Posts Tagged ‘party dress’

I Can’t Quite Believe

December 23, 2016

That.

Tomorrow is my last day with the boys.

I only cried three times today.

Grateful for that.

I didn’t need to stuff my feelings.

It was a challenge.

I cried when I wasn’t expecting it.

I felt a bit blown out and a bit tired and a lot sad.

The boys also had great big screaming tantrums, so that was fun, albeit completely understandable.

The tantrums didn’t, of course, start until after we had gotten back to the house and I needed to get them ready for A Charlie Brown Christmas at the San Francisco Symphony.

I mean, really, sort of figured it would happen.

Just needed to have the monkeys fed and changed into their navy velvet blazers and bow ties by 1 p.m.

No biggie.

Except they were emotional too.

They know.

They know I’m going to be gone tomorrow.

That’s it.

No more nanny.

“Carmen, please visit us,” the older boy stopped, took my hand, tugged on it, as we rounded the corner from the park to the house, literally stopping me in my tracks as I pushed his brother in the stroller.

“________________, I’m right here, right now, with you, and,” I paused, reached down, hefted his 6.5 year old body up, great work out, being a nanny in case you’re ever wanting to switch careers, “I love you and I promise tomorrow is not the last time you will see, I promise.”

I had lifted him so that he was eye level with me, we rubbed noses, he wrapped his arms around me, and we just stood and hugged it out on the corner.

Oof.

It was like that all day.

The park was barely the park.

Mostly the park was both boys trying to sit in my lap at the same time.

They eventually did get up and play and run around and chase pigeons, but all they wanted to do was sit with me, on my lap, or leaned against me.

The youngest gets me the most, or at my heart the most, his small face this plate of silence and sadness.  He just oozes it, it breaks my heart to look at his face and every time, like, um now, fuck, I see his little face in my head, I just start crying.

Which is challenging to do when writing a blog, the screen gets blurry.

Ugh.

Oof.

I am super grateful I have the feels, it means the boys mean something to me and it’s important I grieve the loss and the moving on and yeah, I don’t know what tomorrow is going to be like but I did make sure to have plans to have dinner with a friend and maybe I’ll go get a mani/pedi afterward and just take it really sweet and easy.

I got a nice Christmas bonus.

Slight aside.

SERIOUS ADULTING.

I got my Christmas bonus yesterday and I couldn’t open the card until I had been home for hours, there was something daunting about it, and I realized later that I was loath to open it because it really would signal the end of days and I can’t quite seem to wrap my mind around not going in to work next week and seeing my little guys.

But.

I did open it and I was quite grateful for the gift, really.

And then.

I did the adulting.

The first thing I bought with my bonus?

Dental insurance.

Then I put a little in savings.

I met with my person after work today and she plunked the kleenex box down in front of me, “today the last day or tomorrow,” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” I said and reached for a tissue.

We had tea we talked all things recovery, it was really good.

Then she said, “that’s great about the dental insurance, that’s a beautiful gift to give yourself, but get something fun for you too.”

I took her suggestion.

It took me a hot minute though.

I was going to go book a massage and when I went they place was closed for the holidays!

Ugh.

So I went to Rainbow and bought some, for me, expensive body lotion I really like by Pure Organics and a Rau raw chocolate drink.

Then I pondered where I was going to go.

There was a little voice in my head that said, go home, hide, stick your head in the sand, get all isolated and shit, watch some videos and let the squirrels in your head run amok.

I was like, ooh yeah, I’ll catch up on Black Mirror.

But.

Well.

That sounds fucking depressing.

Jesus, Martines, that’s not a good idea.

I just about laughed out loud.

So.

I rode my scooter over to the Inner Sunset and I made myself park close to a spot that would pretty much guarantee me doing the deal, then I went and cashed my Christmas bonus check and went to Green Apple Books.

I had not bought anything when I was there the other day, I was just browsing to kill time until I met my date at Park Chow.

This time I let myself buy.

God  damn do I love buying books.

