When I was a kid

So, pumpkin time is here. So says Starbucks. And every blog, Twitter and Facebook account that have been talking about pumpkin lattes since they launched on September 1st.

You know what pumpkins make me think of – HALLOWEEN!

I’m not going to lie – the first, “What are you going to be for Halloween?” question came from my little sister during our road trip back from a cabin on Memorial Day weekend, four months ago. The two of us share a love for Halloween that far surpasses any love that creepy fat guy feels for double rainbows. Perhaps it’s genetic – the Halloween love, not the fat. Well, the fat might be genetic too. But then we’d call it “big boned.”

Anywhoosit – TANgent.

What my sister and I don’t share, however, that sometimes becomes painfully apparent to me, is a generation. There’s a gap. Sometimes that seven year gap makes no difference in the world, and then sometimes it slaps me right in the face and just makes me feel G.D. OLD. Take our conversation via the ole el telephono tonight:

Me: Have you decided what you’re going to be for Halloween yet?

My sister: Yeah – I think I’m going to be a green M&M…with a green leotard, paint a white M on the front, wear red lipstick and white gloves. I think it’ll be really cute.

Me: Are you just looking for an excuse to wear a leotard? I don’t get it – I thought M&M costumes were usually round.

My sister: Yeah – but I don’t want to be round.

Me: Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Round’s no good. That’ll be cute!

My sister: What are you thinking?

Me: Kristen, Adam and I have been talking about being Three’s Company for a couple years now, so I kinda want to do it this year.

My sister: Huh?

Me: Three’s Company!

My sister: …

…

Me: You know – “Come and knock on my door… we’ll be waiting for you…”

My sister: …

…

what?

Me: It’s this really popular 80s sitcom with three people who live in an apartment together, and er, one of them wears cute socks to her knees and pigtails and one girl wears a red sweater with hearts, and the guy is, er, Jack and he’s the only guy, and they’re um all friends, and well, it’s super funny and well known.

My sister: Oh. Well seven years and I’m totally socially out of it.

Or I’m totally socially OLD.

Gawd, save me from myself. I’m just years away from mom jeans and referencing, “When I was a kid…”

“…we had Blockbuster stores! Like ones you walked INto to rent movies. And I remember when we rented VHS!!”

Currently Feeling: Great that I ran around Greenlake tonight on a whim – back to boot camp tomorrow. This week is going to be a great fitness week.
Currently Anticipating: Knocking through my to-do list the next three days, so I can relax during my staycation next week. Going to visit some family down state!
Currently Recommending: “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” movie – it’s so dang good! Listening to Swedish and reading subtitles for two hours kinda makes you go bonkers, but totally worth it!

Neither here, nor there

Right now, as we *speak,* I’m sitting in my office, with just the light of a lamp and the glowing offices of the buildings across the street from mine in downtown Seattle. The office is void of people (which, actually, doesn’t happen quite that often in a tech startup. Usually there are developers working way past the time I leave). It’s eerie quiet. Here I am, all by my lonesome, eating a peanut chicken Lean Cuisine in front of my computer, at my desk, at 7 o’clock at night.

Ooh buddy, does that ever sound sexy.

I have to tell you, in the split second I realized all of this – I instantly felt compelled to write about it. (Maybe my three-month writer’s block/lack of time to write is starting to wan). See, I had one of those, “OH.MY.GOD.THIS.IS.MY.LIFE.” moments.

I know you’ve had them.

Like, what if this is just the beginning of me turning into the 45-year-old, lonely workaholic who can’t find a husband and doesn’t have children, even though she wants them, because she works too much and has always put success before love?! I saw myself as Scrooge, flying through the night in my pajamas (hopefully I put on underwear this time), having the Ghost of Christmas past hovering over my desk, looking down and saying, “See Je. This is the moment where you decided you’d rather just stay and work late, eating at your desk, so you could get more checked off your list. And then it was all downhill from there.”

Enter image of cats circling your body and licking your face after you choked on a chicken bone by yourself in your fancy condo (at least that’s a plus), with no one around to save you.

Recently, I made a pretty big life change that I have yet to talk about here, nor will I probably say much. But I am single again, deciding first and foremost that I wanted to concentrate on myself and my career, among a few other personal reasons. That I didn’t have time for someone else anymore. That I’ve been doing too many things at 75% and not a smaller list of items at 100%. For me, the easier decision at the moment has been to move forward without one of those time-consuming items – a relationship.

I find myself with more time to work late without feeling guilty or giving excuses, or missing out on plans, or stressing because I’d rather just feel better about my workload by, well, working.

I’m not saying that all of this, at 28, will lead me to a life of loneliness. I am, for the most part, exaggerating since any other night but tonight I’d be at a wine event, or happy hour, or out with friends, or at a networking event. But being alone, at an age I would consider too late in life, is a scary thought. I feel like my worlds are splitting into two sets of people the closer I edge toward 30. There are those who cannot wait to get married, settle down and start a family. I have friends who are actually planning on the days, months, year they want to get pregnant. That’s SO exciting for them. I don’t know what it’s like to share a life with someone, to the extent of planning children, but I bet it’s such an amazing time in life, and I’m thrilled to share their happiness with them. Please believe me when I say I’m not here to judge that choice, nor to say I’m making a better decision in life. Or that you can’t have career success while in a marriage.

It’s just not where I’m at. I can’t exactly say that I’ve never been the girl who dreamed about babies or marriage, or what my wedding colors were going to be. Perhaps I was… but now, I’m too far away to remember what used to be important. I only remember what is important now. And it’s not Princess cuts, suburbs, or hitting some life moment I told myself at 13 I’d do before I was 30. Unfortunately, it creates a bit of divide sometimes with old friends – those who are ready to settle down into a certain lifestyle, and those who aren’t. I supposed we’ll start to have less and less in common until I decide that’s what I want too. Or it catches me by surprise (which what I hear happens). In the meantime, I’m neither here (at the gates of complete career success) or there (ready to get married).

