Hello again...

I woke up this morning realizing that I always sleep on the right side of the bed. Not the middle. Why do I do this? I always slept on this side when coupled too. I wonder if other single people sleep on one side over the other.

It's Saturday night. I'm supposed to be out on the town meeting new people. My friend from work invited me out to spend the evening with his wife and group of friends. We have lots in common and he's the same age so I was looking forward to meeting his group, as I'm sure I'd get along with them really well. He even has a single friend (who apparently saw a pic of me and thinks I'm hot). Sadly, I wasn't feeling great and didn't feel much like socializing. I feel really guilty about this. After I declined his invitation, another friend was in my part of town and invited me out with her group, even offering to pick me up. But nope, I'm being antisocial tonight.

I haven't blogged in a while. Partly lack of motivation. Partly really busy. I am overall pretty happy. I've come a long way and own the single role quite well. I am busy, signing up for new things, and even went on a date. At the moment I'm feeling a little down, but I'm sure that will change tomorrow. I'm in that mode where if I don't look good (skin, weight), I don't feel good, and then I hibernate.

It's 2012 and it's time for change. Tomorrow I am going to get back on track! I'm not gonna sleep till noon. I'm going to accept the invite I recieved for back country snowboarding. Physical activity burns calories and makes ya feel good. That's what I need. I vow to blog regularly again. I have plenty to catch you all up on.  So goodnight Seattle. See you in the morning.

Dating Online: Day numero uno

So yesterday I had "Brunch with the Girls" or whatever we are calling it now.  It's almost kind of silly stupid but the name was changed from "Ladies Breakfast", as if that really makes a difference. Let me explain the inspiration. 

Mr. Bromance and his elite bromance buddies (aka "The Gentlemen") get together every Saturday at the same rinky dink breakfast place where they get waited on almost weekly by the same beautiful, tan, petite, 21 year old waitress (they request her section to sit in). They also have hung out with her outside of her work. Without their girlfriends around. How gentlemanly. Although I have heard from reliable resources that she is a very nice girl and has only been innocent in her extracurricular hang-out-with-other-girl's-boyfriends time, for the purpose of this blog, she will be referred to as "Breakfast Slut".



After the breakup, I attempted to erase him and every memory of him from my life.  Breakfast with the girls was on that list. However, after careful consideration I decided to keep breakfast going, despite Breakfast Slut and the origins of its creation. Admittedly, the idea was a good one, and unlike the gentleman, we try out different restaurants all over Seattle and the Eastside. We also don't restrict to clique members and welcome any girls who wanted to come. I guess you could say it was something good that came out of the relationship. I'd encourage all ladies of all ages to try this out - it's a good way to get out of bed on the weekend, meet, and keep in touch with girl friends!

So I met with two friends yesterday, Ms. Little Deer and Ms. Daytime Pajamas, for Girls Brunch. We went to the wonderful Kingfish Cafe in Capitol Hill, which I would say is better for dinner, but brunch wasn't half bad.  Walking into the restaurant makes you feel like you've been transported into a southern plantation home, with it's peeling painted walls, tall windows shaded by velvet curtains, and vintage lighting. I love the old 1920's photographs of the relatives of the lovely sisters who own and run the restaurant, despite Ms. Daytime Pajamas commenting that they are creepy.  I had my first bloody mary (no olives), which was delicious, and also had to give chicken and waffles a try, which was tasty as well.

Boys became the inevitable topic which lead to a supportive conversation that inspired me to create a profile on a dating website.  Now, I am still serious about my six month commitment (which was created at the last girl's brunch), but in the past, technically six weeks that I have been single, I haven't even so much as talked to a non-friend guy.  So with the encouragement of my breakfast girls, I signed up on a free site, just to chat with boys. I pretty much have only ever dated guys I've been friends with for a while first, so the whole internet thing is new to me. 

It's been less than 24 hours and I already have some online dating pet peeves.  I know you are dying for me to share so here they are...

