Sex in the Woods

Eat.Pray.Love.Read.Write.

2012-01-19T10:01:00.000-08:00

Written 04 August 2010

by Crystal Laramore Lutz

My friend, Alta Gibbs, gives a whole new meaning to “My Square Friends”. It’s a working title to a book I’m writing about the women who own business’ on the Courthouse Square in Coldspring, TX. This little nugget of information will make some women squirm in their girdles, some will retain lawyers yet cause others, like Alta and Peggy, to hurry me along so they can sell the book in their shop!

Alta and Peggy’s shop is called Studio on the Square and it’s FABulous! Today I walked over there, across two streets and down the road where it is nestled perfectly in the middle of a long row of buildings; snuggled right up against an innocent tree that was almost murdered. They just bought it and are having a blast, those two! Alta defined the term “Fashion Icon” at some point in her life I am sure. She is a very interesting woman with very interesting friends. Namely me. Snicker. Alta is a gifted painter, a mother a grandmother and an entrepreneur. She is unstoppable and I really love her spirit. She is a no-nonsense kind of person. You know if she likes you and it’s hard to not know if she doesn’t. Reminds me of…

Alta and Peggy carry fabulous furniture, lamps, vases, jewelry, art, etc. My husband and I have bought some unique pieces of furniture from Alta and Peggy for the new amazing house we are building. He and I both have loved every piece I’ve picked out and that says a lot about their taste. I’ve turned on all my girlfriends to this shop. My best friend Scarlett and my other friend Scarlett and so on all love the store too. It’s like I find something new every time I go in. You just gotta go! Call me for directions.

When I walked in their shop today to give them some MORE of my money for some fabulous metal outdoor wall fish etc., Alta was unpacking yet more goodies and screamed from the back “Hey, Crystal! Have you read Eat. Pray. Love. yet? Come look, I’ve got a whole display here for this book. I love it!" As I made my way to the back I realized that indeed, she truly MUST be inspired! She had prayer beads EVERYWHERE. In EVERY size. I bought 8 sets. She had three copies of the book laying about and all sorts of wares from India and Indonesia. I can only giggle when I think of what Peggy must think on a regular basis about her spirited partner. Peggy is calm. Alta is the opposite. Alta is the hurricane. Peggy is the Island that the hurricane swirls around; makes for a great partnership!

“Oh my gosh! I love this display! Eat. Pray. Love. I'm all about it! When did you read the book?” I asked. “I haven’t finished it yet” she said. “Where are you? I’m in Indonesia.” Alta said “I’m just through the first chapter. I LOVE it!” I just laughed until my peach tea came out of my nose. Inspired indeed. By just that first chapter? I cannot wait to see what the shop is going to look like when she finally gets out of Italy, through India and into Indonesia. Get ready Peggy!

Alta told me she’s already ready to head out NOW. I shared with her my Eat. Pray. Love. story. I’m sure there are as many of these personal stories as there are women who have read the book. I told Alta that I had actual possession of the book for over a year before I cracked it open. Not my typical M.O. A book doesn’t last long just hanging round my house not being read. However, this book lasted longer than most just hanging out and visiting other people. That is something else I usually do not tolerate where my books are concerned. They are not allowed vacations or sleepovers with anyone but me. I’m over-protective like that. “You want a book? Go get your own. This one is mine.”

However, I had loaned out my Eat. Pray. Love. book to my sister, Jacqueline. We are blood. And not only that, I forgot about it. Shut up! I know! About a month ago I went to visit Jacqueline and she gave it back to me. It was just rudely shoved into my hand without a proper re-introduction. It made my heart skip a few beats. Oh! THAT book. The scary book. The only book I can recall making my palms sweaty BEFORE I read it. Why? Because I KNEW what was IN THERE…I KNEW the basic story. I KNEW she was my kindred spirit. I knew this silly, tiny, harmless book would awaken the desire in me to go travel again. As if my desire to travel needs nudging. Maybe I should wait another year???

But the dam movie is out! My bff, Melanie, told me I HAD to read it because we WERE going to the movie to see it. Which means popcorn so I was kinda glad to be holding EPL in my sweaty palms after all. I slept on the sofa at my sister's house that night with EPL right by my side on the coffee table. Waiting. Taunting.

Look, I was a happily confirmed bachelorette until HE showed up. I had really, truly had it (in a bad and final way) with men and their lies and their wishy, washy ways. And then HE showed up. And he showed up in big way. Kept every promise and then some. Swept me off my feet and put me right back on them on a beach in Hawaii with a wedding band and the promise of love everlasting. And he has been a wonderful husband. The perfect husband for me.

But still. The yearning to travel is the greatest yearning my soul has ever had. Not children. Not marriage. Not a great career. Not money. Travel. Just travel. I do love my husband dearly and completely. I do love my daughter that came with my wonderful husband. I love both of my businesses. I love a lot of things and a lot more people. But I yearn to travel. To marvel at God. To look what he made for all of us. To feel what God must have been feeling when he designed the beautiful oceans, mountains, forests, rain forests and all the people of the world. Sadly, my husband is perfect and funny and smart and gracious and loving and tender and manly and DOES NOT LIKE TO TRAVEL. AT ALL. He likes to be at HOME.

Travel is almost the be all end all for me. It was necessary for me to eat all the tropical fruits/foods of Thailand, pray on the beaches and tour the war museums of Vietnam then walk among the spirits in 800 BC castles in Cambodia and touch the walls so many have touched before me. Deep breath. I’m ready. I can do this. I’m settled in my marriage. We are truly in love and have a great committed relationship. And, he doesn’t care one bit if I take off for two weeks to parts unknown.

So there I was in a good place in life, marriage and motherhood, getting ready to go on a 10 hour drive with my family to Missouri and decided it was time to dig in. It was the perfect escape. And then he asked me to read to him…“Oh, I’m not at a good place to read to you right this second. Wait till the next chapter.” No. Read to me baby! I wanna know what is so intriguing about this book….“OK. You asked for it“…I was at the part where she was on her bathroom floor…feeling the need to…travel. “That woman sounds just like you baby!” Right! Which, is why it's taken me so long to crack it open. (Don't want to spoil the book by saying another word. Remember, Alta is only on the first chapter!)

Isn’t God funny?

Ex Marks the Spot

2012-01-19T09:26:00.000-08:00

Written 28 July 2010

When I look around at all the Great Women of America GWA (hereto after referred to as GWA) out there dating a Richard who is hung up on an ex relationship that was so bad it ended I just want to scream. It seems like you guys need the conflict so you can have conflict resolution. What good is a relationship if it doesn’t need fixing? Right? I am man. Hear me settle...
So Guys, help us understand. Why, oh why do you chase after relationships that are full of turmoil, chaos and basic unhealthy ingredients? We GWA really want to know.
In the last several months I’ve run across a number of Richards who can’t seem to get their emotions in check concerning their ex’s. Additionally, I’ve ran across a couple of Sophias who are dating some of these Richards or have male friends who are going through ex withdrawal.
Now, mind you all of these men did the leaving. Not one of the stories I’ve heard in the last several months was about the man getting dumped and hence having rejection blues. No, this group of Richards had the foresight to know a bad thing when they saw it. All or part of the relationship was poison and they left. But now, but NOW they are looking back wondering if maybe they were at fault, maybe they could have done something more. Maybe she was -insert verb- b/c he made her that way. Yeah, that’s it!

mis*take (noun)

1. incorrect act or decision
an incorrect, unwise or unfortunate act or decision caused by bad judgment or a lack of information or care
2. error
something in a piece of work that is incorrect…(relationships are a piece of work)
3. identify somebody or something incorrectly
to identify somebody or something incorrectly…(it’s ok. Correct your course)
4. choose something incorrectly
to choose something incorrectly or injudiciously (take your time and
choose wisely)

in*san*i*ty (noun)

1. lack of reason or good sense
extreme foolishness or an act that demonstrates such foolishness (going back to a hurtful relationship)
2. repeating the same process and expecting different results (My personal favorite but not found in ANY dictionary)
We have all gone back at least once, to a bad relationship and where did that get us? Further behind. When I say bad relationship I’m not covering the entire relationship with the “bad” blanket. I’m covering the whole of it. Are you with me? If 98% is right and 2% is wrong it depends on what the 2% consists of. Sometimes that 2% is SO significant that when it’s wrong it wipes out the 98% that is good. I’ve been there, I know.
When we leave a relationship we’ve been making the decision for a long time; sometimes weeks, months or for the slow-to-go, years. If we have thought that long about leaving, then it is most likely a mistake to return. Yes I know, we all get lonely and our routines change and memories flood in and out of our minds and hearts and we yearn for the good times. Time erases a lot of bad memories.
But we must remember the basic, fundamental reasons we left. We need to reign in our anxieties and wait. Returning to the basically unhealthy relationship is insanity. Look for the sign that says “No U-Turn and take time to grieve.
Ex. There’s a reason we call them ex’s. Embrace the word ex. Hold onto it. And don’t try to change it into present or future or repeat; as in repeating the same mistake. And should you find yourself experiencing a temporary lapse in all things sane, talk to your buddies. They know you best.
Don’t try to work it out with the new flame. First of all, she does not know you inside and out and second of all she does not want to hear all about the great qualities your ex had and then how bad she treated you. Opposing views and all makes one crazy and builds insecurity right up front. Hint: if the relationship was great it would not have ended hence you would not need to go to your buddies for advice in the first cotton-picking place. Guys, get into and stay in the right relationship!
Sometimes men find themselves playing house and going through the motions of life then suddenly they look around the place (their place) and realize “Oh, she’s all moved in. Hmmm. Wonder when that happened?” And then they go shoot some hoops with the guys to relieve some of the stress. When they’re finished they come home to a clean house, clean clothes and a hot meal and think “Hmmm. This isn’t sooo bad”. I asked one of my male friends “If you didn’t ever ask her to move in, how did it happen”? His reply? “One bag at a time”.
And time marches on. There are several areas that are bad, really bad. But she loves you. Never mind she treats your family, and heaven forbid your children, with disrespect. She loves you. And the sex is great. Let’s not leave that part out.
I have a particular friend going through some turmoil/withdrawal at the moment. He has lamented to me for weeks about the reasons she’s now called ex. I’ve listened, tried to give sound advice and ask him pertinent questions that only he can answer (it’s the Out
Loud Test: If it sounds crazy when you say it out loud-here’s your sign.)
Now to be respectful and understanding she was great; just not great for him (in his very own words). Sometimes Richard and Sophia have great chemistry but the fundamentals are all wrong. If Richard leaves and meets Tammy and Sophia meets Federico, they are blissful. Who knows why that is; maybe it’s chemistry-like real scientific reasons. Maybe it’s God saying we took the wrong path and he needs us to find our way back. Again, who knows?
Listen, 2 years, 5 years, 10 years, 25 years, it doesn’t matter. When you’ve shared a significant part of your life with someone the separation is NOT easy. One of my dearest friends was married for eleven years and when her relationship ended it was devastating for her and SHE IS the one who walked out. He was no good for her.
There were pieces and parts that were good but in the end she just wasn’t happy. And it took her a long time to get past the hurt and rejection. Rejection you say, but she left him! Ahhh, yes and here’s where it gets interesting. If he had not rejected her, she would not have left. Get it? Here, let me try it this way. If we are being loved and cared for and nurtured and supported there is no reason to leave.
We leave because the rejection is too great to sit day by day and lay night by night next to someone who does not believe in us. Our greatest desire is to be appreciated. As Mary Kay Ash would always say “Everyone is walking around with an invisible sign hanging around their necks saying “Make Me Feel Important”. It became known as the MMFI rule.
Men, if your partner is not making you a better man, you know-all that you can be-, then she is not the one. And the same goes for you ladies. If the most significant person in your life is jealous, controlling, non-supportive, judgmental, selfish, non-understanding of your wants, dreams and desires or insert your favorite here, then you need to go find the one who is or is not all of those things.
When a relationship disintegrates into ashes you should sweep up the mess and bury it in a nice place in the back yard. Preferably the pesky neighbor’s yard and not your own. Revisiting the insane asylum is, well, insane.
When a relationship ends it’s kind of like death. You have a grieving process you must go through; through intimates who will get you to the other side. And on the other side are wonderful treasures like peace, passion and happiness; support, caring and nurturing; respect, loyalty and deep love. I recently told my friend Richard “You get one shot at life. There is NO reason to settle. You can have deep passionate love and you can have peace. At the same time”. Again, grieve.
Now during your grieving process and your thoughts of relationship suicide (going back) what happens if you meet someone, maybe even the one? You take it slow and you practice BLUF (bottom line up front {a former Army Ranger friend taught me that acronym and I thought it was, well, kinda hot}). Anyway, I digress. You get it all out on the line and you tell the new person where you are and if you’ve had intimate relations in the last few days or weeks. You should be prepared to let that person know or at the very least keep your boxers on.
Full disclosure in a new relationship is not always necessary but have some respect for the unsuspecting GWA and either practice BLUF (so she can make an informed decision as to continue with you at a slow pace or run at a very fast pace) or practice celibacy for awhile. Give yourself time to ready your heart, mind, soul and spirit for the great adventure that awaits you. Get comfortable in your own skin again before you go getting up in someone else’s skin…
The GWA are self-reliant, self-assured and independent. We’re not jealous of anything you have, we are proud of you for achieving it. Hell, we’ll even help you do better if that’s what you want. We’ll not complain if you want to watch the Pistons and the Lakers fight it out in the playoffs. We’ll sit by you. We may fall asleep on your chest, but be rest assured we won’t take you away from that kind of mind blowing excitement.
We’ll treat you, your friends, your family and, above all, your children with respect, love and dignity. We will not degrade you in public or private. We will be at the finish line cheering you on. And we will demand it all in return. We are kind but we are not weak. We will look at our man with love and respect and do our best to make him want to be a better man because he is with us.
If we all took a soulful inventory and did not settle there would be less divorce and more forever after.
And when, not if, you are lucky enough to find the one, hold on for dear life. You’ll be glad you did! Elton John sings one of my favorite love songs called, you guessed it, The One. There’s a verse that says “In the instant that you love someone, in the second that the hammer hits, reality runs up your spine and the pieces finally fit…and all I ever wanted was the one, like freedom feels when wild horses run…” Hello! “That’s what I’m looking for and I will not settle. How about you?

Update: The One did find me and I am holding on for dear life!

The Bachelorette

2012-01-19T09:00:00.000-08:00

Written 14 July 2010

Ahh Ali, still has Roberto in her sights...
Thank goodness I'm almost over my bachelorette, reality TV, crack-like addiction! Just two more weeks to go. It really should be over next week but they have to do a "Men Tell All" special, blah, blah, blah. I want to know who she picked...if anyone.
From the beginning I've said Roberto. My bff, Deb, concurs. She’s addicted to those Latinos! Just the way the rrrr rolls off your tongue...plus he's muy caliente and muy guapo! That's almost enough to get you through 80 years of marriage but he's also very sweet and charming and tender and loving and hot and sexy and ...oh wait, I think I already covered that.
So the three dudes left at the beginning of Monday night's telenovella were: 1.) Roberto 2.) Frank 3.) Chris; listed in the order, I believe, matches Ali's personal order. There they are in Tahiti, romance in the water, and no sharks, save one...dunt, dunt, dunt...FRANK! NO! YES! Turns out the whiney, wimpy, self-deprecating, Frankie is in love with Nicole. Who's NICOLE? His ex. Right, me too...Only after leaving Nicole to pursue Ali did he realize that Nicole is, after all the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Poor Frank has been in such turmoil over all the feelings he has for Nicole and also Ali. But in the end he thinks it is Nicole he really, for real this time, no kidding, wants to marry. Nicole is good with that. RUN NICOLE RUN. Frank is a tortured soul, a creative genius who still lives at home and is reaching for something/one, anything/one to make him feel like a man. He needs to look within instead of impulse purchasing. But that is an Oprah show.
As the Bachelor and Bachelorette go, all crises must be filtered through Chris Harrison, the host. First Frank does go ahead and fly to Tahiti instead of ending it all in Chicago. Silly Nicole is too young to know that letting a man go who can't seem to know when to stay is a recipe for disaster. Anyway Chris was "blown away" as he often is. Poor Chris. He's gotta watch this sniveling, wimpy man and the whole time I bet he's thinking "If you were doing this to MY daughter I'd bust your lip right about NOW!" So, Frank makes the manly decision to tell Ali himself. Bravo. Fast forward to Ali arriving. They embrace and she's all chipper and Ali-like and the Frank says "Ali, we need to talk". They walk outside and sit and she stares at him a long time and he doesn't speak. Then he says he's nervous. Then finally he tells her about Nicole. She starts crying and wiping her tears away and all I can't think is "Honey! Don't pull on your eyes like that! You have no idea the long term damage you are doing that tender skin. Besides girl, you've still got two GOOD, ahem real, men here who need to see you at your best...and Frankly speaking (totally HAD to get that in, sorry, I amuse myself)...not puffy eyed over another man.
Best line of the night? Ali said "I've given up everything to be here." To which sniveling dumba$% said "I've given up everything to be here too." To which Ali, my new hero (with a little training) said "Apparently not everything." Cha-ching! Slam! *&^%#@! And then, when the wimpy, selfish, Frankie saga was almost over she failed me as a sister, she went down the rabbit hole of self-pity and pathetic behavior. She said, through tears, as many other noble women throughout history have, "I don't want to leave because I know I'm never gonna see you again." I was so hurt by this statement I didn't really hear what Frankie said but he was asking for forgiveness as all cheaters and beaters do and then, then she got up, walked around the ottoman (waaay tooooo much effort wasted on him! Here's where I scream "Get the Bit$h Books Ali! GET THE BIT$H BOOKS!) to get to him and long-embraced him bye. My life flashed before my eyes. She should have just flung herself on top of the sword for Pete's sake. Hell, at least Frank was crying.
Poor, poor Chris Harrison. He's already listened to Frank snivel and now he has to listen to Ali; talkative, chatty, crying, heart-broken, pis&ed-off Ali. At some point she tries to get him to psychoanalyze her by getting him to tell her what is wrong with her. I bet he's thinking "I don't get paid enough for this Shi!." She said "What's wrong with me? Maybe I'm too....or maybe it's....I just don't know why (which is my all time favorite whine)...and now I'm wondering if I can trust my own judgment...and...
Chris just sat there at a decent distance away and carefully rubbed her back and said NOTHING. He needs a raise.
Since this is Hollywood and they always have alternative endings I have a few in mind. Bear with me as I may actually be releasing some of my very own, carefully thought out with vengeance-and-malice-in-my-heart alternative endings...
1. When Ali meets Frank at the hut on the water in Tahiti and after a few seconds embrace says "Ali, we need to talk." She should have straightened her back bone, took a few steps back, squared her shoulders, looked him in the eye (the left one for gravity) and said "Talk." Not moved one freaking inch. Then, when he was finished slobbering all over himself said "OK." and walked away. THEN fell apart. ALONE. She gave him too much of herself. A part he did NOT deserve. He would be having nightmares right now wondering where HE went wrong and why she wasn't more devastated...blah, blah, blah. Again, my life flashing and all...
2. When Ali meets Frank at the hut on the water in Tahiti and after a few seconds embrace says "Ali, we need to talk." She should have straightened her back bone, took a few steps back, squared her shoulders, looked him in the eye (the left one for gravity) and said "Talk." When he was finished slobbering all over himself she should have said "Boys! (there's always a camera crew around and those guys are probably in love with Ali too. They would've done her bidding.) Throw his sorry a$$ in the ocean and do not fetch him out until I get back with Chris and his plane ticket home. Oh look! Shark!"
Alas, neither of these things happened but a lesson was learned nonetheless, by the audience if not by Ali. Frank was a sniveling weasel and I’m certain we’ll read about him in a few months when Nicole dumps him for still being weepy over his decision to leave Ali. What did we learn? Don’t take it personally when you run across sniveling weasels who can’t make up their minds if they love you or they don’t. If they love you they KNOW it and SHOW it! End of story.
The issue was not Ali even though she took it personally, as a blow to her ego and to her powers of judgment. No, the issue was entirely Frank’s. I gotta tell ya. I don’t know a single woman who REALLY, in her heart wants a snively man. Most of us don’t even want a sensitive man. It kind of freaks me out when I see men get too emotional. We want our men to be in charge and decisive. Deb just called and said she wants him to be Roberto! He’s a real guy who really cares. And the bonus is that he’s way easy on the eyes!!
Ladies, be confident. Buy the books, for Pete’s sake! Read and learn. Then practice on the next available man. You’ll be amazed at the difference in your relationship! He WILL be attentive and loving. If he’s not, then drop him in with Frank and the sharks!!

Rebounds Abound

2012-01-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

Written 14 July 2010

Well, finally the issue of dating a ‘married’ person has arisen. When discussing sex, relationships and human beings this topic was bound to emerge. This article is not gender specific.
So, back to dating the married topic: By ‘married’ I do not mean living together and experiencing the All-American dream. I mean separated & not divorced or newly divorced (still married emotionally), married by paper but not emotionally yet still going through the motions, and absolutely 100% not living together. If they still have the same POB, run Forrest run!
One of my favorite lines is (my very own quote, of course) “We’ve all made mistakes and you just hope you don’t do in your 30’s what you did in your 20’s and you hope you don’t do in your 40’s what you did in your 30’s and so on.”
Marriage is one of those institutions I have not had much luck with. I called it dating with an evil twist b/c it lasted such a short amount of time. So I have no background with successful marriage. But how many people do? I’ve known a lot of people in long-term marriages (reminds me of long-term health care…) but not many who are happy. My friend Richard says that familiarity breeds contempt. I think he’s right. No matter if it’s a marriage relationship or a working relationship.
So should we be dating ‘married’ people (Remember our earlier definition of married.)? No. I’ve done it before. Ok, so shoot me. But if you shoot me you have to shoot everyone else who has done it and you’d lose most of your friends and maybe even your very own spouse, if not yourself.
Most people I know have done it before and it does not go in the direction you want it; for long. If they are not divorced, not divorced for long or still being manipulated by the spouse-it’s not a good place for you to be hanging out. There are as many reasons people divorce as there are fishing lures at Bass Pro Shop or eyeliner at Dillard’s. But none of them are your business. If you forgot how to run like Forrest and you are determined to try and beat the odds (you really should just come here and play Texas Hold ‘Em on Thursday nights instead-your odds are MUCH better) then do yourself a favor and make your partner go to therapy. DO NOT take on that role; unless you can garner some cash out of the sessions??? Damn capitalists! Oh, I digress…
For this particular article I’ve gotten some feedback from several people; both people dating the ‘married’ person and the ‘married’ people themselves. Here’s what I gleaned from all of them:
When people have been married for any length of time they know just the right buttons to push in each other. These buttons range from guilt to anger to memory lane to obligation to religion and so on. Not to mention if the spouse/children find out about the new love. Lucky you, you get to be the focus and the reason and the blah, blah, blah. Now add jealousy, self-pity and self-denial to their list of negative emotions that will swirl around YOU. No matter what the wedding vows say and no matter the intent with which they were said, when the word divorce enters the arena-all bets are off. It’s sad to see people self-destruct or do their dead-level best to destroy the other, but it happens. You should not be around. Not even for the great sex.
SOME people end their marriage well. But mostly, when people are going through a divorce they tend to push each other’s buttons. If you are in the middle of this button pushing war you will constantly be listening to negativity and playing the role of comforter, psychologist and sex partner. When the smoke clears, your partner will either go back to the ex for various reasons (which will eventually not work again and so repeats the cycle) or suddenly feel free, except for you, and begin on the journey of dismissing you. The most famous line is “I need to find myself”. Well, who wants to be with someone who doesn’t know where they are?
Think about it. If someone has been in an un-healthy relationship for over a decade and suddenly (b/c even though the freeing process has been going on for years-it feels sudden to them) find themselves divorced, how do you think they feel? Free. They feel free. Separated for years does not equal signatures in dried ink on paper. The word divorce has a sudden finality. They are free.
And you should let them be free (of you) and, more importantly, you should be free of them. Just move on. If you find yourself dating a married person, separated person or a newly divorced person, pick up your self-esteem and move on. It’s a toilet bowl of negative energy that you don’t want to get flushed down. The tidy bowl man is NOT good company. The rebound person is a real person. And if you are the next person they “date” (and I use that term very loosely in this context) your new name is ‘Rebound Person’. And the ‘Rebound Person’ is usually just for sex and healing aka sexual healing.
Marriage is a commitment of great moral character. Having a good marriage and being a good spouse is probably harder than parenting. There should be medals.
However, a handful of couples come quickly to mind when I do think of happy marriages; my publisher and his wife is one. Two of my customers are others. And I have a pair of really great friends who have been in love forever. When that happens, it’s a beautiful thing. I love being around them and watching the interaction between two people who are best friends, lovers and partners. It’s also fun to watch them spar!
I’ve never been quite sure why people do it

