Archive for the ‘Just Life in General’ Category



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I woke up this morning, and you were gone. I know this sounds like an old familiar country song, and it almost made me want to cry. And, then, I realized that what was gone was that insufferably egotistical boss, nagging hours, stress headache, and the nightmares about the customers that I didn’t get to that particular day. You guessed it… I WAS in sales! And, not just any sales job, but a job selling to the toughest human God ever created… the dreaded Car Dealer! Eesh, what a way to make a living (hmmm, another country song).

Yes, after suffering bouts of stress-related hair loss, a continuous achy back from the killer combination of high-heels, asphalt, and driving through parking lots, and the myriad other bizarre occurrences both physically and emotionally that occur whenever your adrenaline is stuck in the perpetual red line zone, I finally bit the bullet, typed out the exit letter, and ground my teeth for a grueling three week notice.

Nearing the finish line, I dreamed of Halcyon days of surfing the Internet for what I wanted, drinking coffee in the morning as I leisurely strolled about my house without a care in the world, and the ability to spend real, quality time with my nine year old son, all in the blissful awakening of Spring in Edmond, OK.

Shazaam- I awoke on that Monday morning, sans job. The first thing I noticed was the fact that I was awake at 6:00 am, a dreaded hour that was required for the two hour commute to the office for the sales meeting, that I no longer had to attend. Okay, I told myself, go back to sleep. Of course, this didn’t happen, so after a couple of hours staring out the window at the unbearably bright morning sun that previously I had bravely fought from my car windshield, I arose to that perfect cup of coffee. Except for the fact that the coffee had brewed at 6 am when my husband (still gainfully employed) needed it. It was cold, and as I bravely microwaved this cup, I began to feel the first faint stirrings of… what was it… irritation maybe?? that the little blue birds aren’t bringing me my cup to the tune of some little ditty sung from a little cottage in the woods… was this what I had to look forward to?

As my beautiful son made his bleary eyed descent from his room upstairs, I bundled him into the car for the trek to school. All is well, as I drove home, and walked into the kitchen for another dreamy (but still cold, because I forgot to make more) cup of coffee. I started a pot, then padded upstairs to my office, which was now all mine, but as I looked around, I realized there was no work to be done, no more pressure, and, OMG, no pending income.

Furiously I logged on to all of the on-line sites that I had grown to wistfully dream of from afar, and with a stricken sigh realized… this was it! From the far reaches of the panic zone, I clicked, wrote, tabbed and spaced my way onto a dozen sites, all to no avail! This was worse than Internet dating… at least with that I had a job to go to in between the restless writings of love unsearched via the parameters of the 35-44 SWM zone!

After 8 hours of the panic zone, I took a breather, and picked my son up from school. “No, we don’t have time for McDonald’s” I spat, “No, we can’t go to the library” I hissed, all the while racing Mach 1 to return to the computer that insolently sat with a “no new messages” signal prominently displayed for all to see! Insanity, I thought, that no one wants me.

And that began the self-realization that to survive in the land of unemployment, one had to embrace one’s own unemployment as a get-out-of-jail-free zone.

As I spoke with a favorite recruiter friend of mine, he informed me that timing is everything. A frenzy of applications is only good in the event that you are actually job-hinting, not unemployment reacting. And, apparently that frenzy is key, because timing is everything.

The only true vacation you ever get is between jobs, so from this day forward, until you decide to really pursue what you want, stop, smell the roses, and truly vacate… you old job, your office, and even your own brain. Buy a couple of trashy no-brainer novels, some tulip bulbs, and a can of paint in your favorite color. The closets and basement can wait until you are cramming it into a weekend from your new job, but to read, plant something that you can nurture, then paint something your favorite color… even if it is only a shoe box can create a small event that is truly yours, and that peace of mind can foster the belief that it this is truly your life, not your bosses’, nor your spouse’s, nor your child’s, but your moment(s) to create, then breathe in the essence of you.

And, then Tweet about it. Tweet a lot.

Learn it, live it, learn to love it!

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At the tender young age of 26, this little gal from Tennessee was about to become a woman… a “Spa” going woman that is. I was the guest of a large European Spa in a deluxe coastal resort. My husband was working in the area, so I had some time to play; I called from the room for an appointment and, after securing one for later that afternoon, I had arrived.

Upon entering ‘intimidation central,’ I held my head high, and did my best casual, “of course I know what I’m doing,” walk to the front desk to check in. The first thing I noticed was the unbelievable number of employees who were in front of me… one to greet, one to check in, one to orient me, one to show me around and one to supervise them all … with all of these people smiling their little blissful little smiles, it amazed me that my desire to RUN at that moment didn’t propel me out the door. So, I smiled back, and while gritting my teeth, listened to the most assertive one, Golda, who held me by the elbow and directed me through the atrium. The door looked as if it would swallow me, then it swooshed closed with a hyperbaric sucking sound.

Okay, so far, so good, I was now in the hushed, Indian Sitar twanging, water-dripping zone of the SPA! As I scurried to follow Golda, the Russian Hall monitor, through the labyrinth of rooms (the shower room, the massage corridor, the escape room, the relaxation room, the detail room), I had a bizarre feeling of being a guest in the Twilight Zone; we finally arrived at the door of the changing room with lockers. Golda instructed me to keep the little sandals, and my locker key with me at all times or, “I would be charged!” She then propelled me through the doors to, “go change!” and said that she would meet me outside. I looked at my little key, found the number 5008 then frantically tried to weave my way through the rows of lockers. On row 7, I finally stood in front of the right one and opened it – inside was a cavern of space with nothing but a robe hanging in it, I stood there perplexed, wondering what to do about the clothes I still wore. Furtively, I glanced around but no one occupied the row I was on, so I peeked around the corner for a look, and as I turned to the right, across the room, I saw Myrtle. SHE WAS NAKED! Not a day under seventy, there she stood in all her glory. With visions of nudist colonies and Hare Krishnas floating through my head, and feeling trapped like a gerbil on steroids in the surrealistic “soothe Zone”; panic set in as I realized that my proper Tennessee upbringing wouldn’t jibe with jiggly naked displays in front of strangers. So, I did what every gal on the planet has wanted to do at some time or another…I raced back to my locker, grabbed my purse, and hauled my butt out the door.