And pleasure books, oh lord, I get to do some pleasure reading.

Not much, just a week, so what ever I knock through between now and New Years is what I get.  Maybe even a little less, I’m going to need to order my books for the upcoming semester sooner than I realize, I know it.  But.  I’ll have seven days of freedom, I think, where I can read.

I bought three books.

The new Don DeLillo, Zero K.

Cormac McCarthy, Child of God.

And.

Irvine Welsh, The Bedroom Secrets of The Master Chefs.

I’m drooling just typing out the names and looking at them on top of my stack of notebooks makes me very happy.

After I had satiated my book desires I went to dinner.

I treated myself to Marnee Thai and fuck am I glad I did, it was awesome.  I took the suggestion of the waitress and had a red curry with duck and plantains and brown rice.

Swoon.

It was good.

A bit pricier than I would have typically spent at my little secret spot out here in my hood, but Thai Cottage is closed for the next few weeks for the holidays and I smelled goodness wafting from the restaurant when I passed it on the way to the bookstore.

My nose knew.

After the dinner I still had some time and I popped into Ambiance.

And yes.

l bought myself a pretty dress for New Year’s Eve and decided that I would commit to going to a New Year’s Eve party some friends of mine are throwing in the Mission.

Yup.

I’ll be going stag to a New Year’s Eve party, and I don’t fucking care, I’m going to dance and wear platforms and my new dress and be pretty and not give a damn about being single, because I’m allowed to have fun and be happy.

I don’t need to be partnered up on the holidays.

That’s not worked out so well for me the last few years.

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, not well at all.

No.

And tomorrow.

Well.

It will be here soon and I’m sure I will have all the feels about it and just breathe in and out and hug my boys tight and smell the napes of their necks and kiss their faces and it will be alright.

It will.

I am lucky to get this opportunity.

I am literally paid to love.

Not a bad job if you can get it.

Seriously.

 

New Holiday Experiences

December 4, 2014

Happening here.

I am going to holiday parties with my beau.

We have been messaging back and forth and he put it really simple and succinct, basically, if you want me to come ask and I will, I’m your boyfriend, that’s what I do.

Oh goody.

I am a little nervous about this specific holiday party, there’s a lot of my friends that will be there.  The invite already has over 50 RSVPs responding to it, plus I know that there are more folks that have been sent e-mail invites as well.

I received two separate invites to the event, and so I jokingly asked on the RSVP list to one of them if I could bring my beau?

Last year I went with a darling friend who was unexpectedly in town for the evening and we danced so hard.

I also remember having a teary moment with her in the hallway when I expressed to her a romantic disappointment–something that happens when you sleep with friends–they become a romantic disappointment.

Though truth be told, I don’t think my heart was ever really there, it was more the idea of having a boyfriend and wanting to have an escort, a partner, a lover with me.

And one year later, voila, “Boyfriend By Christmas” has happened.

I really never suspected it would happen the way that it has and I am extraordinarily grateful for all the work I have done to get here.

And here is just beginning.

I suspect that this is just the augur of a brighter future than I can possibly imagine.

Suffice to say, I am excited for the holiday party season.

Not a sentence that would have fallen out of my mouth the last few years, despite loving the holidays quite a bit more than I might admit to under normal circumstances.

I love the way things smell–all holly and evergreen, spicy and rich and sweet and chocolate, and oh cinnamon and nutmeg and egg nog goodness.

The perfume of the holidays and Christmas is so satisfying to my soul.

Wood fire smoke, popcorn balls, mistletoe.

Oh!

I know who’s getting kissed under the mistletoe this year.

Ha.

“You sound happy,” my mom said to me as she asked after my Thanksgiving and how it was.

I am happy.

And well dressed.

Yes.

I found the jacket to go with my dress.

A vintage style cropped leopard print faux fur with a hot pink satin lining.

Uh, yeah.

It looks freaking smashing with the dress.

And I found the best clutch ever at Wonderland SF and for no apparent reason, other than perhaps she was feeling my vibe, the owner of the store took off 40% of the bag price–it had been $79.

