things about being 29 and staring at another failed relationship that you spent almost two years on-- that same relationship that maybe was never really a relationship or it was which is still up for debate -- is that since you are no longer in high school where your life really did consist of long phone calls with your loved one, notes in lockers, and making out in move theaters the actual reality of it is this:  you've got a lot of other real life shit to do.  Go to work, clean the house, pay the bills, catch up on DVR, see your friends so they don't move you off their social calendar for being a real lame ass, etc., so you know life does go on and will go on.  You also usually have less evidence to destroy -- because hey, why take pictures together anyway when you just have to send them to the city dump? Live and learn. Save the environment.  Don't forget to embrace The Breakup Diet either -- nothing slaps the hungry out of you like cold, hard, rejection.  

Ok, so maybe there are about 2.5 great things about the situation and life isn't complete shit.  The hard parts? Well, those are a bit more numerous and complicated.  

It's hard to talk about it to people -- especially when you are aging 29.  You see, your friends that are getting married and having babies and buying minivans and thinking about their second babies and preschool and new houses -- they have the trump cards.  So know that your allotted time for talking about "just another breakup" is going to be pretty limited if you are in the minority of major life events. I don't think it's meant to be hurtful, its just the way of the age group.  Eventually conversations basically all fall into the standard responses -- but all in one text of course.  "He's an asshole. We hated him anyway. Just get back out there! You'll feel better." 

It's hard to end up at home after the umpteenth colossal argument. That final argument that was really dispirited to begin with because it was the moment you realized that while there are a million things you want and feel you need to say, you just give up and recognize the wasted breath and the deaf ears involved.  You will sit there in silence instead and feel the entrance of that Relationship Grimm Reaper.  You guys know what I'm talking about.  I really believe you can sit in a room and just feel a relationship die. 

You think that after you drag yourself home and get through those next three days that it has to get better because surely that was the worst sting of it all.  You think the hard part is over. You revel in that misplaced confidence that you will have more than two weeks to recover before a new girlfriend shows up {and don't we all know that in this wonderful age of technology she will show up everywhere. EVERYWHERE.}.  You really will think that because you have seen plenty of them,  you can ace Breakup School no problem.  But the fact of the matter is all breakups still suck.  A lot.  It sucks to feel used.  It sucks to feel discarded.  It sucks to have to find that place in your life where you lived without that person and make it happen again after the fact.  And then you feel like an idiot all over again, because you loved and supported that person.  Because you would have been just as happy at Waffle House with that person as you would have been at the nicest restaurant in town.  Because you adored how they kissed you every time you waited for the car to come back from the valet.  Because Christmas morning may never come without remembering that one breakfast.  Or the freckles on their shoulder.  Or exactly how their hands looked.

Love you. Mean it.
~the single gal~

Something's Gotta Give

Disaster is at my doorstep again.  Literally.  Figuratively.  Take your pick.   I seriously feel like a can't catch a break this year.  It's like I keep jumping over every square on the Monopoly board and I keep landing in jail where I have to pay money to get out.  Or something like that.  I am pretty mentally and emotionally exhausted so I'll just hit some high points. 

-After defeating the Aphids I now have what appears to be a nest of yellow jackets under my azalea bush.  

-Came home Sunday to a broken AC unit.  Finally got someone out to fix it today to the tune of $254. 

-I have leftover blues from the final fight with 3 Putt a couple weeks ago.  A lot of them.  Is it too much to ask that I date someone with the following criteria? Because I think it probably is --  

1) someone who can acknowledge and be responsible for their actions in a relationship

2) someone with a realistic view of dating/relationships/ marriage

3) someone who can deal with conflict.  sweet jesus it's like one fight and they all throw in the towel. game over. 

[OK...getting down from the soap box]

In an effort to finish on a positive note I am giving serious consideration to this next list. 

-I sat down last night to watch re-runs of "Duck Dynasty" and laughed with pure joy for about 2 hours. 

-I called the AC man this morning and he was out here today at 5. And he fixed my problem for me. And he didn't mind that Hogan followed him around continually placing his stuffed toy at his feet. 

-I get to come home to a really silent house which is completely wonderful after talking on the phone at work all day. 

-Big summer storm tonight.  Probably one of my most favorite things ever. 

-That feeling you get when you start a new book. 

