I knew there was a reason!

My mom tells me sometimes that I need to take bitch lessons from her. Not necessarily that she is a mean, horrible person, but she speaks her mind and doesn't take any bullshit. My sister is the same way. I'm more like my dad--a teddy bear disguised behind a gruff exterior. People have told me that their first impression of me was that I was mean, but once they got to know me realized that I wouldn't hurt a fly. Good trait to have, right? Sometimes.

I get walked over. Often. From not asking my sister to take out the trash all the way to telling that client that they've lost their mind thinking that I would ever suggest a 2" bevel on a framed mirror????!!! My response to that one...Sir, the fact that you just said a 2" bevel sets off a red flag in my mind because I know that those words have never come from my mouth because I've never even SEEN a 2" bevel, but I'll check my notes and get back with you. Diplomatic right?

So what happens when my old company gets paid for two spec houses that I did...and then the company closes...and the houses go pre-sold...with VERY demanding homeowners who want to change nearly every selection? I work for free, basically. I bite my tongue and go over and beyond helping these clients, including a pregnant woman who cannot remember what is said from one meeting to the next--bear in mind that I'm having to recreate their changes because when the company closed, I lost all my files! And when the construction company wants to save money and repeat 2 houses that I just turned in...the original houses' selections are discontinued, so I have to reselect...and then they are turned into Parade Houses, so they get upgraded...but the two duplicates are to stay with the ORIGINAL selections... I printed out new folders for the two duplications, complete with the new addresses, for myself and the construction company to keep on file so not to get completely confused... And when the paint store mixes the wrong color paint and the painter doesn't notice this until he has sprayed the ceilings in the ENTIRE house--I get a sample of this incorrect color and make adjustments to the wall color and flooring selections to avoid having to repaint the whole house. For free.

Not to mention the fact that I've sold about 8 houses for them in the last two years by presenting the selections to prospective homebuyers. AND they tell me MACK OUT the house I am currently working on, after I have already selected half of the finishes and fixtures, so I have to go back to all the vendors and reselect. And then a week later they call me and say that we have a prospective buyer who wants to meet in 4 hours and view all the selections--so I run around like a madwoman gathering samples, typing schedules to prepare for the meeting...then I get a phone call an hour before the meeting is scheduled because it has been postponed until the following week when I can meet with them because they REALLY want me to present the house. OKAY... THEN...they call me on MONDAY (when I cannot meet) and tell me that the meeting is at 4pm that afternoon. So I rearrange my life and clear my schedule to be there...you guessed it, they called back and said it was postponed again.

So today I was pleasantly surprised when the contractor called me to say that there was a check waiting for me at his office to thank me for all the extra effort that I have been putting in for their company. Tomorrow I am going to the office to pick up this check. Oh, and I have a meeting with a homebuyer. I am going to sell a house for them.

For Shits and Giggles

Leo February 22, 2008
Much to your surprise, your finances seem to be slowly falling into place. This is good news, although it does not mean that you should go back to your old ways of shopping and (not) tracking your costs. Now that you have gotten everything under control, don't give up! You've gotten used to life with a tighter belt, and there is still a lot you can learn about how to trim the fat. Keep going, and you will be very proud of what you can save in just a few months.

Wa-hoo!! Like I've said before, horoscopes are for shits and giggles only. If you try to make them apply, then they do. The above, for instance...New Year's goal: resolve 40% of credit card debt in 2008. I'm on the fast track, paying down 50% of Card #3 by April 1st! (With the rebate coming in May...Card #3's balance will be gone by the time I hit the beach in June.) And no outstanding debt on any "store" card. AND...I'm physically down 5lbs. That beach trip is looking better every day! Baby steps.

TMI, y'all.

THIS WEEK ONLY: Perez Hilton gave us a little more than we wanted to know earlier today by posting a picture of Johnny Knoxville's bloodied trunks after his frank and beans were grotesquely injured during a tribute to Evel Knievel. New York magazine has replicated the last photo shoot of Marilyn Monroe with a new muse...LiLo as she's is known on the celeb photog circuit...for the rest of us, Lindsay Lohan. And of course, one cannot turn on the television or skim the magazines at the checkout counter with out hearing the latest escapades of Unfitney, um, Britney Spears and company. Entertainment value, right? Well, I'm not entertained.