2012-01-19T08:26:00.000-08:00

Written 23 June 2010

Last Monday, during a menopausal, hormone induced rage I called my doctor and told the office manager, Poor Mary, "Hey, this is Crystal Lutz and I only have THREE thyroid pills left! I need to make an appointment this week to get these pills refilled. I'm serious. These tiny little pills control my weight, i.e., my state of mind, self image, attitude, the stability of my marriage and my child's overall well being, etc." She said "ok" and forwarded me to the nurse. I told the nurse I could come in any day but Tuesday as I have a newspaper to put out on Tuesdays. She said "ok" and she'd call me back. They didn't seem as concerned and I about my critical situation. On Wednesday I realized, during a menopausal, hormone induced rage that I only had ONE pill left and NO appointment. I called my doctors office and told Poor Mary "Listen, I CALLED YOU PEOPLE ON MONDAY AND TOLD YOU THAT ... AND NOW I ONLY HAVE ONE PILL LEFT AND I'M ON MY THERE! Poor Mary said "ok" and transferred me back to the nurse. The nurse very calmly told me to go ahead and come in. I said "I AM!" When we hung up God played it all back to me in my mind and I sound precariously like a crack head. Whatever.
When I got there the staff was fine, very lackadaisical actually, but I was all a twitter (there's that crack head behavior again...) wondering if they were going to take my blood and GIVE ME MY PILLS! Or, call in the mental authorities (are crack heads paranoid) ...they just took my blood and gave me my pills. I love my doctor! I felt better and decided to get a spray tan too. Tan fat looks soooo much better than white fat!
Armor Thyroid is what I'm taking and you'd think after 3 months I would have lost the few pounds I gained before I realized...but nooooooo. I had to get on the treadmill for 40 minutes to an hour every single flipping day! Oh, the pounds just fell off...not. Then my knee started killing me and I was limping around like a...middle aged woman or something so my husband banned me from the treadmill. Humh. My husband prefers the extra few pounds over the excessive moaning, groaning and endless belly-aching. Not to mention the poor fella has to wait on me hand and foot while I prop up my injured knee. (Ok, some of the whimpering could be a dramatization but the pain IS immense.)
The night sweats came back last week then left again. I really wish they'd make up their twisted mind. Maybe they have to share their time with another middle-aged woman. Speaking of "middle-age", when and how did I go down the rabbit hole? Speaking of rabbits; Mother Nature has YET to visit me in over 3 months and I hear the best time (in the middle of your life when the last thing you want is a new born baby) to get pregnant is while going through menopause or taking thyroid medication. And BAM! Just like that! I'm 2 for 2! For the record, if I get pregnant my doctor is going to have to prescribe a lot more than thyroid meds. I wonder if Brookshire Brother's Pharmacy carries Psychotic ...I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around (anything actually) the fact that I still feel about 28 (except for the bad right knee, the night sweats, the tanking thyroid, mood swings (see, the word swing intimates fun, but no.), the endless supply of reading glasses surrounding my life-I swear they self multiply) but I'm actually 45. Really? I mean I still want to go salsa dancing. Well, in my mind I do anyway. I haven't actually gone salsa dancing in several years, but I want to. I also want to water ski and roller blade. I haven't actually gone water skiing and roller bladeing but I want to. I really do. Oh, oh, oh-I did ride in a boat last Wednesday.
I guess that’s the long and short of it these days – the mind wants to dance and the body wants to sit this one out. Is THAT what middle age is all about? I think it’s a cruel joke that we feel one way inside – that would be young – but the body is beginning to put on the brakes. I don’t think I like this sudden turn of events, so what do I do about it? Well, my bff says she’s going to fight it all the way. She’s going to keep salsa dancing until she drops – and she actually DOES dance, by the way, and she’s MUCH older than I am! Hey, I think I just dissed myself. I’m bellyachin’. She’s dancin’. Hmmmmm……
I keep hopin and wishin and prayin, that all this will just go away and I’ll wake up with the firm skin, flat belly and energy level I had just a few short months ago. I’ll be able to sleep through the night without waking up drenched in sweat. I will not longer yell at people willy nilly. Oh wait, I’ve always done that. Snicker. I’ll be able to bike and run and dance to my heart’s content. Yeah, it could happen. Why just this morning my dahling husband said "We just need to ride our bicycles. We have a great path at the country." naturally, he said it in an elated, slightly euphoric mood donated by the great cup of coffee in his hand, the early hour and the lush, leather recliner he was sitting in releasing all his pheromones at once. I just can't wait to go home tonight and load up those bikes and hit that "path". ROFLMAO!

I’m gonna get “Bark OFF” for him!

2012-01-19T08:21:00.000-08:00

Written 23 June 2010

Apparently there's this new pill on the market for women going through men.oh.pause. Finally, a sign that men are suffering too. Oh, come on, YOU KNOW a man invented the pill. Some poor woman is out there in the universe suffering and her husband happens to be a chemist/rocket scientist and one night in a pool of sweat she awoke him (I'm not sayin' how) and lovingly said "WHY DON'T YOU INVENT SOMETHING, ANYTHING TO FIX MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE? NOOOOWWWWWWW. And don't eeeeveeen THINK about coming back to THIS bed until you have a cure for the resident evil in my body!"
So off to the lab he went. And stayed. And toiled. And viola! The fix is in! Now what I want to know is why does the pill help with our sex lives? Was that his "Oh, I'll cure you all right" aha moment in the middle of mixing and measuring? Do THEY take it too? I'm still unclear. By the way, whoever is doing the polling, cuz I know it's not Scott Rasmussen, on how many times a week couples, well you know, couple, instead of asking how many times a week do you color, they need to ask how many times a year do you color; the numbers would be higher, men would feel more confident and it'd be a lot less embarrassing (at my house).
Meanwhile back at the lab, Richard was on a roll. He fixed the sex now he just had to work on her black heart and her wicked soul. While he was toiling away he recalled other wicked women of history:
Thais, an Athenian, is said to have wanted to avenge the Persians' burning of Athens in 480 BC. She later married Alexander's general, Ptolemy, and had three children by him. The burning of Persepolis was a senseless act, one that Alexander's advisors cautioned him against but one that made her feel better therefore giving poor Alexander some relief.
Jezebel not only introduced idol worship into Israel, she got her husband to worship them along with her. She also killed Jewish priests and replaced them with priests of Baal. When her husband wanted to get his hands on a vineyard owned by one of his subjects, she counseled him to accuse the owner of blasphemy and have him stoned to death. HE should have invented this pill. After her husband's death, the new King, Jehu, ordered her thrown to her death from a high tower. As the Prophet Elijah had predicted, dogs ate all of her body except her skull, feet and hands.
In about 1479 BC, this Egyptian queen, the widow of Pharaoh Tuthmosis II, became regent for her infant stepson, Tuthmosis III. Six years later she usurped his throne and had herself declared Pharaoh. She also engaged in a scandalous affair with a commoner named Senemut. She didn't need the pill. Yes, Hatshepsut is sometimes touted by feminists as the "first great woman in history," There is really very little to admire about this woman. So say all the men. She did build some magnificent monuments and extended Egypt's trade routes but she also allowed Egypt's military power to decline. When Thutmosis became king he had her monuments systematically destroyed. This could be attributed to his personal animosity, but no future ruler ever acknowledged her reign to be legitimate and she is not included in any of the ancient "King lists." Jealous bas*^$#s. One thing that is certain is that Thutmosis III was a much more important and successful ruler than she was. Whatever.

The wife of the Emperor Claudius is remembered as one o f the wickedest women in the history of the roman Empire - quite a distinction! She was also the mother of Claudius' son, Brittanicus. She was executed in 48 AD. Her first name was Valeria. Despite Valeria Messalina's aristocratic background she was NO lady. Her affairs were innumerable. During Claudius' absence from Rome she actually went through a marriage ceremony with one of her lovers, Caius Silius and plotted to kill Claudius and place him on the Imperial throne. The plot was foiled and Messalina was executed. Now THIS is the woman who should be the face of feminism! Somebody gave HER a pill...
Religious Menopausal Women: Born in 1480, this notorious poisoner was the daughter of Pope Alexander VI. She was rumored to have had unnatural relations with both her father and her brother, Ceasar. Both her second husband, Alfonso of Aragon and her lover Ercole Strozzi, were violently murdered. Some historians have tried to reform Lucerezia's image, insisting that 1) she didn't kill anyone and 2) even if she did her brother and father made her do it. I blame it on men. oh. puase. Anyway, a lot of peple who dined with her died shortly thereafter. Hmmmm. she is said to have worn a ring with a secret compartment containing poison; some fashions should never go away.
We'll rap up men.oh.pausal. women with Queen Mary I. She got her jollies by burning Protestants at the stake (over 200). She was also prepared to turn her kingdom over to the Spanish. She was the most awful daughter of Henry VIII (who was also really awful) and Katherine of Aragon (who first bed Henry's brother but he died so she pretended she was a virgin so she could still live a life of royalty and luxury). She was known as Bloody Mary and for good reason. She was also neurotic and quite possibly insane. Hey, I resemble that remark! Anyway I say she was just men.oh.pausal and historians need to give her a break.
But I digress. Richard's trip down history lane apparently incited him to make the most wonderful drug for men.oh.pausal women. It claims to cure mood swings, MAN.iacal thoughts of murder, thoughts of wild sx with anyone other than your husband, (except for maybe Roberto-see Bachelorette article) thoughts of overtaking world leaders and governments, night sweats, loud noises in your sleep and best of all it claims to give us all a sex drive. It still boggles my mind that a man would come on the radio to talk to MEN.OH.PAUSE.AL, half crazed, out of our minds with hormonal imbalance, women and the first thing out of his mouth is that he's going to make us wan to...I wonder if he's still breathing..I'm just sayin'

The Bachelorette

2012-01-18T12:42:00.000-08:00

Written 09 June 2010

Ali, unlike her predecessor bachelorette, made a great decision Monday night and sent crazy man Craig M. packing! Mostly on the advice of Jonathan. Oh, did you all know that our very own Channel 2 (former) weatherman in Houston, TX, Jonathan Novack, is on the Bachelorette? It's wild. But he certainly is not.
Last night he was terrified to go scantily clad into the eye of the public and instead of coming out of the dressing room with his Speedo (only) on he managed to find a rubber duckie floatie thingie...you just can't make up this crap. And I can't pull myself away from it either. It's wicked addictive!
So instead of jumping in with both feet he jumped in with his rubber duckie. But all apparently was not well even with the rubber duckie security floatie thingie. Later, when they were going to produce a movie video for Bare Naked Ladies, he was supposed to kiss Ali. OMG this guy was all a twitter b/c it was their first kiss and he had to do in front of people and wah, wah, wah. It didn't script him to shove his tongue down her throat, just kiss her. Save your good stuff for later man.
Jonathan was so nervous he actually cried and the guys actually saw it and...well it was like sharks smelling blood. It was all over, emotionally, for poor gloomy weatherman until Ali, like a ray of sunshine, saved his day, made him the man to be and laid a big one on him. Take that ya big bullies!
At the end of the night he did get the coveted final rose of the night but I'm sure it was more for having her back than having one of his own.
Scarlett and Melanie's prediction for the winner is a hands down, Roberto. He's Latin She's not. (We could just stop there, because when we say Latin we mean very, very Latin and all that that entails. If you don't know what that entails you should go get you a Latin man and let him show you. Words cannot describe.) ANYWAY, he speaks five languages. She doesn't. He's well traveled. She's not. He's dark and mysterious. She's not. He gave her a salsa lesson. (We could stop there. Again.) She did very well. His hands are all over her and vice versa. He's "very, very handsome". She's "very beautiful". He is the only one that makes her blush and makes her all giddy. She is an absolute babbling idiot around him and she is absolutely putty in his hands and I do believe vice versa.
They are polar opposites attracting all the energy in the room around just the two of them. It's like the black hole of lust. There's no satisfying it's hunger. They will be building shrines unto themselves and their love tomorrow. Something like "Hey, did you know he's already married-to another man" will be the only way (and I'm not certain even THAT could stop HER) these two don't end up coloring waaayyyy, waaaaayyyy outside the lines, marring, ridding off on his white horse (cuz all Latin men have one) into the sunset to his villa in the woods (that's a tie in to Sex in the Woods...get it?) where they will make wild passionate love for centuries to come...Her career will be a thing of the past. All she will need is him and his love.
And for the rest of the men of the Bachelorette Listen up: This is game over. Your salvation for having put your lives on hold is...Roberto. Yes, I know, he's stealing Ali away like a Cleopatra captured the heart and mind of Caesar but you can learn from him. Latin men go to the School for the performing Arts - of Love. Sexuality pours from their pores and they are Mother Natures' favorites. Their skin is purrfect, their hair is purrfect, their language is purrfect...even the Italian have nothing on the Latin-men and women alike.
So Ali, if you're reading this, you can tell us. We'll keep your secret. As if it is one after last night's show.

To Kill A Squirrel

2012-01-18T12:17:00.000-08:00

Written 24 May 2012

Seriously. The whole menopause (Men. Oh! Pause before you speak) thing is just out of control. And so am I. And so are my hormones. I blame EVERYTHING on my hormones now. It's really kind of liberating. You can find me most anywhere these days saying "My hormones did it."
The night sweats (NS) are gone. However, I have a sneaking suspicion they'll be back. They were too mild some of my (used-2-b) friends said. So, my luck they're just on hiatus. Visiting some other poor unsuspecting 40something year old woman with that crazed-what-the-hedoublel-is-happening-TO-ME look in her otherwise normal eyes.
That's the good news. The bad news is that crying has replaced sweating. Maybe that's why NS left. Surely there's not enough water even in a killer whale's body to produce all that it takes to support night sweats AND all the sobbing I am doing. And doing. And doing.
Dancing with the stars was on the other night and I was sitting in the recliner doing the ugly (chest heaving, snot producing) cry when my husband walked in (on me). Some things are private. So husband says, in a very scared and concerned tone, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" "Derek and Nicole just did the most beautiful tango I haahaavvve eeeevv veeerrr r seeeenn."
Mr. Smarty pants said "ARE YOU SERIOUS?" The amazing thing is that he's still alive. The spinning head did scare him a little though. As if a beautifully choreographed, well executed tango is not something to cry over. Men. I really have yet to figure them out. NO appreciation for the arts.
Attention to hairdressers around the globe: Menopause is serious and should be considered a narcotic in case your otherwise normal customer walks in and says "Chop it off". I look like a little boy. And when I cry I look like a sad little boy. And MY hairdresser has been was my friend for 45 years! (Shameless plug for Cynthia Thibodeaux @ Studio 3 on University Blvd. Houston, TX)
Attention to women around the globe going through menopause: If you hairdresser is ALSO going through menopause change hairdressers. Cuz she WILL chop it off! Oh, she just can't WAIT to chop it off. Anything will do but since you're offering up your hair, her husband is safe for yet another night. Don't sacrifice yourself this way. You torture your family and let her torture hers.
Not that the haircut isn't adorable. It is. But she should have stopped at the first hair cut she gave me. It was cute. It was already blow dried and fixed. Then I said "Cut it shorter." And she did. So there. But men typically like long hair. And my husband falls in that category. I cry just thinking about him not liking it.
And on top of EVERYTHING mother nature STILL hasn't visited me and everyone keeps dangling the dead rabbit theory in front of me. I'll tell you about a dead rabbit. Or was that a squirrel? Anyway, it ran out in front of me the other day while Air Supply was singing "All out of love" and well, yes, I was crying and things were blurry but I thought maybe I'd missed him by some small animal miracle but the bump, the bump is always bad news. "My hormones did it."
Then I skinned it , boiled it, fed it to the family and called it chicken. "My hormones did it."

2012-01-18T11:34:00.000-08:00

Written 03 May 2010

The Weekend was like any other, normal, frantic, WTH have I gotten myself into, kind of weekend.

First, my girlfriend came up for the weekend from Friendswood. Second she brought her grand-daughter; whom she is raising. Third, she needed a mommy’s night out and just so happened she didn’t want to have it with me OR the child. Selfish bi*c&.

So my crackhead husband decided in a hot flash that she should go let loose and we would watch the (terrible) two year old.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the baby is ADORABLE. But she’s two. They are all adorable at two; in someone else’s home. So, Girlfriend went off for the evening and my new hubby and I went home with child. I’ve never been with child before and it was strange having one to take care of that could already say “NO”! That argument did not go well. I lost EVERY time.

Just getting out of the restaurant into the vehicle took 12 hours. OMG how does Girlfriend not have a hump back? I think diaper bags need to be measured just like carry-on luggage...before you throw this over your shoulder make sure it fits in this box... And why do they call it a diaper bag? It had diapers, ointments that I cannot even pronounce, pills (???), vodka... I think we should re-name the diaper bag to “mommy’s little helper” bag. I’m just sayin’.

Anyhoo, my husband also decided the baby should sleep with us. Well he never said anything about how I was going to GET sleep. The two of them slept fine - until he stole her pillow and I had to give her mine so the neighbors wouldn’t think we were tortuing a pig in our house.
Even after all that she wouldn’t let me have ANY room. There was a good mile and a half between Baby and hubby and I hugged the edge all night. Not like in college either. I never thought I’d long for those days. Ever.

But wait there’s more...since I wasn’t sleeping I noticed the clock a lot and the sweat, too. Whose sweat was that anyway? I didn't think it was caused by my hot flashes but then again I may have had a relapse and gone back into denial. So maybe babies sweat a lot??? Do they? In any case, the pillows were soaked and so were the sheets. Since I don’t know whether or not babies sweat I couldn’t say if my hot flashes were kicking in or not. Ah, the high one gets from denial. It’s like being wrapped in a cashmere blanket on a cold, frosty, oh wait, that’s beer… I digress..Anyway, I didn’t know if it was hot flashes or if I was extra super hormonal with a small child in bed???

And how does one bottle of milk produce so much...poo? That diaper must have weighed as much as a bowling ball. Speaking of bowling balls...

When it came time to change that weighty diaper I couldn’t even bring myself to lay her on the couch for fear of smashing all that stuff together so I changed her standing up on the living room floor. Stop. Visualize and just LOL here. Everythime some new poo in the shape of bowling balls fell on the floor, Baby giggled. I yelled for hubby and he said he was in the middle of trying to figure out how to save Louisiana, Florida, Mississippi and the entire fishing industry. Whatever. Sounds like SOMEBODY got a good night's sleep!!

Anyway, after all the balls dropped and my friend Steve, who is a rocket scientist (for real) helped me figure out which ointment to put on Baby, we tried to watch television. Listen, I don’t care how cute you are Baby there’s only so much baby talk I can handle. My husband and I are still speaking it. You know how it goes. It’s not sexy either. There’s still a mile and a half between us…How long do the side-affects last? My friend, Melanie, says that the side effects of having a small child in the home last until there's NOT a small child in the home. I would imagine that Ethel Kennedy (12 kids) was a blithering idiot by the time the last one hit puberty! One's enough for me. I'll take my six year old any day who, by the way, seems very grown up all of a sudden. Funny how that works?!

When Girlfriend called next morning and said she was ready for us to save her from the young friends she had made we gathered up the universe and headed to fetch granny. And Granny shouldn’t be acting out anyway. Listen, it was Girlfriend yesterday. Today, it’s Granny. I don’t like her as much today as I did yesterday and she needs to understand that Grannies do not go out. Ever. They drink expensive wine with their girlfriends and hire baby sitters. And the two shall never become one.

While the youthful children and granny told me about their adventures Baby was playing with the other children and tried to get on a play thingy with a slide. Since we were near the water Granny and I were fretting and worrying about Baby but youthful mommy had the perfect solution: She put a life jacket on Baby and shoved some coffee and Bailey’s at us. God really knew what he was doing when he made it possible for the young to bear children and possible for the children to never remember a thing before the age of 5.

At some point granny and I could no longer stand the eminent danger the water posed and we took Baby away from the danger zone most parents call a play ground. Baby screamed so loud the Game Warden showed up. But when Baby took her tongue, ran it across her upper lip and scooped up all the snot…everything just faded to black…I’m still gagging.

Oh of course there were amazing moments. Ones without poo or snot. And when she put hubby’s boots on and realized she couldn’t move so she just stood there looking at us - in all her glory, giggling-I understood how parents fall in love with their kids. Precious. Simply precious.

The Joy of Recycling

2012-01-18T10:12:00.000-08:00

Written 7 April 2010

You know, I’m all for recycling. Not that I practice it really, but it sure sounds like a good idea. So noble and look at me I’m doing something for the planet and all that. Turn in all your old stuff and they (I always wonder who “they” are, don’t you?) tear it apart, crush it up, melt it down and then put it back into the manufacturing pipeline to make it into something new and improved. Hopefully. How cool is THAT?!
Don’t you wish you could do that with other things? Don’t you wish you could do that with men? You heard me right. Unlike my newly married, wonderful bff who usually writes this column – I am single. Without significant other. Footloose and fancy free. Unaccountable to anyone but my boss and my landlord. And this week to the IRS. How could life get any better. Right? Well, kinda…
I’ve been blessed (ok, we’re going to CALL it blessed anyway, I’m trying to be proactive here) in my life to have been a bride more than once. More than twice, actually. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time so no judging, okay? At least I didn’t try to hold on to a bad thing just to have someone in my life. Now THAT would have been pathetic! Recycling at its worst!
Last summer I suffered a broken engagement which, as it turns out, was absolutely the right thing and thank the good Lord it happened before we actually did the paperwork. We’re even still friendly with each other. Saved by the bell. No harm, no foul. At least that’s what my head says, but on rare occasions my heart kind of creeps back to the bad place and the weirdest things can set it off. Recycling of the oddest, most unwelcome kind.
The latest thing is this - my ex, Richard is in Spain even as we speak, vacationing with a woman he hardly knows. He actually spent enough money to fly half way around the world to see a woman he met for two days. Help me out here. Does this make sense to anyone? ANYone out there? Hello? Sorry. I digress.
I can’t quite figure out why this should bother me because I thought I was all OVER that. And I am really. 99.9999% of the time. I would not, repeat NOT, ever be part of a couple with him ever again (did I say ever?). So why do I feel strangely angry that he’s taking that trip with someone else? It makes me feel slightly stupid and very girly.
So naturally I think of recycling. Doesn’t everyone at a time like this? I’d like to be able to take all the best parts of all my exes and put them all into one guy. Wouldn’t that be fun? Think of the possibilities. Staggering actually, because I have been fortunate enough to have known some pretty interesting men. They’ve had fatal flaws (OK, I’m not perfect either, but we’re talking about the men now so chill.) but some pretty great qualities, too.
If we could order a guy like we can order a custom suit then we could have the ideal man, guaranteed to be funny and faithful, employed and empathetic, learned and loyal. We could, say, take Richard’s skills, and Tim’s great arms, Roger’s sense of humor, Charlie’s attention to romance, Chris’s boyish enthusiasm for all things me, Marc’s testosterone level, Brad’s ability to fix ANYthing and Harry’s ability to dance.
[A little aside here from THE Sweet Potato Queen, Jill Connor Browne: You always need 5 men in your life. The guy to talk to. The guy who will fix things. The guy who buys you stuff. The guy to have great “romance” with. And the guy to dance with. The good news is - they can all be gay except one. Now THAT’s funny!]
It would be easy. Those of us who like to dance could pick a great dance partner. Intellectuals would pick the guy who had loads of smarts. The outdoorsy girls would get the athletes and backpackers. The high maintenance chicks would get the rich. Actually, all of us would like to have that but it’s not always tops on the list.
Personally, I just want one guy who finds me irresistible. One guy who can remain faithful. One guy who likes to laugh and play as much as I do. One guy willing to learn how to dance with me. One guy who is my safe place to fall (my favorite Dr. Phil-ism).
One guy who will let me take care of him as much as I want him to take care of me.
Alas, there is no such service and no such man. If there were then he could do the same thing with us and make an ideal woman according to HIS specs. None of us, male or female are perfect. Never will be. The best we can hope for is to find someone who is perfect for US even with their flaws – and ours.
Some things are negotiable – even dancing. Others are not – like loyalty and fidelity. If he can’t remain faithful then it doesn’t matter how much money he has or how well he dances. That sense of humor is on MY Must List but some women might not mind a guy who doesn’t smile much. I also want someone I can actually have an intelligent conversation with but Forrest Gump certainly had HIS good qualities, didn’t he?
Everyone brings their own brand of relationship style to the table so maybe the moral of the story is that I should just concentrate on being the best ME I can and appreciate the guys for what they bring to the relationship, not what they don’t and maybe they’ll do the same for me.

The Joys of Night Sweats and Hot Flashes...

2012-01-18T09:55:00.000-08:00

Written 07 April 2010

Rasmussen really needs a poll for ranking the degree of night sweats as it pertains to being stranded in the Mojave desert with only Tobasco to drink. In the beginning I knew the aliens had invaded. Now I just wonder if my air conditioner isn't working properly 32 times per evening. Can a person really have THIS many hot flashes???

According to one woman I polled; because I poll every poor unsuspecting woman that comes into my restaurant about MY hot flashes; you can have up to 50 hot flashes per day! Her husband said they were going through menopause naturally. He said it just as I took a sip (gulp) of wine. I had to get up from the table to keep from spewing my drink in his face. No need wasting good wine. "THEY"? "Naturally"? Who's he trying to fool? Is he actually trying to use her pain and suffering as his very own atonement. Sorry buddy, NOT how it works. God is STILL going to take care of you in his own special little way.

