New Nest

Hello Everyone!

Dropping you a line to let you know we've moved!

The blog consolidation is complete, and you can now find me at

http://rorschachcoffee.typepad.com/

Hope to see you there!

Blog Consolidation

No more feeling like two people!

(Photo by Sophia Arvizu)

Hello, everyone! I just wanted to inform you that I will be moving and consolidating both of my blogs soon. I've decided that with my limited amount of time, and my varied interests, that it would be better for me to change platforms. I am exploring my options at this point in time, and I will probably be going with a TypePad blog, as I enjoy their format and themes.

I love fashion, food, writing, and my family - so it's going to be nice to have them all in one place. I will feel slightly less schizophrenic that way. :)

I will post when I have completed the transition, and inform you of the new URL! I hope that you will follow me there, and I will make a new Bloglovin' account for the blog when I move. Thanks for your support and patience with my infrequent blogging. I will be much better about posting in the future!

Paulette

An Open Letter to my Husband on Our First Anniversary

You had kind eyes. That was the first thing I noticed about you - that and your horn-rimmed glasses and smile. All of those things. The next thing I noticed is that you were nervous.

Your shyness is something that was and is still irresistible to me - the slight way your back tensed and then relaxed when I hugged you hello.

"Whoa!" I imagined you thinking, "This girl is forward and she smells a bit like pomegranate martinis."

A little while later, you were drinking a pomegranate martini just like mine, instead of trying to impress me with single-malt whiskey. I was saying to myself  - "This boy is different."

Because, at that point, I'd had my fill of the guys with the scotch and the great lines.

You ask me to dinner three days later, followed by coffee and lots of talking. I find out that you are a little bit jaded, a tad nihilistic - but in a vulnerable way that makes me realize that you're not fake. You're not into the big show. I love this about you, because what I see is what I get. I don't think you really understand how important that is to me. You open doors for me, and you always thank me for the evening. You have a Michigan accent and a careful kiss.

Four months in, I know I love you.

You meet my daughter. You hit it off immediately, but then she throws a fantastic tantrum just two weeks later. It's a test. She's been through a lot, and she isn't always an easy child. I think you're going to run. You don't - you come closer. I kind of know, at that point, where this is going - but I'm a little jaded too.  At some indeterminate point, I stop waiting for red flags and shoes to drop.

You start sleeping over, and I get to hear you in the morning. Your head makes a dent in the pillow, and we fight over the covers. Mostly, we lay very still, listening to the sounds of the street through the open windows of my bedroom. The best nights are when it is raining. Sometimes you laugh in your sleep.When you aren't there, I'm restless.

We are getting more comfortable, and we take our first trip, walking around the city that owns my heart. A year later, you will propose four blocks away from where we are standing, dropping a ring of diamonds into my hand on the Rue Royale.

You tease me about my ridiculous shoes, and my inability to tighten a lid. I make big breakfasts on Sunday mornings, and we drink too much coffee while watching B-movies. You tell me I'm spectacular. I've never heard that before.

I remember all of these things.

I am fascinated by your mind - something that you are incredibly humble about. Needlessly so. I confess one night my fear: I will die never having written something of value. You confess your fear that you'll never create something that will use all of your potential. We promise each other we won't let that happen.

Now, we sit across from each other at our kitchen table, laptops like bookends. You are programming, I am writing. There is intimacy in moments like this, even though we seldom speak during these times. Each of us does not completely understand what the other is doing. I think that's the secret of it all - the formula.

You are patient with my moods, with my habits and my tics. I love watching you when you are unaware that you are being watched. You rub your neck when you are thinking. You get excited about Physics, James Bond, and what I bring home from the grocery store. I get excited when we talk about paint chips, Irish beer, and future vacations. You prefer Tanqueray in your martini, and I prefer Bombay. We still fight over the covers, and also the thermostat.

We have our moments of frustration - me in another room, trying to sort out thoughts and stop words before they leave my lips, never to be taken back. You have your insomnia and Type A perfectionism. And your logic - something which I lack in the heat of anger. We are both oldest children.

You are a natural father - you doubt this, but in so many ways you are a much better parent than I.
I am sometimes selfish. I can confess that. You are anything but, and you don't know how grateful I am that you are here. You have made my daughter, our daughter, laugh again. You are steady ground for her feet.