1. Three of the five pictures you've posted are of your dog.  Not you with your dog. Just your dog. I don't give a rat's ass what your dog looks like, I'm looking to date you, not your dog. Your profile stats say you if you like/have dogs. That's enough. Thank you.
2. In all of your pictures, you are wearing sunglasses.  I can't see your eyes, which means I can barely see your face. Extra idiot points if you are wearing sunglasses at night.
3. In your main profile pic, you are wearing a fedora. This means you are bald or balding. As a member for less than 24 hours, I have been able to pick this out before even looking at the rest of their photos. Just put it out there right away guys, you can't hide it. Bald guys might not be my thing (I'm not shallow, I swear), but lots of girls like it, so own it!
4. Guys who are total douches in their profile write up. Although I'm listing this as a pet peeve, because they sort of disgust me, I applaud them. At least they are upfront. Next!
5. All of your pictures are of you doing something really far away. A few is fine, but again guys, we need to see what you look like. Your description is where you tell us all about your activities. I'll take your word for it.
6. Any pictures where you are taking a picture of yourself with your phone in a mirror. None of these are acceptable. This screams I have no friends and don't like activities. People who know me, know that I'm not a huge fan of getting my picture taken, but I'd rather post some mediocre shots than the dreaded self taken phone pic.
7. Any pictures where you are taking a picture of yourself with your phone in a mirror WITHOUT A SHIRT ON. Gross! I don't care how beefy your muscles are or how cool you think your reflection looks with all those tribal tattoos. No! No! No!
8. When you say you are 29, but you look 40.  Maybe it's just bad genes, but some of these dudes, no way...
9. Is that a wedding ring? My mouth dropped open when I saw this, then the photo caption indicated it wasn't a wedding ring.  Still...it wouldn't surprise me.
10. You are 40+ and you message me to tell me how beautiful I am. I have gotten several of these already. It's very nice and the other three paragraphs you wrote are very nice as well. But...my profile clearly states I'm looking for someone ages 29-34. Maybe if you are 35 or even 36...but 42, I think not.
11. Your profile goes on and on about what you are not looking for. We all have our baggage. Trust me, if I didn't, I wouldn't have a blog to write. But nothing is more of a turn off than a guy who is clearly bitching about his ex-girlfriend(s). Except maybe a 45 year old guy with with a camera phone profile pic of himself in a mirror. With the flash. With no shirt on.
12. A message from a 40 year old guy that only says "i love you". Can we say creepy? I'm pretty sure he's jerking off to my pics as we speak.
13. A message from the same 40 year old guy that says "some bunny loves you!". Whoa! Stalker!!! Serial killer? Guess he didn't get the clue when I didn't respond to his first profession of love like two hours ago. And you've been blocked.

***All shower art pics courtesy of local Seattle artist, UglyBaby, which can be purchased on my favorite website, Etsy.com, at http://www.etsy.com/shop/UglyBaby?ref=seller_info

Unexpected Family & Pumpkin Pie Cupcakes

While perhaps lately I have done way too much complaining about life, I have much to be thankful.  I had been tempted to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with my cat, dog, Netflix, and McDonalds, since going to see my family on the other coast wasn't an option. Although I wasn't shy about my hesitancies, my dear friend, Ms. Mejor Amiga, has insisted that I spend it with her, her boyfriend, and her family.  While I'm nervous in new family social situations, feel like the odd one out, and don't want to be the pitiful familyless girl, I'm also filled with a tremendous amount of gratitude that I have a friend who cares so much. No inflatable turkeys for me this year!

Because you should always show appreciation for hospitality by bringing something to the host's house, I picked up a bottle of Chateau St Michelle Riesling.  It's a delicious inexpensive wine that unfortunately I learned about from Mr. Bromance, but am not ready to give up just because it reminds me of his stupid ass. (speaking of asses, he had a really nice one...grrr) 

I'm also making Pumpkin Pie Cupcakes. They are the first cake anything I've ever made from scratch so I sure hope they come out good!!! I got invited out for some downtown Seattle pre-Thanksgiving shenanigans, but I didn't know anyone but the co-worker who invited me, so I escaped the social awkwardness by method of baking.  Cooking of any kind is not exactly on my hobby or talent list, so I'm hoping for the best. 

Here is the recipe I followed, thanks to The Baker Chick:

Notes about the Recipe:

If you have silicone baking cups this is the time to use them. If not, evenly spray the inside of your cupcake liners with cooking spray. This will make the cupcakes come out nice and easily. If you don't do this you may end up scraping the delicious filling out of the liner with a spoon.