Sweet.

Now I just need the shoes to come in the mail and I am set up.

I may even allow myself another Christmas frock for the holiday party I’m heading to on the 12th.

Although, I probably don’t have to, it’s fun to have a few pretty party dresses to wear out.

EEK!

And New Years.

Lord have mercy.

I am going to have a date for New Years.

And my birthday.

“Dinner reservations at 8p.m. too late for you?” He asked me this past week when we were discussing it.

I think I can hold off until then.

“What’s your favorite food?” He asked.

I could almost see him rolling through the menus of a number of restaurants, he’s well aware that I don’t eat sugar and flour, so a pasta dinner is probably out.

“Steak,” I said, “rare, blue-black, I love a really good filet.”

Or porterhouse or some tartare, or an aged rib eye, I’m not particular, as long as it is raw or damn close to it.

I could actually see him relax a little, “ah, then, I know exactly where I am going to take you.”

Then he said something about dry aged Kobe beef and my eyes may have glazed over and some drool may have pooled in the corner of my mouth.

Seriously.

I might be having the most fun a girl can have and I was so not expecting this experience.

I am still avoiding writing about a lot of the relationship, it’s mine and I am enjoying finding all the eccentricities of it and the ups and downs and the flow and while I do so, I don’t want to be airing it all out here.

I am just giddy with the holiday cheer and actually having someone to share the experience with.

I won’t be house sitting for anyone this Christmas.

I won’t be nannying this New Years Eve.

I am actually going to be an adult woman on the town in San Francisco with my boyfriend.

Delicious.

What else is delicious?

Not having to go to work until 1:30 p.m. tomorrow afternoon.

It’s the mom’s birthday and the dad is surprising her with a spa day for her and her three best girlfriends.

Dad is going to surprise mom at school, show up to pick up the oldest boy from preschool and two of his school friends and then the mom of said friends, who is in cahoots, will spirit the mom away to the spa.

Afterwards dad is taking mom to Michael Minna’s for dinner.

Go dad.

I’ll be staying late, doing dinner for the boys and bed time and working a little over time.

Which I am more than fine with.

I won’t be able to see my man until Friday, we both have had a really busy week, although time was made Monday evening for some shared canoodling, and I will want the extra money on hand.

It looks like I need to get another party dress.

Or two.

Hello Stranger

November 17, 2014

Where you been?

I have taken the last couple of days away from the computer, the laptop, the internet, the interwebs, the social media, the facebooking, twittering, chirping, instagraming, tinder, okcupid of it all.

I have been busy living.

I am being a little oblique.

I understand.

Curiosity it killed the cat.

This may be one of the harder blog posts I write.

There was and is a very good reason I was offline for the last couple of days.  I mean, I wasn’t totally, I checked a few things on my phone, I’m not a Neanderthal after all, but I haven’t booted up the lap top to input the blog.

I have been, um, busy.

Yargh.

This is hard.

I just recall certain things that certain folks have passed a long for a little while now, snippets of suggestions, dollops of care, maybe I sound like your mother, but I love you, advice.

And you know what is happening?

I am listening.

I am really listening.

To my heart, to my gut, to my instincts.

There are truly some things that I am not going to write about.

I can’t.

Too much is at stake.

Therefor I stayed off the blog the last few days.

I let things unfold, I discovered what feelings were in real-time and had them and processed them and went about my life with new and unusual information about who I am and let myself enjoy the fuck out of it.

I will drop a few hints and if you should be curious, I know one or two of you might, please call me on that old-fashioned thing called a phone and we can have a chat and I can give you details.

There are details.

Be assured.

Some things that I am willing to cop to.

Number one.

Get Tinder off my phone.

Don’t want the app, not interested in using it, not needed, get thee gone.

Except I can’t figure out how to get it off my phone–it may have something to do with the fact that I never was successful at installing the app in the first place; it wouldn’t load and I spent more time watching the error sign come up then swiping left or right.