The dutiful wife just smiled and nodded. Why? Because she's on drugs. He's the idiot. Oh, and he was actually PROUD that "they" were going through this "naturally", "together". I guess they went through natural child birth together too. I'm still laughing. By "together" does he mean he hasn't filed for divorce and moved out? Does he mean that she has allowed him to live yet another day? I bet if we took a close look we could find HIS medication for coping with their menopause, naturally, together. I'm still laughing.

The other night I was sitting in the leather recliner-alone. Why? Because I WAS sitting on the corduroy sofa alone - until my daughter wanted to lay next to me. Well, her hair was wet so that was cooling me off and so far I didn't mind. Then dad started having abandonment issues and joined us. Then my daughters hair dried and I was hot. So I got up and moved to the recliner. Alone. It wasn't long before I had yet another hot flash. Off goes the lap blanked and on goes the moaning. My darling, brand new out of the box, husband actually let the following thought escape in an audible tone past his lips "Man, I don't want to hear it anymore. I'm tired of hearing about EVERY hot flash".

Wait. Soak that in.

Now, imagine a high strung woman's response. Now, imagine a high strung, very hot, caught in the Mojave desert with only Tobasco to drink, menopausal woman's response. You can all send a cash donation instead of flowers. He won't be sayin that again. Ever. Oh, he may think it but from now on his little mind will not allow him to utter the words audibly. Ever. Again. I just know it.

And the good thing is that our child learned a really great lesson at a young age. Children are to be seen and not heard and during a hot flash so are daddy's.

Faith, Hope & Love

2012-01-17T11:38:00.000-08:00

Written 24 March 2010

…“And the greatest of these is love”

Really? Then why aren’t more people doing it? You know, demonstrating love. Now, when I say “people” I mean couples. This is a relationship column you understand. There is not a week that goes by that I do not either, a. hear about or, b. see for myself, couples destroying each other or one mate trying to destroy the other.

Destruction comes in many forms: It’s the way you comment on your partner’s weight, hair, eyes, wrinkles, career, etc. The list is endless. And as my mother always said “Sometimes it’s not what you say but, the way you say it”. Remember the little rhyme we all learned in grade school “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”? Not true. They need to quit teaching it. Healing from someone throwing a stick at us is far easier than healing from the insulting, humiliating, non-loving word.

Now just b/c someone is not physically abusive does not mean that they aren’t abusive; emotional abuse is just as bad. ALL couples argue. Choose your words carefully. Once they are out there… You may forget what you say but I can promise you the person on the receiving end does not forget. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again “You are either lifting someone up or you are tearing them down.” Partners are supposed to - actually they VOW to - lift each other up and to love each other in good times and bad. The character of a person is measured in how they behave in bad times not when everything is smooth sailing.

If you find yourself in a situation where your partner is suddenly behaving differently than normal you may want to take a good long look at the relationship. If there is a change in the way they look at you, touch you, speak to you or the way they treat you in general, beware: this is a sign of indifference and maybe even an affair. Do your best to isolate the problem and solve it. However, if your mate continues being abusive or unfaithful, there comes a time when the love you once felt is destroyed and the safest thing (for your emotional, physical and spiritual sanity) to do is to remove yourself from the abusive situation.

When the respect and trust are gone it’s an uphill battle to repair the relationship. But, the good news is that it is repairable; with God all things are possible. However, each person must re-evaluate their priorities and your priority in a relationship is your mate. Whether you are dating or married. Your priority is not your children or your job; God first, family second and career third. If you do what is morally right, your family and your career will take care of themselves. No one ever said on their death bed “Gee, I wish I would have spent more time at the office.”

Our job in a relationship is to make the other person feel loved, respected, supported, trusted and most of all secure. When someone feels all of these things from someone they love and care about, the world is theirs to conquer; women as well as men.

It breaks my heart to hear about good people being mistreated by the one they love. Additionally, it is also hard to hear how hard people try to save a sinking ship. My cousin’s marriage counselor once said “Sometimes, there is just too much water under the bridge.” Don’t you think that’s true? Some things are worth holding onto and some things are worth letting go of. You just have to know when to let go. You cannot hang onto the ladder when it is being pulled under by the weight of the ship or you go down into the abyss with it. You cannot hang on at the detriment of your soul and your sanity when the other person in the relationship refuses to be part of a Godly relationship – one based on God and love, not on selfish desires.

And if you are the one doing the abusing, why not at least be considerate enough to let the other person go? God gave each of us free will. We CANNOT control what another person does. Sometimes we stay b/c what they say is what we want to hear. But what are they doing? It’s the actions not the words we must take heed to. Love is an action. If someone loves you, you know it. If they don’t you know that too. You may not want to admit it, but you know it.

Years ago I witnessed my friend’s husband die of a heart attack right I front of us. Theirs was a holy, loving, patient, passionate relationship. She was so angry and mad at him for leaving her that she finally sought counseling. She said she had never been so angry. During her healing process her therapist said that this was actually easier than being that much in love and them leaving you (an affair or just ending the relationship). Because then they choose to leave you and that is a personal rejection which is harder to absorb than death; not that either are easy. Just some food for thought…

Life is a gift to us from God. What we do with our life is our gift back to Him.

Relationships are difficult at best. Two people living in one house. Two totally separate states of emotions and thought processes. And at a later stage in life you have a lot of old baggage you are bringing into a new relationship. There are a lot of one liners I can throw in here; “Seek first to understand and then to be understood”, “Be still and know that I am God”, “Seek ye first the kingdom of Heaven”, “Rome wasn’t built in a day”, “To know love is to show love”, etc. But it all boils down to love doesn’t it? The Bible says “Love thy neighbor”. My pastor says that your neighbor is whoever is right next to you. I try my best to apply that analogy. Do I always succeed? No. But I try and I also try to grasp when I’m not trying hard enough. It takes a lot of will power and a lot of breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. It takes faith.

Whenever I’m around a couple who is in love and demonstrating love, I want what they have. Don’t you? Then do everything in your power to obtain it; pray, meditate, love, forgive, forget, remind yourself of something, leave, stay, whatever it is you need to do-just do it. But find love and hang on to love. Bitterness, anger, jealousy, hatred, etc. all come from somewhere but, it is not from God and it is not from a place of love.

Similar to our freedom, love is one of those emotions we human beings cannot live without. We crave love like we crave our favorite dessert when we’re on a diet. And if you are in a healthy partnership, you feel free and you feel loved but moreover you want the other person to feel free and to feel loved.

I’ve been loved before and I know what it feels like. Do you? If so, remember that feeling and go find The One who is worthy of your love and who desires to give it right back to you.

Faith, hope and love. And, the greatest of these is love.

To Tame a Tiger...or NOT!

2012-01-17T11:25:00.000-08:00

Written 24 February 2010

Oh my! Did YOUR world stop b/c Tiger Woods gave a press conference? I sure hope not. It was a great disappointment. Especially if you're the kind of person who WOULD drop everything and listen in. You know, listen in on what he was really doing the past few years, who he was really doing it with and how many times he did it and so on.

No, he didn't give us any of that. He just stood there in a robotic state and took full responsibility for his actions. Dah! What does that mean anyway? Of course he takes full responsibility. I don't recall anyone coming forth admitting that they forced him...Andrew is busy.

Oh, and the best part was when he scolded us, the media, for hounding Elin. News flash son, no one would be hounding Elin if you hadn't been hounding a dozen other women around the globe. It's all very chivalrous, Tiger, to bring your wife unbearable grief and then protect her from the bad guys. And yes, we want the details. This is America. We invented titillating, scandalous tabloids and we invented you too. Play by the rules or get burned. You gotta take the good w/the bad there buddy ole pal.

The other notable thing Tiger said was "There has never been an episode of domestic violence in our marriage. Ever." Well I guess that depends on what your definition of "is" is.

Tiger's harem of girlfriends feel betrayed and deceived b/c he didn't mention them or apologize to them for what "he put them through". Ok. I could barely write that I was laughing so hard. The sheer thought of THEM feeling betrayed is mind bending. I'm pretty sure Elin is the one and only claimant of the holy grail of betrayal here.

The Mistresses: Two of them were actually interviewed on some titillating, scandalous tabloid show; there's clearly enough money and self-importance to go around.
Jamie Grubbs said "If I was Elin I would have just rolled my eyes and walked away". Of course you would have. You're a twit. "If I were Elin I would have wanted a public I love you and I'm willing to sacrifice everything to have what I have with her because I love her". Of course you would b/c you're a twit who clearly reads romance novels.
Jamie also went on to say "He spent three years of his life lying and deceiving to these women, to me, to these women he supposedly cared about. To me." I told my readers when this story first broke that there was more to this story than met the eye.

Donald Trump had great advice for Tiger. He said Tiger should just let Elin go b/c there's too much pain to get over (I concur). Donald said that every time he's not accounted for she will go into a frenzy (I concur). Donald said Tiger should just get a divorce, be a great golfer and be the playboy he wants to be (I concur).

It's rare that a Tiger changes his stripes.

Menopause; It Could Happen to You...

2012-01-17T11:12:00.000-08:00

Written 10 February 2010

...EVEN IF you are a man! Just go back to Junior High English. Ever heard of the INDIRECT object? Yes, menopause could happen to you directly or INDIRECTLY! When you see it happening and you are not the one it's happening to, keep your mouth shut and step away from the direct object. Put all sharp and blunt, heavy objects away.

SO, there I was in my 20's minding my own business and others' too, when my thirties jumped out at me. Happy to have made it through the acid-trip-like adventure of my 20's I embraced my 30's with a vengeance. So, there I was learning to mind my own business in a land far, far away when my 40's showed up in an explosion of shrapnel and ear-piercing noises. Wait. Those were RPG’s! Anyhooo, life was so full of explosions and heat and young men that I barely noticed the earth shift; just a little shift, but a shift none-the-less.

Currently, I am sneaking up on 45. I don't how to define "I" anymore. The person typing this certainly isn't sneaking up on 45 but somewhere in my knees something is definitely sneaking up on something painful. Maybe that's 45?

When the first tremor hit...I was watching some mind altering television show like Grey's Anatomy or something when I needed to channel surf over to Desperate Housewives (I have goals). As usual I picked up the remote but for some reason known only to the mean gods of hahahahahaha you're getting old; the numbers/letters were blurry.

Inconceivably, I held out the remote and was able to see clearly. Only a couple of nights later I was spending the night with a girlfriend. She was cleaning her face and I was getting ready to watch the news or something when I had an out-of-body-experience. It was like dejavue. It was the whole "why are the letters/numbers so blurry” experience all over again. True to a tragic event I screamed like the girl in the B movies being chased by the blob! Deborah ran out of the bathroom with night cream dripping from her chin to save me with her cotton swab and all she saw was a helpless, frantic woman holding a remote control - close, far, close, far screaming every time it got "far" (b/c it was so much CLEARER!) This could also be Karma for having cheaters on hand for all my “old” customers and snickering EVERY time I hand them out! Or maybe not.

One day I was again, minding my own business, driving along with the top down singing really loud to Rhiana, when I was instantly struck with that hot, flush feeling I got in my 30's when a cute guy walked by or when I put that burn your buns dark tanning lotion on right before I went into the tanning bed for half an hour.
Whew, where did that come from?! I looked in my rear view mirror for the devil cuz I was sure he had finally caught up with me for my bad ways in my 20's. I turned side to side looking for him to be in a motorcycle with a helper in the side car and in a "flash" the heat and my overwhelming I-need-Prozac-paranoia, was gone.

And just two months ago my Aunt Flo forgot to visit. Look, when you've waited on your aunt your whole life and she always shows up then one day she doesn't show up what would YOU do? Me? Well, I bought 8 pregnancy tests and waited till I was about to puke from nerves and my whole staff was going to quit to take them.

Negative? WHAT? Look, my aunt is over two weeks late. Hmm. Well, finally she showed up but is now officially three weeks late AGAIN. Lucky for me I still have 5 pregnancy tests left. Yes, that means I took THREE last time. You can never be tooooo careful about these things.
Additionally over the last several months I’ve noticed black hairs in places no one ever told black hairs were supposed to be. Why are all the women in my family who are older than me such bit*he$? Shouldn’t you pass along pertinent information regarding getting older to your young? Your friends? Your siblings? What the heck? It’s so NOT romantic for a man whom you are trying to be romantic with to say, with a contorted facial expression, “OMG! Is that a black hair”? Talk about kill joy!

As a pre-emptive strike to real therapy, I scheduled an urgent conference call with my best friend Jasmine (while having a hot flash in front of the paint man at Home Depot) who is older and oh so much wiser about such things. Getting older apparently does lots of weird things to your body. Without your permission.

Anyway, after laughing hysterically and saying, "Welcome to the club, honey!" she shared her own experiences with little memory lapses, soaked-with-sweat bed sheets and outbursts of temper which were totally foreign to her. One of her relatives, Alexa, is currently going through some of the same things and as a matter of fact is about the same age as I am. Whoever “I” is these days…

We all understand that these things are part of the life process, but Geez Louise, we wish we'd had more warning. I guess it's one of those things that - until you go through it yourself - you just can't quite describe it to others but you sure as heck should try. I now have a whole new understanding of the word “sisterhood”.

Liz, Liz, Liz...What ARE You Thinking?

2010-12-16T06:46:00.000-08:00

by Crystal Laramore Lutz

17 February 2010

BEFORE you read this and judge me in any way pls let me preface this by saying that I am terribly sorry that Elizabeth Edwards has cancer and would not wish that
on the worst of my enemies (who happen to be terrorists-btw). This article is about women who stand by
their sorry rotten cheating
husbands-not about cancer.
Elizabeth Edwards is
suing Andrew Young for
breaking up her marriage.
WHAT? ARE YOU
KIDDING ME?
Oh who cares if it's
legal to sue him in North
Carolina or not? THAT
is not the point. The
point is that she is delusional!
Somehow she believes
that Andrew
Young caused or made
it easier for her husband,
the great moral
compass for her family,
the great “here for the little
people” John Edwards,
cheat on her.
WHILE SHE WAS
FIGHTING CANCER.
But don’t feel too sorry
for her, she is recovering
in a gazillion dollar
house that the "little"
people paid for but that’s
another article. Stay
tuned... I’m trying to be
sympathetic.
Ever since the whole
Edwards’ cancer/mansion/
affair/baby story
broke, I’ve wondered
who to be more frustrated
with....the two of
them for living a complete
and utter public lie
or the public for believing
the lie.
Hopefully young
women around the
world are paying close
attention. Older women,
like Elizabeth, should
just know better but it
just goes to prove that
even the rich and famous
can be as stupid
in relationships as all us
common peasants.
Elizabeth had this
stuff thrown in her face
over a couple of years
(AT LEAST!) and like
most women she chose
to just live with it. And,
like I said in the Tiger
Woods column “pick a
number, any number” if
you are wondering how
many women there
have been?
Well, clearly Elizabeth
cannot live with the fact
that her no good philandering
husband is also a
liar. Now she is blaming
his broken moral compass
on someone else.
There is no way in
Hades that Elizabeth is
surprised by the events
of the last few months.
I'M not surprised. Are
you? Were you
shocked that Rielle
Hunter’s baby belonged
to John Edwards?
Right. Neither was Elizabeth.
Just wrap yourself
in your warm fuzzies
and know that she knew.
Women around the
globe have one (if not
more) common genetic
trait-WE KNOW! We
may act like we don’t
know; we may not
WANT to know; you
may not want us to
know; you may not think
we know...BUT WE
KNOW.
Elizabeth is also playing
the victim when as a
liberal woman with
NOW on her side and a
gazillion dollar mansion
she is anything but. I
mean she’s got a HUGE
home and a LOT of disposable
income to help
ease her pain. And if
she wants I can bring
over the puffs plus and
the Big A$$ Shiraz left
over from last year...I’m
just sayin’.
Don’t get me wrong, I
sympathize with the fact
that her kids will lose
their father in the home
but she will lose a
cheater. And from what
I hear there had been an
awful lot of yelling going
on in the last two years.
In any case, she should
have kicked his sorry
butt to the curb a long
time ago and never
looked back.
So, why didn’t she?
Cuz she wanted to believe
his pretty little lies.
Cuz she is afraid of
being alone. Cuz she is
sick and She is scared.
Cuz, cuz, cuz.
It may take awhile but
hopefully Elizabeth will
learn that life, the life
she has left, is far too
precious to waste it
hanging out with someone
who is stepping out.
Elizabeth will actually
feel better and begin to
look better and be able
to handle her disease
better once she embraces
the fact that her
husband’s actions had
nothing to do with her;
when she realizes that
his ugliness has nothing
to do with her and last
but not least, when she
realizes that SHE DID
NOTHING WRONG except
to not kick his sorry
butt to the curb a long
time ago.
Over the next few
weeks and months we
may see Elizabeth Edwards
lash out in completely
destructive,
unexplainable ways; like
suing Andrew Young for
her failed marriage.
We all just need to realize
that she is hurt, not
stupid. Dilutional and
certainly heartbroken
but not stupid.
Andrew Young...
This is another article
altogether but a few
words for today...
Andrew Young and
his wife DO NOT get a
free pass because they
have all of a sudden
“seen the light”. Seems
that since Edwards (the
Cheating one) financially
cut off the Young
family they have seen
the light. Suddenly, they
are righteous. Suddenly
they are repentant.
Suddenly...there is also
money in their repentance.
Yes, as I always
say “follow the money”.
The same holds true
here. Andrew Young is
not doing the public a
service by turning over
evidence and spilling his
guts; he is doing himself
a service- a financial
service. Andrew Young
was not a man convicted
by his beliefs a
year ago and that is certainly
not what is driving
him now. His motivation
for suddenly finding HIS
moral compass is
money. The good old
green-back. Currently
NOT backed by goldbtw.

2010-12-16T05:50:00.000-08:00

8 January 2010

Breaking Up is Hard To do...

By Crystal Laramore Lutz

For a long time now I've been having an affair. Many of you reading this will be surprised and some you already know. Admittedly, it's not a healthy relationship. Actually, it's killing me. But just like many of you out there, I can't manage to conjure up the self esteem or the intestinal fortitude to just end it; walk away; BREAK UP!
It's like I can't do it (whatever "it" is) on my own. I need BH (Bad Habit) to lose weight, to feel pretty, to look cool, to keep me company, to love me, blah, blah, blah. When we break up I feel great! Then I get a little stressed out and go back! And every single time I feel worse for it in the morning; it's like a rock sitting on my chest and it's hard to breathe. So, I make a secret decision that this really IS the last time. Then my friends and I might open a great bottle of wine and start drinking and telling stories and next thing you know-I'm looking for around BH and a little fire...
Sometimes I think it's just gone on for too long and there's no hope. Then other times I'm strong and can be without my addictive/abusive relationship for months; one time I went two years! Just when I began feeling whole again guess who came knocking? Like an old, dear friend or that favorite pair of blue jeans-you just look at 'em and remember how comfortable they were; not how miserable you were when you outgrew them and tried to fit back in them. Yes, the years have a way of erasing the pain. Good news is that it only takes that one something er other for all the painful memories to come flooding back through your brain like a tsunami and you're standing there with your bad habit thinking "OH! THAT'S WHY WE BROKE UP"!
Several months ago I was having one of those weak moments and went to the place where we most often meet up, Exxon, and while I sat in the car holding my bad habit, unwrapping it, smelling it, breathing it in, I had an epiphany; maybe this is why I can't let go; each time I buy a brand new pack of Winston Ultra Lights (cuz Winston has no artificial additives-as if THAT will keep the lung cancer and COPD at bay...) it's like opening a present. First of all you have a new shiny box, then you actually get to UNWRAP it! All that ceremony! When you have unwrapped you very own box of cancer and opened it up you are NEVER disappointed! Staring right at you are twenty new gifts. Gifts of death you can be certain but gifts none the less.
Maybe that's why we never really all the way break up. Too much ceremony. Too much history. There are a lot of stories in my life and there aren't too many I can tell without remembering my bad habit right there by my side; never judging. Through thick and thin-mostly thin cuz that's another thing they're good for; for better or worse; richer or poorer; no matter how many times I break up with them; they have always been ready and willing to take me back.

Dear Mrs. Woods...

2009-12-08T10:47:00.000-08:00

by Crystal Laramore Lutz & Deborah K. Martin

..."Go On Take the Money and Run. Doooot, Doooot."

Sorry, but Deb and I just have to jump right smack dab in the middle of this one! Deb had a list of questions and I, as always, have all the answers. Seriously, Deb and I haven't stopped discussing the reason so many people are discussing Tiger Woods' infidelity. Notice I did not say "alleged". Isn't it clear he's been unfaithful? The only things fuzzy are all the peripherals.

How long has Elin known? Just how many women ARE there? Why oh why are we so obsessed with celebrity mischief? Should he explain himself to the world? Why hasn't the media ever reported his indiscretions before? (Oh PLEASE-this is NOT the first the media has heard of Tiger freaking Woods being unfaithful! Follow the money...)

Why do women sleep with married men? Why on earth would they ADMIT to it in PUBLIC? (pssst. Deny, deny, deny.) Do they think this type of behavior casts them in a POSITIVE light? Hmmmm. Why do men do it? And last but not least why is HE still in their house?

Is it any of our business really? No. Not really. So what he's a celebrity. So what it goes with the territory. Just b/c it goes with the territory does not mean he has to accept it. Nieman Marcus is having a buy one get one half off sale but that doesn't mean I MUST get the other $500.00 platinum toe ring for an additional $250.00. So what Tiger is not accepting the whole "Whatever I do is your business too" celebrity buy-in. Good for him.

Clearly, he's been a bad, bad boy. And I'm good with knowing that even our little Tiger is human and has made some mistakes and is taking ownership and trying to shelter his wife and children from being drug through the proverbial mud. Maybe Elin has some secrets too. Maybe they have an open marriage. Maybe Elin is bi-sexual. Maybe Tiger is gay. Maybe...

How long has Elin known? For sure since last week. Wonder if she found out on Fox News?

Just how many women ARE there? Pick a number; any number.

Why oh why are we so obsessed with celebrity mischief? Because we are all freaks. And we wish WE were doing all that...Heck I don't know! You tell me. I'll tell you WHY we KNOW...cuz it sells to tell (us).

Should he explain himself to the world? Only if he wants to. Remember people-it's THEIR life, not ours; no matter how much money you donated to his lifestyle.

Why hasn't the media ever reported his indiscretions before? Because they are liberal and biased. Usually they are out for blood. YOU tell ME. OR……

Deb has been watching Tiger since just before he turned pro. She recalls that he's never been flashy, always private. “Even WAY before he became a billionaire there was never any controversy over his dating life. Now all of a sudden there are MANY women who've been with him? Personally, I think he screwed up royally (as a woman who has been in Elin's position I can tell you the number doesn't matter. It's the first one that deals the death blow.) and now lots of women are cashing in but most of it just isn't true. And the press smells blood in the water.”

Why do women sleep with married men? Because they are young. Because they have never been married and they don't know what it feels like when your husband has an affair. Because they lack judgment. And when they get older it's because they are lonely, insecure, desperate, stupid, naive, insensitive and sometimes they have been sold a pack lies ranging from "My wife just doesn't understand me" all the way to "No. I'm not married". Then there are some men who play by the "Don't ask Don't Tell" rules of the game. Any which way you spin it-the women are wrong. The men are worse.

Why on earth would they ADMIT to it in PUBLIC? Because they are young, lack judgment, stupid, insecure, lonely, insensitive and when all other excuses fail, "Follow the money. Follow the money."

Why do men do it? Because they are young and they lack judgment. And when they get older it's because they are lonely, insecure, desperate, stupid, naive, insensitive and just plain ole dogs. And sometimes they've been sold a pack of lies ranging from "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" to "What your wife doesn't know won't hurt her". Pssst-she knows. It hurts.

And last but not least why is HE still in their house? (as this goes to press we hear that she has moved to a nearby house) Because she is young and probably lacks judgment. Because she thinks she'd be lonely without him. Maybe she is insecure, desperate, stupid, naive and my personal favorite - In Love. And maybe she's been sold a pack of lies ranging from "I promise I'll never do it again" to "Baby, I only love you-it was just sex with them". And when all else fails "Follow the money. Follow the money." Or “Go on, take the money…”

OK, what Tiger did was wrong. No excuses. But so was what Richard, Harry, David, Mike, et al did. Substitute any name here, including a few Sophia's, Valerie's and Julie's. Even though it seems to happen a LOT, there's really no excuse. If you're having problems in a marriage solve them within the marriage. This may be why Tiger is keeping mum about the situation. It's THEIR problem to solve or not solve. We should all applaud them for that. And if they can work it out more power to them. Hopefully valuable lessons will be taken to heart.

As women, we're pretty passionate about a subject like this, having been in this position ourselves and while we may never know the answers there's one question we can't escape - is it any of our business - really?

Bad Parenting 101

2009-11-24T12:22:00.000-08:00

By Crystal Laramore

Edited by Deborah Martin

Hope you guys had a great Thanksgiving holiday. I had the week off! And I was thankful. This year I have a lot to be thankful for. I am especially thankful I have a wonderful new family. And I’m most thankful they haven’t left me yet! It’s been an adjustment for me more so than them but they are both patient. My husband is 52. Sometimes he’s not really patient, he’s just tired but the end result is the same-I vent and he sits in the recliner watching HD football and pretends to listen/care. The 6 year old is patient cuz she has to be. I’m mainly in charge of her food, clothing and shelter and “puppy time”.

