Me-cation

I am in the midst of my inaugural "me-cation". That's a term I've coined to represent taking extended time away from home just for the purpose of relaxing. As a wife and mother time alone is a luxury hardly seen. It doesn't happen without some planning. But it's worth the effort.

I began this weekend of self indulgence on Friday night. Dinner with a friend and girl time afterward at her place.
Saturday morning kicked off with time in the salon, and the shampoo girl had apparently eaten her Wheaties because she gave my hair a thorough scrubbing and my scalp felt brand new by the time she was done.

The next stop on my egotistic journey was a spa where I experienced a first. The masseuse was a man. How awkward to be so nude in front of a stranger of the opposite sex who is getting paid to feel you up! And I don't think this guy was gay so I was anxious to see how this would turn out. I got over the jitters the minute he applied pressure to my aching muscles, the way only a man's hands can. It was divine. From this day forth I will request a man for my massages.

Now, I'm sitting here in the plush bedding of a local Double Tree with a delightful Thai dinner digesting in my belly. I'm alone, free to read, sleep, blog, watch TV or even pick my nose without a soul to interrupt me.

Beyonce, you know I love you but...um...

Of course I bought the Beyonce album yesterday. And I have been trying to figure out how I feel about it ever since. I am a fan. I mean it. I think she is an awesome performer and find her existence quite inspirational.



Because:
1. If she can be fly with big hips and butt, then so can I
2. If she can work hard to get what she wants out of life, I can too.
3. Her songs are empowering and fun -
Irreplaceable:
Don't you ever for a second get to thinking, you're irreplaceable,
Single Ladies:
Now you wanna trip cause another brother noticed me. If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.

But this Sasha Fierce has me a bit flummoxed. I completely bought into the idea of having an alter ego and was excited about the double disc. I was, however, less than pleased to learn there are only 11 tracks on the album. To me the word double implies, well, that you're gonna get twice as much! Then media outlets keep reminding us that she acutally recorded about 70 songs, and had to prune them down for this album. Why? It's got two whole discs in the case, sprinkle some more of those songs on there!

Of course she will, just now right now. Give it a few months and there will be a repackaged, limited, extended, "special" edition with more songs (and a DVD) on the shelves. I understand, Beyonce. You have to do what you have to do, but you and Sasha won't get my money again I don't care how many bonus tracks you put on the next version. Wasting all those resources to put one album on two separate discs....

There is just something about him...

Living in Atlanta has short circuited my Gay-dar. When I moved here the gay population was so large and so flamboyant that I would need to be blindfolded to miss it. Then the Down Low lifestyle was revealed to mainstream media leaving me paranoid about every man I saw - from Joe the Plumer on up to celebrity icons. I started to believe all men were switch hitters.

(I think it's a good time to mention that it makes me no never mind what anyone's sexual preference is. I'll leave it up to our maker to judge that matter. Gay or straight, He made us all. )

But as I was saying, my over exposure followed by acute paranoia led to a sudden desensitization. It's to the point now that I have no awareness. Unless a man is over the top with his halter and eyeliner, I seem to miss the subtle clues. And here is why it matters.

I currently have a crush on a gay guy.

I am a married woman, but I do notice a good looking man. So this crush thing isn't going anywhere. But from time to time when a member of the opposite sex, dresses well, speaks well, smells nice and has a "mysterious" air about himself, I tend to notice. I admire those traits. So when my coworkers pointed out the man bag, immaculately groomed hair, and lavender polo being sported by my new found crush, I was left wondering once again: Why are so many gay men such good catches?

Random Acts of Kindness

Recently, I've been buying thank you cards. There was no particular reason other than I liked the cards, I find them on clearance and I believe in keeping some handy. There is nothing like a tangible expression of appreciation.

I think it's a lost art. Most of the time we tell a person "thanks" or send texts and emails, but a card is more lasting and permanent. While on jaunts to this store or that one, I began collecting the drastically marked down and overlooked cards.

I decided that I would personally revive the art of giving thanks and take the time to acknowledge the good deeds that come my way. The next time I had something to be thankful for, I'd be ready.

Then it happened. As if the universe was responding to my challenge, I was showered with random acts of kindness.

Act I
A coworker with a daughter just 6 months older than my own brings in two bags full of gently used hand me downs. These wintery items were right on time, since my toddler was rapidly outgrowing her 2Ts. The 3Ts she passed along are the perfect fit for her legs and this blustery season.

Act II
On Halloween my daughter's daycare had a Fall Festival. But my husband didn't drop her off early enough to enjoy the morning's outdoor activities i.e. bounce house, popcorn, cotton candy. By the time she got to class it was lunch time followed by naptime. Unfortunately, the parents assigned to bring party items neglected to do so. I was pained to think she would have no party activity, especially since she'd been anticipating it for two weeks. I left work, went to Wally World and picked up juice boxes, cupcakes, cookies and chips for their afternoon. Then Mimi the Bee, her honorary godmother ordered Pizza Hut and sent it to my baby's class. She saved the day and turned the 2A class into party central.

Act III
A coworker and I often speak about what we want to be when we grow up. We talk about dreams deferred or partially developed. I told Coworker about an article I read that explained the benefits of writing a bucket list or those things you wish to accomplish before death. Then out of the blue a package arrived at my home. It was the most thoughtful and appropriate gift I've received in a while. It was a Permission to Dream Journal complete with prompts and motivational quotes to help me outline my wildest dreams and plan out more practical goals. It's perfect.

Those thank you cards were put to good use.