What happened to the days of the good o' boys and the girls next door...not of the Playboy variety? Everyone can love a few minutes of trash, but enough is enough! While I can applaud some of the sentiments of the gals on Cashmere Mafia, salud to successful women in business, but not so much to their track records in love. (Although I've never dated a lesbian out of my despair with men, I HAVE had to face the end of an engagment due to his vunerability to my increasing stature.) The whole premise of Nip/Tuck is enough to make you gag (and watch with your hands over your eyes), especially last night's season finale.

My point? I should spend more time in the gym and less time perusing the internet or the television channels. But that again brings me to another disappointing turn-the death of my iPod. 2nd iPod in 2 years to fall victim to a faulty click-wheel. And of course the replacement is only covered under the warranty of the first, which according to the gal at Apple Care, expired 186 days ago. So, I'm looking at over $100 to repair my 1st Gen. iPod Nano 2G. No, what I'm looking at is said iPod in the trash can atop coffee grinds. (Yes, my techie friend, I did follow the directions at ifixit.com, and it didn't work!) I'm upgrading.

TMI, right?

Life outside of the box

I just finished watching a friend spend 5 minutes coaxing his dog into sitting in a box. It ended with him physically lifting her into the box, where she just sat still and looked at him quizzically. Why did he put her in that box? And then he asked her...don't you think this is fun? My only clue that she didn't was when he said you can get out of the box...she bolted away at doggy-warp speed.

When I moved out of my parent's house I packed away all of my high school belongings into a box. 2' x 3' of yearbooks, homecoming pictures, corsages, and different trinkets--the sign I made at one youth conference. The banner from my Sweet 16 Party. A bag full of pins from conferences and letters from boyfriends. Why was all of this stuff so important to me 10 years ago? Even more recently, when I bought my house I packed away my college mementos into a similar 2' x 3' box. Guess what? I have NO idea what is in that box. So basically, the evidence of my memories from the first 21 years of my life are tucked away into approximately 12 square feet of storage. That's a little depressing. Luckily, there are so many memories that live forever in my mind and heart that I can guarantee are not in those boxes.

Freshman year of college we bundled up and went to the lake at midnight. Laying on the ground and staring at the stars we talked about where we thought we would be after the next four years. Something that we didn't talk about...I have only spoken to one of those six people in the last 2 years. Junior year of high school I went to a youth leadership conference. In a caucus style forum, I was chosen to get up and present a speech on some random subject with only 15 minutes to prepare. As I got up in front of a group of 900 females, I froze. First (and only) time in my life that I've been speechless.

How about for my 15th birthday when we went jet skiing at the lake? The driver of my jet ski made it the day's mission to throw me off the back. And for the first 4 times that he succeeded, I made sure that he came with me. But that 5th time...he spun out into a 360 and about halfway through the spin, I go flying off, hitting the water so hard that the wind was knocked out of me and I may have lost consciousness for a moment. Put it this way, when he finished the spin, I was still in the air. So today, when earlier-mentioned dog-boxing friend finally persuaded me to go for a ride on his motorcycle, I freaked out about 30 seconds into the ride and was determined to walk the rest of the way home. I know my mantra is "I'll try anything twice," but it'll be a while yet before I attempt that again.

Words of a Woman Scorned

Here's a little story and you're sure to like it
I play my part and you play your game
Come on and look me in the face
Love don't live here anymore
It might not be the right time
Yes some dreams fall through
So many contradictions don't know what to believe
I took a wrong turn and I just kept going
Your intentions are unclear
I must admit it's my pride that made me distant
Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need

Doing it Louisiana Style

Louisiana Chef John Besh has conquered the culinary world within these last few years, winning national championship cookoffs and narrowly missing the title of Iron Chef. And now, after years of going unnoticed...

The first ever Grammy for Cajun/Zydeco music was awarded earlier this afternoon and congratulations are in order for Terrance Simien and Zydeco Experience. And that chick from Los Angeles who got a nomination...sorry to you and your adopted cousin's brother (or whatever) from Lawtell. (No E there, cher.) And to Roddy, PLB, Racines, Ramblers, and Geno...can't wait to see y'all at the 'Moon.

Food and Music. What more can you ask for? Being that I don't have a musical bone in my body, and have only just recently learned how to dance, I am going to mind my own business in the kitchen. Nothing makes me happier than cooking for others. Both sides of my family are cooks...gourmet on Mom's side and all Cajun from Daddy's family. Growing up on the farm, my Dad always had home cooked meals--my grandmother would be in the kitchen cooking lunch while the men were working the farm, and after the noon meal she'd tidy the kitchen and start to work on the evening vittles. With four men working outdoors all day, Dad had never heard of LeftOvers until he got married. Growing up in Texas, Mom had never really experienced Cajun Cooking until she was in high school and met my father. When they got married, she spent a week with my Dad's mom, learning how to cook all the meals that he was raised on. South Texans had Tex-Mex, but a new genre was formed in that kitchen 30 years ago. We've come to call it "TeJun." Texas + Cajun.

