|
|
How do you save time? Do you feel like you’re savvy with time management, or do you simply cut corners and barely skate by? I think I fall somewhere in between.
When it comes to work time and my daily routine, I’m really bad with time management. Most of my work writing requires online research. Plus I leave Tweetdeck open compulsively. I desperately need to get better at managing the hours I have available to work. (It means a lot to me to try not to work at night when my husband gets home.) Anyway I get an F at work-related time management. Moving on.
Mealtime
I plan 2-3 meals a week. The rest consist of hurriedly opening things that can be microwaved or heated in the oven in a hurry. Think popcorn shrimp, frozen pizzas. Or I do pasta.
I reserve one time-saving meal a week: scrambled eggs. It takes me about 5 minutes tops to get them on the plates. And I don’t have angst about this. Eggs are good for you!
Both boys eat a banana with breakfast every morning. Quick, easy, cheap.
Shopping
I always shop in the same order in the grocery store. I TRY to keep my list in the order that I’d go through the store. When I check out, I try to group things together the way they’ll end up in my kitchen. By cupboard, pantry, and fridge. It doesn’t always work out, but it’s surprisingly time-saving.
Laundry
I try to get one load in the wash while the kids are eating breakfast and playing before my childcare arrives. If I time it right, I can get it into the dryer and leave it while I’m working. Folding and putting the clothes away? That’s another story. Basically it doesn’t get done.
Misc
- I pay most of my bills online with automated payments when I can.
- I wear the same pair of jeans until they threaten to walk away themselves.
- I use on a spray-on leave-in conditioner in a hurry.
- My son wears Crocs — he can get them on himself. That saves like ten minutes of shenanigans.
- My mom watches my kids and straightens up and does dishes sometimes. It saves me time immensely, and I’m super grateful for it.
My biggest time-saving advice? Ask for help. If you don’t get help, demand help. We can’t do everything alone.
On Saturday, Mary Jo Roberts passed away at just 29. She has been a longtime participant of Girl Talk Thursday. We will miss her sweet words and optimism.
Her husband has set up a memorial on Facebook.
Rest in peace, MJ. All our love.
Growing up, I had a love-hate relationship with the academic aspects of school. I loved tests when I had a handle on the subject matter. Math tests? Science tests? Not so much. I used to have diarrhea every single morning in high school until I finally got to senior year and didn’t have to take a math class.
I loved every Literature and English class though. I loved studying poems and short stories and vocab. I even loved diagramming sentences in middle school. I loved getting the best grade. (I did. I’m such an asshole.)
During my senior year that I had the best English class ever. My teacher had an uncanny ability to inspire fear and fun at the same time. We all wanted to do well, knew she wouldn’t let us fuck around too much, but also knew that she respected us and our individual talents.
When we studied the Canterbury Tales, she allowed students to tell their own exaggerated fables for the class. She made sure the door was locked and allowed profanity and shenanigans and we developed a true understanding of the art of storytelling. And yeah, we still had to bust our asses for the tests and the essays on it.
She didn’t let me get away with writing a poorly-researched half-assed thesis. I got a B-. But I got a 5 on the AP Lit exam because she worked my ass off all year. I took an after-school creating writing course. I listened to her stories of doing poetry readings with her daughters at her side.
She worked for a tiny, Episcopalian school but never seemed to compromise her ideals.
She showed me what teachers should be and could be and what it truly meant to have a mentor and an inspiration.
She came to my wedding, but we haven’t kept in touch and I wish we had. As an adult and a mother, I’d love to know more about her perspectives as a parent. I’d love to know what she’s reading right now. I’d love to say hey, I’m still writing stuff. Every day. And I have you to thank for that.
Oh, prom.
It seems to be about a 50/50 split when people talk about their prom. Half say prom was a magical night of glitter and dancing and sparkles and laughter. Half say it was the worst night of their life.
At the time, the fiasco that was my Senior Prom seemed like the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. Ultimately, it was the beginning of the end of many of my high school relationships – in particular, it was most definitely the beginning of the end of the friendship between my best friend and I.