Today, we celebrate our first anniversary. They say that you won't truly know who the love of your life was until your final moments. I don't really believe them. I just want you to always look at me the way you did the night I wore a blue dress, when things were new and possibility hung in the air like a question mark.

I hope to forever make you nervous.

Photo: Arvizu Photography

Sunday Mornings

I'm trying to be a less self-conscious blogger. It's hard for me - because even though I love reading other bloggers' personal style posts and slice-of-life vignettes, I am a bit reserved about posting my own. This blog's traffic is beginning to increase, so the expert blogging powers that be say that readers are interested in what you look like, what you do, etc, etc. Ok - fine.

 Sunday mornings are spent with lazy lounging and lots of coffee at our house - my husband and daughter and I never make set plans for Sundays. It's our only day off together as a family, so this day is sacred. This morning, we are watching re-runs of "Firefly" as a storm rolls in from the West. The windows are open and the air smells like autumn leaves. 

My daughter always says: "I wish every day was Sunday."
Me too.

I'm From Missouri

One of my best friends and I recently went to Vegas for our birthday weekend.  One of the most unique cities in our nation, Las Vegas is one of the few places you can go where you can be assured that almost all of the people around you are tourists themselves.  And that's where it gets interesting.

I met people from all over the world - New York, California, China, and France.  It was fun making small-talk with all of them - even the German guy who didn't share any of his chips with me when I kept shooting 9's for him at the craps table. No hard feelings, dude. We're cool.

So, the one common element that kept emerging was this simple question: "Where are you from?"

I would proudly say, "Missouri!"

I would get one of two responses - A pause, with a vacant look, and "Where is that?" or "Really?" with a surprised look.  I guess this one came from the fact that I had teeth and shoes with soles.

I don't like generalizations, so I won't make them in turn. But I did get the feeling that I was experiencing Flyover Country-itis. I would find myself describing the location of Missouri on the map - basically saying that it was right in the middle of the country. Most people thought it was closer to Minnesota or Wisconsin. A few times, the mention of Branson would bring them around. I avoided mentioning Todd Akin.

 Even when I did hit it lucky, they thought I was from St. Louis or Kansas City - as those are the only two cities in Missouri. I was fine with that - they're great cities, and at least they were in the same state and country.

I love big cities and their people, I really do. Everyone was nice, and no one was hostile. I do wish they had paid a bit more attention in geography class, but that's fine. Do I ever think the people I talked to will visit our state? Probably not. So, if you are from somewhere else and you are curious about Missouri, here are some factoids and things I personally love about being a Missouri girl:

*We are the birthplace of Harry S. Truman
*Mark Twain was from Hannibal, MO.
*The St. Louis Cardinals.
*Many actors have called MO home - Brad Pitt, Steve McQueen, and Kathleen Turner to name a few.

Here, you can experience a crisp Fall evening - warming your hands at a bonfire and telling ghost stories about the Joplin spooklight. Fall in Missouri is spectacular - the trees turn to crimson, gold, and blazing orange almost overnight. You can float down a river at your leisure, a drink in your hand and nothing on your mind but the whirr of tree frogs and crickets. You can hunt for fireflies at dusk, and go to barbecues where we drink sweet tea and eat fried chicken. We are the perfect combination of Southern hospitality and hard-working Midwestern values. We say "excuse me," and "thank-you."
We are more cosmopolitan and sophisticated than we get credit for.

My Back Yard

We still have General Stores and bait and tackle shops. Driving down Old Route 66, you will see these things, in small towns that have only one street. You will see the shadow of clouds racing across fields of fescue, wheat, and corn. You will smell lilacs and freshly-mown clover in the Spring. When you DO fly over us, look down - you will never see a more beautiful patchwork quilt.

We tend to be skeptical of people who talk a big game. This probably comes from the fact that we were a Border state in the Civil War, and there were many betrayals and feuds in our history. You have to show us, not tell us. That's how we got our nickname. Sometimes we are set in our ways, and we like things predictable. We can get a little comfortable, so change comes slowly - but it comes. And when we want something, we work damn hard to make it happen. The mule is our mascot.

There are many things I love about my state. I get tempted by the siren call of the big city at times - and get frustrated by misogynist politicians, slow-moving social change, and the sometimes close-minded attitudes of my fellow Southwest Missourians. But, even still - I remain. I love the seasons. I love the sweet smell as I follow a hay truck down a gravel road, and sledding down a snowy hill in the wintertime.

