Friday, November 02, 2012


(Note: This post was started in October 2011.) In my life, I've lost my keys, a job (two if you count my three hour shift at Macy's), a dog and numerous shoes, but I've never lost anyone I love. Until now. My Grandma died at the age of 89. She led a long, (presumably) full life. She saw the passing of six siblings, her own parents and lots of friends. I didn't spend as much time with her as I should have. Growing up, because she and my grandpa lived in the same town we would spend nights there when my parents left town. I remember trying to sneak out to a Metallica concert, I remember her confiscating my George Michael tape and telling my mother she thought I was on drugs because I slept a lot and she found some strange pills (Sam's Club brand aspirin). I remember being embarrassed when she would pick my sister and me up in her giant car and her velcro curlers and when she would honk that loud horn at the skateboarders on our way home. "Pull up you pants!" She'd yell (I think). She broke her arm playing kickball in our backyard when we were young and despite our lack of religious upbringing she never tried to push her religious beliefs on us. She was everything a grandma should be -- loving and kind, funny (at least she tried to be) and hard as I try I can't remember her being in a bad mood ever. I never saw her sad, though she must have been at times. I never saw her mad, though I know she must have been because I remember her wooden spoon. She thought I was ornery and, in truth, I was. She thought the Golden Girls were risque, but spent many a year (before my grandpa retired) glued to the afternoon soaps (ABC only, of course).

It wasn't a surprise when my grandma died. Her health (and her mind) declined quickly over the past year and my parents were there for her in a way that I only hope I can be for them when the time comes. One of my last memories of her is sitting in her (always warm) living room trying to get her to participate in some sort of chair aerobics on PBS. She wouldn't have it. By this time, should could barely rise from her chair (or go to the bathroom) without assistance. We watched the show in silence and she only became engaged again when Super Why! (a show aimed at improving childrens' vocabulary and spelling) came on. Grandma always did love her word searches.  When I learned that she had passed away, I felt a sadness, of course; but it didn't really hit me until I walked into the funeral home and saw her laying in rest. For the first time, in a long time, she truly did appear restful. My grandfather started to cry. Despite my feminist tendencies, there's something about seeing a man cry that really gets to me. I cried, too. I cried out of relief that my grandmother would no longer suffer. I cried because I would never again see her at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Because I would never again hear that ridiculous story about her ordering a beer at Outback. I cried because I never asked her about her childhood or how she met my grandfather or what she thought about...anything. None of that stuff a good grandkid is supposed to do. I had 34 years to do this and squandered almost all.  It's been a short year since she passed and so much has changed. I miss my grandma everyday and everyday I am reminded that we don't get lost time back.

the spinster girl's guide to...getting married!

Yes, you read that correctly. I am getting married. I don't know when or where or even by whom, but the fact remains that I, happy to embrace my spinsterhood, am even more happy to have found someone crazy enough to embrace me! The future Mr. Spinster has done a great job of blogging about his (perfect) proposal here. It should be noted that I was so happy and surprised that we (okay, he) enjoyed almost 12 snark free hours, forcing me to contemplate whether or not engagement had already started to change me.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Spinster Girl: Unspun

For years I've bathed myself (facetiously) in my spinsterhood. It's been a badge of honor -- a fuck you to certain idiots I have known and dated (if only just once). Spinster Girl was born from a conversation I had with a male friend a few years ago. Probably after an impromptu date at my favorite watering hole, most definitely after a friend accused me of being "too picky" or "too reserved" or simply "too dismissive." I have no doubt that I am too many things. I'm quick to judge, not always quick to speak and certainly not quick to open up. I hid behind Spinster Girl in my late 20's and now (almost) mid-30's like I hid behind books as a child. It was easy, if not a bit lonely; but I was just fine. I was just fine, but I'm better now.

I'm saying goodbye to Spinster Girl. Without sharing too much, I've had the great fortune to spend the year with someone who makes me want to be a whole new girl (or perhaps just the same girl sans spinster). I laugh a lot more when he's around, I smile a lot, too (and often times long after he's gone). Spinster Girl and I may meet again, but I hope not for long, long time.

Saturday, February 06, 2010

As the Crow Flies

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to visit the Toledo Museum of Art. It was an unexpected treat. While I stopped by to catch the last week of the LitGraphic exhibition, I took the time to experience the rest of the collections on display. I like visual art, but I'm not sure that I'd classify myself an art lover. I enjoy pretty and interesting things. I like thinking about talking about these things. I also like silent observation. Introspection. I scanned the "big" stuff (El Greco, Rembrandt, Matisse, Degas...), but I stayed in front of Picasso's Woman With a Crow for what seemed like a very long time. I don't know what drew me in; I've always thought of myself more a fan of modern art and mixed media, but I found myself captivated by the woman in the painting and the tender way in which she places her almost skeletal fingers upon what most would think of as a common pest.