Ignore my grammar that more terrible than normal. Bear with the fact that I couldn't work up something funny or grab any online pictures to jazz this post up.  I'm just a girl mending my insides.  It seems to take a bit longer every time.  

Love you. Mean it. 

~the (perpetually) single gal~

Weekend Happenings and Birthday Prep

 I hope everyone had a wonderful long (or wonderfully long) weekend.  I had to work on Monday -- but I needed a comp day to attend Little A's wedding as I am still building up PTO (lame) and it was OK because my manager let us go at 2 (yay!).  I had a great weekend even though it was short. I have done all my "pre" Birthday shopping, the philosophy behind this being that I would like to have said items around to wear during Birthday Season (read: the entire month of June). 

So...Saturday I got up and had a coffee date with The Housewife since she can't run right now and then I relaxed and headed into the city for shop serious shopping.  They just opened the Lilly Pulitzer store in Phipps and I just had to run in a take a look! It was super cute but y'all, I really can't ignore all the Lilly stuff at Belk -- because Belk has great sales, and well, Lilly wasn't having any of that on Saturday (or probably ever for that matter).  Here are a few things I am prepping for Birthday Season: 

Lilly Pulitzer Alaya Dress

Lilly Pulitzer Mimosa Skirt in Seersucker

(already worn it. love it. want to wear it every single day this summer. if i had thought enough to write a Monday Obsessions post, this would have been the feature)

Jack Rogers Navajo in Platinum

(note, these are en route from Piperlime so if I hate them I may return them. verdict pending.)

I also got in some serious pool time with my fave friend STV (sweet tea vodka), had two  dinners in the city with 3 Putt (Lord help me) at the Brookhaven Noche and back to the lovely patio at Varasano's (since repeating history is apparently a new theme with me right now) where he so eloquently stated that we were "seeing each other". Um, news to me. I have an idea how the story ends, but c'est la vie.  I stayed up very late on Sunday and I paid for it at work on Monday. I also ate lots of Fro Yo (duh). 

This week and next week are all about gearing up for Little A's wedding.  You will all be happy to know that nothing has changed I am basically still completely and utterly undateable for any real event in my life as I am sitting pretty and alone for my entire trip to Savannah.  I was going to try to entertain you with a lovely post about how undateable I am but I am truly exhausted just thinking about it all. Not to worry, there is plenty of fun to be had. I have the luxury of staying with the sweet, lovely, and amazing bride on Friday night for our last slumber party as Single Gals.  Little A and I used to spend the night with each other in middle school and stay home on Friday nights playing Scrabble  (see, I was undateable then, too).  I am so lucky to have her as a friend and I cannot wait to see her walk down the aisle and glow all day about how gorgeous and perfect one of my very best friends is that day, and always.  My dress is at the cleaners, I will be working on her rehearsal bouquet of ribbons from her shower, and praying to Little Baby Jesus to seriously help my car pass emissions testing so I can legally drive it on my road trip. 

Also - my spell check doesn't like the word "undateable". Let's call Webster and get it in the dictionary.  Single Gals need more words.  Because we are special. And sometimes undateable. 

What did everyone else do for Memorial Day? I want to hear about all your fun!

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

'Cause You Know, Things Will Change, If Ya Hold On For One More Day

 I'm not going to lie, things are not super in my world right now.  First -- work has been incredibly stressful.  We had a RIF (Reduction In Force, I think? Maybe?) about two weeks ago and the girl that sits across from me was let go among other people I knew.  I still have the sadz about it all.  And, let's face it. As a person riddled with general anxiety throw in the fact that I really don't have much job security right now because I am pretty sure my lovely, small insurance company that I work for (and love!) is going under has really, really, increased my anxiety. Work didn't get any better last week when we had a rep out sick on my team on the two busiest days of the week.  I am still trying to get my head above water. I have been getting to work at 7 a.m. and either working through my lunch break (not that my customers appreciate any of this) and staying late, too. 

So, networking is basically in full force a) because of my New Year's Resolution and b) because at the end of the day, I have to feed Hogan Muffin and pay his rent.  This uses a lot of energy and brain power I don't always have after I come home from work which is causing me a lot of frustration.   I don't want to have to rent my house and move back in with my parents if I fall on super hard times. Even though they are awesome and would let me. (See, I am already at a worst-case-scenario in my mind!)

