Beaches, showerheads, hotel towels, & mochas

I'm baaaack! Came home a day early. The time away was wonderful and--thanks to the magic of Mary Kay self-tanning lotion--I did come back tan, even though I was in winter gear most days.

I did get one beautiful day yesterday, about 60 degrees, and I took a 2-mile hike on the beach which was lovely beyond words. There were a few die-hard surfers out on their boards (they're nuts...that water was FREEZING) and some families watching their little ones sling sand, but I had most of the beach to myself.

My lodgings were adequate, which was all I expected, so no disappointments there. I did have fun with the showerhead, which had about 8 different settings on it. I must try every setting, but I always come back to just the plain old shower setting. Someone should come up with a personality test based on which shower setting you prefer. Pelting massage? Masochist. Rain shower? Flake. Full blast rocket booster shower-power with simultaneous alternating rain shower enhancements? Seek help.

Lovely showerhead aside, the hotel towels were, however, a disappointment. You could stick me in a room with rats and cockroaches, and as long as you provided me with an ample supply of big, fluffy towels, all would be forgiven.

These however, were the standard threadbare rags, best used for tissues versus drying off. In retaliation, I hoarded the free hotel supplies of shampoo, lotion, and conditioner.

I don't know why I take these things. When I pack them I think, "Great. I'll pack these the next time I travel." But when it comes time to pack for the next trip, I look at the items with a sense of dismay. That's not my conditioner. That's not the lotion I use. So now I just throw them in a decorative basket and set them out for guests.

Got a lot down during my time away. Slammed through about 6 books I'd been meaning to read, and outlined my book on public speaking. I did most of my work while sipping a Cafe Mocha at a nearby Barnes & Nobles, which is completely different than sipping Cafe Mocha at the Barnes & Nobles here in town for reasons I don't yet completely understand. Apparently it was important I drive 4 hours to have this experience.

One final note. I love Cafe Mocha's, but am going to have to cut back because I sound like an idiot every time I order one. To wit, I'm standing in line, and here are what the people in front of me order:
"Tall vanilla latte."
"Medium coffee."

My turn. "Hi, I'd like a tall, no, make that a grande cafe mocha. And I'll need that with skim milk, decaf, no whip cream."

I can feel my face turning red. I mean, really, at that point, how far away am I from asking them to spoon-feed it to me while they're at it? If what you order to drink at a Starbucks is any indication of how high maintainence you are, I am in deep trouble.

More tomorrow.

Big Mama's Cat Mat & Peace on Earth

I hate not understanding something. I don't mind long hours and hard work. Indeed, I relish the sense of accomplishment I feel when I've put a lot of time and effort in on a project and it's finally done.

What makes me pull my hair and shriek obscenities into my pillow though, is the furiously frustrating inability to not be able to figure something out.

Like computers, for instance.

I have a love/hate relationship with my computer. As a writer, I rely on it for income, and I actually find typing to be soothing.

However, what bothers me is that computers are supposed to be logical and my computer isn't. When I ask it to perform a function it has performed a million times in the past and then on the million and first time it freezes, gives me an error message, or says "bugger off," (I swear, it flashed that message at me once when I threatened to toss it out the window) for no reason other than to be mean-spirited.

This is all a long way of going about saying that I have been walking around the house p---ed off for the last 48 hours because I can't figure out how to post a simple picture.

You might notice the picture of me in the prior post. Great, right? WRONG! The picture was supposed to appear not in my blog, but to the side, where the info on my profile is listed. After downloading numerous programs, pressing buttons, and even a little desperate chanting, I finally managed to post the picture you see below. There are these problems though:

1. I have no idea the steps I took to post the picture
2. I don't know how to remove the stupid thing
3. I still can't figure out how to post the picture to the side where I want it
4. I ate almost a whole pumpkin pie yesterday and am afraid to go near my scale

So consider yourself warned. If pictures start appearing in nonsensical places on this blog, know that I am inches away from a mental institution and remember me in your prayers.

On to more pleasant tidings...