Don't be alarmed that these babies sink a bit after coming out of the oven. A dollop of fresh whipped cream fits perfectly into the sunken center!

Pumpkin Pie Cupcakes
Print this Recipe

2/3 cup all purpose flour

1/4 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

2 tsp pumpkin pie spice

1 15-oz can pumpkin puree

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

3/4 cup half and half 

Preheat the oven to 350F. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper or silicone liners. *If using paper liners, evenly coat them with cooking spray. 

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and pumpkin pie spice.

In a large bowl, whisk together pumpkin puree, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla and half and half until well combined. 

Add in dry ingredients and whisk until no streaks of flour remain and batter is smooth.

Distribute batter evenly in the muffin tin. (they should be about 3/4 of the way full.)

Bake for 20 minutes. Cool cupcakes in pan. (They will sink as they are cooling.)

Chill cupcakes before serving. Top with lightly sweetened whipped cream.

Makes 12

http://www.the-baker-chick.com/2011/10/pumpkin-pie-cupcakes.html

Like my usual self, I failed to read the instructions thoroughly and just mixed all the ingredients together instead of separating them like the recipes says, but nothing disastrous happened thankfully.  I also doubled my recipe to make 24, of which I will probably eat at least four of before I get to Ms. Mejor Amiga's parents house.  I even put my own twist on the icing and used Pillsbury Easy Frosting in cream cheese flavor (my fav!) and dusted some cinnamon on top. 

The test came upon eating one... and I'm happy to say that they are kind of AMAZING! The centers have the consistency of pie, yet they hold together like a cupcake - I will definitely be making these babies again!

Don't forget to tell someone how much you appreciate them this Thanksgiving holiday.  It's so easy to complain about the crappy people in our lives, or being single, our jobs, or the traffic.  When it comes down to it though, we don't have it all that bad.  So brighten someones day by expressing your appreciation, while filling your belly and laughing with loved ones, or in my case, unexpected family members.

The Donnas, Hair, and Pho

Suffering through a glass half full attitude kinda day, my work day was over and it was time to get to my 4:30 hair appointment.  I dug through a stack of cds, all of which were burned and titled in black sharpie from you know who...Mr. Bromance.  Finally I found one with a color label.  I shoved it into the cd player and instantly began to rock out.  I hadn't listened to the Donnas in so long.  I didn't care that every song sounded exactly the same. It was exactly what I needed. And I head banged shamelessly through the entire rainy commute to my salon...

Note: As I was writing this, I was wondering what happened to The Donnas.  I googled away, and as their website was loading, an image of a feather loaded first...funny, what is up with the feathers again?  Anywho...they are still around and recording their 9th album. Woohoo!

I arrived promptly at Bowie Salon and Spa in Capitol Hill. For the sake of her potentially gaining much deserved new clients, I will use my stylist's real name, Karie.  She is a wonderfully cool chick and is super talented.  She has saved my hair from the disastrous aftermath at another unnamed salon. She is real and down to earth, despite the hipster ratio of the salon's location. She isn't cheap, but there are things in life that a girl should not go discount on, and one of those things is getting your hair done.  Especially if you get your hair colored like me.  You get what you pay for.  She knows what she is doing and has earned my trust. Finding the right stylist is like finding the right man.  Hold onto them when you find the right one!

Karie and I chit chat about my newly single status (yes, this wonder woman is also my therapist) and the holidays and our thoughts on doing volunteer work.  I attempt to snap some photos for the blog (which she was unaware of) and we giggle like teenagers about how bad the pics come out. I purchase some clip on feather hair extensions (I know, I'll quit it with the feathers, I promise...) and hope that 31 isn't too old to sport this trend.  Once again,  pleased with my new highlights, I leave the salon to head out into the world with bangs that are no longer long enough to hide behind.

Since I am in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, I hop on over to a favorite restaurant, Pho Cyclo Cafe, to grab some Pho to go.  If you live in Seattle, you know what pho is and probably love it as much as I do.  If you live else where, than you should probably go find pho and eat it immediately*.  Pho Cyclo is great because you can order your pho with quail eggs, which I'm finding they don't have at all restaurants.  I didn't realize until leaving the restaurant how this part of my day was where I failed my Single Girl responsibilities miserably.