Bright lights and fancy hotels will never take the place of my Missouri. She's home.

How Awkward

We all have them. Those moments when you want to pull your coat over your head, and lurch off like Quasimodo. Sure, you may have been blessed with a charismatic personality and good looks, but I am still willing to bet that you've had toilet-paper stuck to your shoe at least once. Now, even the most self-assured are serving up their embarrassing moments - from Olivia Wilde admitting her geekdom to Jane Lynch farting on "Glee," awkward is the new black. I have experienced many of these moments, and have learned it's best to laugh. And then hide.

1. Right Text, Wrong Person, and the Auto-Correct Fail.

There is an entire website dedicated to this. Accidental texts run the gamut from the "blqytuiuipos" butt text to your boss, to the sext meant for your boyfriend that gets sent to your mom. Most of these are just funny. But sometimes, you are venting to a friend about another friend, and get confused about which one you are talking to. This one is bad. One should never use technology to talk about other people on your favorites list.  Do so at your own risk!

2. Hugs Gone Wrong

Hugs are a socially acceptable form of greeting someone, right? Well...maybe. Most of the time, hugs go well.  But, when they go wrong it is so, so BAD. You might come in too fast, and bump heads. Maybe the person doesn't like you and doesn't hug back. Or maybe you like them, but you forget to hug back, and now you feel bad. How do you apologize for that one? "Hey man, I'm sorry I forgot to hug you back. Arms aren't working today." Yeah. Don't. When in doubt, go for the Pentecostal Side-Hug. For those of you NOT from the Bible-belt, this is the hug that church people do. You hug from the side, squeezing just around the shoulders, similar to when Can-Can girls get ready to do the leg-kick thing. This minimizes the contact zone, and keeps your thoughts chaste in the process. Gotta leave room for God in the middle. 

3. Falling in Public
 Here's the thing: if you're clumsy, this is gonna happen, over and over again for the rest of your life. Get up as quickly as possible, looking around and smiling as if you did it on purpose. If you're really feeling chipper, and know nothing is broken, do a quick mid-air heel click. That'll make them think you were just rehearsing for "Singing in the Rain." Try to ignore the blood. I once lost an entire toenail in the grocery store. I kept smiling. Send in the Clowns, baby.

4. Shopping Mishaps

Mostly there are two things that happen when the socially awkward shop. The first is not seeing anything you want to buy at a boutique, yet feeling bad about not making a purchase. This is coupled with the fear that people will think you stole something. So, with crazy darting eyes and body-language  like Snidely Whiplash, you creep out, hoping the sensors don't go off. Now, you are so worked up and concerned that the security guard is right behind you on his Segway, that you have forgotten where you parked. Yep. Fake it, as getting frantic will add to your aura of guilt. Hold that head up and walk with confidence. You'll find your car eventually, right? You may even get lucky and fall in the parking lot.

5. Laughing at Inappropriate Times

Yeah...this is the thing I do the most. I am that person sitting by herself in the waiting room, laughing out loud and scaring people. All it takes is a random thought about something funny I watched or read to get me going again.Or I'm the only one laughing in a movie when everyone else is somber. Or someone is telling a really serious story in the background, and I am laughing at a stupid meme on the computer. Shopping carts rolling by themselves or the Head Crabs video will  make me bust a gut. What the hell is wrong with me. Moving on...

6. Reply All 
I really shouldn't have to explain this one much. But it's in the same vein as Number 1 up there. If you're gonna talk shit, probably best not to hit "reply all," mmmkay? Plus it makes you completely obnoxious, just like people who forward spam like: "SEND THIS TO TEN FRIENDS OR WHETTLE SEALS WILL CHEW YOUR EYELIDS OFF" Also, please stop using all-caps. And don't use Comic Sans for an obituary. People judge you for those things.

7. Those 3 Little Words

You hang up the phone, and all color drains from your face. You just told the principal at your daughter's school that you, gasp, love him. But you don't! You're so used to saying it to your husband, your mom, your cat. The dude is married. His wife works at the school. You have to go to open house in three days. Fuuuuu..... Disappear to Mexico. Now. 

8. Saying "Thank-You" when you get a ticket.

Why do we do this? Really?

9. Pretending You Know it All

This one is a recipe for disaster. It usually happens when you fall in love with someone. You are so anxious to impress them, that you fib about having already seen a movie, or about having read "Anna Karenina" or about being an opera singer. Normal people shouldn't lie. Socially awkward people definitely shouldn't, because the gods of humility will come after you, full-on like a linebacker. 