Second.

I killed OkStupid.

Yup.

It’s done.

I’m off the site.

Now.

I know my friends are some smart monkeys.

If a + b = c one might surmise that.

a. No OkCupid

b. No Tinder

c. No blog for last couple of days.

I will say no more.

See.

I can do this!

Not certain for how long I can keep the hat on it, but I am going to give things room to grow and breathe and be, myself included and keep focus on the practices that I am currently doing.

Writing, writing, and more writing.

Maybe if I’m not writing about certain things I can be writing my autobiographical statement for graduate school.

Not tonight.

I’m too tired.

I had a busy weekend.

I got behind on some things and played catch up a lot today.

For instance, my Sunday soul soup is still cooking on the stove–my food for the week is a vegetable three bean chili with brown rice–I didn’t get to the cooking for a little while today and it still needs a good hour of simmering on the stove.

I did have an awesome late lunch at Thai Cottage, but that’s not cooking for the week.

I did get groceries done, but far later in the weekend then I normally do, same with cleaning the in-law and doing laundry–one load left to go.

I was a little behind on things, I had my attention elsewhere.

I enjoyed that attention being elsewhere.

Especially as I head into a busy week.

One with dancing at the end of it and a lot of service thrown in between.

Two speaking engagements this week and it feels like there’s another lurking around the corner, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Thanksgiving is coming up, which is frankly weird, not the holiday, just that it’s so close already.

I had some plans for the day, and I still think that it will probably happen that I end up in the Castro with Honey and the orphans and take out and a movie matinée at the Castro Theater.

I have plenty to be giving thanks for.

I tell you what.

So many things.

Like already booking dates in December for Christmas parties and on into January for a night at the symphony (the San Francisco Symphony is doing a big screen viewing of the original God Father and the symphony will be playing the soundtrack to the movie).

I actually opened up my closet and started poking through it, could I wear that dress to the party, would this work for the symphony, what about those heels?  Are they too high?

I may have to go out and buy a holiday frock or two.

I can’t remember the last time I had plans around the holidays that required some more formal attire.

I have dresses, but they are not so formal.

Ah.

Yes.

What every woman needs, or just this woman, an excuse to go dress shopping.

I can handle dress shopping better than jeans shopping.

Yikes.

I really do have to buy a new dress, probably two, and maybe some new heels.

My ankle should be all healed up and ready to prance about.

Speaking of prancing, I shall be dancing this weekend too, very much looking forward to the party at the Armory and getting to see some friends who I haven’t had much chance to catch up with since Burning Man.

This party I have clothes for.

And I won’t be wearing heels too, oh no.

Sneakers.

I may lace them up with some pink ribbon shoe laces for flair, but I am wearing flats for my night out dancing.

No hurting the ankle.

Well, the soup is simmering, the tea is in the process of sipping, the night is young and full of stars.

Far away messages of mystery in the sky.

Dumped over the bowl of dark covering the ocean and beach, drizzling me in sweet dreams and delicious thoughts from the weekend.

~End vague blog~

 

Dance, Dance, Dance

December 11, 2011

So, it’s on.  I have decided to throw myself a dance party.  For the last three weeks, maybe four, I have said every weekend, damn, I have got to go dancing.  It has been too long.

Last time I was dancing?

Burning Man.

Not good, this lady needs to get her groove on.

In the spirit of taking care of myself and not waiting to be asked out on a date, and no, there is nothing to report, date was cancelled today–he was called into work.  Yes, I was bummed, but then I had a moment of, hey!  I can get my party frock on.  I had been wondering when I was going to be able to brave the crowds and the shopping and do the deal.

So, after taking care of business in the Mission, I went down town.  It was crazy pants.

One, I totally forgot it was Santa Con.  Oops.  Fortunately they were trying to set a record for the most naked santas in one spot–@ 3 p.m. today–and I was nowhere near that.

