Category Archives: #12 Say what I mean

Married. Without children. You gotta problem with that?

I’m going to start this post by saying two things:

1. I really wish I could post more often these days, but things are hectic lately. I mean really. On top of the usual stuff we all manage to cram our days with, Rob and I are house hunting, I’ve been trying to find a decent pair of decent boots for effing weeks now, and work’s a boar. Rarrrr. (although I don’t think that’s the sound a boar makes, but it must be close.. or similar.. or at least the distant cousin of what a real boar sounds like. But I wouldn’t know, because I’ve never seen a boar. Or eaten one.)

2. I’m adding another item to my List. But I can’t tell you what it is… yet.

And now we return to your regularly scheduled post-

When you’re dating and living apart, people ask, “when are you going to move in together?”

When you’re coupled, sharing an address, bills, and your toothbrush holder, people ask, “when are you going to get engaged?”

When you’re betrothed, the ring is on, and you’re deciding between a wedding in the city or on the beach at sunset with a Mai Tai and a sunburn, people ask, “when are you getting married?”

When you’ve set the date, said the vows, and sent out the last Thank You Card to relatives you probably won’t see again until the next family funeral, people ask, “when are you going to have a baby?”


And that’s where shit gets personal.

I totally get that some people are just you know, curious. Asking questions, making conversation sort of thing. When you’re married, it’s a given that at some point people are going to ask the baby question. I mean “it’s the next step..” right? (if you could see me right now, I’m rolling my eyes, which is a little hard to do while typing, but it’s happening. Somehow. Honest.)  When you haven’t really formulated an answer to that infamous question about baby, or care to right now, it’s the last question you want to hear.

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with hunting a house, surviving the work week, attacking a List, and finalizing my plans to take over the world, now I have to think about my ovaries, my uterus and a clock. If this all sounds a little bit like being lost in a forest, it sure feels that way some days.

I could really use a few gingerbread crumbs right about now.

How about you – you getting the Q’s about what’s next in your life?

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Filed under stuff on my mind, stupid shit people say, the truth about turning 30

Follow up to the “ma’am” situation at Starbucks this morning.

What, like it’s never happened to you?

I had a moment. And much like the short-lived comeback of Mariah Carey, it fizzled fast. So I’m back – no drama.

But whatever, just so you’re in the know, here’s how shit went down today-

Me
A venti pike place please.

(pay…walk away…move to sugar-milk-station whatever. Drench coffee in my milk)

The bitch girl
Um, ma’am”. Ma’am. Ma’am.
…..ma’aaaaam.

(in disbelief, I turn around. very slow mo)

Me
Me?

The bitch girl
Ya, ma’am, you forgot your wallet.

Me
(still not blinking)
Ah, thanks.

The bitch girl It’s cute
My MOM HAS ONE. …. cuuute.”


Really? Eff you Starbucks girl. Eff you.


Anyway, it wasn’t a huge deal or anything;  but lately, I dunno. Shit’s just stinging a little more. Like people who were once just being all douchebagy suddenly have a point or something.

I dunno.

Anyway. I’m over it.

The bitch is like 27.


….That ever happen to you?

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Filed under #12 Say what I mean, stupid shit people say

Um, there are a lot of bloggers out there.

So, my thoughts on blogging and working full time run like this: Don’t mix business with pleasure (you decide which one is which).

And I stand by my word. What happens in the blogosphere stays in the blogosphere. (But I don’t judge if what you do is blog about work. Your call. I applaud loudly.)

Been keeping my shit on the DL (my issues, whatever) and then I come to find that I’m not the only blogger at work.

Wtf.

Hello? Obviously.

There are others. Like 133-million others. What makes you think you’re not sitting next to one right now?

Ya, that’s right.

The guy with the funny waft when he walks by and always seems to be in the lunchroom when you are and never really says anything beyond “hey” when he sees you blogs, too.  He does.

And there are even others who “dip” but don’t blog. (These are our trusted, loved and oft misunderstood “lurkers”. You complete me.)

So I’m going to keep my shit on the DL still. B’cause that’s just how I roll. For now.

What about you – on the DL about your blog? Do tell.

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Filed under #12 Say what I mean

It’s not just me. And it’s not just you.