In the months before prom, I was dating a younger guy. He was a sophomore, I was a senior, and I was sure I was in love. He was sweet, played guitar – just my type. I’ve always loved a man who played guitar. My friends thought it unlikely that I cared so much for a guy who had his eye on joining the military (in fact, he was a cadet in the CAP). Let me tell you, though – the regular diet of discipline and excercise made for a very hot bod. In truth, I was in lust, not love, but it felt like love. It was as close as I’d been to love thus far, and the emotions were intense.
For reasons I won’t go into here, because it involves crazy family members (his) and because it’s not my story to tell, he was suspended from school shortly before my prom. He was also banned from any extra-curricular activities – including prom. He was obviously my date, so the whole thing was off to a bad start. My best friend at the time, Sarah, promised that we would work around it. I’d go with another friend to prom (an ex-boyfriend, actually. That boy was my favorite mistake …) and we’d all meet up for Disco bowling in our prom attire afterwards. Once that was done, we’d all head back to my house for some post-prom partying until 5am, when all the seniors were going to meet at Denny’s for breakfast.
Let me say this again: the plans? They were set. I was pleased that I’d be able to meet up with Paul (boyfriend) after the prom and still have a good time with him. And he’d be at my house for the after-party, too. I had deals with a few guys to dance with me (that’s all I cared about at school dances – actual dancing. I wanted to dance my ass off). The limo was paid, the dress purchased, the reservation for bowling made and a deposit paid.
Two days before prom, the 8 other people in our limo – including my backstabbing, hypochondriac, ugly-face bestie – informed me that they’d changed the plans. Everyone was going to Sarah’s house after, there was no bowling, and Sarah’s mom didn’t want any guys at her house, so Paul wasn’t invited. Which meant I wouldn’t see my boyfriend on prom night, which to a senior in high school is the END OF THE WORLD OMG DIE DIE DIE.
I was livid. I stopped speaking to Sarah – to all of them – not because the plans had changed, though I was pissed about that – but because they had gone behind my back. They could have talked to me about wanting to change everything, but instead they went over my head. It sucked, it hurt, and I felt betrayed.
I cried getting ready for prom. I cried when I showed up at Sarah’s house for pre-prom pictures. I cried, quietly, when we got into the limo. I danced some, but cried in the girls bathroom once prom started. I felt utterly alone.
The cherry on top of this disaster sundae was when I escaped into the girls bathroom for what must have been the fifth time that night, and ran into my “social butterfly best friend” – another girl named Sarah, when will I learn?! – who had been alternatively clinging to me and blowing me off for about 10 years. She was drunk, so very drunk, and she stumbled into the bathroom and hung an arm around my neck and told me, “Cat, you were the best friend I ever had. You always fixed all my problems. I don’t appreciate you enough. Let’s hang out more.” Of course, that ended the same way it always did – she never called, never got around to finding time for me despite my attempts to connect. Even worse, I didn’t figure out that I should stop trying until just recently.
So. I don’t have any pictures to show you of my prom, because my eyes were puffy and my makeup was running. My smiles were strained and my dress was wrinkled. Lucky for me, I have two little girls, so I can live vicariously through them at their proms. They’ll let me tag along, right?
Now, link up your posts, because my girls won’t have their proms for another 15 years. For now, I’ll live vicariously through yours!
ALRIGHTY FOLKS. The Participants roll over there in the right side bar has been updated. If you have ever, even one time, participated in these here shenanigans, your blog should be over there.
Now I need some favors:
If you DO see your name over there, please let me know if there are any errors. A misspelling, broken link, incorrect formatting or capitalization, OMG THAT IS NOT EVEN WHAT I CALL MY BLOG ANYMORE, etc. I tried to use what I perceived to be the title of the blog, but I think a few slipped through where I ended up using what might be a user name or a pet name or a name I picked out in my sleep. Basically, if any corrections need to be made, please email me! I will fix it posthaste.
If you do NOT see your name over there, but you believe it should be, email me! And I will fix it posthaste.