My husband came complete with two grown children, a daughter-in law, two grandsons and a 6 year old precious little girl that lives with us. And however precious she is, she IS SIX. She has made me laugh, cry and sing with joy. I fell in love with her father first, but I am falling in love with her more and more every day. My heart sometimes skips beats when she hugs me and tells me she loves me. And somewhere in the middle of all the chaos and adjustments-we’ve become a family. And this new family has given me a whole different perspective in life and a whole new direction in writing. I could write all day about politics and relationships but for now you will have to endure some “kid” stories. Lord knows I’ve endured enough of them over the years!

Last week's article received a lot of attention for which I was quite surprised! Women from around the country responded with such encouraging words! “Girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Just wait till she’s 13! Oh honey, it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. Good luck. May the force be with you. Wait till she starts driving! Wait till she starts liking boys. You may be new to this but it’s the same with all moms! And my editor/former friend said I’m SOOOOOOOO glad my kids are grown!”

Mostly, I consider myself a worldly, empowered, intelligent woman with a wide range of ways to express myself. I just cried; and wrote some more - to free myself of the sinful thoughts in my heart. Amen.

One of my friends, Sophie, just called me to share one of her experiences raising a child for the first time-yeah, she’s old too! Sophie and her husband adopted an 8 year-old 5 years ago. Yes, 8+5 = 13. She survives through visualization and meditation.

Sophie considers herself a highly intelligent, well-rounded individual. She has a demanding, high-paying job. She calls on the best of the best in her industry. She is consistently wheeling, dealing, dining and drinking (H2O that is)…
So how can such an accomplished woman send her child off to school without lunch money? How can such a capable woman bring her child to the brink of dirty hallway "Coke & Cheetos" deals?

Just the other day she took her child to buy a pair of Fat Baby’s. Right! I had no idea either. Apparently they are all the craze in the child-fashion-apparel-boot dept. There they were! The cammo Fat Baby boots! Too bad they were 2 sizes too big. OR not too bad after all! Seems the child doesn’t CARE if they don’t fit. “I WANT THE BOOTS!" Okay, Okay, Okay….get the damn boots!

Then said child decided she wanted to wear them to a funeral. Mom said no (as well she should have). Seems the child doesn’t CARE if you shouldn’t wear cammo boots to a funeral. “I WANT TO WEAR MY BOOTS.” Okay, Okay, Okay….wear the damn boots.
As soon as they walked into the funeral home some red-neck said “Hey, I like your boots”. And mom got the head-spasm-eyes rolled in the back of the head-I told you so look. We are all sure he was being sarcastic but she’s 13-YOU explain to her…

Speaking of fashion statements, I decided to let our child discover her own form of fashion. So when she shows up with a pink print skirt and a solid orange shirt with monkeys on it-don’t judge me. The cream colored turtleneck and the white cotton skirt-that one you never had to see. Some fashion faux paus are even too devastating for ME to witness much less make my friends (while I still have them) at school suffer through them.

Sometimes her dad comes into her bedroom (after I’ve drunk 2 cups of coffee, wash/dried/folded/put away 2 loads of laundry, fed child a popsicle stick for breakfast-WHAT? Sophie said they’re made with REAL fruit juice from concentrate, fed puppies, painstakingly watched Shaggy and Scooby solve yet another unsolvable mystery, helped child brush teeth, done homework if we forgot the night b4, packed backpack and gotten her dressed) and says “WHY is she wearing THAT”? And I say “Because you were taking a long, hot shower” with the head-spasm-eyes rolled in the back of my head-I told you not to leave us alone look. Any MORE intelligent questions?

Why JUST last Friday I sent her to school wearing her pretty pink skirt, matching top (HUGE step) and pretty high-gloss-glittery-pink shoes. Two outta three ain’t bad! Ain’t bad at all. I did have to do a pre-emptive strike and forewarn her father “Don’t say a word. Just tell her she looks pretty”. Of course this weird behavior from her conservative father confused the child and she immediately pointed out the shoes “But, look at my SHOES Daddy...” He never waivered. My husband-the pillar of strength in the face of hig-shine-pink-glitter-shoes adversity. He just stayed on track and repeated “I see them. You.Look.Pretty.” Confused but happy, she thanked him and skipped out of our bedroom with the help of her magic shoes!

I asked my friends if that was considered bad parenting and one of them replied “No. She can just click her heels twice and say…

‘There’s no place like Neieman ’s!’”

Soft Porn

2009-11-19T09:46:00.001-08:00

by Crystal Laramore

Yesterday was a first for me. I had a small role in a soft porn film.

Casting calls started at 8 am so they wanted everyone there early to fill out the paperwork/waivers. Plus, aren’t we ALL thinner in the morning! They had a questionnaire as well. Some strange questions - probably more for those women who have never starred in a soft porn film before. The nature of the questions sort of gets you prepared for how the set will appear and exactly what will be expected of you and how many people will be in each scene with you.

Example of questions:

Do you touch your breasts often?

Do you touch one breast more than the other?

Does anyone else touch your breast (hopin, and wishin and prayin)

Anyway, they called MY name! Yeah! I followed the young girl with the clipboard (full of previous pictures of me, I’m sure!) into the room.

The Director, Charity (those names they pick!), came in to gloss over my paperwork and black & white pics and ask me a few pertinent questions: “Are you of age? Have you ever done this sort of thing before? Are you nervous?”

Finally, she sent me to the dressing room and gave me my first costume change. Of course it was a long dress that opened in the front with only a thread of a closure.

When I came out I noticed she had dimmed the lights just so and I must say it did ease my fears a bit. Religious girl (long hair, skirt, no make-up; just seems to make porn films better if you have a librarian or teacher or … as a supporting character) then stated “I have nipple warmers for you” to which I exclaimed “NIPPLE WARMERS”? Won’t that hurt? Ice on my nipples-maybe, but flames? No-thanks! She clarified “Nipple Markers”. Hmmmmm.

Religious girl placed the “Markers” on my nipples herself which startled me - a little. She took notice of my anxiety and just rubbed my shoulder and promised me everything would be ok. The “Markers” have cute silver studs right in the middle. I was confused however b/c mine didn’t have any fringe…

Next, she slipped her hand inside my gown and cupped one of my breast and placed it in the mouth of the hungry monster. The monster was still and seemed like a harmless, ugly, steel, Jurasik Park left-over prop.

Anyhoo, she guided me and told me to “Drop your left shoulder, push it back, there, that’s it. Now pivot your body just so, there, that’s it. Now relax your right shoulder. Great. You’re doing great! Just then the hungry monster with one eye slammed his mouth shut, I screamed “Holy Shit”! and she ran off to start filming!

Bitch.

When I left I noticed they had cleverly posted a sign on the casting office door that read “Mammogram”.

"Mommy"! Who said that?

2009-11-18T06:10:00.000-08:00

By Crystal Laramore

Edited by Deborah K. Martin

This whole "Bam! you’re the proud new mother of a 6 year old at the age of 45" is taking it’s toll on me and my friends and the school system and last but not least the poor, poor 6 year-old. My husband seems to be taking it well; which should give us all reason to pause…

Does it mean you’re a bad parent if you drop your child off at school on a teacher In-Service day? What about if you get really mad at the “system” cuz the school called you last-minute to tell you that you have 70 lbs of cookie dough to pick up by 7 pm-“That’s it? No notice? No reminder?” and you’re in a business meeting in Houston; then you find the notice/reminder a few days later under your car seat with peanut butter on it? "Honey, can you cancel that appt. we had with LaTonya Goffney on Tuesday?"

How about if you send your child off to school with crooked pig tails? Socks that don’t match? Scratches under her eyes from the puppies-no, I swear!

Isn’t it great that children are resilient and bounce back from most things we do to screw them up as a child??? Maybe that’s why God makes our memory so crappy before the age of about 10. God knows.

Seriously, it’s a good thing that I KNOW the teachers and the administration at my stepdaughter's school. At least they know I don’t MEAN to be a horrible parent. At least they are willing to teach me that I have to help her with her homework when she first comes in from school while it’s still fresh in her mind and she has energy & an attention span farther than 22 seconds or until she hears the puppies barking; not at 6:55 in the morning right before we rush her to get ready and rush her out the door with crooked pig tails to have breakfast at school cuz we’re too crazed to make her breakfast soooo early in the morning and oh! Great Scott! Thank the good Lord they make it at school!

We do allow her to have coffee with us though. What?

Oh good gosh not really, we give her chocolate milk. I swear! Everyone knows sugar is totally better for a child than caffeine"??!!

And about the whole helping her with her homework thing Mrs. Rouswald, we didn't even know she HAD homework for several weeks. We thought kindergartners finger-painted. We didn't realize they were beginning to READ at that age! It's been such a long time since we were in grade K we forgot how to spell it. So, if our child is ever failing, please inform us because it's probably OUR fault! She’s probably told us to do something and we’ve ignored the silly 6 year old.

Like the first 3 times she brought home the copy of the lunch menu for the month I threw it away b/c it wasn’t pretty enough to go on the fridge - like the 6 year old said it should. Well, the 6 year old should have told the 45 year old it had the in-service days on it and the ice cream and slushy days on it and when the cookie dough will be in day marked, and when award day is-we missed award day! But nooooo, we’ve taught her to not argue with our authority. Tsk. We were soooo surprised when she came home with an award. I thought the “Food” calendar just had who was eating what & when on it. New parents don’t realize the global importance of the monthly food menu! To NOT look at one is to NOT want your child to succeed!

Look people, before I met/married my wonderful husband I was a night owl. I stayed up till 2 or 3 am and woke up around 10 or 11 am. I read period pieces, not "I said I see Sam". I may or may not get dressed for work during the week cuz no one can see me doing computer work. I lived on-site and only had to walk 10 paces to work. Now, I’m up between 5:30 & 6:00 and have made and drank 2 cups of coffee by 6:30. By 7:15 I have a lot of chores finished including getting a 6 year old ready for school (did she brush her teeth this morning?) and a 45 year-old (me) ready for work. Each takes the same amount of energy. The 52 year old can, by the grace of God, get himself ready. By the time I get to work, which is 7 miles away now and I do indeed drive, I need a nap. I'm exhausted!

And is it so bad that we get Spirit day and the other day (see, I don’t even know the names of all the days) mixed up? Wednesdays we know its green t-shirt day and Friday is red-t-shirt day and most of the time we get THAT right; isn’t that enough? And I think the school system has dealt with parents like us before and that is why they pick our child’s clothes 2 days out of the week FOR US!

Speaking of colors, why didn't someone tell me a blue smiley face was worse than a green one? I thought a smiley face was universally good and all the different colors were pretty.

Here's another thing - why does a 6 year old get “projects” WE have to do??? Don’t WE pay THEM to teach our child? Our child’s parents are old. WE don’t have energy or an attention span after 4:30 pm either. It takes all the energy my husband has to turn off the football game every Monday night.

And if bed-time is 8:30 and the Wizard of Oz doesn't come on until 7:00 and Dorothy hasn’t clicked her freaking heels yet-what then???? Shouldn’t Disney have a policy about what time kids’ shows start? We could barely get her out of bed this morning and she was mad at US! Like we own Disney or something…wait, are they publicly traded?

Sophie’s story: It's not a "good parent" story; it's a "good child" story. Sometimes these things DO happen. It'll give you hope. When her baby boy was about 10 (btw, he teaches pre-calculus and statistics in high school now so that should give you some clue as to how many cheery brain cells HE has), she and her husband were at a gathering of parents in the home of one of his classmates. The classmate in question wandered through the living room and his dad said something like, "Johnny, don't take too long. You know you've got to finish that big project. It's due tomorrow!"

Sophia and her then husband looked at each other & said “What project”? Their over-achieving child looked quizzically at them and said, "Oh yeah. I turned that in days ago." And so went HIS school years. We should all be so lucky as to get a kid like that. Miracles DO happen in the parenting world.

In the mean-time, this parent will try to remember (after 3 mos of school) to give her child a dollar on Wednesdays and Fridays for a slushy and/or ice cream and be grateful that she has better manners than Kanye and doesn't interrupt when someone is getting an award, even if her parents aren’t there!

p.s. I just found out that slushy day is Tuesday...NOT Wednesday…

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Change We Can ALL Believe In

2009-11-04T08:28:00.000-08:00

by Crystal Laramore Lutz
Edited by Deborah K. Martin

As you all know I’ve been out of commission for a couple of weeks with the very competent Deborah K. Martin filling in for me as I avoid getting older.

Yes, I’m approaching my 45th birthday. I know, I KNOW, I don’t LOOK 45, but as my plastic surgeon says, “How old you are is your business; how old you LOOK is ours". Anyway, I've had a lot more than usual random thoughts roaming round in my head lately.

Just the other day we were all sitting at the new and improved Crystal’s Patio & Grille’s new bar watching the 52” LCD HD while Fox News (is there any other?) informed the world about some pirates who had kidnapped a couple and were holding them for ransom! Pirates?! Really? They’re back?

Well, yes they are back but unlike the bell-bottomed, corduroyed scoundrels we all knew and loved, these pirates have changed and not in a good way. Gone are the dreadlocks and man-liner along with eye patches, sheathed swords, three point hats, fancy belts with HUGE buckles and hairy chests. Pardon me, but I’d be less offended about the whole “the pirates are back” thing if we could just have our swashbucklers back instead of these metro-sexual, plain clothed pirate wannabe’s. And really, you’re not supposed to kidnap people – that’s a sin against the pirate rules. You are supposed to hunt down the treasure yourself and steal it from the first people who found it! Not only are the new pirates inadequate, unsexy and unappealing but they are impostors!

Come to think of it, we miss the real pirates so much the theme of this year’s Halloween party at the restaurant was pirates, wenches and gypsies. My husband was the Johnny Depp, swashbuckling kind of pirate and I was a gypsy. No fair asking how long the costumes stayed on but we DID have that extra hour Saturday night!

Speaking of Halloween, it was a full moon all weekend and I felt like I was in an “Eastwick” episode most of the time. Change was in the hair, ahem air – bwah hahaha!! It all started on Friday night when an enchanting young (-er than most of us) couple came into the restaurant for the first time. They were from Arizona, land of dry air, great hair and pretty people.

Speaking of great hair, all the charm seemed to be coming from the woman’s long black hair which I decided I just MUST have! Black hair that is, not HER hair…anyway, my hairdresser and FORMER friend (snicker) Kay Lynn was sitting at the bar and she concurred about me doing the whole black hair thing. Then Leah McCarty and Paula Harper followed suit; and did I mention it was a full moon and I was surrounded by...??? So the witches of Coldspring danced across the street under a full moon, protected by a cloud of pixie dust sprinkled by the enchanting couple, after midnight for some...change.

It’s really been more like a “shock and awe” campaign than change but I’m rolling with it. The Rasmussen poll is 95% FOR the enchanting black hair aka “change” and 5% in favor of the blond with one inch roots…so with the new black hair, the Dr. Mark Barlow special and the new weather in the air, I’m feeling like I’m likin’ change, baby. But remember, things are cyclical and in another 10 years…..blond could be back.

Anyway, the real thing always shows up every ten years or so in some fashion or song or piece of furniture, etc. The very first time I can remember a fashion coming back around I was a youngster at my grandmother’s house in Austin. Dresses with wide bands around the hips were all the craze and my mother had bought my grandmother one for Mother’s Day. She was having NO part of that! “I didn’t wear em back then and I don’t know what makes you think I’m gonna wear ‘em now!”

Since then many things have come back around that I remember, which means we’re all getting old. Whenever a new song like “My Boyfriend’s Back” by the Ravonette’s comes on the radio it’s always funny to see the “Man, you are so hip and cool” (except, Deb adds, young people don’t use those words, only us older folks do - snicker) expression on a teenager’s face when we know ALL the words! I LOVE that!

I’ve said all that to say this – life is short, embrace change. And for change YOU can believe in call

Mark Barlow, MD, Board Certified Plastic Surgeon (281-333-8999)

Kay Lynn Arrendell, Professional Hair Stylist, (281-659-5250)

(Personal references available at Crystal’s Patio & Grille!)

Sophie & Richard Sittin’ In A Tree…

2009-10-13T11:10:00.000-07:00

by Crystal Laramore

Edited by Deborah K. Martin

…F-u-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes moving in without an engagement ring, wedding date, promise or picture of one. Then comes Richard with a chain saw, cuts off her limb and there she is-on her butt on the cold, hard, damp ground-alone.

But enough about why you shouldn’t let him have the milk without buying the cow.

Anyhoo…my bff Sophia is dating Richard. Now, as I’ve expressed in previous articles, I do not have crappy, ugly, homeless, unemployed, mean, psychotic or dumb girlfriends; which, of course, means that Sophia is beautiful, smart, gainfully employed, mostly rational and is certainly not crappy.

One recent seemingly normal evening Sophia or Sophie as we call her crawled into bed and snuggled up to Richard for some warmth and coloring. Richard’s response was “What do you want”? Sophie: “Some attention”. Richard: “Well you don’t always get what you want. I have a lot of things on my mind and you are not high on my list of priorities right now”. End of conversation, no detail, no “I’m not in a great mood, but baby, it’s not your fault.”

Really? Are you kidding me? Now remember I said she’s hot! Oh, well I meant to. She’s hot as in STOP traffic hot and if that’s not enough, she’s S.M.A.R.T. in capital letters.. Makes her living with numbers for Pete’s sake!!

So anyway, being an avid fan of Sex in the Woods and a good student to boot she got up the next morning, formulated a plan and left Richard a note worthy of his behavior. It went something like this:

“Since you have a lot on your mind and I’m not high on your list of priorities I’ve decided to take the weekend and figure out what MY priorities are”.

THAT’s my girl! No ugly scenes, no ultimatums, no begging for his love. Nope. She wrote just this one incredible sentence and got the heck out of Dodge! Yeah! So what do you think happened when he read said note? Well, first he blamed her for the whole situation. Isn’t that typical? I know women do this, too, but right now we’re talking about men so don’t get on my case, okay? When crappy guys screw up, their first reaction is to point the finger anywhere but at themselves.

Will someone (a man preferably) PLEASE tell me what’s so hard about sucking it up and being a stand up guy?? Is it really THAT hard to say, “Baby, I wasn’t in a good mood last night but I didn’t really mean to take it out on you. Can you forgive me?” Listen, after we picked our outstanding selves off the floor of COURSE we’d forgive you. All you have to do is ask – and then never but NEVER do that thing again. If you keep doing that same crappy thing over and over the “Baby, I’m sorry” spiel gets to be kind of meaningless. Know what I mean?

Anyway, after she called him out on the blame game and he figured out she really was going to stay AWAY from home for the weekend (like she said she was going to do) her crackberry hasn’t stopped dinging! He’s burning up the information hot lines with txt messages, phone calls, pics of himself, etc. Push – Pull. The chase; the hunt.

According to the Bit#h books she is doing just the right thing. And he is responding accordingly. Richard was being a, well, a Richard and Sophie decided to be a bit#h. Now, Sophie is not good at this but luckily for her-her bff IS! Again, we don’t mean for you ladies to be a mean Bit#h, but a sweet, charming, fully capable and independent woman. In fact, Sophie has a number of friends who were ready to give wise counsel and help her hold HIM to HER high standards. It had to be done.

Remember what Dr. Phil said long ago when he was on Oprah’s show? I’ll never forget this incredible, powerful bit of information.. Ladies – read, study, learn, apply. Here it is:

“You teach people how to treat you.” If any of you Sophie’s out there are having trouble with your significant (or not so significant) other perhaps you have taught him how to treat you. Stop it. Do you hear me? STOP it NOW!!! You deserve to be treated well so don’t let ANYone get away with treating you like crap.

We don’t know the details of the final outcome b/c right now she’s still deciding if he’s worth her time and he’s showing her all the reason why he is. Richard did a bad, bad thing and he has to convince Sophie that he will not do that again. His reasons could be many but none are worthy. We cannot speak to our significant others in a less than respectful manner if we expect them to continue to love us. Will she give him another chance? We’ll keep you posted…One thing we know for sure:

Sophie decided she deserved better treatment so she did something really simple to get his attention – she walked out when he wasn’t looking. When he checked out she checked out. When he did the unexpected she did the unexpected. She stood up for herself. She put herself at the top of her priority list since clearly he had taken her off of his.

If you ever find yourself in this situation and don’t know what to say to Richard, I’m gonna go with last weeks closing remarks:
“Feelin Froggy? Jump”.

Prince Charming MARRIES Cinderella…

2009-10-06T07:25:00.000-07:00

by Crystal Laramore Lutz

…in an enchanted land far, far away.

Through all the moaning, bellyaching, griping and general bitc#!n& I did last year about Richard; after all the Big A$$ Shiraz in the Continental U.S. was consumed I must admit: it was all worth it to stumble into the arms of my true Prince Charming; the real Prince Charming; the one who DOES what the imposter promised.

My sister, Jacqueline, used to be a big-wig-banking-executive and her analogy for most men she dated was “The real man never shows up until about 3-6 mos. into dating. Nope, until they have you where they want you, they send their representative”. Snicker. Doesn’t this ring true! (BTW, she found her Prince Charming too!)

But when you Cinderellas out there (and we are ALL Cinderella!) meet your Prince Charming (and know how to keep him b/c you’ve been reading the books) he WILL marry you! That is what Princes do. It’s the frogs that kiss us, woo us, whisper sweet nothing’s in our ear, buy us flowers and chocolates and dump us (or prepare us for the dumping) via a text message. But, I’m not bitter.

Now, to be fair, if you are Cinderella and he is kissing and wooing and being generally superficial about the relationship yet you are sleeping in his kingdom without the keys or coloring in the fairy-tale book with his colors-you deserve to be dumped. There is too much coloring going on these days and not enough talking. Oh, shut up frogs!

Cinderella-if he is a Prince-he will want to talk to you. He will want to know your needs and desires (sometimes he’s trying to figure out if he can handle them so don’t have diarrhea of the mouth pls.) He will want to KNOW so he can ACT on this information. Action is the key here. Words mean nothing. Any old frog can croak out, “I love you.”

But, the REAL prince will woo you beyond your wildest imagination. He will listen to what you say. He will pay attention. He will respect your boundaries, so have some! He WANTS to know them because frogs and even princes will test the boundaries. But he also wants to know so he can fulfill your desires. Princes like doing that. They (the princes) get a kick out of making us happy! Anyway, like I said a minute ago – boundaries - get some! And keep them.

And if it’s a commitment you want, he’ll search his kingdom over until he has just the proper jewels to bestow upon you. But, you must have standards and make them known. Prince or frog; neither can read your lovely mind.

When my last frog (oh, I’ve been through many frogs and made ALL the mistakes) showed his ugly warts my Prince Charming Husband was hanging around waiting to pick up the pieces. I did not immediately warm up to him b/c I still had some ugly warts from the frog but, he was persistent. I gave him all the reasons I was not interested in him. I made him read the insanity that had been my life-yes, the same insanity you all read! Still, he was “all-in”. Why? Because he knew a Cinderella when he saw one. He knew how rare they were to find. And being a Prince and all he wasn’t afraid of the big, dark, scary, frightening word “commitment”. No, on the contrary he embraced the thought of happily ever-after with the princess he saw before him.

And let me tell you-I AM his princess. A year later, after an incredible courtship, wedding and honeymoon he is STILL treating me with all the love and respect and admiration a woman could ever hope to wrap her mind around. He IS my number one fan!

Just last night he gave me a hot oil treatment for my hair. (HIS IDEA LADIES) Since the magic potion had to sit for 15 minutes he rubbed my feet with exfoliating lotion and buffed my heels! Oh yeah! Now listen, HE lit the candles and incense and HE channeled Barry White and Aaron Neville through the iPOD.

Amazingly enough, he did all of this KNOWING there was a football game on that he could be watching in HD on the new LED! Oh yes he did! But wait-there’s more. After the hair treatment he poured me a glass of French wine, brought me Belgium dark chocolates, gave me an hour long Swedish massage and whispered sweet nothing’s in my ear.

At some point I vaguely remember asking him “How’d I get so lucky to marry such a good man”? He replied, as any Prince would, “Because you are a good woman”.

So the next time some guy is jerking you around, I have three tiny words for you to say to him: “Feeling froggy? Jump”!

Cindarella Married Her Prince Charming...

2009-09-16T21:53:00.000-07:00

Check out the wedding pics at www.kauaiislandweddings.com

Photography

Lutz

Article to follow next week

Throwing Up Pretty, Broken Promises

2009-09-02T11:03:00.000-07:00

By Crystal Laramore & Deborah K. Martin

We get letters…we turn them into articles…it’s our job…it’s what we do...call it a public service.

Dear Richard, (They are ALL Richards)

You’d think I’d be done with all the crying in my beer and hanging out at pity parties, what with all those black balloons and sharp objects...

