Ante Up

A year ago I thought I was the happiest I had ever been. I was madly in love with a guy I thought was “the one” and after a long time of waiting to find Prince Charming I thought everything was falling into place and it was all going to happen. Finally. All those things I wanted so much—passionate love, a great marriage, kiddos—would move from being things I dreamt about and become my daily life.

Yeah. Well. It clearly didn’t pan out that way.

Literally overnight we went from talking about marriage and dreaming about our future together to him telling me that this was over. In a word? Blindsided. In another word, devastated.

I’ll spare you all the messy details and just say that those were some dark days that followed.

But now it’s been almost a year, and you know what? I can honestly say that I’m happier right now than I have ever been. WOW. I did NOT see that coming. (And this is the kind of blindsided that I can get on board with.)

The thing is, I finally figured something out. It’s a funny thing to be 36 and single. It’s a state of being that most of world can’t relate to, and—most of the time—doesn’t quite know what to do with. Those of us in this life stage are often “other.” And I’ve spent a lot of time waiting and wanting to escape this category and fall into some idea of life that qualifies as “ordinary.”

And I regret to say that in my case, that waiting equated to mostly going through the motions while wishing I’d been dealt a different hand. Um, what’s that all about? What a waste of perfectly wonderful life. An extraordinary one, even.

And so at some point—without even realizing it, really—I got in the game and started to play the cards I’ve been dealt. And you know what? It’s a pretty fabulous hand.

I see it all around me—people who are stuck thinking about how green that grass looks on the other side of the fence. And it’s not just the single set. It always throws me for a loop when I hear people who have all things I think I want complain about their husbands or constantly tell me how their kids frustrate and exhaust them and rarely choose to focus on the light and love and joy that they bring.

It seems to me that we each have dozens of choices to make every day. And among the biggest of those is choosing how we’re going to look at this crazy little thing called life. I still hope that someday I’ll have the chance to be a wife and mom--and if I get that hand I’ll do all I can to play it well. But those aren’t the cards I’m holding right now.

And there’s no way I’m going to fold and go home.

What choices are you making today?

Me? I’m ALL IN.

Paging Prince Charming

Dear Prince Charming,

I still believe that you're out there somewhere and am excited for the day we actually get to meet and fall in love. I know those are going to be some good times. However, I'd like to request a bit of expediency in the process.

As I lie here on the couch with my foot propped in post-surgery recovery, pain pump releasing the numbing meds in five minute intervals, I am acutely aware of your absence. I have lovely friends who have been so helpful over the past few days--they are awesome and I love them very much.

I'm just saying, though, that it would be really great if you could go ahead and ride up, hitch your beautiful white horse to the front porch and ring the bell. Even in my current state I'll find away to let you in. And I promise that I generally look better than I do at the moment.

Don't misunderstand that I only want you around to be a nurse of sorts...not at all. I'm just thinking that these moments are part of the whole kit and kaboodle. I promise to do the same for you as needed. (Though I must say that I really hope you're not as accident prone as I am. I'm sure we have a lot in common, but maybe just not that nifty little trait).

OK. That's all. Hope to see you soon,
Mel

My Cabinet Overfloweth

So those of you who go to Mesa...do you remember when we had the Palm Sunday pancake party, oh, about two years ago? We got the DELICIOUS pancake batter pre-made from the good folks at Kerby Lane (who also gave us a great deal--Kerby Lane ROCKS!). Because Kerby Lane pancakes are generally regarded as the most delectable breakfast treat in all of Austin, it made sense at the time to take home some of the leftover batter and freeze it.

Yeah. Except that I have an established track record of letting leftovers go to waste. And that's if they're lucky enough to make into the fridge. The freezer? Forget about it. My freezer is the place where things go to never be seen again and subsequently die from frostbite. So this weekend when I decided that it was time to get rid of a casserole that my mom made for me almost three years ago after a surgery (I ate the other three--don't tell her I let one go to waste!), it seemed reasonable that I should also face the fact that I never made pancakes and toss the TWO containers of frozen batter.

So I decide to fill one side of the sink with warm water and drop in the containers to the let them defrost so I could pour it down the disposal. This was an excellent plan. Worked like a charm. But as I as eventually washed the remnants of batter down the drain I suddenly noticed that my foot was getting wet. I looked down and there was an emerging puddle of watery batter forming at my feet. I opened the cabinet under the sink and water GUSHED out. Everything in there was soaked through. Sigh. This is just not what you want to see at 11:00 on a Saturday night (yes, I was home cleaning out my freezer on a Saturday night...that's a whole 'nother issue.)

In case you're wondering...watery pancake batter? It quickly dries to form a thick, sticky PASTE. (Think Ross and the leather pants). And I'm not going to lie...that kind of incident is exactly what drives me over the edge to have one of those, uh, frank, discussion with God about why my own pancake-loving-home-mishap-fixing prince charming has not yet arrived on his white horse with flowers and and allen wrench (or whatever tool would be helpful in a situation such as this).

So my kitchen is somewhat out of order today. Because THAT's the reason I'm not cooking a delicious gourmet dinner to enjoy with the Desperate Housewives. Tomorrow I will coerce my handyman (also known as my boss and neighbor) to come over with his eight-year old and take a look and it will, one way or another, get fixed.

I'm sure there's a lesson here--beyond the virtues of EATING the leftovers--but I'm not yet sure what it is. Life is messy. Things get sticky. And this is why it's good to have a freezer full of Lean Cuisine's that you can eat in a pinch.