While you’re at it, click around over there and get to know one another. Make new friends!
(But keep the old. One is silver and the othe– SORRY.)
You know, assuming you consider yourself a grown-up now. Which I sort of don’t. I mean, SURE, I’ve got two kids and I’m a homeowner and I can eat chocolate cake for breakfast if I want to, but I still mostly feel like I’m that age I’ve always been. Didn’t you always think it would feel different when you were a grown-up?
It’s possible that I just never got tall enough. Or grew into my earlobes, like everyone promised I would.
Oh well.
As far as what I wanted to be? I never had a clear-cut answer for that. People would ask me, and I’d just tell them whatever sounded good. When I was in the first grade, we were supposed to come to school one day dressed as what we wanted to be when we grew up. And I fretted. I FRETTED AT THE AGE OF SIX over MAJOR CAREER DECISIONS. Finally, at the last minute, my mom put me in my favorite dress and I threw my toy microphone in my backpack and went as a “singer”. HAAA.
Another time I was asked the question, for some sort of Girl Scouts assembly, I told them I wanted to work in a pet store. My mom saw it written on the little card that was to be read in front of HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE, and was all, “Oh, honey. I think you meant you want to be a veterinarian.” But no. That was NOT what I meant at all. I wanted to work in a pet store. I really liked looking at the fish tanks. So all the other little girls marched proudly up to the stage as their chosen vocations–lawyer, doctor, mother–were read, and I steadily grew more and more embarrassed. And I didn’t even have the consolation of knowing “AT LEAST I CAN BLOG THIS LATER!”
Life before the internet was HORRIBLE, you guys. I don’t recommend it.
As a teenager, I fancied myself a writer, as all good emo-pants 15-year-olds do. My poetry was DEEP, y’all. I’d post some for you here, but it would screw my shot at getting published someday, and I’m not ready to let go of the dream.
Actually, I find it hilarious now that I ever wanted to be a writer, because I could not want to be a writer ANY LESS than I do right now. You know. As I sit here. Writing.
I even got my undergraduate degree in MATH so I wouldn’t have to write any papers. (Okay, I like math a lot, but it was a huge lure.) I figured I’d be an actuary. Or possibly a teacher? No, definitely an actuary. (SPOILER: I completed neither of those minors.)
One day in my early 20s, shortly after getting married, being a librarian suddenly occurred to me as an actual job possibility. I don’t know why it HADN’T before. I grew UP in the library!
Seriously. It’s where I looked up sex in the encyclopedia and played truth or dare with boys from school. (JUST KIDDING, MOM. I WAS RESEARCHING THE NUNNERY. NOTHING TO SEE HERE.)
Now, of course, I’m a mom who stays home with my two girls, figuring AT SOME POINT I’ll have to dust off one or two of these degrees and get myself a grown-up lady job. Though I’m not sure what could be more grown-up than this.
What I DO know is this: my girls are NOT allowed to visit the library alone until they’re at least 22. The end.
Oh if I had all the money in the world and could travel and see the Seven Wonders, meet people, experience different cultures… oh if only…
I think it might be easier for me to say “Where DON’T you want to travel to?” instead. So here they are – grouped by continent because I am a supreme dork about ordering things that don’t necessarily need to be ordered or categorized.
North America
I grew up in Western NY so going over to Canada was a fairly regular occurrence to me. But Niagara Falls, Canada is pretty much the same as Niagara Falls, NY. It’s just a different view of the Falls. And you can gamble.
- Canada
- Prince Edward Island (Hello has anyone else watched Anne of Green Gables eleventy-hundred times?)
- Calgary
- Vancouver
- Newfoundland (That is so much fun to say out loud.)
- Nova Scotia (Also equally fun to say out loud.)
- Quebec
- Hitting the Good Ol’ USA
I really do want to see every single state. I think there is a wealth of natural beauty in this country that hasn’t been destroyed by strip malls. Highlights of new places I’ve never been too would include walking on a glacier in Alaska, Seattle, Montana, Hawaii, San Francisco, CA, Colorado and New Mexico. I have been to every state East of the Mississippi and I’d return to many of them in a heartbeat to visit. I’d also go back to the Grand Canyon.