10. Snot. This one needs no explanation. 

The most ironic lesson I've learned from all of this humiliation is confidence. Being the biggest dork in the bunch has made me own my humanity and be OK with my many failures. We all screw up. Owning up to your mistakes, and realizing that most of the time, no one even noticed in the first place is really a gift. The best thing you can do is to shake it off, get up... and run to the closest costume shop to buy a mask. 

Things Men Don't Have to Deal With

 "I just don't understand!" 

Sometimes being a girl isn't all about pretty trinkets, ruffly dresses, and pastel coconut macaroons. It gets ugly. There are things we envy about you guys - things that you probably aren't even aware of. (NO, it isn't what you're thinking, so get your mind outta the gutter.) Mostly what we envy is what you DON'T have to deal with. This could get a little gross, so keep that in mind. 

1. Putting on Spanx and/or Tights, especially after a shower. 

I dried off.  REALLY WELL. I swear I did. Yet, I find myself contorting into all kinds of weird positions and breathing heavily and sweating. I tug, pull, twist, take it off, and do it all over again. I know I burn more calories in the 4 x 3 shower stall at the gym than I do during 30 minutes on the elliptical. Finally, success! All chub is put in its place, and I have a lean line in the mirror. And then I feel it. The waistband rollllllls back down over my belly, and I now have a nice muffin-top sitting on the waistline of my pencil skirt. Sexy. Start again.

2. Tampons on the Lam

OK - there are two categories of this. The first is when you are carrying them around before you need them for your womanly time. Every woman I know has had the embarrassing tampon moment. Usually it happens in front of men, of course! My last event was when I tripped up the stairs at my daughter's school, sending my purse flying. The contents were distributed at the feet of the confused male school janitor. One item was my birth-control pills, and the other was a tampon, which had magically migrated out of its oh-so-clever bright pink camouflage package. Why do tampons do this? Why do they turn on us? They are supposed to be a helpful invention. Yet, they strive to break free and show themselves to the world. Maybe they're just tired of being taken for granted.

Which brings me to the other scenario: The Missing Tampon. Dunh-Dunh-Dunh! (Scary suspenseful sound clip insert). TMT will happen to you eventually, trust me. You put it in, you know you did. But it isn't there anymore. Perhaps you had a few too many adult beverages the night before, and don't remember taking it out. But where did it go? Maybe it is stuck to the bottom of your shoe, or on the sidewalk somewhere, or even worse-maybe it has SOMEHOW migrated to your abdominal cavity. You are terrified to put another in, for fear of the dreaded Toxic Shock Syndrome. People die of that! You make a frantic call to your doctor. She tells you one of two things: it's still in there and she's gonna have to fetch it out, or you're stupid and you are wasting her time.(Not really, but that's how you feel.) Damn you, tampons.

Poor Eva

3. Boobs

We know you men love boobs. Boobs are great. They're a nice shape, they feed babies, they save the world. But did you know that they can really piss you off? Yes! Boobs CAN do that. For one thing, if you are well-endowed, they become a shelf that catches food. Not a week goes by that I don't spill some kind of food item on my girls. Usually someone else points it out. They also hurt sometimes, especially when you run without proper support, or you have too much salt and caffeine. They leak when you are breast-feeding, and finding a properly fitting bra is like finding the Holy Grail - elusive and expensive. The straps dig into your shoulders, and the underwire pokes out to stab you repeatedly. Don't even get me started on strapless bras and the quadra-boob. Also, finding a shirt that doesn't gap, but that fits you everywhere else is fun, only the opposite. I know that some men have moobs - perhaps these are the men who can sympathize. Otherwise, you just don't get it. 

4. Back Fat

Enough said. Combine an ill-fitting bra and tights that continually roll down, and even the slimmest girl has this problem. 

5. THE YEARLY EXAM

I won't go into details here. I know guys have to do the bend-over-and-cough routine. But let me just say, the paper gown and sheet dance is no fun. There are scary instruments, cold hands, and antiseptic fragrance. And oven mitts. 

 I like being female, don't get me wrong. There are the ponytails and shoes, the trips to Sephora, and the excitement over wedding and baby showers. I like wearing dresses and skirts. But acting like a lady is hard work, and sometimes I just wanna burp in public, wear swishy pants, and not cross my legs.