Seriously, it’s been 4 ½ years and how many breakups/breakthroughs? How many times have you, Richard, charmed your way back into my life? How many times, Richard, have I let you? And how stupid does that make ME? (Wait, that’s a subject for another article…)

This time however, is different in some ways. For one, it's the last time. I felt the tension for months before finally bringing up the fact that I believed we made “a mistake”. You quickly agreed and we took it from there. It was all so civilized, wasn’t it ,Richard? We even continued to live in the same house, albeit in separate bedrooms. We didn’t even fight. We laughed. And you even said you felt like a P.O.S. I told you there was no need for you to feel like a P.O.S. But, Richard - I lied. You are and you should.

Why did I ever want to try again with you, Richard, after what you’d put me through before? I think it was those pretty words and your charming nature. Maybe you spiked my Big A$$ Shiraz (BAS) with prozac...We get along so well, you see, that I always find it hard to believe we’re not in love anymore. It’s like that Michael McDonald song “I keep forgettin we’re not in love anymore”. And Oh yes, there was a time when I was stupid-in-love with you. Love of my life, I’d say. Can’t imagine life without him, I’d say. Even though you Richard, never kept your promises and continued to behave like a P.O.S. Why IS that?? Looking back, I say to myself, “Self, what WERE ya thinkin’??” Clearly, not much of MYSELF…

I guess sometimes even a bond with the wrong person can be a very strong one (with enough BAS & Prozac). We have almost 5 years of history between us, some of it very good. But the bad stuff finally outweighed the good stuff. Your drama, your immaturity, your bigotry, your laziness in the relationship? Hard to ignore, but the one thing – the ONE thing Richard - I could no longer ignore was your “the grass is always greener” attitude. That killed it for me. And then I wanted to kill you and with BAS & Prozac lying around, well you can see my dilemma...

You never wanted me when you had me, only when you didn’t or when another relationship went sour. Since you were just as cruel to others I guess I shouldn’t take it personally, but it’s sure hard not to. It feels personal to hear you say, “I’ve FINALLY found someone I can dance with”, when you know that’s my favorite thing to do and you know I’m better than her! Am too! And too much dancing at your age Richard...well let's just say you've been warned.

Another cleverly delivered line was when you moved back to your own place and said, “I’m FINALLY (there’s that word again) home,” after I worked so hard to make OUR home a haven for you. Why do men do that? Why do they just stand there saying stupid $hit, begging to die? It’s like that song in Chicago : one verse goes like this here “And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife 10 times”.

Anyhoo, it’s hard not to take things personally, Richard, when you continue to beg to come back only to start pulling away as soon as Three Men Movers pulls out of the gate. You loudly proclaim how wrong you were to leave, how simple life is with me and how complicated it is with everyone else – yet you still want someone (it seems anyone) else. Maybe you just have a crush on Three Men Movers. I’ve never been enough for you and that’s a feeling I no longer desire to experience. And where was LOVE in all this 'wanting to come back'?? NOW, with a little help from BAS & Prozac, I remember that you never said you missed me and LOVED me. You only said that I was easy (like Sunday morning?) Well, Richard, that’s no way to build a lifelong relationship.

I want someone who really loves me for who I am and appreciates what I bring to the table, besides the bone-in rib-eyes! For all your lip service, you never appreciated me and I don’t think you really loved me either. You said you did, but honey, words are cheap and plentiful. Without actions to back them up, the words only made me feel insecure. And if you were a real man Richard, you'd want your woman to feel loved and secure. Read that last sentence again, honey! If you were a REAL man, etc.

I'm not one of those “needy” women who have to have a man around to feel happy or complete. Having a good relationship is just a bonus as far as I’m concerned. But a relationship with you was kinda like a cash bonus, here one day gone the next. And when you go, like ya always do, AFTER the crying, AFTER the angst and self-doubt, AFTER the loneliness passes, Richard; I feel just fine. Better than fine. I feel like me again. And ya know what, Richard? I LIKE me and I LIKE life without your drama. I work with women, I have enough drama!

Maybe that’s part of your problem – you thrive on drama but can’t cope with everyday life. These days you’re back to club hopping. Really?! At your age??? (For the reader's he's in his late 50's.) When I’m thinking logically after a couple of bottles of BAS, I know that you are a very unhealthy person emotionally, and not nearly worthy of a terrific woman like me. I also know that if I’m patient with myself everything is going to be okay. If I can just stay away from the knife drawer next time you're near me. The challenge at the moment is getting from here to there; wanting to kill you phase to being ok phase; in case you can't connect the dots all by your selfish, worthless, POS self...oh my, did I say that out loud?

When I asked my best friend, Sophia, why I’m still feeling sad and angry even though I don’t want you back she said this: “It's all those pretty words they spoke from their pretty mouths that we ate up, digested and then had to puke up when they said ‘Sh!t. Never mind.’”

Then she told me to get a lot of BAS and Prozac. Duh! I'm a follower!

Broken promises are sharp like broken glass and hard to keep on the stomach. I guess I’ve still got some puking to do.

Menopause; It Could Happen to You...

2009-07-27T15:58:00.000-07:00

by Crystal Laramore

...EVEN IF you are a man! Just go back to Junior High English. Ever heard of the INDIRECT object? Yes, menopause could happen to you directly or INDIRECTLY! When you see it happening and you are not the one it's happening to, keep your mouth shut and step away from the direct object. Put all sharp and blunt, heavy objects away.

SO, there I was in my 20's minding my own business and others' too, when my thirties jumped out at me. Happy to have made it through the acid-trip-like adventure of my 20's I embraced my 30's with a vengeance. So, there I was learning to mind my own business in a land far, far away when my 40's showed up in an explosion of shrapnel and ear-piercing noises. Wait. Those were RPG’s! Anyhooo, life was so full of explosions and heat and young men that I barely noticed the earth shift; just a little shift, but a shift none-the-less.

Currently, I am sneaking up on 45. I don't how to define "I" anymore. The person typing this certainly isn't sneaking up on 45 but somewhere in my knees something is definitely sneaking up on something painful. Maybe that's 45?

When the first tremor hit...I was watching some mind altering television show like Grey's Anatomy or something when I needed to channel surf over to Desperate Housewives (I have goals). As usual I picked up the remote but for some reason known only to the mean gods of hahahahahaha you're getting old; the numbers/letters were blurry.

Inconceivably, I held out the remote and was able to see clearly. Only a couple of nights later I was spending the night with a girlfriend. She was cleaning her face and I was getting ready to watch the news or something when I had an out-of-body-experience. It was like dejavue. It was the whole "why are the letters/numbers so blurry” experience all over again. True to a tragic event I screamed like the girl in the B movies being chased by the blob! Deborah ran out of the bathroom with night cream dripping from her chin to save me with her cotton swab and all she saw was a helpless, frantic woman holding a remote control - close, far, close, far screaming every time it got "far" (b/c it was so much CLEARER!

One day I was again, minding my own business, driving along with the top down singing really loud to Rheana, when I was instantly struck with that hot, flush feeling I got in my 30's when a cute guy walked by or when I put that burn your buns dark tanning lotion on right before I went into the tanning bed for half an hour.

Whew, where did that come from?! I looked in my rear view mirror for the devil cuz I was sure he had finally caught up with me for my bad ways in my 20's. I turned side to side looking for him to be in a motorcycle with a helper in the side car and in a "flash" the heat and my overwhelming I-need-Prozac-paranoia, was gone.

And just two months ago my Aunt Flo forgot to visit. Look, when you've waited on your aunt your whole life and she always shows up then one day she doesn't show up what would YOU do? Me? Well, I bought 8 pregnancy tests and waited till I was about to puke from nerves and my whole staff was going to quit to take them.

Negative? WHAT? Look, my aunt is over two weeks late. Hmm. Well, finally she showed up but is now officially three weeks late AGAIN. Lucky for me I still have 5 pregnancy tests left. Yes, that means I took THREE last time. You can never be tooooo careful about these things.

Additionally over the last several months I’ve noticed black hairs in places no one ever told black hairs were supposed to be. Why are all the women in my family who are older than me such bitche$? Shouldn’t you pass along pertinent information regarding getting older to your young? Your friends? Your siblings? What the hell? It’s so NOT romantic for a man whom you are trying to be romantic with to say, with a contorted facial expression, “OMG! Is that a black hair”? Talk about kill joy!

As a preemptive strike to real therapy, I scheduled an urgent conference call with my best friend Jasmine (while having a hot flash in front of the paint man at Home Depot) who is older and oh so much wiser about such things. Getting older apparently does lots of weird things to your body. Without your permission. Anyway, after laughing hysterically and saying, "Welcome to the club, honey!" she shared her own experiences with little memory lapses, soaked-with-sweat bed sheets and outbursts of temper which were totally foreign to her. One of her relatives, Alexa, is currently going through some of the same things and as a matter of fact is about the same age as I am. Whoever “I” is these days…

We all understand that these things are part of the life process, but Geez Louise, we wish we'd had more warning. I guess it's one of those things that - until you go through it yourself - you just can't quite describe it to others but you sure as heck should try. I now have a whole new understanding of the word “sisterhood”.

Breakin' Up is Hard To Do

2009-06-24T07:01:00.000-07:00

By Deborah K. Martin

Sad to say, but these days MOST relationships break up. I hardly know anyone who hasn’t had a breakup of a serious relationship or marriage to include me, my parents, grandparents and one of my sons. I guess you could say I’ve got some bad karma to overcome. Or something like that.

So my question is this: Why is it so hard to do? Break up, that is. Why is it so hard to get a grip and move on? I ask because my two good friends, Sophia and Jasmine, came to me recently with similar dilemmas. They both had bad breakups but are finding it very difficult to get the sorry guy out of their minds and hearts so they can really, truly move on. I can’t tell it as well as they can so I’ll transcribe their stories as told to me.

Sophia came to me recently, in a happy relationship. Yeah, I know, so what’s the problem? Well, her prince charming (note – no capitals) is very charming indeed. He’s one of those guys who seem to LIVE to fulfill your every wish. (Where is good cloning technology when you need it?!) You name it – poof it appears, kind of like a genie in a bottle but the male kind. He adores every little quirky part of Sophia and let me tell you, she’s no shy flower. She says what she means and means what she says. She knows what she wants and she’s not shy about asking for it. I love that about her!

And you know what? HE loves her for it. And she loves him, but she tells me she may not be IN love with him. Why? Because there’s a ghost hanging around who just won’t go away. It’s the ghost of Prince Charming, the one who won her heart even though he turned out to be not so charming after all. Couldn’t hang when the going got a smidge challenging. But he had her heart and he still haunts her. Sophia says sometimes she feels like she’s in the wrong fairy tale.

It’s not that she’s unhappy exactly. She does love the little prince in many ways and they’re even planning a future together. Is she settling? You’d have to ask her. She doesn’t think so and she thinks she may “fall” for the other guy in time, especially considering how much REAL love he’s showering on her these days. Love IS a verb, after all. She just wishes the ghost would go haunt someone else and give her peace.

Then there’s Jasmine. She fell equally hard for her Prince but his flaws turned out to be too much for her poor heart to handle. He’s one of those roguishly charming men who makes a great buddy but a terrible lover and partner. If it’s not ALL about him he completely withdraws. No discussion, no issues. He demands perfection and adoration. Maybe perfect adoration. Of him. Even so, for several years Jasmine gave him chance after chance to do what he SAID he wanted to do. Commit. To her. But he always let her down.

He was never happy with what he had (her), he always wanted something or someone “out there”, but he always wanted to come back and until recently she always took him back because he had her heart. But a funny thing happened over the years. Every time he pulled away, saying he “didn’t know what he wanted” (while already pursuing someone else) she pulled a little bit of her heart back from him until finally, remarkably, miraculously – she wasn’t in love with him anymore.

It reminds me of that movie, “The Breakup” with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughan. Things are horrible between them and she keeps saying she wants him back but when he finally comes to her and tells her he wants to change for her – she realizes it’s too little too late – she no longer feels the same way for him.

Still, Jasmine is like most women, including Sophia. When we commit our hearts to a man, we then set aside a whole story of how life is going to be. We envision our future together and we plan for it. We SHOULD be able to plan for it. All the princes know this and they participate in the story, promising us all kinds of things we wish for. Maybe they want it, too.

When things go wrong, it doesn’t matter why the breakup occurs. We suffer two losses – we lose our companion and we lose the dream and plan for our future. BAM! Gone in an instant! Sometimes I think that’s the hardest part. Companionship is a dime a dozen but that hope for the future with your someone special is unique and sacred.

Sophia and Jasmine lost hope. They lost the dream. They lost a special future. Sophia now has someone who desperately wants to give her the future she desires but a part of her heart is stuck on “the dream” from the frog prince. Jasmine still remembers better days, happier times of laughter and the promise of a lifetime of play together. She knows it will never be so. Not with this man. She’s confident that there is another man out there who WILL fulfill her desires and give her a chance to fulfill his. But he’s not here. Not yet.

These women are in mourning and maybe you are, too. The process is the same whether you are mourning the loss of a job, a spouse, a child or a future. There are stages to go through and my advice to Sophia, Jasmine and to you out there in similar circumstances is to let yourself feel every stage. First comes denial and hopefully it won’t last long. I mean, it is what it is. He’s gone (probably with a new princess) and you’re left here to pick up the pieces. Sounds pretty real to me. Sophia and Jasmine would tell you it feels MUCH too real. And painful.

Then you need to get angry. Go ahead. BE angry. You have a right to your anger. He made promises, didn’t he? If you’re like Sophia and Jasmine you did your dead level best and he didn’t hold up to his end of the bargain. But don’t let your anger simmer too long or you will point it at yourself and that is always destructive.

After anger, your next goal should be to move on to acceptance and gratitude. Remember what Greg Berendt said in “He’s Just Not That Into You” – just because this one isn’t the one that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you so move on until you find the one who IS into you. Once you’ve accepted the demise of this relationship you can begin to be grateful for the good things you once shared and remember them fondly, without the anger and without sadness.

How long does all this take? For each of us the timing is different. My friend Jasmine said it has happened gradually over the years of going in and out of the relationship with the Charmer. Little by little a sisterly fondness overtook the romantic love. I’m not sure Sophia is there yet. Her frog prince bit her pretty bad. All the right words, all the wrong actions. Now she’s got the guy with EVERYthing right and I think she’s a little shell-shocked, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to fall. Only time will heal that wound and overcome the doubt.

I guess that’s really it, then. Time gives us everything. Rest. Distance. Perspective. Wisdom. Healing. As it should be. Life is a circle. When it is broken you have to heal, then take the ends and bend them back together.

Generation WTF?

2009-06-09T14:29:00.000-07:00

by Crystal Laramore & Deborah Martin

This story is graphic.

As usual, I watched a taped show of one of my favorite investigative shows this weekend. What was unusual was my response to the show. I watched it Sunday night and I’m still reeling from the story. As the story goes there was a young female college freshman at the age of 17 boozing and carrying on at a big party. So far, so what? Then the young girl takes a pill called ecstasy or X for short. Here’s where the fun begins! The pill makes you feel extra special sexy/sexual. Hmmm. Does a 17 year old female REALLY need a pill for that? Anyway, the pill apparently taught her how to give lap dances. She was drunk and on pills and giving a boy she liked a lap dance.

She told him she wanted to have sex with him. He was probably drinking too, whatcha think? Sometime during all the sexually charged moments they decided, or someone decided for them, they should go to a bedroom. So far I’m not pissed off…but then as the story goes, TEN of his friends go with them into the bedroom. The boy who was the object of the girl’s affection is trying to have sex but gets sick and vomits on her face. She doesn’t really care because she is passed out. Her pants are off but she is dressed other than that. Her underwear is wrapped around her ankle and the boys are lined up to take their turn since their buddy has passed out and cannot finish the job. NOW I’m pissed off!

You tell me where any of this is acceptable starting at TEN of his friends followed them into the bedroom? I don’t care if the young girl was dancing NAKED (which she was not) in front of the boy she liked and I don’t care if he didn’t even like her back-it is UNACCEPTABLE for young men, old men or boys to have sex with a girl who does NOT want to, cannot defend herself, is passed out, under-age, asleep, drugged or whatever adjective you put here. The only time it is acceptable for a male to have sex with a female is when she WANTS him to; when she CONSENTS. Just b/c she is UNABLE to say no does NOT mean she said YES.

Not only were they taking turns having sex with her they were taking turns doing other things at the same time as well. It sickens me. It makes me sad. It pisses me off.

How have we sunk so low as a society that young men think this is acceptable behavior? Where are these boys parents? I've said this before: in all our liberation and tolerance we've lost some very important character traits like honesty and integrity. We've not only lost the ability to refrain from doing what's wrong but also the courage to stand UP for what's right!

I long for the days when a man considered it his job and privilege to protect others. I long for the days when a man actually thought it was MANly to protect a WOman; rib of his ribs. Now, don't get me wrong here. We women can and DO protect ourselves most of the time. But the young woman in this situation was passed OUT and therefore helpless. Where were the boys who would defend this young woman drugged without her knowledge, rendering her incapable of saying NO, not only to her young man but to 10 of his buddies? Are you telling me that not ONE of those young men recognized this situation for what it was? A gang rape.

Why was it left to 3 young women to stop these guys and rescue the girl? These women weren't even friends of hers but they had the courage to break down a door and confront almost a dozen horny, drunken young men!!! Where were the MEN in this situation. I wouldn't call the nearly dozen toads in the room men. REAL men don't stand for the mistreatment of women. Or children. Or old people. Or the mentally or physically impaired. REAL men respect others. In ALL situations.

And someone please, please, please tell me the logic or justice in not charging the three worms who actually ended up raping this helpless girl? Because the young girl couldn't remember the incident? If they'd murdered her she wouldn't remember that either. Call me silly, but I don't see a whole lot of difference here. There were WITNESSES!!!! They could testify to the act, couldn't they? Are we saying now that because she's passed out she's given her consent to whatever happens to her while she's passed out? Not only is that not logical or reasonable - it is inSANE!!!

The Sheriff in this town is a female and she took her evidence to the DA who is also a female. The DA said b/c the young 17 year-old girl could not remember the incident (mabye b/c her blood alcohol level was almost .3) there was not enough evidence to bring it to a grand jury. Really? Wow! If we cannot even get WOMEN to grasp the horror of such acts why should we expect men to? If we cannot as women and sisters of women NOT condone this behaviour, punish this behavior and scream to the top of our lungs that this is unacceptable, then who?

What kind of parents did these kids have anyway? I find it hard to believe that good old mom and dad told little Johnnie that this kind of behavior was A-OK. I'm so angry and disheartened about what this says about our society that I can hardly see straight. I'm certain my blood pressure is up there!

Fathers: Listen to us, hear our hearts; you should be teaching your sons to be our protectors not our predators! My father would call the police and have my brothers arrested himself if they were ever involved in anything like this!

The next part that really angers me is that the mothers of the boys defended them. ARE YOU SERIOUS???? Those boys should have kept it from happening instead of encouraging it and then participating in it.

Parents: Booze, drugs, women, groups = gang mentality

Testosterone is a powerful chemical and when you mix it with booze and drugs it is often dangerous, as dangerous as the booze and the pills...

Parents: YOUR children WILL do these things unless YOU teach them not to.

When A Man Loves A Woman

2009-05-06T06:47:00.000-07:00

by Crystal Laramore

“…Can't keep his mind on nothing else. He'll trade the world for the good thing he's found. If she's bad he can't see it. She can do no wrong. Turn his back on his best friend if he put her down.”

Oh, don’t tell me you can’t hear Percy Sledge or Michael Bolton swooning in your ear at this very moment. Everyone on the planet knows THAT song! While women sing along with a far away dreamy look in their eyes I suspect most men may cringe at the unrealistic expectations they believe this song places on their actions.

However, some men out there rise to the challenge. Oh yes they do! We just have to be patient and prepare for their arrival. When I was in my mid-late 20’s I dated that guy who loved me but wasn’t able to provide yet. He professed (see: Act Like a Lady; Think Like A Man) but he wasn’t able to provide or protect at that time and so the time came for me to let him go. The lesson: I learned what it felt like and looked like to be loved; deeply, truly loved. It’s powerful. It’s magic. It’s intoxicating. It’s rare.

The man from my 20’s has been a bench mark for all who followed. I remember actually telling one man, “I know what it feels like to be loved, and this ain’t it”. Actually, it never really was “it” until recently. Some of my past relationships may have had some or many of the ingredients for being “it” but for whatever reasons all the ingredients didn’t get mixed up at the same time so the recipe just didn’t pan out (pun intended!).

Many of you know I recently went through a tragic break-up. The man of the hour was professing all sorts of things. But the moment he professed something other than undying love I made a grave mistake. What I should have done was said “OK” and hung up the phone. Instead I begged, pleaded and rationalized. Then, after several more months of allowing someone to profess one thing (I love you) and do another (not loving me), I finally picked up MY self respect and respectfully bowed out.

Earlier I said we have to be patient and ready (for the right guy). During my period of figuring out “what the hell just happened there” with Jon, I met my fiancée. We met during a period when I could not have cared less about love and neither could he. We had both just come out of unhealthy relationships and had given up on the opposite sex. To be quite honest I had lost my faith in many things and relationships and men were high on that list. So, we chatted with each other across the bar or across the table but I wasn’t really noticing him. As a matter of fact, after our first out-of-the-restaurant time together, I got into my vehicle without so much as a hug goodbye and drove away crying.

We had just had a nice day of riding four-wheelers on his property, rock hunting and hanging out in the barn while it rained. During that rain storm he played one of my favorite Clint Black songs “Like the Rain” and the tears were forming. I couldn’t wait to leave. I wasn’t ready for this. I was still mad at Jon. I was probably mad at God too. Well, I WAS mad at God. Anyway, I told Mr. Nice Guy that I needed to go and he said he would follow me out. At the end of his road I turned right when I should have turned left and he noticed. And, he’s been noticing ever since.

He notices when I’m happy, needy, emotional, hormonal, sick, tired, over-worked, under paid, fed-up, frustrated, in pain, insecure, excited, romantic, loving, caring, nurturing or strung out! He notices EVERYTHING about me. And he noticed that I was not believing in him, or in his words, or in his actions. He noticed I was hurt. He noticed I needed more. He noticed I needed a bona fide commitment; which is why we are engaged today. I told him what it was that was keeping my heart from becoming his and he took care of it. He handled it. He provided. He protected. He professed. And, I noticed.

Now, it took awhile for me to believe in him, but my man loves me. In the beginning he loved enough for both of us. I KNOW he loves me. And that is noticeable. I told him once “I know what it feels like to be loved and this is it”!

I cannot say it enough; “My man loves me”. I can feel it and I can see it. Furthermore, my friends/family can feel it and see it. He told me the other night “I love you on purpose”. Be still my beating heart! OMG! What a romantic thing to say. I was telling him how much I had been bragging on him that week and he just wrapped his arms around me and looked me in the eye and said “I love you on purpose”.

Listen up now, he is serious. He purposefully does the things it takes to make me fall in love with him on a regular basis. He takes care of my needs; physical, emotional, financial; not that I need that much but he helps whenever I do need/want-I have a restaurant you know!

Last week we were both sick with allergies. On Sunday I drove to his house cuz he was pouting that he missed me. We had been apart for several hours you understand. And being the independent confident woman I am, that doesn’t necessarily bother me, but it was bothering him because he was sick so, I drove to see him. He was soooo happy that I came to him that he ran me a bubble bath in the Jacuzzi tub, bathed me, shaved under my arms, shaved my legs, washed my hair, conditioned my hair, rinsed my hair, helped me out of the tub, dried me off, slathered lavender body lotion all over me, helped me into my PJ’s, and put me on a cushy pallet on the sofa and asked in sexy voice “Is there anything else I can do for you before I pass out”?

OK. In one fluid motion, THAT man professed his love for me and solidified his role as my protector and my provider! And he did it all in less than 20 minutes. He did not SAY “I’m sorry you are so sick”. He did not say much at all. He just took care of me! I will ALWAYS remember that act of love. Whenever we have an argument, and I’m sure we will, I will remember that. Yes, I can see the humungous engagement ring on my left hand, but the ring is nothing compared to the nurturing he provides on a daily basis. Oh, I know we are basically honeymooners, but my man does that stuff consistently. It wasn’t a one time peak in performance.

Before you take a step toward marriage take a look at your relationship. If you are the man and you are not loving your woman like this (or similar to it) ask yourself why. It could be just because you are lazy or it could be just b/c you don’t care like you should. But IF you LOVE her, you’ll do it anyway. If you don’t love her, leave her. Let her go. Let her go find the man who will.

Now I know how many ways to Sunday you can excuse yourself for NOT doing the things you should be doing but my man could give those same excuses. He’s raising a six year old daughter by himself. He’s been burned nine ways to Sunday by women. He owns an international corporation. A lot of people depend on him. He drives an hour one way to work. Did I mention he’s raising a six year old? But, he sends me text messages several times a day either professing his love or being funny. He calls a few times a day. We have date night during the week. We talk to each other first thing in the morning and last thing before we close our eyes to go to sleep every night. He helps me with my restaurant, staff and customers. He comes to my house every Friday and does not leave until Monday morning (making himself have to drive an hour to drop of said child at school, another 20 minutes to drop off puppy and switch vehicles and THEN drive another hour to work). So save the excuses.