- Central America
- Please – Costa Rica.
- I also would love to ride a boat through the Panama Canal.
- Mayan Ruins
South America
The Southern-most tip of the continent in Argentina. I’d love to stand on that point and stare at the ocean.
Asia
- SIGN ME UP FOR JAPAN.
- Great Wall of China (Wouldn’t it be awesome to run a marathon on that wall?)
- Vietnam (To pay my respects to the birth country of the martial art I earned a black belt in.)
- Bali (We planned our honeymoon there, until some jackass bombed a tourist destination and freaked me out just a couple months beforehand. We went to Tahiti instead.)
- Nepal
- India and the Taj Mahal
Australia & New Zealand
All of it. Please and thank you.
Europe
- Ireland. (Take me home to my ancestral roots I most identify with. I can see your rolling hills of green and fences made of stone… sigh. In a heartbeat.)
- Scotland. (I mean I’ll be right next door…)
- United Kingdom (I want to ride a double decker bus and see the royal family!)
- France (Paris you are calling to me with your art and pastries!)
- Belgium
- Amsterdam
- Denmark (I just found out last year I have Danish ancestors and I was totally surprised!)
- GER.MAN.Y (Castles anyone? Yes? Oh good.)
- Austria (The Sound of Music?)
- Switzerland (Heidi?)
- Italy (Gondolas. Art. The Vatican. The architecture. Rome. Milan. SIGH.)
Africa
- Eqypt (I have to say, the pyramids completely fascinate me. I know they were built on the backs of slave labor and that is horrible, but I marvel and the construction without modern tools and engineering. Amazing. AMAZING. Of course the same thing can be said about all the castles I want to see in Europe and all the ancient architecture in Italy too!)
- Morocco
- South Africa
Clearly? I need to win the lottery. Retire. And travel. I could daydream all day about any one of these places and in a breathe be transported with my imagination.
This planet we live on is so stunningly, amazingly gorgeous. We should cherish it. See it all. Appreciate the wealth and honor the power.
Happy Earth Day! Where do you dream to travel to?
I’m not gonna bother trying to hide it from you all: my normal outfit at home is a pair of pajama pants and a strappy tank with no bra underneath it. Clearly not the stuff of fantasies, and nothing that I’d leave the apartment wearing (well, okay, maybe to get the mail) (or take out the recycling) (or the dogs). When I go to work, I have a boring dress code to comply with: black suit jacket, solid coloured shirt, and black bottoms. YAWN.
My job, however, is as an associate in women’s fashions in a department store. This means I’m constantly exposed to new, brilliant clothing that makes me wish I made more money, and don’t even get me started on all the amazing accessories I see when I walk across the aisle!
So, while I’m no fashionista, I definitely know what I’m lusting after this season.
BCBGeneration Tilly Small Convertible Satchel
 Oh. My. Goodness. When I saw this pretty little pastel pink (the picture’s colour is not true to reality!) bag sitting on the shelf, I stopped in my tracks. I cooed over it, stroked the supple leather, and daydreamed about bringing her home with me.
EDC butterfly print graphic tee with butterfly sleeves
Bold graphics and subdued colours? I am ALL OVER THIS. Also, I love butterfly sleeves. I have a black top I wear to work all the time with those sleeves, and they’re just so comfy.
INC Ruffle trimmed cropped cardigan
LOVE ruffles. Love cropped. Love that this hangs open in the front and I don’t have to worry about any damned buttons or hooks.
Bianca Nygard Zipper Detail Denim Biker Jacket
Although I’d prefer the details to be in silver, I love this concept. The asymmetrical zipper, the long collar, the hip length, the extra zipper details… they’re awesome.
Guess Manni Capris
First: capris are growing on me. I can’t help it. They look so great with tunic-length tops. I love the little scarf for a belt, too! Very retro feeling.