Some things just should not be seen. I haven’t believed in santa for a very long time.  That bubble was burst when I had just turned six and my sister was four.  My poor mother took us aside and told us that there was no Santa.  I had my suspicions by that point but I was still in that magic place of having the ability to suspend disbelief if I chose to.

My sister was devastated.  I think she still bears my mother malice over that heart-break.

We were living with my Aunt Teresa and my cousin Channing.  Teresa had just gone through a really nasty divorce with my Uncle Bill and they were playing who loves their daughter more.  Channing was inundated with Christmas presents from both sides of her family.  Her mother, her father, her grandparents on both sides, and Santa all were colluding to make sure that Channing was the most adored, loved, cherished child ever to walk the earth.

Note to future parents everywhere–dont’ do this!  That child became insufferable in about six minutes.

My mom was poor–hence the living with our Aunt and her daughter–and could not compete with the Christmas buy-a-thon that was happening.  She did not want my sister and I to believe that Santa loved us less than Channing as Channing was getting the whole hog, dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with powdered candy canes.  I don’t remember what I got that year.

I do however, distinctly recall what Channing go–a lot of Barbies, a Barbie Dream House, a train set, a lot of clothes (I was very envious of her array of slippers, I did not get slippers until I bought them for myself at the ripe old age of 35), a make up kit, a fucking polaroid camera (which she used to take naked pictures of her Barbies–little girl got warped somewhere), a Lite Bright (fuck, I still want a Lite Bright), a bunch of candy, I mean a shit ton, plus whatever assorted garbage and junk was in her stocking.

Cicely, my sister, and I did not get stockings either.

Suffice to say, Santa is not a big guy on my list of holiday cheer, and the idea of seeing a bunch of naked ones sounds like trauma to me.

Fortunately for me, I missed it.  I did not however miss the extraordinary shopping crowds downtown.  Holy shit.  Where do they all come from?  I will say this, it was sweet to hear people caroling in the Powell Street BART station instead of panhandlers harassing me.

I am grateful that I also had a very specific agenda and knew where I wanted to go and what I wanted to check.  I hit GAP–not to buy anything, but because they have a public restroom tucked away in the store that is easily the cleanest and most accessible bathroom in that area.  I also had been a wise owl and I had eaten in the Mission instead of trying to find sustenance in the melee that was the shopping pandemonium.

Then on to Anthropologie.  But there was nothing there.  I was in and out in five minutes.  I cut in and out of the heavy foot traffic and hit H & M.  But nada  and it was a mad house of Japanese and European tourists.  I fled and went to Macy’s which is where I found her.

My party frock.

She is beautiful!  And exactly what I was looking for.  I had to dig around a bit before finding just the right dress.  I can’t wear certain colors, and not for the reasons you may be thinking, but because certain colors clash with my tattoos!  I have beautiful ink, I do, I do, but some patterns and colors don’t look right on me.  I had my eye on a gorgeous Giambasti Valli dress that he did for Macy’s Impulse line.  And it looked great on me, but the reds of the flowers in the print did not quite sit right and no matter how many times I turned around to admire the way it fell and moved, I could not quite get past the clash.

I was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed and I had a purpose, but thought, well, maybe it’s not going to happen, when there it was in the seasonal party section–A line, full skirt, cream with boned bodice, over layed with black lace, a sweet heart neck line and black spaghetti straps.  I can twirl in it and the skirt floofs out (yes floof is a word.  Duh.) and I felt pretty and romantic and festive.

I came out to look in the three-way mirror and a mom with her daughter sighed and said, “Oh it fits so well on you!  Is it for a special occasion?”

I smiled and said, my birthday is next week.

And she said, “you really have to get it, it’s just perfect, the fit is perfect”.

It is.  I adore it.

And it will be a perfect going dancing dress and a perfect holiday dress and I let myself splurge.

My birthday only happens once a year and this will be last year in my 30s.  It has been a tumultuous decade.  I want to celebrate my life this year.

I will dance and twirl and spin and I will be a my own version of a princess, an urban princess with dragon tattoos and hipster glasses.


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