Charming, but single

No time for a proper post today, because I found boots (with a wedge heel) that fit both my normal-sized right calf and my oddly larger left calf, which is cause for celebration, right? I’m pulling out a dress that hasn’t ever been worn and heading out for a night on the town.

Tonight The Banker and The Producer (who moved back here!) and I had a nice dinner and a bottle of wine at a bistro before going to an evening of art showings at some little shops.

As we walked through one store “As Time Goes By” drifted from the speakers.

“You must remember this … a kiss is still a kiss … a sigh is just a sigh … the fundamental things apply …”

“Guys need to get that,” said The Producer. “Sometimes a sigh is just a sigh.”

I chuckled and they looked at me.

“For me,” I said. “A sigh is never just a sigh.”

This is a bit early, but I’ve been thinking about what I’m thankful for a lot lately. Probably because I’m kind of checked out and thinking about m family’s trip to see my brother for the holiday next week. This is the longest I’ve been without being twenty minutes or fewer away from him in my life and, well, even if we didn’t always make that ten-minute drive, there’s something for knowing we could have.

I’m thankful for my family and how as much as I may complain about them and as much as we annoy each other and sometimes don’t see eye to eye, they really truly love me and each other. And I’m starting to learn that this isn’t something that everyone has and I’m so terribly thankful for that and I’m horrified that for many years I didn’t see my loud, nosy, opinionated relatives for how awesome they truly are because they are mine and without them I probably wouldn’t make much sense, right? 

My parents have been married for so many years – more than thirty, but after that who’s counting, really? And I’m thankful that in all of those years of runny noses and bills and car repairs and dirty dishes, they managed to stick around for the birthdays and anniversaries and family dinners and little wonderful moments that taken one-by-one somehow add up to a lifelong commitment.

I’m thankful for my sister, who is stubborn, but really in the best way. Who has no poker face, who can’t hide when she’s anxious or scared, who is finally learning to walk in heels without looking like such a drag queen all of the time. Who is really so beautiful and will, I’m sure, look in the mirror one day and see that. Hopefully.

For seven long years, I was semi-vegetarian. Everyday of the year, Thanksgiving included. No turkey, no dressing, no stuffing, no gravy. Despite my Grandmother’s protests and my family’s attempts to sway me to eat just one piece of turkey, I abstained from the meat.

My family is full of jokers who delighted in nothing more than talking to their turkey in my presence, nibbling it with glee, holding pieces of it up in front of my face – all in the most kind, teasing way, of course. I was the Thanksgiving Freakshow, she who ate butternut squash dumplings while the rest of the crew devoured various cuts of meat. My youngest cousins would ask me if I was crazy, right before they asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend and looked at me like I was a 100-year-old cat lady who lived in a cave.

So you can imagine how excited my now meat-eating self is about my having a Thanksgiving turkey this year. I love to cook, so much so that I’ve been known to go help my mom cook the night before Thanksgiving just for fun. And these last few months have been a love affair with turkey sandwiches leading up to the Main Event – slow roasted turkey with all the gravy I can ladle away from my family members.

I’m making plans for the cooking already – I am typically in charge of several sides and I’ll be packing some food in a cooler, as my family is driving to visit my brother and his fiancé for the holiday.

As luck would have it, they had a very important announcement for us – they’re completely vegetarian now. Possibly even vegan.

After suffering through SEVEN vegetarian Thanksgivings with my meat devouring brother, my triumphant return to plates of turkey topped with gravy topped with more turkey topped with a side of meat (for good measure) is marred by my brother informing me that he guesses we can use his future mother-in-law’s kitchen, not his, for the baking of the “death” turkey.

And now I am just so torn about the best way to support his decision. I simply can’t decide – should I chase him around the kitchen with the drumstick or just leave the turkey bones in his bed?

I was tagged by Smug Married. And y’all know I usually don’t do tags, but it is Day 13 of NaBloPoMo and my brain is fried from a long two days and a tag looking mighty good. The tag was something about habits or little known facts, so I present …

Six Bad Habits

#1 – I draft all e-mails three times.

I am not lying. I write the first e-mail, which is too long. Then I cut it down and it is too short. And then the final third e-mail is what I send and it is usually a combination of the first two.

You’d think this would take a long time, but it usually doesn’t. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I stop and think about it or until someone points it out to me. Someone told me today, in fact, “Geez, it is just an e-mail.” And it was just an e-mail. A throwaway one at that. But I still did two rounds of editing before I sent it. This process works quickly for me because I think I’m a fairly prolific writer when I want to be.

#2 – I am mildly OCD about handwriting.

It’s a good damn thing I have e-mail and a computer, because if I had to hand write notes and letters, well, I’d be utterly screwed. My handwriting is a mismash of print and cursive – a capital print “S” to start a word and then script letters to finish, for example. I actually really love my handwriting, but I hate scratching out letters or words because it makes my notes messy, so I try to limit what I have to write. Going into a meeting, I’ll write the subject and date across the top and if it doesn’t look pretty enough, I will flip the page and start anew. So I’ll have two pages that say “Team Meeting, 11/13/07” on them both and go with the prettier one.

Yes, they probably make medicine for this. No, I don’t know how I get anything finished either. I’m pretty sure this is why I never took to wearing eyeliner.

#3 – I hate confrontation and I play out the worse case scenario in my head if I even think a confrontation will happen.

I take every situation to its worst case scenario and then back out my response from there. And, no, I don’t think this is always a bad thing – it suits a PR person sometimes to play Devil’s Advocate. It helps to anticipate questions or identify conflicts. But life isn’t work and, yes, mocking up a response to the Most Terrible Thing Ever isn’t always conducive to interpersonal relations. Like dating. Or ordering a latte.

#4 – I’m wearing yoga pants that I bought in 2001. Right now.

Oh, they’re threadbare and tattered and faced and I’ve had to cut them into cropped pants and the waistband is fraying. But they’re so terribly soft and comfy and Old Navy never made another pair quite like this pair and I can’t part with them. I don’t wear them out of the house, except to take out the trash. I will wear these pants until they fall off of my body.

Yes, I have newer, less ratty yoga pants. Why do you ask?

#5 – I do not manage expectations in my personal life.

Managing expectations is a huge, important aspect of PR. Do it correctly and you can hand yourself, your person, your cause a huge win. Do it poorly and you will always be perceived as a loser because you can’t meet even your own standards, let alone those set by others.

Case in point: I’m invited to dinner by a friend. The friend says, “What time will you be free?” and I look at my remaining task list, which is clearly two hours of work and say “an hour.” I know I’ll never get away in an hour, but I believe if I push myself, I can. My friend ends up sitting alone at a restaurant for 30 minutes. I feel like a bad person.

Repeat.

My good friends know not to make such plans with me. I meet them at their houses and we go to dinner together.

#6 – I have started sneaking cigarettes again.

It started as one with a beer and then two with a glass of wine and then I’d buy a pack for the week and now I have to stop myself from buying them at all. I am not addicted to nicotine. I could not smoke for a month. I’m purely an emotional smoker – I associate feelings with a cigarette and use them to relieve stress.

But I highly doubt that not being addicted is a factor when it comes to lung cancer.

(And yes, writing that last sentence out gave me chills. I’m too smart to smoke.)

So now I tag … everyone. In the comments. If you even still want to continue reading after hearing a very incomplete list of my flaws.