Look at your relationship. If you are the woman and you are not BEING loved this way (or similar to it) then you should pick up your self-respect and respectfully bow out. Go find the man who will but do not marry the man who won’t or don’t or can’t or…

At 44 years of age I can tell you that no matter how old or young you are the person who will love you is out there. And, “When a man loves a woman, spend his very last dime tryin' to hold on to what he needs. He'd give up all his comfort; sleep out in the rain if she said that's the way it ought to be…

QUEENS AND QUESTIONS

2009-04-28T13:32:00.000-07:00

By Crystal Laramore and Deborah K. Martin

People are always asking me how I come up with stuff to write about week after week after week. Are you kidding me? I can barely contain myself sometimes. Especially in the cultural and political climate today!

My thoughts at this moment are:

I am outside on my patio piddling (a Texas word) around and listening to all the controversy surrounding a beauty queen, another kind of queen and a question. Last week the Miss USA beauty pageant was held as usual but the outcome was anything but normal. By the time it was over all hell had broken loose in the media over one question and its answer. What was the question? “Do you believe in gay marriage?”

Believe it or not this question does not have a right or wrong answer like “Is 2+2=4?” There are still quite a few subjects we have a perfect right to disagree on without fear of being criticized, ostracized or blacklisted. Aren’t there? Do we have to water down all our opinions these days for fear of offending someone out there???

The smarmy weasel who asked the question was none other than Perez Hilton, a BLOGGER, for Pete’s sake. His name isn’t even Hilton, its Mario Armando Lavandeira, Jr. Exactly what ARE his credentials for judging beauty pageants anyway? He asked a question whose answer he almost certainly already knew. The fact that Miss California is a conservative Christian was well known and he HAD to know this would stir up controversy but he asked it anyway. The little twerp didn’t really want to know what she thought. This was ALL about HIM, and his political agenda.

My gay friend Marty Morales said this: “Perez Hilton did not speak for the whole gay community when he verbally attacked Miss California. Miss California spoke her mind. Is there something wrong with that? Whatever happened to just being you? Good for Miss California for being herself, regardless if I agreed or disagreed with her answer.” Thanks, Marty. Your tolerance is showing, as well as your integrity.

Miss California valued her integrity and her faith more than she valued a crown and a title. Her reply was her opinion based on principles she believes in and frankly a lot of other Americans do as well. No offense to anyone, but marriage HAS a definition. In my New Webster’s Dictionary and Thesaurus marriage is defined thusly: mar-riage n. the institution under which a man and a woman become legally united on a permanent basis.

Now, being that it is 2009 and we are as tolerant as we are I did NOT find that definition on my Microsoft Word dictionary…hmmmm. Seems the definition has changed to “a legal relationship between spouses”. My favorite definition was number 2. specific marriage relationship: a married relationship between two people, or a somebody’s relationship with his or her spouse.

From where I sit high upon my writer’s pedestal I have a few things to say about this:

First of all if you are gay, straight or crooked, I don’t care. There are many gay people, male and female alike, in my circle of influence from family members to customers to great friends; NONE of whom care, or seem to care, what term is given to the union with their partner. So what is all the fuss about on the news and in congress and on the internet? Well, it’s just like anything, there are those on the fringes of all cultures, in all sectors of society, that just cannot relax and let folks be. They scream that they want us to be tolerant but that happens to be the last thing they are. Tolerant, I mean.

But here’s this guy on Utube calling Miss California a cu*t! Are you kidding me? And you wonder why our tolerance is dwindling away. Or do you really?

Once again, marriage has a definition. Let it go. Get another definition for a union between two people who happen to be of the same sex. WE DON”T CARE!!!! Most of us love you no matter what race, religion or sex you happen to be. And, as far as your sexual preferences we straight people really don’t care. Most of us. Again, there are some on the fringes…but don’t worry about the fringes. If you please them on one issue, there will always be another issue for them to gripe about.

You know, I've had a question for gay/lesbian folks for some time. Perhaps some of our readers are of the gay/lesbian persuasion and can enlighten me. Why is it that militant gay people seem to be so defined by their sexuality? I'm straight and no one cares about my sex life. Why should I care about yours? Aren't we ALL more than that part of our lives which takes up so little actual time? I'm just curious.

Back to other issues; I can see a legitimate issue for gay couples. When my gay friend Marty had surgery, the hospital staff didn’t want his partner, Shaun Carter, to come back to support him while he was waiting. Why? He wasn’t “family”. Actually, this can be an issue for straight couples sometimes. Sandra Bullock was asked why she married Jesse James and her answer was a light bulb moment for me. He had a motorcycle accident and as he was being put into the ambulance she realized just how powerless she was. Here they were, partners for life, but she had no legal rights whatsoever in determining his care, simply because they were not legally married.

That’s the complaint I hear from gay and lesbian friends and I have to agree. We can call the institution something else if we want to. We can disagree on whether it’s “right” to be gay. We can disagree on whether people were born that way or “made” gay at some point. Meanwhile, many people make a lifetime commitment without the ability to make life and death decisions for and with the person who means more to them than anyone else. Is that fair?

There are people of integrity on both sides of this issue and then there are others who use their status as a bludgeon against those who disagree. Seems like my friends Sean & Marty and Miss California have a lot in common even though they are on opposite sides of this issue. She stated that her answer was her opinion and though she didn’t wish to offend anyone and wasn’t angry with anyone, she had to be true to herself. Marty confirmed that he believed in her right to her opinion (and maybe even the crown?) even if he didn’t agree. He didn’t withhold approval of her just because he disagreed with her.

And in the end it doesn’t matter of Perez Hilton is gay or straight. He’s a sleazy opportunist and don’t we have those in every sector of society? Doesn’t sleaze cross all sectors of society? Likewise, don’t we have courageous role models who are male, female, gay, straight, black, white, Christian, Muslim, atheist? I haven’t always held a high opinion of beauty queens but this year I’m glad one had the poise and courage to speak up for what she believed in. We should all try to follow her example; gay, straight OR crooked!

Howlin’ @ the Moon!

2009-04-20T08:05:00.000-07:00

By Crystal Laramore

Research can be a daunting task, just ask any researcher. And, let’s be clear; taking one person’s ideas and claiming them as your very own is plagiarism. Period. Taking many people’s ideas, rearranging them, THEN claiming them as your very own is called research! OK. Anyway, while researching one of my favorite topics, relationships, I came across a book titled, “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man”. I grabbed up said book at Barnes & Noble and stowed it in my carry-on savoring it for my girl’s only trip to México.

My girlfriend, Dr. Deanna Foster has a house in Puerto Vallarta (you can stay there too: www.suenotropical.com). If you are a frequent visitor and you also happen to be very cool, like my friend Peggy Peterson, you know and refer to it simply as PV. Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to get to travel to PV and hang out there for small sums of money. And, since I only have small sums…

This time we (meaning SHE) decided no men, just us. A great week of journaling (which I bet the men are pissed they missed out on), reflection, sun-bathing au natural, self-discovery (which has nothing to do with sun-bathing au natural…it’s not like that, its INNER self-discovery), exercise and shopping which is of course is a form of exercise!

The great thing about Casa Sueno Tropical #194, is Christina and Ana! When you arrive the doors are always open so the first thing you see upon your arrival is the spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. Drop your bags at the door and head on out to the south veranda b/c they will have fresh guacamole, pico and homemade tostada chips waiting for you. And, when you are ready, (and you do need to “ready” yourself) Christina makes your fresh, homemade margarita! One, toooo, phree, I’m a goner!

Today I arrived early so I grabbed the research goods and headed off to the south veranda to do some “research”. I don’t think tequila and thinking/good motor skills go so well together…I hadn’t even opened the darn book …when I was spilling the phird margarita everywhere, even on the book itself. Ahh maaannn, now the pages are swelled up and smell like a tequila factory.

I should take a nap. Ahhh, I see a hammock. Big yawn.

And just to be clear, my other favorite subject is politics which is why my last several articles have been on that very topic. But alas, I was tiring of the subject and ready to get back to the sex talk. The reason I love the topic of relationships so much is b/c they are so hard to understand. We have a man and we have a woman and the two are supposed to but, never really do, unite in total freaking total bliss till the end of flipping time. Gimme a break! God must be a comedian. It’s got to be the original occupation. And He apparently became so enamored with His very own wit; He thought He should spread the good cheer. Oh joy! Some jokes you should just keep to yourself. Couldn’t He have come up with something less sadistic than trying to make a man and a woman live “happily” ever after? He IS God for Peter’s sake!

I’m a little drunken. And sleepy. I should pick this up again tomorri-oh. Nighty, night.

Day two of research project in México not going much better than day one. However, I did not; I repeat I did NOT have tequila for breakfast. Snicker. I had coffee. With tequila. Not really. Snicker.

At some point after margaritas and a siesta, my girlfriend and I were discussing our current and past relationship experiences (cuz that’s what we came for, might as well get it out of the way and head to Yelapa!) and we decided that not being totally 100% over the moon for a man is probably quite healthy. And attractive.

Does tequila really make your clothes fall off?

Seriously, think about the last time you were 100% over the moon for a man…that’s enough time. How did you behave? Did you howl when he didn’t call for 3 hours? Did you bark at him when he finally, after all those hours of making you wait, did call? Did your fangs show every time he looked at another woman or mentioned another woman’s name? Did your hind legs kick back and forth every time he showed you a little attention? Did you immediately roll over so he could rub your tummy? Did you slobber every time he showed up and opened a door for you? Did you lick him constantly just because he was there? Did you growl during sex? Did you attack him when he said you were too needy?

If you answered “no” to any of these questions then you’re a liar and you are not ready for a healthy relationship. Put down the paper and step away from the denial. When you are ready, come back to us and we can help you.

Anyhoo, Dr. Foster and I were discussing the past and present and decided we are much more attractive in our current state of “If he stays he stays. If he goes he goes”. Not that we wouldn’t be sad if he left, not that we don’t love them to pieces, not that we don’t really, really want to be with them; it’s just that we wouldn’t fall off the moon and need to be gorilla glued back together if they left.

And THAT ladies is how our men need us to be. They may not know or admit it, but that’s the way they want us as well. Because as soon as we jump over the said moon emotionally, we are no longer attractive; we are needy. And, most importantly, the challenge is gone. Yes, I said challenge. Men can tell you they are simple little creatures till the wolves quit howling at the moon, but they want a challenge. Never, ever forget it. It not their fault. It’s the testosterone. Build it up. Tear it down. They will build up a relationship up until the moment they know, beyond a moon’s shadow of a doubt they have you 100% and then they will set about tearing it down. It’s all a challenge.

Now, what they don’t need you challenging is their manhood, or their paychecks or their authority as man of the house but, they DO need a sparring life-partner. If you don’t have an edge, get one and don’t fall off of it. Be a self-assured woman not a howling bit#h.

"Good-Bye to You"!

2009-03-02T12:50:00.000-08:00

Has everyone recovered from my broken heart? Did you at least get some laughs and tips from my pain? The experience was peppered with moments of down-right sobbing followed closely by moments of hysterical laughter. I probably was in dire need of meds. However, when I would sit down to write and just get it all out there, I’d most times begin in the midst of an ugly cry and end feeling victorious! My keyboard, my publisher, my editors and my confidantes are all angelic and served as the best medicine I could not afford. Plus, there was all that Big-A$$ Shiraz!

When panicked friends began calling, wondering if the cliff I wrote about was real or imagined and whether or not I was on the edge of it, I decided I needed to back off writing about my woes for awhile. Even Richard called and said he was sad that I had put his real name on the blog…R U kidding me? HE was sad??? Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. And was looking to me for help??? And THAT folks is why we call ‘em Richard!

Truth be told, I’ve been doing rather well. All those articles that took several weeks to get in print took all of about two days to write! Great music, poetry, art, etc. sometimes comes from great tragedy; especially when over the top, drama queens are the ones in the midst of the tragedy!

Richard and I parted ways and as the old saying goes, when the devil slams one door shut in your face, God opens another…or something like that. So in the summer I met a nice man and, when I finally let go, completely let go all the way I SAW the nice man. Listen, when I say let go all the way I mean I deleted the emails, the txt msgs, the saved emails, the saved txt msgs, I deleted the email address, the phone numbers and I mailed the box of “stuff” - without going through it and saving a “piece of him”. Actually, I had one of my employees mail the box; no sense wasting good energy on a bad memory, snicker. And, most importantly, I quit saying to myself and all my friends “But he said” and I started paying attention to what he did. And what he did was wrong.

Basically, I took my own advice and advice from The Bit*h books and the many other books I read between bottles of BAS and therapy sessions with AC and Deb. At some point we HAVE to let go, for the sake of our friends/family. Laura, Jacqueline, Sue, Tina, my endless stream of customers who are friends and even the squirrels outside were life savers. But after several months of wallowing in self-pity, I was afraid they were going to have to start self-medicating! And that scared me b/c what if their drug of choice was BAS??? What if the supply ran low??? Crap. New game plan…Anyway, you can’t have your friends teetering on the edge when you are on the edge, there’s not enough room. The edge is thin. But, even people with the intestinal fortitude of the Hulk can only handle so much of YOUR pain! It can only be all about you for so long. Sorry. We must share the cliff.

Getting back on the proverbial horse after it’s pitched you over the cliff and slung you in the mud (I’m a self-proclaimed drama queen, just enjoy the craftiness) and dragged you through the forest is scary. I mean scary as in Jason is staring at you through the window that is not locked and YOU left your gun in the truck kind of scary. (If you’re old, Jason is the scary dude in all the Friday the 13th Halloween movies.) But I just reached in my grab bag and pulled out the book Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway.

Greg was the first casualty in my post-Richard dating experience. He was tall, good-looking and nice enough. He did bring the restaurant a Christmas tree. I was going to ignore Christmas. Poor customers. Greg also didn’t call to tell me he was going to be really late for one of our dates. He didn’t know I had a really low tolerance for Richards. I never answered anymore of his calls. And yes, he’s still calling. Poor Greg.

There were a few other men I spoke with a couple of times but there was only one man who seemed to ignore conversations with me dripping in sarcasm and bitterness. For some reason, known only to the romance gods, this man kept coming back to see me - weekend after weekend after weekend. He saw through the pain and anger. And one day, after he got to know me a little and was pretty sure I wasn’t really, all the way crazy, he asked me out on a real date. So there I was, just like that, on a real date with a really great man. I was taking the ends, bending the line, re-connecting the ends and starting all over.

There’s more to come about this man and the healing process. For now I’ll tell all of you in heart-break land that there is life after Richard or Sophia. And, that life is probably much better than the one that has you self-medicating. So, I’ve put down the Big A** Shiraz bottle and replaced it with a much better wine. I’ve put down the betrayal of Richard and replaced it with hope and love and a much better man, my forever man.

Ohhh Santa!

2009-01-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

28 December 08

By Crystal Laramore

Ohhh Santa!

Sooooo. Was everybody good this year? Did you all get what you wanted for Christmas? Did you get something you didn’t even know you wanted? Hopefully everyone had a surprise or two in their stocking. And for all you mean people out there…well, we hope you got what you deserve as well.

What about giving? Did you give some special gifts? Did you give some funny gifts? Those are my favorite. I love finding that perfect funny gift that makes me LOL IN the store! I gave my sister a compact mirror that read: Eat, Drink & Remarry! LOL! LOL! LOL!

I wonder if anyone who’s been reading my Blogs can guess what my predominant gift was this year to give-to my girlfriends… I’ll give you a hint: It was a book…Ok, I gave out several copies of “Why Men Love Bit*hes”. I giggled soooo much giving out those books to my girlfriends. And guys don’t get your tinsel in a tangle. Bit*h isn’t defined as you might think. No one wants to be around a traditional bit*h, but everyone wants to be around a self-assured woman who is not a doormat. Get the book. If you are a man, get the book for your woman. Or your daughter. Or your sister. Or your mother…

Face Book gave me an unexpected gift; they took a stand against women showing themselves breast-feeding their babies on their site. What IS the point of showing the world (what should be) a private moment between a woman and her newborn baby? No it’s NOT porn but some sicko out there will certainly turn something beautiful into something ugly. What is the big deal about keeping it off the big screen? Are we that narcissistic? Is there ANYTHING left (apparently not for the Left) that we want to keep sacred and private?

But I digress…a long time ago a woman I worked with was getting new carpet in her house for Christmas and the look on my face could have doubled on a horror flick. How impersonal! Doesn’t HE get to use the carpet TOO? Anyway it was what she wanted. It took me over twenty years to appreciate that. This Christmas I got an ice machine! Not only did mama get a brand new ice machine but also, Santa kicked the mean ice machine-man out of my restaurant! It was great! Scrooge vs. Santa. Santa won!

Another great Christmas gift I received this year was a box of Blue Diamond Organic crackers. Glutton-free too! I don’t really know what glutton is, but I do know it’s some really good stuff! So, whatever the Blue Diamond people are putting in their crackers, to make up for taking out the glutton, its working. I’ve been coveting my girlfriend Kathy’s crackers (no, not her big-a$ house, just her crack-ers) for so long that she bought me 87 boxes of various flavors of these addictive crack(hmmm)ers. Secretly, Kathy must wonder if I’m there to visit her or the crack-ers…I DO spend a lot of time in her pantry. Anyway, the presents you never even thought of are the ones that mean the most. I certainly think she was LOL IN the store!

Just a little side note: In all fairness, Kathy owes me all the crack-ers I can eat in my lifetime. When I was sad, depressed and barely hanging on by my chewed up fingernails, doing the ugly cry on the freeway one Sunday evening, I pulled over to pull it together and called my “friend” Kathy. See, when you are depressed you need to know where all of your friends live and you need to know all of their addictions so you can choose who will best fit your needs at any particular point in your meltdown/healing process. This particular night I needed wine and since my sister was and hour and half south, I called Kathy. And women all around the world know the ugly-must have wine- cry when they hear it.

And you need to choose girlfriends with really great husbands too. Ron (Kathy’s husband) built us a fire, told me what a *&(^%$ Richard was, drank a little wine (not too much or we’ll get pissed off that you’re into our stash) with us and then politely dismissed himself so we could trash the male species as a whole.

After we drank the case, err, I mean a few bottles of wine, Kathy showed me to my suite and made sure I was still breathing before she closed the door. When I awoke the next morning, sleepy, groggy and following the scent of coffee, I staggered down the long hallway to the great room. The 47 dogs she has rescued surrounded me and before I could really think I heard one of the dogs squawking really loud. Hmmm. What a strange noise to be coming from a dog…then I looked up just in time to see a 10-foot span of green feathers flying at me-Ahhh the squawking seems to be coming from the moving green thing-And the moving green thing is on my freaking head-BITING my freaking ear! Have you ever heard that girl that’s about to be killed in Friday the 13th scream? Well, Arthur did. I think it was the blood-curdling scream I had needed to get out for a while anyway. Pain and relief at the same time….Ahhhhh. So, for Christmas Arthur got a bullet from me, and it sits on top of his cage. Snicker.

Another great gift was the Copenhaver’s. On Saturday I had the door locked after lunch and Santa must have unlocked it just for Barry & Judy Copenhaver. We drank a few beers and visited and then they were off. They are the couple I wrote the “Respect” article about. I served with their daughter Jill in Baghdad, Iraq. Keep up. And on Tuesday Jill followed suit and the visit was complete!

Anyway, the most important gifts come from the heart. And I gave myself a gift as well; the gift of letting go. Richard got a Dear Jon (that is funnier than most of you know!) letter and I mailed “The Box”. The great thing about letting go is you can look back and realize that what you had wasn’t what you thought you were getting anyway. All the advice from your friends and family finally, after all those tears, makes sense. When the smoke signals settled and the wild look in my eyes calmed down, when the wild kitties and squirrels felt it was safe to return, I was able to look at the man I was crying over and realize I was crying over the idea of him, not him. People can tell you a lot of things but actions really do speak louder than words. Ladies, Gentlemen, KNOW what you want. And know when the show is over.

For decades I’ve told thousands of people, “Until you let go of the negative (no matter if it’s a job or a partner or a friend, or glutton…) you cannot make room for the positive”. As soon as I let go of the negative, the positive was right there; the positive energy, the positive thought process, the positive people, etc. “Let go and let God” is not just a pretty little phrase. It’s what I did and I’m grateful, soooo grateful for the people God put in my life to help me through such a difficult time. Ok, THEY may not be so grateful, but sacrifices do have to be made in the name of love and friendship! And thank GOD they love me!

I spent some time looking back over some of their wisdom-filled emails they wrote over the last several months and just LMAO! What’s that song…”I can see clearly now the rain is gone…”? It’s like Dah! And really (truly) I’m not bitter… Bitterness leads to Botox people!

Merry Christmas AC, Deb, Laura, Greg, Jacqueline, Kathy, Ron, Dale (AKA Santa), Bill, Bob and yes, even you Richard.

Match.com: 120.00/year

Dinner with an idiot: Free

Letting go: Priceless

Cinderella. Meet Richard. We call him Dick for short.

2008-12-16T08:21:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

Cinderella. Meet Richard. We call him Dick for short.

Unfortunately for me it’s been a rainy week. Unfortunate b/c I think about him. And the other night while it was raining and I was watching mindless television and reading bitch books and drunk and divorced books, I glanced at the television. In the upper right hand corner was the weather report for Colorado. Severe Thunderstorm Warning!!!! Are you kidding me God? Why am I gPostingetting Colorado’s weather report? I have NEVER seen Colorado’s weather report on my local stations. Was God just trying tickle his funny bone, yet again, at my expense, by letting me know it was storming where he is too? NOT funny God. Seriously, NOT funny. Just then Tim Heller, our weatherman, said something about San Jacinto County and Colorado County. Really? I didn’t even know there WAS a Colorado County near me. Sorry God. My bad.

Meanwhile back on the boob tube…Brittany Spears was doing a very sexy dance with a silver, metal chair. Now, Brittany Spears had a catastrophic meltdown of ginormous proportions and look at her now! Its ok it won’t be difficult. She’s hot! Brittany obviously poured herself into, well herself! Her attitude isn’t the only thing that got a work out. Her body and her career are back on top. While I was watching her new video I wondered why I chose Big Ass Shiraz over intense hour and a half workouts with a hot Latin trainer: look out Bally’s Fitness Center, here I come! At least I haven’t shaved my head. Hell, I barely shave my legs!

Drinking isn’t the only therapy getting me through the nights. Writing has always helped me cope. And, I’ve been so busy drinking and writing I haven’t been able to workout. That’s my story and…

The next bit of comedic relief on the boob tube came in the form of a retail commercial. Jane Seymour was peddling her new jewelry collection, which only reminded me that Christmas is around the corner, then New Year’s Eve, then Valentine’s Day. Will I spend the holidays with him or without him? And speaking of the New Year, his birthday card to me said “I pray that I can be counted as one of your blessings in 2008…” Well Scooter, I guess that all depends what your definition of blessing is. Is it the same as curse, betrayal? Oh Jane-shut up…“It’s the Open Hearts Collection @ Kay Jewelers, b/c your heart has to be open to receive love”. Now Jane, that is simply NOT true. MY heart is OPEN and how’s that working out for me? What now Jane? Got a piece of jewelry for a jagged heart? Maybe with a black onyx in the center?

Because black symbolizes empty, right? And I’m realizing the words were just empty promises. Now, the waiting is turning into completely letting go (me letting go)…all the way; he’s crossing the invisible line. The silence chips away at my belief in his sincerity and my trust in his integrity; words not matching up with action and all. Love is a verb y'all. And, when the respect goes, it all goes. Just a little nugget of insight for ya…

Speaking of nuggets and gems, one night Richard sent me a txt message “Sweet dreams. I’ll be the one on the white horse sweeping you away”. My girlfriend sent me a text message the other day saying, “I think you should just wait around on him, maybe he’ll show up on a white steed and sweep you off your feet; like Cinderella. Or was that Snow White? I get the fairy tales confused”.

I concur. I’m getting it all confused too. I think I have a new fairy tale…pre-historic man gets confused between sweeping the damsel off her feet and galloping to the meadow to make wild passionate love to her OR stabbing her in the heart with a serrated edged hunting knife. True love vs. Make Believe. Make believe – 1. True love – 0. But at least I’m not bitter.

Oh now, it’s not as bad as I make it sound (it’s worse, not really. Yes it is. Who can tell anymore?) but it does make for good writing. We’re tying to give David E. Kelley a new sitcom since Boston Legal is in its last season. David will be bored and needs a new project. We’re also trying to find a place in one of the articles for Toby Keith’s song “How do you like me now?”

Richard. Meet Xena.

2008-12-15T10:36:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

By Crystal Laramore

Richard. Meet Xena.

Somewhere in the middle of desperately watching Housewives and reading the bitch books, Grey’s Anatomy showed me the light at the end of the tunnel. The token blonde chick on the surgery floor was having visions that her ex love was always next to her; talking to her in his deep, sexy voice. Yes, every girl’s dream, except when the reason he’s your ex love is because he’s dead! Then, the experience is more likened to a nightmare instead of a dream.

Anyway, Izzy, the blonde surgeon, had a patient who needed a heart transplant. Mr. Patient was an American Indian and had a lot of wisdom-filled advice for poor, poor Izzy. He said, in his tribe, when a loved one died the family gathered all of their things and gave them to the medicine man to burn. That way the spirit could be freed and the tribe would not have to live with the ghost of the dead.