Single Girl Task #2, given to me by Ms. Mejor Amiga, was to eat out at a restaurant, alone, once a week. There's something very vulnerable about sitting in a public place, at a table, shoving food into your face, with no one sitting across from you. Will people stare? Will they think I'm a loser? What do I look at while I'm there? Eating soup with a spoon and chopsticks is hard enough to do by itself, let alone while reading a book or sending status updates on Facebook. Honestly, it was getting late, and I just wanted to get home to "Lost" and my animals. And so I chose to do just that. The art of pathetic eating would have to wait until the weekend.

Before I could head home though, I had to wait for my food.  During dinner on Friday night, Ms. MIT, upon my request, suggested that I say hello to one random person per day, for a week.  I thought this exercise was interesting. I'm kinda shy, not the let's-talk-to-strangers-type, so I thought this one could be challenging, but beneficial. As I stood, leaning on the counter, waiting for my food, I dawdled with my phone. The man who ordered after me, then stood two feet in front of me, facing me, toying with his phone as well.  Perfect time to say "hello" to a random person.  He didn't look menacing.  He looked nerdy, in that cool, Capitol Hill, kinda way.  Somehow, standing there, ignoring the opportunity and "Like-ing" random crap on other people's Facebook pages seemed to be the easy way out. 

Sigh. Time to start living and stop taking the easy way out. Maybe tomorrow.

*For my pho newbie friends: Pho is pronounced "fu", like "fun".  Seattle/Bellevue has a local pho restaurant called "What the Pho".  Someone had a sense of humor.  I would never send you, my friends, out into the world asking for "fo".

For my PA friends:  If it's still there, visit Little Saigon in Whitehall.  It might look a little sketchy, but it was legit Vietnamese.  If it's not there, all y'all get together and head up to NYC or Philly.  I'm sure you can pho it up up there.  Good luck, order the rare beef, and let me know what you think!

Cosmic Irony

Cosmic irony is defined as the idea that fate, destiny, or a god controls and toys with human hopes and expectations.  Friday was the day I felt strangely toyed with by the universe.  It was both cruel and kind in the same day.  Allow to me explain....

Friday was one day shy of three weeks since Mr. Bromance broke up with me.  Twenty days to be exact.  My tear ducts have gone dry, my appetite has returned with a vengeance, and I'm finally starting to feel a version of "normal" again.  Three weeks should be more than sufficient time to have forgotten him, right?  Nope, not yet, dammit.  Still waiting.

9:30 am. I went to a quarterly meeting at work and sat with friends.  Since Mr. Bromance and I work in the same department, to avoid staring at the back of his head for an hour and a half, sitting all the way up front at meetings has become a new survival technique for me. Of course, he sits just two rows behind me, only just a few feet away.  I know he is forced to look at me the entire time, but our eyes never meet. We watch a company video that talks about...well I don't recall what the actors in the video were talking about... because I was too focused on the room that they were speaking in.  Brick walls. A red velvet curtain. Colorful paper lanterns. I'd been there. With him. Just a few weeks ago. At his acquaintance's wedding.  Also the same location that he'd be the best man for one of his bromance partners next year.  What are the chances?  This room that I was staring at on the screen in front of me was located in the Georgetown area of Seattle.  I work in Bellevue, not close at all.  I need to tell someone. Now.  I try to whisper it to my best west coast friend, Ms. Mejor Amiga, sitting next to me, but I can't without everyone hearing.  I want to turn around at him and smile and point at the screen, but I know I can't. Against the rules. I wonder if he was thinking the same thing. Probably not. Damn you, universe.