Although my husband and I don't exchange gifts, we do spend hordes of money on crap for the cats. This year "Santa" brought them reindeer antlers, an electronically controlled mouse, cotton fish, a feathered thing that hangs from the door and squawks only when we jingle it because it terrifies the cats and they won't go near it, and--this years success story--a Big Mama Scratch-O'-Rama Cat Mat (www.fatcats.com)

The mat has some sort of catnip covering, and our girls were delirious. Lucy rolled on the mat for 30 minutes and wouldn't let Olivia near. She was so obviously taken with her new toy and Blair and I started doing Gollum voices for her, cooing and hissing, "Is it my pre-c-c-c-ious? We loves the precious...FOREVERRRRR!!!!!!!!"

We need to get out more.

Speaking of which, although I just started this blog, I'm taking next week off. I'm holing up in a hotel room at the beach for a week to do some thinking and planning about where I want to take my writing--and my life, for that matter--in the New Year.

I have big plans of waking up, grabbing my notebook or laptop, and scribbling furiously, trying to capture thoughts as they burst forth, one more inspired and elucidating than the next. I will sleep, eat, drink, and think nothing but words. I will outline my 2 new novel ideas, work on my public speaking e-book, consider my idea for a non-fiction book, journal, research, walk the beach thinking deep thoughts, work out religiously, and come home fit, tan (never mind that it will be 30 degrees there), mentally sound, motivated, and ready to work 12-hour days to get done all I want to accomplish.

In other words, if I spend my days watching "Friends" reruns on cable, it will be a bummer.

Until the New Year then, happy wishes and Peace on Earth.

Me at my desk

Me 

Our No-Gifts Tradition

Flashback to 12 years ago. My at-the-time boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I are comparing shopping notes three days before Christmas. At this point, we've been seeing each other for almost 2 months (great story there which I'll post later. We met on a blind date on Halloween and accidentally sent fire to our hosts home).

I look at him and ask, "All done with holiday shopping?"

He gives me a smile and a wink. "All except for one special person," he says. "How about you?"

"All done except for one," I sing-song back.

We smile awkwardly at each other and then there is silence. I look at him, he looks at me. I'm pretty sure we're thinking the same thing. There is only one way to find out.

"Listen, " I blurt out, "if I don't buy you a Christmas present will you swear not to buy me a Christmas present?

I have made this man unbelievably happy. "Oh my God, yes!" he says. Then he looks at me suspiciously. "You promise you won't buy me one?"

"I promise!" I say. Then I look at him suspiciously. "Do you promise?"

After about 20 minutes of back and forth promises we arrive at the point where we trust one another and it is settled. We won't buy gifts.

This is the best Christmas gift either of us has either given the other. In fact, it works so well we've moved it into birthdays, Valentine's Day, and anniversaries. We don't give each other gifts during any holiday. Period.

People (read: our families) think we're weird, but we love it. Frankly, if either of us needs a sweater all that bad, we'll go out and buy it ourselves. Instead, what we do is through the year we might give each other small gifts out of the blue, which mean more because they're spontaneously given and not wrapped with a bow just because the calendar says December 25th.

For example, once I was feeling depressed about my career, and I came home to find new pajamas, a new robe, perfume, and a CD I'd been wanting. It was a wonderful gift, all the more so because he didn't have to do it.

Trust me on this. The joy of moving through a birthday or anniversary without the pressure of "what should I get him/her?" brings a new joy to the day.

We were talking over breakfast this morning how much we enjoy our no-gift giving tradition and I had a great idea.

"Tell me what you would've bought me if we did give gifts," I said.

"Umm...I don't know. Maybe a sweater from Anne Taylor, and probably some jewelry," he said. "Maybe a gold necklace or something."

I glared at him. "I hardly ever wear gold anymore," I said. "Although you apparently haven't noticed."

"I hate this game," he said.

"No, no, it's fun!" I said. "Now it's my turn. I would have bought you...let's see..."

I was stumped. I couldn't think of anything he needed/wanted. Finally I thought of something.

"Silk boxers!" I said triumphantly.

"I hate silk boxers," he said.

"You're right," I agreed. "This is a stupid game."

So, in going with the "Why Aren't I In Charge" theme of this blog, may I recommend to all of you reading out there that you stop the gift-giving tradition to your spouse or significant other RIGHT NOW.

You'll thank me later.