I didn’t visit another Spa for an entire five years.

SIDEBAR: Be Spa Savvy…

In every female’s life comes a point of arriving. Yes, you’ve bought a car, you have a place to live of your own, get your hair cut and colored and your nails done regularly, but to “Spa” effortlessly, is definitely a rite of passage. That tender first time (like most first times) can be very challenging. With the Spa business booming and so many fabulous and even necessary treatments out there, it can become a bit overwhelming; the first thing is to start small, with a facial or massage.

Here are a few ground rules to start with, if you observe, you will be an old “pro” in no time:

  1. Find your comfort zone, and choose your spa carefully. When calling to book the appointment, be sure to pay careful attention to the tone of the person on the other end. Some of the more upscale places tend to cater to the elite, while other Spas wish to accommodate a less demanding clientele. Both have their places in the sun, but if you wish to be lavished with attention, and treated like royalty, then a large, mass location business probably won’t satisfy your desire. Likewise, if you just want a great massage, without all of the fussiness and an affordable price point, a small, boutique-y Spa in an elitist part of town probably won’t be your cup of tea.
  2. Ask about the amenities available. If the largest part of the description for the Spa is the relaxation area with steam room, hot and cold plunge pool facilities, and a complete workout area… get ready for Myrtle, and prepare yourself accordingly. Usually in metropolitan areas, these facilities are found mainly in large, elegant hotels, so understand that ladies from around the world will share the facilities. Swimwear is always in good taste, as is wearing your robe at all times.
  3. Always state your preferences for the sex of the therapist/Esthetician that will be giving your treatment. Some are more comfortable with the same sex touch, others prefer the opposite. As for dress during treatment, massage is only performed one “part” at a time, so underwear, if desired, is perfectly appropriate.
  4. Leave your cell phone in the car. I know this is a toughie, but it’s hard to relax while chatting away, and not everyone wants to listen to someone’s ring tone, or conversation. Think of it as a mini vacation from the outside world. You’re paying them to relax and rejuvenate you, and hearing “You Sexy Thang” blaring from Myrtle’s cell phone can be a bit distracting from the main goal of relaxation.
  5. Most importantly, ASK QUESTIONS! The only stupid question in life is one you already know the answer to, so if you need to find the restroom, ask. If you need to find a blow-dryer, water faucet, or you just need to know what time it is – the intimidating fear factor of looking like a dork is lessened greatly with a little information, and it also helps with recognition in the future.

Information is the key to savvy, so next time you’ll know… the way to go.

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Soon to be World Famous Basset

I, too am a Blogger

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Well, after all of the threats and promises… we are finally here! Get ready for a Bucking Bronco (think PBR, bulls and cowboy butts… what’s not to love?) ride through the Dust Bowl that you might not ever get any other way… well, at least you can view it through our eyes.

This is the inaugural post of the Divas, and we are fully equipped with just enough spunk, insanity and desire to improve, that you will definitely find some useful things to maybe brighten your space, feed your man, make the BEST party, or wrangle your dog. (Okay, we are all still working on that last one…)

Along our merry way, we will sniff out and share the greatest things that Oklahoma has to offer… in our humble opinions, of course, but just know… we only LOVE the best! The BEST food, the BEST clothes, (well, on our shoestring anyway), and the BEST, most FUN you will ever have in the great city! Even if you were born here, we will point you in the direction of things you never tried. We know this because, it happens to us all the time, and and we range from transplant, to “leftandcameback“, to to our one native, bless her heart, she never left OKC!

Our mighty Ensemble includes: The SpinBird, aka Shelly Peacock, hailing all the way from HotLanta, GA. Specializing in Graphic Art and Chef-ery… she can cook it, picture it, and make it appear most appetizing, all while wearing the very latest SUPA-fly boots! Also know, she can sniff out a bargain a mile away, and has a huge passion for God, denim, and blue Cheese. This future famous artist also finds time to create the most incredible canvasses to grace any wall necessary!

Next up, we have Miz Kat… okay, she lives down in the city, but is counted as one of “THE” most elite urbanites ever to grace an opening night. This is precisely why her name has been changed to protect her identity, and no, she is NOT in the witness protection program, she just doesn’t want to be publicly assaulted at Starbucks by a deranged fan… like happens to Ree Drummond. Miz Kat promises ALL, and I do mean ALL of the gossip, the dates of events that you WILL ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT… and juicy little cool stuff that you will come to anticipate with a manic gleam in your eye. Pretty soon, you will check this blog before you log in to Facebook to see it first!

Rounding up the team is Miz Cara, AKA the SuperMom. With 2 gorgeous little kiddies… and I do mean gorgeous (son was recruited by GAP), she can take a house, twirl around three times, and the next thing ya know, Elle Decor is standing at the door with camera in hand. No kidding. She also has an hysterical outlook on life that is caustic, rambunctious, but insightful, and you will be DYING to be her friend, because she is so wonderful!

We would also love any questions in our soon to be world famous “Ask the Divas” section. It’s moderator enabled to keep it friendly, but it will be a blast to see just how far our combined expertise will take us! I guarantee an awesome time trying!

Can’t wait till next time!

Da Divas

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