You want more stress? I got it.  I am working super hard with The Housewife and other bridesmaids to host a bridal shower for Little A and plan her Bachelorette (Because these events Must. Be. Perfect. for my dear friend).  And, surely the world and Little Baby Jesus know I should be devoting all my time to this and not worrying about work.  Lucky for me, The Housewife must have been a party planner in another life.  She routinely talks me off the ledge just about every day about something I am freaking out about.   I am sure I am annoying her because everything is probably really in order and I just make it stressful on myself by worrying too much.  Like having anxiety about the postage I put on the shower invites because the envelope was a weird shape.  No seriously, this stuff keeps me awake at night. 

I've also gained 5 lbs since Christmas. FIVE. WTH.  

I've also seen 3 Putt a bit. Again.  Ok, a lot. Since before Christmas. WTH. 

Y'all -- I can't even get any sleep lately.  I had an awful time sleeping this past weekend and last night I think I barely slept at all.  I am a scary, mean, nasty person when I don't get enough sleep.  

Not on purpose.  It's just that I am So. Damn. Tired. 

I promise to check back in soon.  If you follow on Twitter you know I have a dinner date I've been semi-waiting on for almost 2 years now. More on this after I get some real sleep. Or buy some Tylenol PM to medically induce the sleep I can't have. 

Love you. Mean it. 

~psycho, sleepless, Single Gal~

Don't Rain on My 2012 Parade

Ah, a new year.  Everyone feels fresh.  The air smells new. Optimism is abundant. 

But...some things never change. I had lunch with my parents last Monday and Big John (Dad) asked about my resolutions for the new year.  No big deal. This was expected.  I was even ready with an answer and just knew he beam and show his pride in me for being a focused and well-rounded individual.   

Except this is exactly how the conversation went: 

Big John: So, what are you resolutions for the new year? 

Single Gal: I am really going to work on my career in 2012.  I feel like there is more I can do at my current job. But I also want to make sure I am focusing on my networking and make sure my resume is up to par.  Maybe even get on Linked In. 

Big John: What about your love life? 

You know, because it would be the worst thing ever for me to remain single for yet another year.  Really?!  

It's gotten to the point where I can almost feel the pity coming off of them in waves every time I see them now.  If only I had spouted something off about the benefits of casual sex so I could make them equally as uncomfortable as I was.  But I didn't. Because I am lame {and still single in case anyone forgot}.  

He's probably going to be extra disappointed to hear that marriage isn't my ultimate goal in life {gasp!}.  But maybe I will save that for next Christmas while we are catching up over turkey and dressing.

Cheers to 2012 already starting with a sting bang!

~the single gal~

"I Don't Want No Scrub..."

So, I come home the other day and I am utterly horrified and embarrassed to find this in my mailbox: 

Yeah. That's right.  I seriously got pegged with a singles flyer.  A direct mailing and not some internet ad.  So I come in the house and I am thinking to myself, "Sweet Jesus.  Is this what rock bottom feels like? How did they find me? How did I get on this list!"  Basically,  I am standing in my kitchen dying a small death on the inside... 

...And then I turn the card over.  Sweet baby Jesus it was addressed to my neighbor and clearly put in my mailbox by mistake! 

At first I was relieved, but then I was super offended. I mean, Neighbor Pete was arrested for murder last year.  Murder people! I mean, I guess it's still alleged at this time....pending trial and all. (Note: I don't live in the ghetto, this is just a weird "All My Children" story-line that seriously occurred in real life -- basic love triangle, mistress and lover [Neighbor Pete] are just trying to be together and set mistress's husband's house on fire oops her husband just happened to be found dead in his burned up house.)  Anyway, this basically ends up bringing several concerns to the forefront of the "Single Gal Worries" section of my brain: 

• Why is neighbor Pete getting this mailer instead of me? He is clearly a murdering Scrub. Or rather, a Scrub suspected of murder.
• I will obviously be doing background checks on potential mates...which could get costly.
• I need to start praying harder to Little Baby Jesus if I am going to find someone to "put a ring on it" that's worth a damn. 
• Life isn't like all those songs Taylor Swift keeps releasing. What a liar. 

