"What a piece of work is (wo)man"

Work BFF:  Hey!  You finally decorated your cube!

SSG:  Yeah, it was looking a little too industrial.

Work BFF:  How did you decide on the map of Paris?

SSG:  I feared my picture of Shakespeare that says "Prose before hos" would be too much.

Big News!

Our little Spleen is all grown up!  She is now an ENGAGED lady getting married next year!

Congratulations Spleendawg!  

I love you!

Senior Citizen SSG

Hi You Guys!

I'm so sorry!  I like forgots ah had a blawg there for a while.

Um ... so I've had my third cold in as many weeks.  One might think it's the SAME cold that I keep thinking I'm over, but obviously am NOT ... but SSG has no idea.

I also seem to have done something to my lower back.  

Unless of course, it's normal to remain standing at the same 45 degree angle in which you were previously sitting?  

If so then things are just fine!

As I told Spleen, "I'm walking around with my hand on my lower back and talking like I've smoked a pack a day for the last 30 years."

Which HAWT.

So that's what's been going on with SSG!  Aren't you glad I'm back?

Oh yes, and the toilet in my master bathroom is leaking.  So if I can ever stand up straight and speak above more than a croak we may have ourselves a "Plumber SSG" post here in the next few days.

(Plumber crack not included.)

But I do miss you all and will be by to visit each and every one of you!  I hope you're all doing well and PROMISE I'll be back to mahself shortly.  I hope.

Smoochies,

Fantasy Island Friday

Who wants to go to Capri?

White linen sundresses.  Limoncello.  Evenings watching the sunset and strolling old streets ...

I'm sure we can pull up a few more chairs.

Summer Wardrobe

This weekend marks the unofficial start of summer.  Memorial Day.  Flags flying.  Barbecues.  Red, white and blue on little kids in sailor hats.

Which has made SSG start pondering her summer wardrobe.  

Every season I have some money set aside to buy a few new things.  I've noticed my clothes last much longer and that some new colorful pieces tend to perk up a seemingly tired wardrobe.

Flip flops are on the list.  

And ... that's all so far.  

Though those dresses up there are giving SSG pause ...

What's on your list this summer?

Did Someone Say Wine?

A couple of weeks ago I went wine tasting in the Willamette Valley. 

This, awesome readers, is about 20 minutes away from Chez SSG.  Who wants to come for a visit?

Okay, if THAT doesn't entice you, I know this will.

Hi Predo!  

Just because SSG has been in a funk for the past couple of weeks, does NOT mean that she can't rally at the mere mention of wine.  

Where mah pinot at?

In an odd turn of events, Quiet Guy happened to be on this wine tasting extravaganza--a birthday celebration for a mutual friend.  I was anxious to get Predo's take.

"I don't think he's gay, but I definitely think he likes strong women.  And he might be into something kinky.  Like being tied up.  And he definitely likes French Ticklers."

So there you have it folks.  Quiet Guy according to Predo.  And that was before we even had any wine.

We hung out at a couple of wineries, Predo bought about 100 cases of wine and while the rest of the crew went to some tawny wine country bistro, Predo and I begged out.  And drove.  Slightly buzzed.  To Red Robin.

"GIVE US SOME FRIES AND RANCH!"  We screamed at the waitress before she even took a breath.

SSG came home, did a swan dive onto her couch for a couple of hours and then promptly headed over to Predo's for dinner.

We were supposed to cook for Jimmy, who always does the cooking.  And in our wine induced stupor, as we were stuffing our faces with french fries at Red Robin, decided to make tomato soup, grilled cheese and macaroni and cheese.

Did SSG mention it was the hottest day of the year?  

And we wanted to make soup?

And that even though we were stuffing our faces full of fried, ranch doused, potatoes we thought bread and melted cheese a few hours later could only be made better with a side of pasta, cream and more cheese?

Uh huh.

I called Predo from the road, while downing a five gallon drum of water at the same time I was already supposed to be at their house and panicked said "I've still got to run to the store!"  

"Oh, don't worry.  Jimmy's got dinner covered."

So I spent my evening trying to take a still shot of Fisher and Oscar instead.

Right.

Dey haz cookeez n mai frenz herez!

Jimmy bar-b-cued steaks, made a salad and some garlic cheese toast.  But SSG stayed true to her word. 