At a dinner party recently, I commented to a friend that I apparently only want to write when I'm unhappy. That perhaps that's the only time I feel like I have something to day. It was bullshit, of course. The fact is that I am often times lazy. This is part of what keeps me from sitting down and trying to make sense of the thoughts in my head. I suppose another part is fear. Only a few weeks in, but this has been an interesting year so far. Part of me wants to stop time and try to hold onto it, but mostly I'm anxious to see where it leads. The end of the year saw two of my favorite people celebrating their love among friends and family (and me dancing on a balcony double fisting plastic cups of wine). Someone else very close to me was married this year. While I'm sorry it didn't provide the same opportunity to celebrate as other recent weddings, I'm proud of her for (presumably) making the decision on her own. And I'm proud of her for doing it on her own terms.

I've never had a plan for my life other than to be self-sufficient and to be happy. I've found no direct path for that and I think that's perhaps the greatest part of life -- getting there. When I figure it out, I'm titling it, copywriting it and taking it on the road.

Friday, January 01, 2010

Words Like Cheese in a Can

Though I'm the offspring of two CPAs, I'm terrible with money. Wait. Strike that. I'm terrible with managing money, but I am great at spending it on mindless shit. I've never balanced my checkbook and I've relied much too frequently on the "courtesy overdraft." This past year I learned a lot of things about myself. I learned that the best thing about leaving home is coming home and that it's good to step outside of your comfort zone (I played a team sport and lived to tell the tale. I even obtained a sports related injury.) One of the most important things I learned, albeit trite, is that money really can't buy happiness. Not the kind of happiness that comes from sharing a hot chocolate with one of your very best friends on a buttery leather couch, watching a For the Love of Ray J marathon (sorry to see you go Extra) with your father, or sharing an eyeroll with your mother when your father suggests that her personal trainer isn't doing her much good. And I learned that while I can make it on my own life is better surrounded by the ones you love. I know that I can't move back home right now and I'm not even sure that I want to, so this year instead of resolving to lose twenty pounds or run a 5k (both of which I plan to do) all I want to do is not take anything or anyone for granted. I think it will be my most difficult challenge yet.

The days go by quickly and at the end of a year it's hard to remember the good, somehow always much easier to remember the bad. I want to Facebook less and face to face more often. I want to savor margaritas instead of downing them. I want to make time for pedicures and park walks. I want to actually get around to meeting every attorney in the firm as my boss has been asking me to do for almost two year. I want to live my life with purpose and with passion and I want to minimize my regrets. And I want to try cheese in a can.

Friday, June 26, 2009

I Hate Myself for LovingYou: The Jason Ellis Show

I love music, but I pay for satellite radio for one reason and one reason only - the Jason Ellis Show on Faction. The show airs from 3:00 - 7:00 EST, so I rarely get to listen to all of it. I set my radio to Faction before I leave my car in the morning and the show is up and going for the drive home. I turn it down just once when I roll down the window to swipe my parking card and smile at the nice lady who tells me to have a good night every evening. For the most part his callers (and they are loyal and many) only affirm for me why I'm okay with being single. His regular segments include: Dude, is it gay? And Dude, am I a slut? It's a "dudes"show and I'm not so much a dudes kind of girl, but I can deal. A few weeks ago a rightwingish nutjob phoned in, assuming that Ellis (and the guys on the show) held similar beliefs. He quickly schooled the caller and at the risk of alienating a portion of his fanbase schooled those listening. He could've played the "dude" card, but instead he opted to discuss it and it's for that reason I remain a loyal listener. Sure he says boneheaded sexist things. Yes, he often has porn stars for guests and says on a number of occasions,"Ah, I'd love to bone you, but I'm married..." He asks female callers on occasion if they're fat. He was on Howard Stern recently and today there were a number of Howard listeners who phoned in. For a few minutes I felt like that kid who really likes that band "before they blew up." Some of the things that come out of his mouth are just plain wrong, but I can't stop listening and I can't stop laughing and I don't want to. Jason Ellis is my happy hour. Now, listen:

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Random Facebook Moment

This has nothing to do with anything, but on Facebook (yes, I'm one of the masses) I've been invited by not less than 12 people to "Make 9/11 a Holiday." I know that they don't care my reasons for not joining or not wanting a holiday, and I know that no one has asked, but I'm sharing anyway. I think making September 11 a holiday lessens the impact. Instead of a day of remembrance it becomes a day of rest: a day to stay home and watch television and do the millions of things we don't get to do when we work five days a week. Should we remember September 11? Absolutely. Should we forget? Never. I enjoy a day off work as much as the next girl. I like Oprah. I like sleeping in. I'm not so crazy about Drew Carey and the Price is Right, but I can deal. I think the best way to honor those whose lives ended on September 11, 2001 is to get up, get dressed and go to work which is exactly what they were doing when their lives were taken.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Spinster of the Month (June)

I skipped May. Whatever. June's SOTM is two-month worthy, Diane Keaton. I don't really know that much about her. In the 80s, my family and I watched her film the movie Crimes of the Heart in Southport, North Carolina. Annie Hall and The Godfather are two of my favorite movies. And while in Hair she refused to disrobe. She also dated some of the world's most famous (and attractive) men. She's in her 60s now and is the "face" of a L'oreal product line.