I'll be pondering these questions and more this week while I am busy putting down 32 miles over 3 days for the start of another really hard training block for the marathon with The Housewife.  I would complain, but I am pretty enthusiastic about the post break-up work outs I now have time for because I love to get "revenge hot".  And this time I mean business. It's not that I wasn't completely fabulous before, but I am seriously in the throes of getting Kate-Middleton-I-Told-You-Prince-Will-That-You-Would-Come-Crawling-Back revenge hot.  I figure running 19 miles on Saturday has got to have some sort of lasting benefit. 

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

Party of One. (Emphasis on the word "party".)

Single Gal here! Just checking in--The Housewife has done a great job keeping up with posting responsibilities of late.  Life has been busy--work has been insane the last few weeks.  I have had some time off but we are down a rep and lots of people take well deserved vacay days in the summer so we are really feeling the brunt of heavy claims volume.  #killingme

But...last week The Housewife and I took some well deserved time off of our own and had our big night out at the NKOTBSB concert in Atlanta! It. Was. So. Much. Fun.  We drank one too many beers, ordered pizza late night, and enjoyed the next day off of work/baby duty together.  We sang really loudly in front of strangers. Note: The Housewife has all our fun photos on her camera, so let's all beg her nicely to throw some up this week.

It's been a hard last few weeks.  Marathon training is already kicking my butt and we aren't even running that far--it's seriously just the amount of training we are doing.  Of course, last week I was way too social and bagged several workouts (don't worry, I already fessed up to The Housewife) but I am back on track this week.  Balancing a serious work out plan, career, and social activities is a serious challenge.  I have been trying to get back in The Game too, but I have to find some new places to hang in the city.  Most of the VaHi neighborhood is full of 25 year olds--if that.  Most of the time guys ask me what school I go to.  As in college.  Um, hello--I'm an old lady.  Which is totally okay with me because let's face it--these guys think I should buy them a drink.  Ugh.

I was really beginning to feel sorry for myself on Sunday--especially wandering around and perusing my local grocery store for my necessary little frozen entrees when I noticed the sign for the section where I was shopping--

That's right.  Even the grocery store defines me as single.  Single meals.  Single Gals.  Not cool Target! Not cool.  Freaking "meals for one". 

Also, while we are on the topic of "confessions"...you know, since that's our blog title and all-- 

I have been seeing 3 Putt again.  It's uber-casual.  I don't even know what it is.  Really, I don't.  It almost isn't even worth mentioning.  But it nags at me a bit.  I've been thinking a lot about how we all define relationships and have pretty much given up on that in general.  They are all different from one another and people, events, and places all mean something different to each individual.  It's all too stressful if you ask me. And, I have too much work and running to do rather than spend all my time trying to figure it out. 

Disclaimer, this probably isn't going to be a large topic of discussion--so take your juicy tidbit and enjoy (Read: You really don't have to ask me about this when you see me...Mom and Dad). 

Oh, and in other news I finally got my iPhone fixed--no more broken screen.  Switched to Dad's old 3GS. Go Single Gal! Shit is getting accomplished this week--watch out world--Meals for One are the Meals of Champions!  

Love you. Mean it. 

~The Single Gal~

Where There's Smoke...There is a Smoke Detector. Which has batteries. And Batteries Die.

Vacation was wonderful--but I had a hard dose of reality in the wee hours of this morning. 

Picture this--wake up at 2 a.m. Freaking downstairs smoke detector battery has died.  Shut door to dull incessant and high-pitched beeping. Turn on TV.  Try to convince the dog his ears won't bleed and no one is downstairs.  Try to dive back into sleep.  Enter recurring nightmare.  All of them have slight variations but the theme is always the same.  Snakes.  Some are terrifying, some are just annoying.  

I am in a house and have to go in the room I am supposed to sleep in--where there are two really big snakes.  I know they are in there.  I am begging someone, anyone to help me.  Someone I know and trust.  But no one will help me.  I end up in the room anyway frantically standing on a chair, tearfully pleading (read: freaking out) with someone to just help me because I am so afraid...the snakes are on the floor. And no one comes.  No one will help me. 

I have to admit this one had a hard grip on my heart at 5 a.m. But I have to get up and deal with dog walking.  Which means we have to go down to where the smoke detector won't stop beeping.  And that means the dog is freaking out now, too.  Now I am running late for work.  And I don't know what to do about this problem. Clearly I can't leave the dog here all day with the beeping. He is scared out of his mind already.