She DID help.

By putting the baked potatoes in the oven.  

(Don't say she never does anything for those two.)

Why I Love Predo Reason #114 - Text Messages

SSG:  What are you wearing?

Predo:  I am wearing a mauve g-string and pink plastic flip flops!

SSG:  Ohmahgah!  We're wearing the exact same outfit!

Predo:  No pole dancing?

SSG:  That's this afternoon.  Too early and I pull a hammy.

The Road Home

When someone retells their story about having made it through difficulty--whether disease, addiction or a trip to Target with tired two year olds--you usually hear about the beginning and the end.  Rarely do you hear about the painful part known as the middle.  The fits and starts.  Gaining traction and then losing it in half the time it took to gain.

I've been on my road to recovery for just over two years.  Reopening deep wounds and allowing them to get fresh air in hopes that over time they heal.  

Painful memories rise to the surface every day, not just the hour that I sit with my therapist on Thursdays.  

I've learned not to fight them, but instead to let them come, feel the mixed emotions that they bring--anger, sadness, pain, gratitude and disbelief.  And then I finish writing my grocery list or walking Fisher or backing my car out of the garage to get to work on time.

Life goes on.

The last couple of weeks have been difficult.  I've waded into another area of my life that I've been holding off on exploring.  I am finally ready to deal with it now ... but it is exhausting.  I take a nap when I get home from work and still go to bed at 9:30.  I'm much stronger than I was two years ago and have more tools now to support myself through this.  I know a bit more about what to expect.

But it's still hard.

And frankly, I'm kind of tired of things being hard. 

This weekend was beautiful.  So this morning I decided to just go and get lost.  I drove out into the Willamette Valley.

I turned down country roads.

Past orchards.

My windows were down and the acoustic set my favorite radio station plays every Sunday morning was on in the background.

I drove past bikers and runners.  Horses and their foals.  U-Pick farms just waiting to open.  And vineyards selling wine that is made sweeter on years when the grapes are most stressed.

SSG is hoping the same can be said for her.

Umz

R wee donz wif dis braekz yetz?

Kan i haz cookeez denz?

Girl's Gone ... Wild?

SSG has decided to take a little Spring Blog Break for a few days.

She's not sure what trouble she'll be getting into.  But SHE IS meeting up with Predo TWICE this week and alcohol will be consumed at both functions.

Who knows how to put that black censored strip across photos?

Tuesday Throwback!

Ohhhh peeps.

SSG has gone and done it.

Do you remember these Esprit ads from the 80's?  SSG does.

She had them plastered all over her junior high school walls.

Where does one EVEN begin?

The pinnacle of style ... when you and your boyfriend can wear the same sweater.  But the TWIST.

You get to wear it as a DRESS!

This picture is SO small.  But SSG is pretty sure she sold her soul to have her mom buy her this snowflake sweater.

It was paired with black stretch pants and slouchy socks.  Which HAWT.

And SSG is pretty sure that in the garage she just cleaned out, there is STILL a 7th grade yearbook photo with SSG and 15 of her closest friends each holding one of these bags.
Did you espouse the Esprit?

SSG and the Hot Masseur

One of the coolest things about this whole spring cleaning/purging/nesting bidness that SSG has been doing over the last couple of months is that she keeps unearthing small treasures.

Not metaphorical treasures, though those have been happening too, but like ACTUAL treasures.  Of monetary value.  

  

Like new water goblets.

And checks I never cashed.   

And cute kitchen towels with cupcakes on them.

Oh!  And gift cards.

Which is exactly how I ended up in the lobby of a local spa on Friday night.

The only appointment available at 6 p.m. was for a hot stone massage.  A type SSG has steered CLEAR of after seeing the stone size blister her sister received on her back during one such massage.

SSG:  Didn't it, I don't know, HURT?!  How did you not scream when this thing was BURNING YOU?!

SSG's Sister (Hi Winner!):  I thought it was part of the process.  Like work through the pain or whatever.

SSG must have looked all face-twisty from the memory, because the guy was like "TRUST ME, it won't hurt.  It's awesome."  

And who wouldn't take the opinion of a cute 17 year old gay spa receptionist that looked like he could have been a contestant on American Idol?  Not SSG.

SSG:  (Holds out her arm.)  Twist it.