So, I guess it’s a few more peanut chicken Lean Cuisines at my desk, by myself, at 7 o’clock at night.

I’ll just make sure it’s *boneless* chicken.

Currently Feeling: Ready for that Chardonnay at home in my fridge.
Currently Anticipating: A birthday party tomorrow after Seattle Startup Drinks, and a big ole “gold and silver” house party on Saturday after a sushi Tweet Up!
Currently Loving: Planning for SXSW. Looks like I’ll be going to the music festival for work. Zing!

Manners please! Aisle Four!

Last night I reluctantly stopped at the grocery store on my way home even though I was in a DayQuil fog, and it hurt to hold my body upright. (Damn you mid-winter cold!) I was walking down the dairy aisle on my way to pick up yogurt when, “EXCUSE ME!” was shouted at me, in a ridiculously loud voice. I quite literally jumped and made a slight yelp. It scared the shit out of me. A hunched over, very old man pushed past me in his tweed newsboy cap and tweed sports coat and waddled his way in front of me.

I was immediately annoyed. It was quite rude. Not only could he have passed me on the right or left (I’m not so wide that I take up an entire aisle), but it could have been requested in a quieter and much more polite tone—one that didn’t make me jump six feet in the air. To make matters worse, we were heading toward the same goal, and he really only arrived five seconds prior to me. So, why the rush? Apparently he was there to pick up cottage cheese with fruit, which I overheard while the grocery store employee was assisting him.

I really hope that when I’m an old lady, the only thing lighting a fire under my butt and causing a big excitement in my day won’t be cottage cheese with pineapple.

Currently Feeling: Tired of not having any sick days.
Currently Anticipating: Getting this long, meeting-filled day over with.
Currently Wondering: How things are going on that little boat in the middle of the Bering Sea.

An Open-Ended Letter to Cigarettes

Dear Cigarettes,
I used to refer to you as my boyfriend and didn’t know how to quit you. But, I finally beat you down. Sent you packing. Told you to take a hike and didn’t look back. I don’t need you, your approval or your unrequited love! It’s been 60 days, cold turkey. Oh, how happy I am without you. Let me count the ways:

• My clothes don’t stink
• My coats don’t stink
• My hair doesn’t stink
• My car doesn’t stink
• I don’t walk into a restaurant or bar with a cloud of smoke around me
• I no longer sit and think about you the whole time I’m at dinner or out with friends
• I no longer have to be “that girl” who needs to excuse herself from social situations to step outside
• I don’t have to feel weird, hugging my parents or having them ride in my car, thinking they can smell you
• There aren’t mounds of ash on every surface of my car anymore, and I can sit through traffic without feeling like I’ll rip my hair out if I don’t have you around
• My friends no longer wrinkle their noses at me or give me disapproving looks because of you
• I don’t have to hide or feel self-conscious in any social situation, whether it is with a cute boy, at work, with strangers or friends
• I’m not spending an extra $25 plus on you each week
• I will no longer be spending four-pack, quick-death weekends with you at the Gorge
• As each day passes without you, my lungs and my health are getting increasingly better
• Quiting you is no longer a huge “To Do,” hanging over my head
• I won’t be that 60-year-old lady with wrinkly skin and a scratchy voice
• I’m just happier!

Thanks for the couple years you were around, but I won’t be needing your services anymore.
-20-Something

Currently Feeling: Severely boy malnourished.
Currently Anticipating: Getting back on the work-out horse this week.
Currently Loving: My mom’s chicken verde chili she sent home with me!

When I Grow Up

Have you ever taken a minute to think about little old ladies?

Weird, I know. But, this was just running through my mind this morning. I walked into work, and there’s a little old lady front desk person who seriously is one of the cutest things ever. She’s really super nice, and has the biggest smile on her face all the time. I want to just let her pinch my cheeks, sit in her kitchen eating neon pink freezer jam spread on melba toast, and wear around my house the slippers she knitted for me.

I starting thinking—how come there are always two different types of old ladies—those who are cute as hell and those who you want to beat with their own cane? Seriously. I’ve never met a middle-of-the-road old lady. It’s either total bliss or total misery.

So, how do you end up on one side, and not the other?

When I worked at J.C. Penny’s Styling Salon (otherwise known as the little old blue-haired ladies’ beauty shop), I dealt with old ladies at the front desk on a daily basis for three years. Some I’d see every Sunday at the same time, and they’d never acknowledge me. It was a brisk little nod and they were off. One even got in my face one day, pointing her finger. Over what? I can’t remember. A lot complained about me. My shirt was too low, or I was rude. I think they just hated me cause I was young and reminded them of what they once was, and aren’t anymore. Who knows. I have no idea what it’s like to be 65. And honestly, I’m not looking forward to it.

But, then there’s was one who came in every week and LOVED me. Her name was Ernie. Every Sunday she’d tell me how beautiful I was, and ask about school, and keep saying, “You’re so pretty.” She wrote me birthday cards. I loved her. How could you not love someone who told you every day that you’re beautiful? I thought she was beautiful. So happy and content. She spread her happiness around to me, a receptionist at a desk that she saw once a week for five minutes. She made me feel good and some days, I’m telling you, I really needed to hear that someone thought I was pretty.

I want to grow up to be just like Ernie.

Currently Feeling: So, so super excited about this crazy idea I have in my head for a story to pitch. It’s going to be good!
Currently Anticipating: Happy hour.
Currently Reading: Lucky. Alice Sebold’s memoir. (Author of The Lovely Bones).