Another "birthday tradition" (along with strawberries and champagne, fancy restaurants, and comotose-like massages) I throw my wedding dress on for a few minutes and just... indulge. It's certainly the prettiest thing I own, not to mention one that I've received a lot of compliments in. If birthdays are about feeling good (and I vote they are) then believe me, there is something wonderful about putting on your favorite dress in the whole world and not caring what anyone thinks. Something I most definitely recommend.

Another "birthday tradition" (along with strawberries and champagne, fancy restaurants, and comotose-like massages) I throw my wedding dress on for a few minutes and just... indulge. It's certainly the prettiest thing I own, not to mention one that I've received a lot of compliments in. If birthdays are about feeling good (and I vote they are) then believe me, there is something wonderful about putting on your favorite dress in the whole world and not caring what anyone thinks. Something I most definitely recommend.

30 is a big deal.

Since starting to blog about my year-to-30 I’ve questioned if it’s really something people think about. There, I said it. Just because it’s a significant year for me doesn’t mean other people give a shit. Understood. But if I had any doubts before, a conversation I eavesdropped on overheard on my birthday, no less, confirmed my suspicions about the importance of 10×3.

“So, I’ve been planning it for, like, two months… I gave it a theme, ’30 in the City!'” said the girl with the huge diamond ring getting her hair shampooed at the spa where I was spa’ing last Friday for my birthday. “I made a poster and put my face on Carrie Bradshaw’s face…” she started giggling. Why? Not sure.

Readers’ note: I’m trying to cut back on bitchiness this year, so I’ll hold off with the commentary on that one. But don’t worry, that self-imposed rule doesn’t usually stick for very long. My sharp tongue will make an appearance at some point. I promise.

What I found interesting wasn’t that this girl happened to be talking about her obsession with 30 on the very day I was turning 29. Nope, that wasn’t the interesting part. What had my ears perked was when she said this: “I just, you know, want my 30s to be amazing… so I figured this would be a good way to kick it off, you know?” She was talking to the girl shampooing her hair and obviously looking for some sort of confirmation on the whole idea, which she wasn’t getting. The shampoo girl wasn’t a day over 21. Phef.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that it took a lot of self control to not walk over there, introduce myself to this newly christened 30-year old and say, “Shit, I feel you on this. I’m so there with you. Wanna grab a Starbucks?” Luckily I was slightly buzzed from a birthday mimosa and nearly comatose from my massage. I didn’t want to freak the girl out with my sometimes-too-forward introductions, particularly when it comes to topics I’m hot for.

What I learned: Turning 30 isn’t a “bad thing” – I’m not from that camp. People pitching that tent can suck it. I think 30, for the milestone reputation that it has, presents a lot of opportunity for some much-needed self-reflection and, as in my case, reinvention.

After a decade spent indulging every hormone, self-help method, an HBO show about a girl named Carrie, and asking, “What should I do with my life?”, I’m beginning to realize that 30 is the new 20 (slightly vomitable, but true). We’re just right back at Alice’s hallway of doors asking ourselves which knob to turn next. The only difference is we’ve been here before. At least I have.  It was called being 19.

I remember everyone in my life making a big deal about “not being a teenager anymore”. But I wasn’t fazed. I couldn’t wait. I thought for sure my 20s had more to offer than an exclusive membership to the club of pimples, bad break ups, awkward sex, and drama in the cafeteria. Thank-you-God. I was right.

My twenties have been good to me, which is why I think I’m a little sweaty in the pits at the thought of leaving an era that’s taken nearly a decade to mold. Just when you thought you had it figured out, a new era sits at your doorstep, much like before. The obvious differences are that we have more money (maybe), more rewarding jobs (hopefully), a better wardrobe (debatable), and the balls to go after the things we spent our 20s deciding we deserve (most definitely).

Reinventing, this project, my List, is just my way of stringing it altogether, because if I’m nothing else at the end of my 20s, I’d like to think I am a little more organized – a little more put together. This is what that new 30-year old in the chair was trying to get at, which obviously went right over the head of the 21-year shampoo girl. But she’ll get it eventually. We all do.

So here’s a Q for you: Have you and your friends had the “turning 30” conversation? What keeps coming up when you do (work, kids, marriage, buying a home, feeling lost in general)? Comment here (would love to here from you… don’t be shy now) or email me at: info@sandybraz.com

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Filed under #12 Say what I mean, Turning 30