17 year old gay spa receptionist:  (Claps.)  Yay!  You're gonna love it.

And as he walked away, he uttered the fateful words: "I'll just let Todd know you're here."

SSG froze.

Did he just say TODD?  

As in a BOY?

Maybe he said Toddina?  Like a really terribly named girl?  Maybe?

Ohmahgah, SSG can't have a BOY MASSEUSE!  Did she shave her legs?  Can she smell her armpits real quick without anyone noticing?  What underwear did she have on?  OH THAT'S RIGHT YOU DON'T WEAR UNDERWEAR ON A MASSAGE TABLE!  Ohmahgah did she shave her ... (Deep breath in, deep breath out.)   Ok, I'm sure he's gay.  He MUST be gay.  PLEASE FOR ALL OF THE LOVE THAT IS HOLY LET HIM BE GAY.

Hot Masseur:  Hello, are you SSG?

SSG:  (Gulp) Nooomaybeeyeeees?

HM:  (Extends his hand.)  Nice to meet you.

SSG:  (Shakes his hand and mutters under breath.) Damn it.  So. Not. GAY!!!

HM:  (Walking toward the massage room.)  I'm sorry did you say something?

SSG:  Looking forward to this!  Yay!!!

And internets.  He was HOT.  Not cute.  But like ...

HOT.

Tall.  And big arms.  And pretty blue eyes.  And short dark hair.  With a nice ass.  Not that SSG noticed.  And of course he was all Zen.  But not, like let me wear turquoise jewelry that I bought in Taos and read your aura kind of Zen.  But like Bejamin Bratt kind of Zen.  Where he can bust out some hot yoga pose like he did on the Rosie O'Donnell show whenever that show was still on and he was still dating Julia Roberts which SSG OBVIOUSLY still remembers despite all of that being like SOOOO 5, 6, 7, 8 years ago.

BUT GAH!  So NOT who you want to be your masseur.  On a Friday night.  After a long week.  When your feet look cute IN a pair of BCBG slingbacks but who knows what they look like OUT of that same pair of slingbacks.  

And SSG is so decidedly NOT Zen.

Like, EVER.

And that's when SSG remembered her TOE!  Her poor little toe that is nicely healing with its toenail, that although black, is still firmly attached because SSG talks to it every night promising it pedicures and open toed shoes if it can just HANG ON and heal without falling off.

(Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.)

And SSG is sorry, she KNOWS he was just doing his job.  But when an attractive guy is asking you to lie down and if you like the pressure hard or soft IT TOOK EVERY OUNCE OF SSG'S NON EXISTENT MATURITY NOT TO GIGGLE.

But pretty soon warm stones were being placed all over SSG's tired shoulders and down her back.  And they felt like reassuring hands calming her down.  Which um, NEEDED to say the least.

An hour later, hovering somewhere between sleep and the feeling she gets after three or four lemon drops, SSG heard the calm voice "okay, it's time to roll over."

SCIENTISTS.  

Are you LISTENING?!  

SSG asks you, HOW can we get to the MOON but haven't yet figured out a way to build a massage table that can ROLL PEOPLE OVER?  

How can us, the massagees, be expected to:

1)  MOVE.

2)  Rollover GRACEFULLY, while naked no less (!), in front of hot masseur.

3)  Stay UNDER the sheet and ON the table that is essentially the same size as a balance beam?

SSG:  (Face firmly implanted into the head rest)  Seriousladioasdfjdlfsjy?

HM:  (Laughs) You can do it.

SSG:  But that's going to take some like, EFFORT.

HM:  (Laughs again) You'll only have to do it once, I promise.

SSG:  Okaaaaaaaaaaay.  (Hoping to distract him with some dialogue and wanting to preemptively apologize for the sight that is mah toe.) But you'll have to forgive my toe when you see it, I dropped something on it and it looks really bad.  

HM:  Don't worry.  I've seen every kind of bruise you can possibly imagine.

A few minutes later.

HM:  OH MY GOD!  WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR TOE?!

Just kidding. 

But wouldn't that have been funny?  

Actually no.  

That would not have been funny at all.

Instead he just ran his thumb gently over it while placing little tiny rocks in between my toes "you did get it good, didn't you."  

Which, come ON?!

HOW IS SSG NOT SUPPOSED TO LAUGH AT THAT GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES?!?!?!