2:00 pm.  Today is the day that I get out of work early as part of a monthly department productivity incentive.  This replaces all rush hour traffic worries with giddiness, as I am meeting Ms. MIT for dinner and to see a musical later on in Fremont.  It also makes me happy because I decide to wonder the shops of Ballard for a few hours to leisurely pass the time.  I make my way to a favorite shop, Camelion Design (just a block away from where he and I first hung out and flirted and found our favorite band together - ughhh everything reminds me of him still), in hopes that I might be able to purchase a pretty ring that I'd seen there last year, but didn't want to splurge on before.  Splurging on yourself is on nearly every Breakup Rules list and in every Self Help book out there, so I thought, hey why not?  To my dismay, they were no longer selling my dreamy little ring.  I did, however, come across a super unique necklace that I had to have.  I walked around the store contemplating the self indulgence, then went in for the shopping kill.  A blown glass bubble with a tiny feather inside.  I love it! Love it so much in fact, no pictures to post in this blog post, as I plan to write a separate piece about it because it deserves it so! I love Camelion Design as well.  The girls who work here are always super genuinely nice, no snooty hipster attitudes here.  I go a step farther by asking the girl wrapping up my new present for me about their consignment process.  I tell her briefly how I make jewelry and that I'd never sold before.  She gives me her boss's card and some instructions.  It's an itty bitty step towards a dream of mine.  I desperately want to sell my designs but everything has to be perfect first.  I still haven't even finished designing my logo. But now I'm feeling high on ambition and new jewelry, and that makes me feel good.

3:45 pm.  A necklace, a candle holder, and a carribean blue tea kettle later, I find myself at Cafe Fiore.  I'd been here one time before, taking a coffee to go.  This time, getting comfortable with sitting in public alone, I order a coffee, cup and saucer style.  The barista has the coolest tattoos so I ask her if she minds sharing where she got them done.  Particularly a simple feather on her forearm. She starts to tell me about how her friend does all her tattoos.  My heart skips a beat because getting my first tattoo is on my near-future list of things to do and the fact that her friend is a girl excites me, because I've always thought it'd be cool to get it done by a female artist, don't know why.  Then she shares with me her friend lives in San Francisco. Of course. Bummer. I start walking my coffee like a tight rope walker, trying not to spill it, to the last open table.  A man in front of me with a laptop grabs it first.  He sees me turn around and then says to me, "You can share this table with me.".  I sit down.  I bring out my self help journal activity book, carefuly concealing the cover, and a notebook.  I multitask between the two, writing down ideas to blog about, and taking on writing assignments instructed by my self-help book.  My Sevilla coffee with an orange peel floating in it is simply amazing. I love the atmosphere of this place, with its brick walls and filament light bulbs. I glance up at the man and notice he's kinda cute.  Stiff and preppy with his tight boxy plaid button down shirt sleeves peeking out from his navy sweater.  Not my type, but cute enough to smirk at the situation and text Ms. Mejor Amiga.  She tells me to take a pic.  I told her, no way, too risky.  I snap a camera phone photo of my coffee anyway.  I read the instructional sign on the wall that explains that you are supposed to share tables with strangers.  Maybe the preppy man wasn't the heroic gentleman type after all.  Oh well, I still plan on going back to share more tables with more strangers.

11:45 pm.  I hop into bed and decide to read the Introduction chapter of a self help book I bought (at the same time as my self help journal activity book).  Buying and reading self help books was Task #1 given to me by Ms. Mejor Amiga.  Seems like a pathetic way to spend a Friday night, remembering wine and cuddling and romantic weekend evenings just a month ago.  I was pleasantly surprised.  The introduction consisted mostly of a list 52 rule type items, titled "What a Satisfied Single Knows", that I understood and agreed with.  After I finished, I flipped the book over before placing it on my night stand.  I took notice to the thumbnail photo of the author on the back cover.  She was older looking than I had imagined. My eyes glanced over the author's profile below, and then there it was.  The universe again.  The words "Kirkland, Washington". I think I said "Are you fucking serious?" out loud. How is this even possible?  This was the home land of Mr. Bromance. I mean, I hadn't just plucked the book out of some local book store. I chose a book from Barnes & Noble, by an author who had been on CNN and Oprah. Oprah! I plopped the book onto my night stand, turned the light out, and tried to go to sleep.

9:00 am the next day.  I woke up piecing together the dream I just had.  Something about me winning something and the celebrity guest handing out the awards was Matthew Fox. Mmmm. I guess that's what happens when you watch four seasons of "Lost" on Netflix in three weeks.  The next thing I thought about was the feathers. The floating feather in my new necklace. The floating feather tattooed to the barista's arm. Holy shit. Revelation. The feather was the missing image from my jewelry logo. Then I thanked the universe.