So, being the brain-surgery-kinda-smart girl she is, she decided to burn the dead, ex-boyfriends sweater she had been holding on to, and sleeping with, and smelling and…(In the spirit of relating everything to songs - Burn, baby burn.) Anyhooo, after sharing this revelation with my staff and noticing their “deer caught in the headlights” look, it occurred to me “Maybe I shouldn’t be sharing so much. Maybe some of my deepest, darkest thoughts shouldn’t be shared with people who aren’t forced, by hundreds of years of bloodline, to love me unconditionally”. Ya think?

My staff now enters the building every evening with great trepidation, fearing they will find the 8-burner outdoor grill ablaze with various Richard of my Past artifacts; me draped in loin cloth (from the skinned wild kitties under the deck) with black charcoal smudges under my eyes, wielding a serrated-edge hunting knife and a wild-far-away, Xena the Warrior Princess-like crazed look in my eyes. “Boss! Put DOWN the knife and step AWAY from the fire”.

Anyway, about that box full of his stuff that is taking up space in my office, maybe I should just burn it all. Secretly, of course. It can’t stay in my office. The box is big, the office is small and that makes the box seem like a large Elk in a small meadow, begging to die, by fire, on a grill…

Anyway, I do have to kick the ghostly box out of my way often. However, that actually feels good. After all, it’s not him I want to kick, I love him; it’s the situation I want to kick. I just want to kick something! I can’t kick my customers. The box will suffice, for now…

And the feeling to kick something, anything, comes at random. There are land mines all about the place. Yesterday I found dried pasta in pretty little bags that he sent me months and months ago. It was for our first date. Since we live a thousand miles apart and a first date requires food, and he is an idea man, he sent me a basket of food. While cleaning up the kitchen, I lifted the lid on the slow cooker, how appropriate, and there was the land mine. It came complete with a miniature breakdown during the dinner rush. Yippee.

Another land mine came in the form of a young, handsome country and western singer. He showed up here and wanted to audition. He’d heard about the place through his boss at the hospital. Being the hater of C&W music I am and being that I haven’t had a high tolerance of things (more things) that don’t make me happy I was NOT inclined to sit through an agonizing audition of a music genre famous for heartbreak songs.

But Hank Williams, Sr. channeled himself through me at that very moment and said yes to Mr. James Antley. There was a large group of school administrators sitting at table 8. Jennifer was celebrating her birthday so it was sorta perfect, in a weird, twisted, God is wielding his funny bone again, kind of way. Until the lyrics of his first song choice became clear to my untrained C&W ear “It’s a modern day romance with an old fashioned pain”. Purrrrrfeeeeeect. Isn’t this the part of the non-fairy tale where God does a preemptive strike and channels himself and sings a song like “Jose Cuervo is a friend of mine” or “Tequila makes my clothes fall off”? But, it was Jennifer’s birthday, never mind my unmitigated sad state of affairs. And, the birthday girl and her chipper little group just looooved the song. They clapped soooo enthusiastically that I swear the brick floor moved; “I feel the earth-move-under my feet”. Then, they suggested he move to the next round. He’s now a regular weekend attraction at Crystal’s House of P&S (Pain & Suffering). Good looks, great voice, sad songs and all!

Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…

2008-11-24T08:34:00.001-08:00

Monday, 17 November 2008

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…

“We’re not over. I love you with all my heart”. I keep hearing the words. The words keep me up at night. But the action (or lack there of), doesn’t back up the words. And that wakes me in the middle of the night. It’s been over a week since he’s called. Three weeks between that phone call and the last. Here’s your sign. The whispered words are fainter with each passing day. Silly girl, tricks are for rabbits.

Anyhoo, my mojo is coming back! Well, my coffee mojo anyway. There for a few weeks I just couldn’t get it right. Every morning I make myself (cuz I can’t afford staff on days the restaurant is closed) a café latte and froth the milk and lately the frothing part of my daily ritual has been off a bit. Well, it’s been flat, actually. No froth. Do you know how devastating no froth in a café latte is? Especially to an already unbalanced individual.

But one day last week I made the perfect cup of coffee, froth and all! The next thought had no real place in my pattern of thoughts…wait, have I had a pattern lately? Yes. Scattered. So, actually the next thought fit right in. It was about a cat my sister hijacked. She didn’t really kidnap it as she does let it go outside but she has definitely hijacked it.

My little sister was going through a divorce and doing the whole “why doesn’t he love me” drama dance, like we doooooo, and she was praying to God to get her mojo back. About that time a black, male cat showed up on her front porch, walked right in her cluttered “I’m newly divorced” condo and made himself right at home. She was a bit taken aback since she not only didn’t like cats, she didn’t like men. And a black cat? What more bad luck could she possibly withstand? Well, there was a collar and a name tag on the black, male cat. His ass was goin home! Until she read the name tag. His name: Drum roll please: MOJO! Seriously. God really does do things to amuse himself. I can see him now sitting on his throne giggling to himself saying “Ya really gotta learn to be more specific people, otherwise…”

Since God was channeling himself through the black, male cat named Mojo, my sister decided she should probably, at the very least, provide food and shelter. Hopefully she never provides clothing. The hijacking part comes from the fact that she bought cat a diamond studded dual bowl set, is dishing up it’s favorite brand of caviar and serving it Evian water. Would YOU go back home? God keeps looking around Heaven asking Peter “Where IS my son”? Wonder where he got off to this week.

Anyway, back to me: I now know why people get together during a time of pain and suffering. When we are hurting we want someone to console us and when it can’t be the one delivering the P&S (pain & suffering) sometimes we turn to who is available/willing. Ooooooh, I just thought of another song to replace the silly love songs: “So if you can’t beeeeeee with the one you love honey, love the one you’re with”. Oh, I digress. My bad. I have a good friend who I do not want to date for reasons far beyond the fact that he is a great man. And being the great man he is, when I called, when I needed him, he came running; even though I was drunk-texting him; even though he knew who I really wanted. Yes, he came over – Even Though - and just held me. Excuse me, I’m getting teary-eyed and need a break. I just put on make-up and hate to waste good product…

…ok, I’m back. Whew. The sadness comes in waves. So, my friend didn’t even have a clue that Richard had put me on hold. I told ya’ll already that I hadn’t let on to my friends and letting go is such a quiet sound. My friend was totally shocked as he has met Richard and thought it was a match made in heaven. Yeah, me too. That’s the funny (gotta laugh or I’ll cry again and again) thing - it is a match made in Heaven. My friend wondered why I hadn’t called him before now. I told it him it wouldn’t have done any good cuz he wouldn’t have been able to understand me. The ugly cry doesn’t lend itself to comprehensible verbiage. He may have understood sign language; maybe we could have played charades: Woman in midst of ugly cry, making loud duck(like) call sounds with nose, coupons for Kleenex with lotion surrounding her, arm reaching toward bottle of Big Ass Shiraz holding empty wine glass…No last night was the perfect time. I was able to clearly state my case and not cry. Oh, I got teary-eyed, but not one tear rolled down my cheek. Moving right along. Isn’t it sad?

Anyway, my friend held me and we talked about the evening at the restaurant. I told him about my new musician and how he had invited someone here to meet me. The man’s name was Richard. My friend said “Hmm. You certainly don’t want to start dating someone with the same name as the one you’re trying to get over”. Wow! I hadn’t even put two and twelve together! So there I was being introduced to another Richard and never even thought of my Richard! Ha! How do ya like that? It’s about time! (And no, I do not want to date anyone else. What I want however seems not to be the issue. But, what I am doing is waiting and hoping and venting.) My friend and I decided I was on the road to recovery! And then, I made another perfect café latte this morning! Fluffy froth and all!

And, I took a shower. I didn’t cry and I didn’t draw hearts with his name in the center. What I did do was discover that if you are really interested in your hygiene there is a lot to do in there! It just takes focus. No time for crying when you are actually shaving your legs, washing AND conditioning your hair, scrubbing the dead skin (there’s a metaphor if you think for a split-second…) off your feet and just generally cleaning your body. I’m not sure I’ve been remembering all of those steps lately. I’ve had other stuff to do in there. Like draw hearts and write “I love Richard” in the fog and cry and beat the wall and scream at the water; then erase the hearts and love notes and step out of the therapy shower without falling down. I fell down once about eight years ago and the only thing I keep thinking through this heart-wrenching betrayal I’m feeling is that I can’t fall down again. I can get weak, I can cry but, I. Can’t. Fall. Down. Must. Not. Fall. Down.

Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…

2008-11-24T08:34:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods by Crystal Laramore

Dear Whoever’s Still Listening…Need Big Ass Shiraz…Stat…

“We’re not over. I love you with all my heart”. I keep hearing the words. The words keep me up at night. But the action (or lack there of), doesn’t back up the words. And that wakes me in the middle of the night. It’s been over a week since he’s called. Three weeks between that phone call and the last. Here’s your sign. The whispered words are fainter with each passing day. Silly girl, tricks are for rabbits.

Anyhoo, my mojo is coming back! Well, my coffee mojo anyway. There for a few weeks I just couldn’t get it right. Every morning I make myself (cuz I can’t afford staff on days the restaurant is closed) a café latte and froth the milk and lately the frothing part of my daily ritual has been off a bit. Well, it’s been flat, actually. No froth. Do you know how devastating no froth in a café latte is? Especially to an already unbalanced individual.

But one day last week I made the perfect cup of coffee, froth and all! The next thought had no real place in my pattern of thoughts…wait, have I had a pattern lately? Yes. Scattered. So, actually the next thought fit right in. It was about a cat my sister hijacked. She didn’t really kidnap it as she does let it go outside but she has definitely hijacked it.

My little sister was going through a divorce and doing the whole “why doesn’t he love me” drama dance, like we doooooo, and she was praying to God to get her mojo back. About that time a black, male cat showed up on her front porch, walked right in her cluttered “I’m newly divorced” condo and made himself right at home. She was a bit taken aback since she not only didn’t like cats, she didn’t like men. And a black cat? What more bad luck could she possibly withstand? Well, there was a collar and a name tag on the black, male cat. His ass was goin home! Until she read the name tag. His name: Drum roll please: MOJO! Seriously. God really does do things to amuse himself. I can see him now sitting on his throne giggling to himself saying “Ya really gotta learn to be more specific people, otherwise…”

Since God was channeling himself through the black, male cat named Mojo, my sister decided she should probably, at the very least, provide food and shelter. Hopefully she never provides clothing. The hijacking part comes from the fact that she bought cat a diamond studded dual bowl set, is dishing up it’s favorite brand of caviar and serving it Evian water. Would YOU go back home? God keeps looking around Heaven asking Peter “Where IS my son”? Wonder where he got off to this week.

Anyway, back to me: I now know why people get together during a time of pain and suffering. When we are hurting we want someone to console us and when it can’t be the one delivering the P&S (pain & suffering) sometimes we turn to who is available/willing. Ooooooh, I just thought of another song to replace the silly love songs: “So if you can’t beeeeeee with the one you love honey, love the one you’re with”. Oh, I digress. My bad. I have a good friend who I do not want to date for reasons far beyond the fact that he is a great man. And being the great man he is, when I called, when I needed him, he came running; even though I was drunk-texting him; even though he knew who I really wanted. Yes, he came over – Even Though - and just held me. Excuse me, I’m getting teary-eyed and need a break. I just put on make-up and hate to waste good product…

…ok, I’m back. Whew. The sadness comes in waves. So, my friend didn’t even have a clue that Richard had put me on hold. I told ya’ll already that I hadn’t let on to my friends and letting go is such a quiet sound. My friend was totally shocked as he has met Richard and thought it was a match made in heaven. Yeah, me too. That’s the funny (gotta laugh or I’ll cry again and again) thing - it is a match made in Heaven. My friend wondered why I hadn’t called him before now. I told it him it wouldn’t have done any good cuz he wouldn’t have been able to understand me. The ugly cry doesn’t lend itself to comprehensible verbiage. He may have understood sign language; maybe we could have played charades: Woman in midst of ugly cry, making loud duck(like) call sounds with nose, coupons for Kleenex with lotion surrounding her, arm reaching toward bottle of Big Ass Shiraz holding empty wine glass…No last night was the perfect time. I was able to clearly state my case and not cry. Oh, I got teary-eyed, but not one tear rolled down my cheek. Moving right along. Isn’t it sad?

Anyway, my friend held me and we talked about the evening at the restaurant. I told him about my new musician and how he had invited someone here to meet me. The man’s name was Richard. My friend said “Hmm. You certainly don’t want to start dating someone with the same name as the one you’re trying to get over”. Wow! I hadn’t even put two and two together! So there I was being introduced to another Richard and never even thought of my Richard! Ha! How do ya like that? It’s about time! (And no, I do not want to date anyone else. What I want however seems not to be the issue. What I am doing is waiting and hoping and venting.) My friend and I decided I was on the road to recovery! And then, I made another perfect café latte this morning! Fluffy froth and all!

And, I took a shower. I didn’t cry and I didn’t draw hearts with his name in the center. What I did do was discover that if you are really interested in your hygiene there is a lot to do in there! It just takes focus. No time for crying when you are actually shaving your legs, washing AND conditioning your hair, scrubbing the dead skin (there’s a metaphor if you think for a split-second…) off your feet and just generally cleaning your body. I’m not sure I’ve been remembering all of those steps lately. I’ve had other stuff to do in there. Like draw hearts and write “I love Richard” in the fog and cry and beat the wall and scream at the water; then erase the hearts and love notes and step out of the therapy shower without falling down. I fell down once about eight years ago and the only thing I keep thinking through this heart-wrenching betrayal I’m feeling is that I can’t fall down again. I can get weak, I can cry but, I. Can’t. Fall. Down. Must. Not. Fall. Down.

Dear Richard, Again...

2008-11-15T13:04:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

“Listening to the rhythm of the falling rain, drinking a bottle of Big Ass Shiraz”. Hey it’s my party and I’ll sing the songs however I want to. At least I haven’t gone so far into the Country & Western Vault of sad songs that I’m in the Patsy Cline Crazy section. Oh, I mean the song Crazy. Yes, I’m in the crazy section of life all right.

Listen Hold People, when we’re on hold why can’t we listen to rain & thunder? It’s soooo soothing. Today I was on a different kind of hold-the hospital (NOT the crazy part of the hospital, but next week…) put me on hold. They kept saying “thank you for your patience”. What? I’m not being patient. You “hold people” are in denial. I’m fuming and by the time you answer this phone…

Clearly I’m still on (relationship) hold and still doing crazy things like driving 25 miles to make a deposit at the bank on Veteran’s Day and then driving straight to the post office to check the mail-YES, on the very same national holiday. I bet the bank video made for some pretty good speculation on Wednesday morning. WHO IS this crazy lady looking all over for people or help? Doesn’t she know it’s a national holiday? Hmmm, she does have a crazed look in her eyes. Maybe she’s casing the joint…That was yesterday…

Today, my poor, poor propane guy called me (Wednesday, 12 November). He may never call again. He was calling to give me a quote on a propane heater and started off the conversation with “Hey, I found one for $313. It might just be cheaper to get a big burly man to sleep with you at night and keep you warm”. He followed up his undeniable wit with a lot of laughter. I followed it up with a lot of shoulder-heaving, ugly crying. Sorry, sobbing. He quickly responded with, “But with my discount it would only be $275.00”. I hung up on him.

What does that say? If I cry I can get a $38 discount? If my feelings are being hurt and my heart is aching it actually has a monetary value? Pain is worth something? And men wonder why (some) women can cry at the drop of a hat. Let me know when my crying is worth a Mercedes!

Thursdays we play Texas Hold ’Em. It’s a ritualistic event here. We always have the usual suspects and sometimes a newbie or two. Wonder if Jeff will ever step inside again? If I were him I would be wondering if the environment “in there” is stable. “What if I beat her at poker? She does have a concealed hand-gun license”. Yes, there are lots of scenarios I would be playing in my head if I were him and I had just spoken with me.

Yesterday I thought I was healing cuz I deleted one of his emails. Not one to me directly you understand, cuz that is just crazy man. No, it was one where he hit “reply all”. I just hit delete. Typically I would read his five little words and think how wise he is to get his thought process across in so few words (cuz that impresses me. I’m a little wordy.) and then I would save his profound five little words in “His” file. I looked at “his” file the other day and the day I was put on hold just jumps out at me, like Jason in Friday the 13th. Good thing I’m a saver. That way I know when things were put on hold and I can put a time frame on the holding pattern and hang up one day. You know, when I’m not patient anymore.

Some good news (really, it’s sad news but I’m trying to be a bitch) is that when I wake up now he’s not the first thought on my mind, he’s the second and that’s a start. My friends, male and female alike, laughed a lot at my last article/blog and that made me laugh too. Laughter, like time, is a good healer. But then again, so is beer and tequila. Music on the other hand is a terrible healer unless you like country music. County music and some of the pop music I’ve found (Rehab) have really lifted my spirits and given me lots of ideas in case I cross the line between sanity and wigged out, put on a diaper and drive fifteen hours to see him; yes, without a written/verbal/mental invitation. So...

One of my male friends is going through exactly the same thing and his dilemma, his reason for sleepless nights is the “why” factor. He wants to know why. Heck, I KNOW why and it doesn’t help. He says his imagination is running in circles and I just suggested he not give his imagination a knife! Sometimes your mind is a dangerous place and you shouldn’t go there alone. Take a friend. But take a stable friend. Snicker, as if…

Hopefully I’m not the only friend he has right now cuz if I am he’s up the proverbial creek without a paddle!

Lying. I’ve gotten really good at lying. Emotions are unique and completely unpredictable. I’ll go an entire 21 hours without crying and then one of my customers will tell me about he and his wife’s trip to Brazil and there I go-excusing myself to run to the kitchen and put out a grease-fire. It’s a good explanation for the puffy eyes and red nose when I return. I’ve used allergies and those damn onions as excuses for watery eyes and a red nose as well.

When people walk in the restaurant they always say “How are you, Crystal”? Partly, I would like to think, is b/c my customers and I really care about each other. That is why I lie so much to them. It’s safer for our relationship than the truth. Plus they aren’t really expecting the truth.

Life is so full of surprises that if you aren’t expecting any you can be caught completely unawares. Like when you’re in jail for casing the bank and seem confused. Or when you run out of the house with socks and Crocs and meet the hottest person with teeth ya evah did see in your whole blessed life. And no matter how understanding/patient/loving/yada/yada/yada we people on hold are, being caught completely unawares is a tough place to be. However, my Death by Chocolate Martinis doooo sooth the soul. No, I’m not morbid. I didn’t name them after him. I named them before him. It’s not like I drink them wishing the whole time, right down to the chocolate covered cherry, that he was dead. Nothing like that ya’ll. Why, I love him. (Most of this paragraph should be said with the southern twang of Scarlet O’Hara.) Read it again. It’ll be funnier.

“Have a blessed day. I’ve emailed you a guardian angel”. Are you kidding me? I’m in relationship hell-I’m still in the holding pattern for Pete’s sake. This sweet voice keeps saying “Your call is important to us”…and you people are sending me EMAIL ANGELS? I just want to turn those emails into solid, animate objects and throw them as hard as I can to the freaking, inconsiderate, imbecile who sent it to me. Except the one my friend Sue sent me. Her guardian angel was a hot, tanned, dark, handsome angel wearing nothing but white, feathered wings and a loin cloth. Hello Angel!

“Don’t break the chain or something bad will happen to you”. There’s the “why”! I’m in relationship hell b/c I broke a chain. Crap. I broke a lot of chains. Guess I’ll have to stay away from relationships for a long, long time. Wonder if my friends can take some of my bad karma? Well, that’s what friends are for isn’t it? My favorite definition of friendship is the one I share with my best friend and editor, Deborah Martin: “Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies”. She’s been worried lately that I will test that theory.

Me too.

Richard sent me some flowers for my birthday. They lasted a day. They started drooping and looking sad and then I started drooping and … So, I put them outside in the cold, where my heart is. Yes, I’ve already noted in the previous column that I’m sad and pathetic so I don’t need the lecture. Anyway, I put the droopy, sad roses in his box. What a waste of money. We’d both be better off if he’d just sent Prozac or Kleenex or a case of Big Ass Shiraz. You should all be saying “note to self” right about now.

Speaking of Prozac, therapy comes in many forms. I’ve been building a bigger closet (you know, for all the new clothes I’ve bought), re-arranging furniture and covering my sofa cushions in bright and colorful fabric. Plus, I’m way ahead of schedule on my articles! What I haven’t been doing is paying bills. Oh, I do the payroll but that’s only cuz I want to be alone, I don’t want to work alone. But I don’t care if I can’t make long-distance calls or if Direct TV doesn’t work. I do care about the internet though. What would I do without Spider Solitaire? How would I spend my time if not checking my Inbox every 2.5 seconds, re-reading his love messages? Big Sigh.

Dear Richard (the name has been changed to entertain me)

2008-11-12T10:03:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

By Crystal Laramore

Edited by Deborah Martin (the “Cliff” chick-as in been there done that)

Dear Richard (the name has been changed to entertain me)

(The views and opinions in this article do not necessarily reflect the true feelings of the woman writing this article when she’s not sad/hormonal/drunk/angry/confused/generally pissed-off/drunk/sad…)

Well, I’m here. Where we all have been and never want to go again. Near death. Or, its close cousin, the death of a relationship. It’s a sad place to be and a funny place all at the same time. It’s that place we all promise ourselves we’ll never visit again. We love, we lose, we move on but we’ll never go there again. It’s a dark place and sometimes all the lights go out at once. And there is no power to bring the lights on again. Not even a generator.

When you know it’s over but you’re still holding on by your chewed up fingernails you find yourself doing really silly things. For instance, I’m reading books like Why Men Love Bitches as if turning into a bitch will make him love me enough to not let go??? Actually…And it’s distant cousin Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair. Well, we’re not getting a divorce and I have no cats, but two outta three ain’t bad! Didja get that?

I also call my two best friends (one is my aunt) and my sister ALL the time. Or else I would be calling him and according to the Bitch book…I did have to delete his number to accomplish that feat though. I also deleted his email address but some people don’t know we’re letting go (it’s a very quiet sound) so I keep getting his email address on my computer screen in bright blue letters-it’s like a flashing neon sign saying “Hey, remember me-I’m the guy breaking your heart”. It’s like pay it forward only different. LOL! Plus he sent me a txt msg. 4 my bday. Anyway, my poor friends, at this point, want us to reconcile more than I do I think. For their sanity, ya’ll understand.

They’re dodging what Oprah calls the ugly cry. But just like in dodge ball you just never know which me is going to be on the other end of the phone. I can see them now looking at the caller ID, seeing my name and praying to God that I’m having an “I’m a bitch day” instead of the “but he said ‘blah, blah, blah’” and “but I love him soooooo (this is where I am completely un-comprehensible and my shoulders are heaving up and down) much”. There are other pitiful phrases that I’m sure I use over and over but I’m trying to get my pathetic self off hold so I’m trying the amnesia theory; if I could just quit remembering what I’m trying to forget. That memory is a great enemy sometimes; especially when all you have are good ones-really, really good ones. You get one out of the way and your brain goes “But wait, there’s more”.

That whole remembering thing is dicey. It’s nice to have good memories to share with someone but when you become a solo act instead of a duo…it’s just not as much fun to share the memories with yourself of the first time we walked hand-in-hand, the time he caught more fish than I did but I caught the biggest one. Or to remember what you are going to do in the future. Like walk in the rain together…go on an adventure vacation, blah, blah, blah. No, these memories are not fun to share with the sofa and the box of Kleenex, not even with a whole bottle of Big Ass Shiraz all to yourself!

I’ve also turned from listening to love songs like James Taylor’s “You’ve Got a Friend” (a song he pointed out in the car and wanted me to listen to on a rainy, romantic evening) to songs that drip beautiful sentiments like “I took my key and scratched the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive and carved my name into his leather seats…” and I don’t even listen to country music. There are other songs about revenge too like that one about all those chick’s personalities; I think there was an El Camino and a key in that song too. Wonder if he parks in the garage? Wonder if he has security cameras? Just kidding. Snicker, snicker.

There are moments during this twilight zone that I do find entertaining. Like when really young men are flirting with me. Sometimes I need reading glasses but even the 250’s (which I don’t need) couldn’t change that 8 (as in 1982) to a 6 (as in I wish he was born in 1962…). I must have “I’m vulnerable and lonely and I’ve been duped errr (really, I’m not bitter) I mean dumped” on my wise-beyond-my-years forehead? Or is it “I’m much older than you and I have a house and my own business (oh yeah, that has a bar - duh!) and money and I can buy you an X-Box for Christmas”? But the good news is there are other single people out there and some even have teeth.

And then there are moments in this twilight zone I’m so angry I want to shoot out his knee. But I’m not so angry I want to shoot out his good knee. Shooting out an already bad knee just doesn’t seem so self-serving. Actually, I posed this theory to my UB and he never emailed me back. I guess it’s best to not have electronic proof of a conspiracy.