Vero Moda Molle knee length dress
I can’t find a picture of it online, but at work, we have this dress in a stunning melon hue, which is what I’d go for. The tan is such a BLAH colour! I love the halter neck and tiered, ruffly layers here.
What spring and summer fashions are you lusting after? I wanna know!
When I was little girl, I used to pray in church that Jesus would give me an awesome singing voice. Apparently Jesus had better things to deal with because I totally don’t have a good singing voice. I’m also a really bad dancer, and I’m not particularly flexible. Like, at all. I do, however, do a mean and entirely accidental Muppet impersonation. (Okay, I’m not sure how that relates.)
Despite my genetic setbacks when it comes to pop superstardom, I still love goofing off and pretending to be a rock star. In fact, Britney Spear’s Toxic was the first song I did karaoke to in front of people. (Um, if playing a video game with a handful of people counts as in front of people.)
I WANT TO BE A POP STAR. You know, just for a day. In a super special world where I’m not terrified of doing things in front of people or traveling or dancing or, well shit. That’s what imagination is for, right?
I’d use my badass fake Internet name, Wikiprostitute. Or my other badass fake name, Lila Fiest. Maybe that’s catchier…
I’d go full on J-Pop princess with pigtails and bloomers and huge fuckoff boots and crinoline and ruffles and leather. I’d be a mix between Lady Gaga and Pink and Beaker. You know, like this:
 The truth is, I hope I never grow out of playing pretend. Whether I’m pretending to be a rock star or pretending to be a swordfighter or a dragon rider or wherever it is my mind wanders to when I’m hanging onto girlhood and my imagination. My album, Lila Fiest: Your Face is a Boner, might not go platinum. But I’ll always have memories like this:
 Hell yeah.
Sorry for the late posting, gals! I had no less than three emergencies this morning, two work related and one home related*, and I couldn’t have even told you what day it was an hour ago let alone that I was supposed to post here today!
*Everyone is Ok, but huge monies need to be spent for the fixing of things. Sigh.
——-
As women, our clothing choices are much vaster than those of our male counterparts. For example, the guys in my office wear the same thing every day; khaki pants, button up shirt, belt, shoes.
The women, however, come into the office in a myriad of styles and outfits, ranging from dresses, sweater sets, slacks, heels, flats, blouses, dress shirts, etc.
I don’t have a lot of time (or motivation, honestly) to get up early every morning to blow out my hair and select earrings that match my shirt, but sometimes I do manage to dress up a little. There are a few go-tos that always make me feel good.
- Power Suit. Every girl should have one. Mine is charcoal grey, fits like a DREAM, and makes me feel like a CEO of a very successful law firm or something. It makes me feel powerful, and sexy, and generally in control of my life.
- Red High Heels. I have a pair of red stilettos that I don’t wear often. They’ve got a little sparkly buckle at the toe, peep-toe style, SIREN red. The heels could be considered weapons. I feel like a hottie in these… at least until I trip over a cobblestone.
- Jewelry. I used to underestimate jewelry. Now I realize that more often than not, picking out a pair of earrings, or even throwing on some bangles, just makes me feel more put together. That makes me feel more in control of my life, and that’s just an awesome feeling.
- Makeup. I hardly ever wear makeup, usually for special occassions. When I do put some on, with or without a “good reason”, I feel extra beautiful, and sort of awesome. I congratulate myself on taking the time to do something for myself, and it feels nice. I feel special, and it’s like I appreciate myself all over again.
- Push up bra. I like nothing more than to look down at the girls and see that yes, in fact, there is a little cleavage going on there, and it’s fucking hot. I feel sexy, and I feel like shoving my tits in your face so that you will aknowledge how sexy I am.
What about you? Is it sexy underwear, or colored contacts, or diamonds, or tattoos, or fishnets? What makes you feel sexy, or awesome, or powerful?
|
Coffee Talk Enjoy some girl talk over coffee with photo mugs covered in pictures of your kids. Or your pets or your best friends. Or, you know, your Twitter avatar.
|
Recent Comments