Someone asked me a few days ago if I ate at any Cajun restaurants while I was on vacation to Colorado a few months ago. Quite honestly, if I venture past a 100 mile radius from my house, it's not Cajun any more. Sorry, but adding Cayanne pepper to your dish most certainly does NOT make it Cajun. I am totally in support of all my friends who have spread their wings beyond our homeland and continue the tradition of Cajun Cooking for all their new friends and neighbors--Canajuns you call yourselves? You know what I'm talking about. I myself often travel with freeze packed meats when visiting friends. Free room and board in exchange for Rice and Gravy or Gumbo. Keep me there long enough and I'll have your Hawaiian DJs playing Cajun Music in the bars. Yep. Been there. Done that.

annual means every year

So what right do I have to hate on V-Day when I’ve never really spent one alone? Isn’t Kill Cupid Day for those lonesome spinsters who rebuke authority and all things happy? That’s definitely not me, so what gives, woman? Don’t think I haven’t spent the last 350 days trying to come up with the answer to that question. Take, for example the following email:

Subject: The day that could be
Happy Valentine's Day. Although I think every day is a good day to tell someone you care about that they are special, capitalism says today is the best. I'll tell you tomorrow in person in my own way (and leave out a pink stuffed monkey). Truly.

Ten Years. Ten Valentine’s Days. Here’s the roster—you’ll need it to keep up.

98-02 JWL
03-04 CBM
2005 BSG/JPV/JBM
2006 BJG
2007 CAS

In past years I’ve told you a litany of uninspired Valentine’s Day “Romanticisms”. For the newcomers, here’s the recap. Five times JPW was fallen victim to tradition and a cheap one at that. I guess when you’re a teenager carnations are the budget. CBM took me out on a romantic dinner at the city’s finest Italian restaurant. Great, we all know how much I love Italian cuisine. The following year, a Saturday, he showed up at my office with a dozen roses in hand, for his secretary forgot to call the florist. BSG, whose girlfriend called me 6 months ago to inform me that they have been dating continuously for 7 years, has been wiped from memory. Guess it was a good thing I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket that year, even if JPV and JBM share the same first name. Figuring out who to “thank” for the roses was quite an interesting conversation. BJG had me blindfolded in his car as we drove 45 minutes out of town to another city’s finest Italian restaurant. Did he not get the point? And this was after he drove to my house at the crack of dawn and sprinkled a trail of rose petals from my front door to my car, where a card was waiting. You remember the story…I was outside in the subfreezing temperatures, cursing as I swept up the fake petals. And CAS sent me an email.

I wonder what would happen if you tried to live the day as just another day without flowers and candy and hearts. Isn’t that like a Jehovah’s Witness trying to ignore Christmas? After years of commercialism telling me that I have to give everyone in my class a valentine’s card for fear that Little Johnny’s feelings will be hurt, Valentine’s Day is as much a part of life as any another day. Even the school system has bought into the hype. At my high school the girls were all given a red heart during homeroom. We were instructed to write our names on our heart and pin them to our shirts—straight pens in public schools! Such a thing would never happen today! The purpose of the exercise was that the girls were not allowed to talk to the boys, and if we did, then we had to give the boy our heart. (Sha! Gag!) The boy with the most hearts at the end of the school day won some stupid award or something. My point? I managed to go the whole day without speaking to any boys…even missing out on a Prom invite from a hunky senior football player. Lo and behold…just before the end of the day I slip up and speak. And to whom must I give my heart away…CAS. Talk about irony biting you in the butt.

For ten years the men in my life have done their damnedest to do what is just and right on one day out of the year. Even if they cannot manage it on any other day, when there are pink and red signs all over the world, they try. And for ten years what have I done? Have I been unappreciative? Have I balked at their attempts? No, not even I’m that much of a bitch. I put on my party dress, strap on my heels, and concede defeat. Le sigh.

Rather than continue my grumbling about commercialism and uninspired intentions, let’s turn the tables. What DO I want on this Valentine’s Day? A pink stuffed monkey.