Less aggressively, I’ve deleted his picture from all the computer screens and the bberry screen. I’ve taken his framed love notes off the wall and I’ve started going to bars where people are. That’s a good thing cuz I just cried for the first three weeks and people were annoying cuz I couldn’t cry when the people were around. Even though I own my own business and the people meant money, I just didn’t want to see the people.

I also made note of time - a lot. Oh, it’s been exactly one, two, three weeks since he’s called. The last time was 8:11 on Wednesday. Not as bad as 9/11 but ... There are other things I’ve done that are more therapeutic than crying and noting historical moments in time, like when I packed up all his “stuff” in a box, taping it shut and addressing it. There are other things I haven’t done, like have the guts to actually put some postage on it and send it to his mother. Just kidding. Besides, he bought me these really great biking shorts with a padded butt and if I send the box back…selfish I know. It’s one of the side-affects. Ya’ll understand.

Which brings me to the part where I’m not working out (riding my bike) every day cuz those damn shorts are in that damn box. And the songs on the Ipod I listen to are, you guessed it, freaking love songs. There have to be 827 songs I’ll never be able to listen to again if we actually really break up, all the way, forever and ever, if he actually says the words.

Everything is just on hold. Have you been on hold lately? It’s infuriating. Like, I’ve got better things to do than just sit on hold. YES YOU DO! So why don’t we just hang up? Why do we sit on hold with people who try harder to hold on to bad relationships than they do to hold on to loving, committed (hey, there is a fine line between committed and commitment) ones? Because there is that promise that someone, a live and caring person will eventually answer our call. They even come on the line from time to time and promise someone will be right with you. Kinda like Richard is doing to me.

And people (men and women), when you want to break up with someone let me tell you what NOT to say: I have to give you back your heart. What? How? When? Where? Why? All the unanswered questions keep me up at night. It’s 1:24 a.m. right now and here I am writing to strangers…hmmmm. And if we give our heart to you it’s sorta impossible to give it back. Now, when we’ve had enough of being in the perpetual holding pattern, we may take it back, but you can’t just give someone back their feelings-just like that.

You’d think at our stage in the game we’d make better decisions regarding love, but maybe that’s where the lesson comes in. We can’t make people follow through with their assurances and the pledges of love so we must learn to treasure the moments we have while we have them. It’s that whole living in the moment thing.

Life is short and the older you get the shorter it gets. That’s another thing I’ve been doing, coming up with really profound and utterly stupid statements. I practice saying them to him when he calls but mostly I forget how to speak. I know how to write well and I’ve tried to write him a letter but its soooooooooooooooooooo long that I think he would lose interest around page 96. So, I’ve been keeping a journal. Ha! Take that! And that too! It’s a pretty safe place to vent unless you die and your parents get a hold of it. Then THEY may shoot out both of his knees. This medium is also a safe outlet since I quit sending him my articles. The bitch book says he doesn’t deserve to hear from me. Look people, it’s cheaper and more entertaining than therapy!

Not that he did anything wrong or I did anything wrong. It’s just the timing. He has some personal issues that he didn’t foresee and now that life is too stressful I’m the easiest thing to let go of. I understand. Really I do. I can understand how a woman a thousand miles away is stressful. How someone who doesn’t need a thing, like a boob-job or mortgage payments or every spare second of your time is stressful. And the good news is that I’m taking it all in stride and not becoming bitter.

Seriously folks, there are no answers. There are just questions sometimes. And as my sister says “Sometimes there aren’t enough band-aids”. The hard part for all of us is the part where we miss our best friend. We miss the laughter and the banter and the last call or the last text (and if his DOB has an 8 as the 3rd number, you need to learn how to txt!) of the evening. And when you have such a good thing as we do/did, with never any fights and a lot of love, the pain is deep and the loss is sad. But there is always hope.

Time is a wonderful thing. We’ll either all move on or we’ll re-connect. Life is often defined in stages: Birth, Life, Death; a straight line. But as Will Smith said on Oprah (Are you KIDDING me? You don’t watch Oprah when you are depressed?) if you define life as Birth, Life, Death, Re-birth then, you have a whole new outlook. Just take the ends, bend the line, connect the ends and start all over.

Independent, Confident Women…So, you think you want one do ya?

2008-11-05T19:59:00.000-08:00

By Crystal Laramore

Editing by Deborah Martin

Independent, Confident Women…So, you think you want one do ya?

If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times (from men): “I want an independent and confident woman” (IC). Really, because I seem to be hearing from my IC girlfriends and fans of the article that the men aren’t handling them very well. This is the mantra I’ve heard for years: “He says he wants an independent, confident woman but he gets upset whenever I cannot spend time with him or I have to attend to my business”.

So, back to you (men) and your desire to have an IC woman in your life; do you know that territory well? Let me help you. This will not be your typical relationship. It will be plagued with conversations like: Honey, I can’t make dinner tonight, I have a meeting. Honey, can you pick up the children; I’ve got to run the brokerage firm this afternoon. One of my staff members is sick today so I’ll have to work late, again. Sorry, I know we had plans; I’ll make it up to you.

It’s also plagued with conversation styles like: Baby, why don’t you go play golf with your buddies; I’ve got a luncheon with my girlfriends and I’ll be home late. Hey, I already fixed the dryer, what are you doing? Look honey, I moved the furniture all by myself! Baby, see all my new power tools? Honey, I’ve booked us an African Safari; No, the children are not invited.

Independent women are stubborn, tough as nails and decisive; some men might confuse this with being controlling-don’t fall for it for one second! As smart women we often see where things can be better, not only in our partners but in ourselves so we're quick to admit our faults and try to work on them. Occasionally we might slip and this is when we need you to be our great defender and understand we are coming from a place of love as well as a know-it-all attitude. We’re sorry but we are worth the frustration. We love and respect a man who also wants to improve himself and is not threatened if we gently point out an area of improvement he could make in his own life or his part of our relationship

I believe MOST of the independent women out there are over 40. Certainly women in their 20's are still trying to figure out who they are, what they want and whether or not they really are like their mothers. Women over 40 (and maybe late 30's) have already been through the career thing, the relationship thing, the mommy thing and are finally comfortable in their own skin. They know what kind of man they want for the second half of their lives and this is a good thing for men because we won't waste THEIR time if they aren't right for us whereas a younger woman WILL because she's still trying to change the guy or she’s waiting for him to live up to his "potential". An older woman knows that if a man over 40 hasn't lived up to his potential YET, then he probably never will and/or the “potential” was all in our 20-something mind in the first place. My dad sent me a card one time that read “If you love something set it free. If it just sits there on the couch unaware that it’s been set free, you’ve probably already married it”. Sorry. I couldn’t help it…

As we get older we jump to fewer conclusions, are slower to anger and we are more patient. I love what Andy Rooney has to say about older women:

“As I grown in age, I value women who are over 40 most of all. Here are just a view reasons why:

A woman over 40 will not lie next to you in bed and ask, “What are you thinking?” She really doesn’t care what you think.

If a woman over 40 doesn’t want to watch the game, she doesn’t sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it’s usually something more interesting.

A woman over 40 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she wants, and what she wants from whom.

Few women over 40 give a damn about what you might think of her or what she’s doing.

Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it’s like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 40 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women.

Women over 40 couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her.

Women get psychic with age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. They always know.

A woman over 40 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one.

You don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her. Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons.

Unfortunately it is not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well dressed hot woman of 40+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool out of himself with some 18-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.

For all those men who say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” Here’s an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it’s not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage.”

We do want a man in our life but we don’t necessarily need him to define who we are. We need you for love, companionship, support, strength, leadership…Did you hear that? We want YOU to be our leader. Yes, we are independent and we are confident enough to want, nay expect, you to be our leader. We will not ask you to save us on a regular basis. It may happen a time or two (or three) and maybe, just once, kinda, sorta make it up so you get the chance to be something you LOVE to be – our hero! We’re also smart. We will definitely call on you in a true crisis; otherwise we are resourceful and you may never even know we knocked down the garage wall with our new car. (See my mom for more details!)

We will tell you what we want and when we want it. We will be direct so, be prepared: when you ask us what’s wrong, we’ll tell you. Not like when we were mere youngsters and always said, “Nothing” when you asked what was wrong and then we made you pay later because you didn’t read our minds. No, IC (independent and confident if you’ve forgotten) women don’t have a lot of time to waste playing patty-cake. We’d rather be spending time with you doing other things… And speaking of doing other things, we are fine alone. If you need to be off saving the world or tending to personal matters, you just go right ahead. We have plenty to do.

Lucky for you, you’ll never have to worry about an independent woman dragging you to a chick flick; we’ll go with our like-minded chick friends or we’ll be happy to go alone. We’ll save the action flicks for a hot date with you. And thank your lucky stars that we will not expect you to work yourself into an early grave so we can travel the globe. No, we will work too so we can retire early and travel the globe together.

We are also sexy, charming, great conversationalists, opinionated, secure in our skin and typically not jealous. If you think you’d be happier on the other side of the fence, we’ll give you a lift over it. We’ll be sad for all of a New York Minute and then be better off without you - at the spa; spas are great places to rub off dead skin and other unwanted surface matter. We’re confident enough to cry and joyous enough to laugh, and smart enough to love you the way you want to be loved.

We also want you to treat us like women, like ladies. We want you to open our doors, order our dinner, pick out the wine (Ok, on this one we may not be able to keep our opinions to ourselves), take off our coats, help us put them back on, slip off our shoes, pull out our chairs and stand whenever we need to get up from the table. We want you to speak to us with respect and dignity, love and consideration. We want to be romanced and put upon a pedestal. And guess what, we are worth every ounce of energy you put into our relationship. You’ll get back ten fold what you put into it, because we are also generous. But we are NOT pushovers. Never mistake our kindness for weakness, for we are very strong.

You can be proud to take us camping or to meet the President of the United States of America. We can wear jeans or a fur coat. Actually, they look really good together! We’ll stay at the Four Seasons or in a tent, as long as you are with us we really don’t care. Want to go fishing? We’ll be glad to go with you or happy to have you go with your friends. We’ll not dictate to you how to live your life. First of all, we trust that you already know how it should be lived and second of all, we don’t want you dictating to us. We’ll treat you with respect and kindness. We know you have goals and dreams just like we do and we’ll not stand in your way. We will ask you how we can help you be all that you can be.

But be ready for a passionate debate on important issues. We have strong minds and we will not sit quietly if we think we have something to add or if we think you are making a mistake. In the end though, your decision is final. We will not whimper around to get our way. We’re much too independent for that.

Our disagreements may be fierce but we do not hold a grudge. We want to win the war (you) and not the battle (the argument). We will be proud of your accomplishments, defend you in public and never humiliate you. We are not needy or desperate. Remember, we are independent and confident. It might be a recipe you’ve not had before but the ingredients sure make for a very happy, spontaneous, fulfilling life full of love, laughter, adventure and yes, romance.

We are as loyal as any golden retriever and we will trust you until you give us reason not to. However, I dare say that you’ll not find many truly IC women standing by their man after he has betrayed us. If you are a Bill Clinton or a John Edwards and you are married to one of us, you’ll find yourself alone at the press conferences; unless your mistress is there. Yep, while your treachery is being played out by the world-wide media, while you are at the podium pontificating on the woes of your life, lying through your teeth about when, where and how much money…we’ll most likely be with the d-i-v-o-r-c-e attorney.

And if you tell us you need your space, be prepared to feel like you are in the Astrodome alone. And be prepared that while basking in your new-found spacious life we may fill our space with new furniture. Careful what you wish for.

But, for you loyal, trustworthy ones out there, if you are lucky enough to find an Independent, Confident woman, put on your running shoes cuz we’re gonna let you do the chasing. And when you catch us you’ll find it’s a ride worth taking. Fasten your seat belts and don’t worry about the speed limit. I know the new Sheriff!

Date Great in Oh! Eight

2008-11-04T13:38:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

Happy New Year! Let’s start the New Year off by saying that while dating can be fun it does take some effort to find the one.

My friend Richard from Sugarland met a woman, Sophia, online (yes, a viable option) who lived about an hour away. While they had many hours of great conversation, saw each others photos, met in person and genuinely seemed to hit it off, the one-way hour-long drive was just too much for him. He later said that dating just seemed to be more work lately than fun. Poor, poor Richard.

Most things in life that are worth having are worth a little extra effort to obtain. C’mon guys, don’t be lazy Richard for Pete’s sake.

If you find a woman that moves you; shifts the dirt under your boots a bit and its reciprocal then put some petro in that auto and drive man, just drive. Driving a good distance to see a woman who sets your heart aflame or at least cooks well, cleans well, brings home some of the bacon, looks attractive and isn’t crazy, is the very least you should be doing. Women may be easy to come by but GOOD women…

And speaking of women being easy to come by; my friend Richard says he just sits back and waits for the women to come by. They come by his way and ask him out! This has got to stop. Women today are far too aggressive and are making the dating life harder (as if we needed things harder) for women with more traditional dating habits.

Ladies, if you want him there is nothing wrong with doing everything in your infinite power to attract him; but it is unwise to chase him unless it’s just instant gratification you are after. However, if you are after more than a romp in the woods, let him chase you. Just ask the women chasing Richard “How’s that working for you?” He’s had several flings with several aggressive women. Did you hear me? I said flings. He even had one long kiss goodnight w/promises of more, a lot more, next time and he has yet to call her back. Why?

In Richard’s mind he knows he’ll just be using her and is starting to feel a little guilty about the whole situation he has found himself in as of late. It’s a little disconcerting for him. Why? Because it’s not the natural order of things! “Hold on to your anxiety and do not call him” is the advice from my psychologist friend, Dr. Sophia. Women’s lib is good for some areas of our lives, but not in the dating arena of the Animal Kingdom.

Women’s lib never intended for things to go this far. And lib is short for liberation. Sorry, but I do NOT want to be liberated from being treated like a woman, thank you very much. Nor do many of my girlfriends. As a matter-of-fact, I am hard pressed to name a single (straight) woman who does.

While the feminist movement has helped fix a lot of workplace inequities it has also helped screw up the way many women view men and our relationships with them.

Godmen-have you heard of it? I saw a special on Nightline. Apparently, we now have to have an organization to let men know its ok not to be so feminine and in touch w/your feelings and just be a man. Hello! What have I been saying? Most all-American hot-blooded women do not want their man in touch w/HIS feminine side…(please tell me you get the intimation…).

Again, I implore you to let the natural order of things in The Animal Kingdom occur. We have a test-pilot program going and here are some mistakes made last week by the women in the program:

#1: Richard called Sophia four times. At ten o’clock when she was finished working she returned the calls. (So far so good.) Richard was at the deer lease ‘hanging out’ and wanted Sophia to come ‘hang out’ too. His family and friends were there. She felt so warm & fuzzy by this invitation that she lost her freaking mind and went. (This is the ‘not so good anymore’ phase). Hanging out does not a date make. If you have to get in your car and drive to him think about it. Turn the car around and ignore his calls from now on. This is ok behavior after you have been dating for several months, but the first six???

#2: Richard called my girlfriend Sophia on December 30th. They were chatting and Richard did not mention a thing about the really big romantic, earth shattering kiss at midnight event suddenly approaching. Evidently the event was approaching fast and w/out warning for poor Richard who seemed to have forgotten the event all together. So Sophia, being the helpful little calendar that she is, asked Richard what he was doing for New Year’s Eve “Spending time with my children” so says Richard.

Ok, if you buy that. First of all, he could be telling the truth or his version of it. Second of all he could be sparing her feelings. Third of all, they just met and it’s none of her business what he’s doing for NYE unless he invites her to join him. Fourth, why oh why do we as women set ourselves up for rejection? If the man does not ask you out it is because he does not want to spend time with you! So let him ask you out; by let I mean give the man some time; don’t rush a good thing. They have egos too. Sometimes they just want to make darn sure there is no chance in Mars that you will reject them before they even say “wanna get a cup of coffee?”

If he asks you out you’ll feel so much better and he’ll feel so much better and the natural order things will have occurred in the Animal Kingdom, the lion will roar and you will like it!

A Man's Point of View

2008-11-04T13:36:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

So, some of you out there are actually reading my new column! Cheers!

One of my faithful readers, Joe from Conroe, had some comments regarding the first article:

“From a man's point of view, this article was giving away secrets that everybody knows (if that makes any sense). It kind of portrayed men as mindless predators, which for the most part is true; true for all men at one time or another. There is definitely a deeply suppressed desire to impregnate as many women as possible. Any sex therapist will tell you that.

“So, secrets about women that everyone knows? You do actually have to listen to her once in awhile. No, not every word but enough to be able to ask her a question or two about the story she just told while you were missing the opening kickoff. A simple ‘How do you feel about that, honey’ or ‘That reminds me of the time we...’ will score brownie points like you've never seen. Another priceless move is to actually ask her about her day BEFORE she starts telling you about it! Precede that with how good she looks and you'll most likely be more than set up for bedtime. Now for the biggie: This is a little known secret even among men and I hate to give it away but here goes; Next time she's slaving over the stove or the washing machine FOR YOU, instead of slapping her on the butt or grabbing her bosom, try massaging her shoulders or running your hand up her neck and through her hair and whispering ‘Thank you.’

“Am I right, Crystal? I guess the readers will be the judge of that,
if any of this makes it in your column.”

Well Joe, it did make it in the column and now for fair & balanced reporting:

My first thought is no, Joe. You are not right. You are trying to pass along Tarzan’s error-proof recipe for sex (in the woods). So when my friends Richard and Richard were in the restaurant, I was discussing Joe’s comments and relaying the vibe I was getting. The message I thought Joe was sending was that these are “moves”, as he said. He also said there is no need to listen to EVERY word, just enough to getchaby. Joe also gave a roster of sentences engineered to score you brownie points. Although I thought all of this was good info I just didn’t like the packaging.

My friends Richard and Richard said they completely disagreed with my assessment of Joe’s comments. From the male point of view, they said, since the only times men aren’t thinking about sex is when they’re having it, any small bit of finesse from a man should count as the equivalent of Jesus and Mohammed sharing a glass of Manischevitz. Basically, if a man puts any more effort into his seduction of you other than just easing the La-Z-Boy back and yelling, “Hey, c’mere,” then he’s doing his honest best to be a kind and tender custodian of your womanly needs. This just goes to show that men and women really are from different planets!

So guys take Joe’s sage advice and ladies, do not get offended, and just enjoy the experience whenever he’s savvy enough to pay attention…

Cyber Dating

2008-11-04T13:33:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

by Crystal Laramore

Let’s talk about cyber space dating: Since we live in the woods it’s kind of hard finding someone to date; it’s not like being in a big city where single people are around every corner. It’s like being in the woods where everyone is married to someone you know!

So, I joined YAHOO!Personals for a test drive. Interesting. Out of 145 profiles they sent my way I was interested in 5. You 5 know who you are. Last week I said men should do the majority of the calling, but what about in cyber dating? Do women really want to give thier number to strangers? TOTAL strangers. Not only are they strangers, but some are not close to who they say they are. My friend Sophia got an email from Richard and his picture looked like an ad for Armani suits. Richard said he was a jewelry designer and originally from Italy and wrote in such poor English one minute and fluent the next…we decided something was amiss. When Sophia asked Richard for some more photos, like in casual settings or with friends and family, he closed communication.

Maybe there should be an exception about calling in this environment. I have given out my business telephone number twice. You can also block your number when you call. And, this is what I’d do at the very least; can someone say “background check”? Now, don’t go doing a background check on every person you meet in cyber space, but certainly on the ones you open communication with and certainly before it goes to the intimate stage.

Last week we discussed men and how they like challenges and things that are difficult. By that I meant difficult like in stick shifts,
When I say that men like difficult I don’t mean difficult women. My friend Richard said that there are a lot of physco women out there. Well, I wondered what he meant by physco and he explained that two dates does not a relationship make. And if he doesn’t call you-please, don’t call him, and call him, and call him, and call…

Don’t Google his address, drive by his house to see if he’s home or has someone else there. Don’t show up where you know he hangs out. Just let it go! Seriously, why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with them? Our lives are so much more harmonious when we are in symbiotic relationships.

Beautiful, insecure women are not attractive. An average, secure woman will beat her hands down every time. Move on ladies, there are plenty of men out there.

Spilling the beans: Ladies, give the new man in your life little peeks into your psyche, no need to do a total mind dump on him in the first ten minutes. Breathe! There is no need to tell him all your wonderful qualities in a 30 second commercial. You are not a candidate running for office. You are a prize trophy that he will hunt, in less than perfect conditions, to catch. You are not there to scream “pick me, vote for me”, you are there to show him, little by little, that you can keep him challenged for more than a nano-second.

How does all this come about? SLOWLY! But first ladies, you must set some guidelines for yourself and the relationship. Remember he’s the hunter, so let him do the hunting. This translates into he is the one to make the phone calls, he picks you up for dates, he plans the dates and did I mention he makes the phone calls? If ever you find yourself dialing his number decide whether you want him to be Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now. The woman walking down the isle did not do the hunting. That couple is symbolic of hunter and prey. And if she’s smart, he’ll still be hunting her long after the honeymoon.

I am the owner and executive chef of a successful restaurant. We serve gourmet food. I cannot remember the last time I cooked dinner for a man; unless I saw him at the restaurant on Thursday-Saturday evenings between 6&10 pm. Sometimes, I even instruct the staff to give them a check. The point is not that I’m desperate for cash, the point is that he needs to be desperate to show me he is worthy of a (free) meal that I have slaved over a hot stove in a hot kitchen to prepare or paid my staff to prepare, either way…

Women tend to show all their cards on the first round while men keep their cards close to the vest.

Cleopatra had a muse. She went to her muse to find out how to capture the attention of her prey (Cesar). The muse asked what kind of man he was. Cleopatra answered that he was a conqueror. The muse said simply, “Then always let him think there is more to conquer”!

If the natural order of things occurs; like women allowing men to hunt, the men will make the woman happy. Men enjoy pleasing women. I hear it all the time. Cuz when mama’s happy, everybody’s happy and when mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy!

Dating in the New Millennium

2008-11-04T13:29:00.000-08:00

Sex in the Woods

Like many of you out there I’m single, over 35 and dating in the new millennium. While I find dating fun & exciting I also find it extremely frustrating; most of the time I feel like I’m in the wood forest all alone. So I’ve been doing what I always do when I find a particular subject frustrating and hard to understand; I head to Barnes & Noble. There are a gazillion books on the “How to’s” of dating. Some of the principles I’ve put into practice and find they work quite well. Others, not so well. Did I mention I’m still single? Still single and still learning…

It all goes back to our basic, primal instincts; men are hunters and women are gatherers. Men find challenge in the hunt, not so much in the capture. Men are after an adventure, a wild ride that lasts for more than a few hours, yes even in dating; especially in dating.

My girlfriend Sophia writes:

“I just made some basic mistakes in my last relationship. We’ll call him Richard. Now, I started out fine playing by the unspoken rules of courtship but, like most women, as soon as he made the ‘I want a commitment statement’ I lost my senses and became more caring, sensitive to his needs, supportive of his hopes and dreams, emotionally dependent; for me=relationship; for him=steel trap! Everything was going fine until I was vocally upset when Richard didn’t call for a few days. I did exactly what I knew not to do; I started every question with either what, where, when, why, how could you… That was the beginning of the end. He was hunting and I was prey until that very moment. Then he knew I was caught so the game was over, (either consciously or subconsciously). It happened again but this time it was six days without a call and over a holiday…I knew Richard would drag me along this way, not wanting to end it totally until he had a replacement, so before I became road-kill, I ended it.”

Richard was good practice and maybe with the next Richard she’ll make it to the next phase, you know, like in Mario!

Take heed ladies! Women tend to not want a challenge. They don’t want to “play games”. Well, if you want your man to hunt you, you must not let him catch you. If he does not have a 100% hold on you, he’ll think of you all day and may even lose sleep thinking of you. Not only will he think of you but he will court you. Richard courted Sophie like nobody’s business until she broke the un-spoken rule.

My brother David just went hunting, as most men in North America did, over the Thanksgiving holiday. He shot a doe and was semi-gleefully walking out of the woods when the proverbial “Big One” appeared through the mist, between the trees. He put Big One in his scope, took a deep breath, said a prayer to God almighty, squeezed the trigger and missed.

Now remember, he killed the doe with no apparent hyperventilating. But the Big One, well David was panting and shaking, his chest was heaving, his palms were sweaty and he was in such a state of euphoria that he couldn’t get a good shot and he missed him. Why did he not hyperventilate over the doe? Because does are always about; they’re in abundance; one is just like the other. But the Big One, well the Big One is elusive. Hunters dream of the Big One. When you look across the breakfast or dinner table at your mate and he’s deep in thought and you ask him “Honey, what are you thinking about?” He’s thinking about The Big One! The Big One dares the hunter to take a shot, “Catch me if you can”. I think sometimes he even winks at the hunter, then slowly sachets away deep into the forest as if saying “Better luck next year”.

And believe me, this same time next year David will still be telling this story. Every detail of the Big One will be forever etched on his brain; right down to how beautiful the white patch of fur was on the front of his neck…Be the Big One ladies; practice being elusive. When the moment isn’t right or when your boundaries are being tested, practice turning away and disappearing into the woods. If he wants you, he will search the woods for you.