Oy vey.

So we both laughed.  But SSG is guessing NOT about the same thing.

A half hour later, as the massage ended, HM placed a cold stone on my forehead, ran his fingers through my hair and then left the room saying "take your time getting up."

And where SSG wanted to jump up, throw her clothes on and bolt out of the spa without ever seeing HM again, cooler heads prevailed.  Thanks in part to the chunk of ICE chilling on her forehead.

She took her time getting dressed, pulling her hair into a pony tail, popping a mint and gracefully walking out into the hallway where HM was waiting with a cup of water.  SSG looked him in the eye and said confidently (and maturely!) "thanks again."

"My pleasure, I'm glad you enjoyed it." He said with a smile.

And SSG MIGHT have giggled a little as she was walking to her car.  But that was only until she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror.  

Her nice, relaxed eyes and slightly tousled ponytail were shadowed only by the deep, red imprint from the headrest still firmly implanted on her face.

And you guys wonder where the (sometimes!) comes from ...

I Want Mah Meme Back Meme Back Meme Back

Supah hawt Texan Krissa, over at Halfasstic, thinks that there are seven things about SSG that ya'll don't already know (that was for you, Texas).

So here goes ...

1)  Remember when I dropped a drawer on my toe a couple of weeks ago?  My toe is STILL black.  Which, um ... pretty much ensures I'm not going to get naked with anyone until THAT has been rectified.  Have you SEEN the movie Boomerang?  SSG prides herself on having attractive feet.  Correction:  On having had attractive feet up until 2 weeks ago.

2)  I'm meeting up with Predo and AB from Irregardless for adult bevvies next week and CAN'T WAIT.  Predo has sexually harassed both of us individually, but never together ... I hope he gets his rest the night before.  And I have never met AB!  So I'm essentially going on a blind girl date with Predo as our joint wingman.  In a word?  AWESOME!  

3)  There was an awkward moment this week where I thought Quiet Guy was going to ask me out.  I got an instant message from him (despite the fact that we essentially sit next to each other with a 6 foot cube wall separating us).  

Peeps, this is how it went down:

QG:  Have you given any thought to those Plate & Pitchfork dinners?

SSG: I've heard about them.  They sound fun.  (?????!!!)

QG:  They're kind of spendy.  But if you eat at the chef's restaurants it's similar.  Just without the whole eating outside part.

SSG:  Cool. 

 

The end.

(WTF???!!!! ASDOFJAWOIFLSD!!*$%!ANF!!) 

Can someone please pass me a straightjacket?  I think I might need it.

4)  Everyone at the office is annoying Work BFF & SSG this week.  So this afternoon we had the following exchange:

SSG:  Any interest in a stealth coffee run?

Work BFF:  I WOULD LOVE THAT.

SSG:  Please hold for coordinates.

BFF:  Affirmative.

SSG:  We got two bogeys heading toward the elevator, over.

BFF:  Talk to me Goose.

SSG:  NO WAY am I Goose!  YOU'RE Goose.  I am so utterly and COMPLETELY MAVERICK.

BFF:  Um, dude.  NO WAY are you Maverick.  I'm Maverick.  You can be Charlie.

SSG:  DUDE!  Kelly McGillis just came out of the closet and likes chicks now.  I'M SO MAVERICK.

This debate continued down the elevators, in line at Starbucks, during a walk around the block and back up the elevators, finally ending after happy hour with the work peeps:

BFF:  Night, Goose.

SSG:  Whatever, Goose.

5)  SSG HATES the acronym "LOL."  She also hates when dudes wear suit jackets and dress shoes with jeans.  So when I e-mailed Work BFF to see what he was doing this morning he responded "I'm lol-ing my ass off right now while wearing my suit jacket, dress shoes and jeans."  

I don't know if I love or hate the fact he knows SSG's pet peeves so well.

6)  Um ... I seriously think you guys know everything else about me.  OH! OH! OH!  I'm going to a John Legend concert at a vineyard just outside of Seattle with this sexy biyotch over the summer.

7)  I really WANT to like Sheryl Crow's music because she seems like a very nice, strong, intelligent woman despite her multi year foray into dating the douche that is Lance Armstrong.   But SSG really has a STRONG DISLIKE for Sheryl Crow's music.

But she LOVES all of you!

Have a good weekend pretties,