I know most of us have seen that "Modern Family" episode that was super cute and funny where Phil couldn't locate the beeping smoke detector, but this morning was far from cute and funny.

Phil:

Attempt 1: Drag kitchen chair into foyer.  Successfully twist smoke detector and let it dangle from the ceiling.  WTH is the battery compartment? Why can't I get it open.  Can't really reach it all that well.

Attempt 2: Grab my 4 inch wedges.  Stand on living room chair in these shoes but still can't see shit or find the battery compartment.

Attempt 3: Call Dad and see if he will come over. It's not like I even have a new battery to put in the smoke detector if I take the old one out. He seems generally unenthusiastic.  I complain about how the only ladder I have is gigantic. I am concerned about having to drag it in the house alone.  Dad says I am strong enough to do this. Now I am really late for work.

Attempt 4:  Now I am in tears.  I back the car out of the garage.  I shut the garage so I can leave the door open to lug in 12 foot ladder.  The dog decides the best place to hang out is the garage as the downstairs is a war zone.  He refuses to come back inside and looks at me like I am trying to kill him. But now, I have the 12 foot ladder.  I climb the ladder.  I have a screwdriver in hand to pry open whatever is up there so that I can remove the battery.

6:50 a.m. (I am supposed to be at work at 7) -- mission accomplished.  The dog is back in the house.  More tears are shed on the way to work as I run out of the door.  It's almost like I was living my dream--thank god no snakes were there.

Me (minus Zack Morris):

I know I shouldn't sweat the small stuff.  I know that I shouldn't be fearful of being alone forever since I already do everything for myself anyway.  But still...

Love you. Mean it. 

~the single gal~

Bag Lady

The Housewife and I have been having a lot of convos recently about our inability to leave the house with only our giant handbag in tow.  It's impossible.  It's either a night out or jetting off to work with my lunch, giant handbag, an armful of dry cleaning and a gym bag weighing me down. Lately, I have also been dealing with what is surely one of the most hated Single Gal tasks...


It's inevitable.  Whether hanging out with girlfriends or planning another long night of consuming adult bevs with your current most-favorite-beau and you know you won't be driving home, the typical Single Gal (SG) has a huge task to complete prior to embarking on these fun adventures.  You know the one I mean--you are only going for one freaking night but you don't know what you might need the next day in case you go to brunch or god forbid you have to get ready for work the next day.  It has to be done--the Shack Bag must be packed.  (All SG's have this cross to bear as no self-respecting SG wants to end up like Christina Aguilera leaving The Slammer in a bathrobe after a long night out.)

At a bare minimum any diligent SG will need the following for one night: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shave gel, razor, face wash, moisturizer, night cream, hairspray, comb, hairbrush, hair dryer, hair gel/mousse/smoothing cream, contact solution/case, eyeglasses, 2 pairs of shoes, two possible outfits for the next day, change of undergarments, a curling iron, and your make-up bag.  Most of us know that these things will barely fit into a large Vera Bradley duffle (at least Vera gives us super cute options in a variety of prints so SG's can shack in style).

And, not only do you get to pack up all of your shit in said Shack Bag, you also get the joys of unpacking the Shack Bag the next day (as if SG's weren't already busy enough).

I will leave you with some general Shack Bag info:

-Cherish that astonished look most-favorite-beau will give you upon his first time seeing the Shack Bag in all its glory. He will initially think you misunderstood the plan and be very concerned you might be staying for at least a week.

-More often than not you will have at least two other outfits in the trunk of your car that don't make it in the door and are there on stand-by.  (Read: even more to unpack.)

-God forbid you accidentally leave something at most-favorite-beau's house.  Make no mistake--you will eventually leave something behind--how could you not when you have to bring so much to begin with?  

-The bright side of leaving something behind at most-favorite-beau's house is that it will promptly be back in your possession within 48 hours because whether you left your fave pair of sunglasses or a teeny tiny hair clip your current beau will be extremely concerned that you might need to use the item in question in the very near future.  (You know, because girls don't have entire drawers full of hair clips and pins at their houses and men most certainly do not freak out when you leave something in their space...that's just how nice they are.)

The biggest slap in the face of all? The only thing a man really needs to bring to a slumber party is a toothbrush.  (Everything else they might need is probably in their wallet.)

Love you. Mean it.

~the single gal~