Famous Foodies Like My Stuff

So I am perusing Food Network magazine the other day when I stumble across this!

It's my cow creamer, the one that started our first registry argument, featured prominently in the house of The Pioneer Woman.

Anyone see a pineapple corer there? No? I thought so.

Take THAT, Scott!

More to Life Than a Cow Creamer

I found Life as a Wife through an awesome Twitter #commenthour and have enjoyed getting to know her and her awesome family through her Tweets and her adorable blog, Life as Wife. Some of my favorite posts are her musings on her husband as a man and father, including this one on how her baby is just like daddy and a letter to daddy from his son that made me cry. Please join me in saying hello and a big thank you for guest posting for me while I am on vacation.

Stephanie in Suburbia never fails to make me laugh; between her live-in-roommate and smarty-pants wee' burb, the chuckles are endless. Of course, I am preaching to the choir because you people are reading her blog and must like her too!

Recently she reminisced about her experience creating a wedding registry and the corer that almost ended it all. To be honest, I had no f-ing idea what the heck a corer even was before her post. I should have known but alas, I did not. Why? Because the hubby and I planned our wedding in three days and I was worried about silly little things like him getting kicked out of the Army for sneaking to the next county to marry me. (For the record, his chain-of-command was none the wiser and he served an amazing three years of service.

I may not covet a ceramic cow creamer but there are a few things that I am not sure how the heck I have survived without. So, without any further bs-ing here are the top five things every newlywed couple should have put on their registry.

1.) A sturdy serving platter: Every new wife needs a beautiful serving platter. During that first year when you burn every meal you will eventually catch your poor hubby mumbling under his breath, use your platter to hit him in the back of the head. The heavier the platter, the better.

2.) Blender: Eventually nothing will sound better then a margarita and having a blender will be a lifesaver (your husband's that is!) The loud noise also works well for drowning out the noise of the game that will be playing on T.V. (A vacuum works as well but I wouldn't recommend registering for one because then you will be expected to clean.)

3.) Monogrammed coffee mugs: Monograms may be the only way you remember to spell your new last name because trust me, your hubby will only think you scribbling out your signature is cute so many times. Really anything from monogrammed towels to a doormat works well.

4.) Comfortable and stylish bedding: The trick here is to register for bedding for both your marital bed and guest room or pull-out. Why? So when his snoring gets unbearable or he hogs the covers you will have somewhere comfy and cute to crash!

5.) Beer keg cooler: This item will serve two purposes. For one - major brownie points with the husband and the other? Look at number three for a reminder.

I blame this all on Steph because before her post, I didn't really care that I didn't have monogrammed, his-and-hers mugs or a blender with over 100 speeds. Don't worry though, I made up for it when it came time for Little Man's baby registry.

What do you wish you had registered for? If you've done a baby registry, were you traumatized by the wedding experience?

How Selling Used Clothes is Like Internet Dating or How I Got Married and Bought a Skirt

Recently, to aid my ailing closet, I have been trolling eBay. What I noticed was some of the items up for sale were items I was preparing to donate.

So I did a double check and pulled out some of the nicer brand items to see if I could make a little eBay money.

I sat on it for about a week and then finally decided to dive in. After all, what could it hurt? eBay has some nice no-nonsense deals for small sellers like moi. I only pay if my item sells, and even then it's a relatively small portion of what I make. And anything I made in the end was more than I would have made if I donated, right?

As I put my items up, I began to realize something. This is EXACTLY like Internet dating.

Allow me to illustrate.

1. People over-value themselves. When doing some eBay comparisons, I was shocked to find some people trying to sell items for only a few dollars less than I could find new in a department store. Similar to some of the men I came across on Internet dating who demanded women be financially stable, white collar, working women while they advertised themselves as white collar salesmen and turned out to be a lawnmower salesman at Sears. Or women I knew who refused to date divorced men despite having a few divorces under their belt. Be reasonable, people! Play in the right league.

2. People want the details...all of them. I made a rookie mistake on eBay and did not post the measurements of the items I was selling. Huuuuge mistake! I got three or four e-mails a day asking for specifics. Similar to when I was Internet dating and men asked outright for multiple pictures in obvious distrust that the ones you posted were current and accurate. I learned more is more in this scenario.

3. The details don't always sell it. I gave measurements of a shirt to a woman who asked on eBay. She told me that "no woman is THAT big." Granted, it was a shirt I had grown out of, but I thought that comment in bad taste. Much like an e-mail I got that said "oh, okay, I see you do keep yourself in decent shape. Many women don't and just put up pictures that don't show them as whales." Or when I found out the white collar lawnmower salesman's dream job was to sell electronics at Best Buy and I kindly told him things would not be between us.

4. Sometimes people don't read the details. I got a comment from a woman telling me the measurements I had put on a shirt on eBay were incorrect. She told me those were clearly for a large size shirt. The item I was selling was a size large shirt, clearly marked in my post. Just as in my Internet profile it was clear what my age range was and yet 40-year-old men contacted me daily to let me know they loved my smile.

5. Rejection is part of the game, you have to put yourself back out there. So the first round of eBay? Not so hot, people. I sold one shirt out of 5 items. Because it was free, I went ahead and re-listed my items and so far have sold two more. It hurts to see how many people are watching you and not bidding, just like it hurt to see over 30 people had viewed my profile and I had nary an Internet dating e-mail.

But hey, the money I earned on eBay bought me two new skirts so far. And that Internet dating thing? Yeah, it kind of worked out. Thanks to Yahoo personals, I've been married almost three years now.

Are you an eBayer? Any advice for the buyers OR the sellers? Did you try Internet dating?

Why We Should All Have a Sister Wife

When Wee 'Burb was a few months old, one of my closest friends came to live with us from Boston. Having had enough of living in her parents' basement and going from job to job, she moved into our basement for a little reprieve.

She is one of the few people I could ever live with, other than my husband. She's someone I can flat out say "I need my space" to and she would not take offense, and would thank me for letting her know.

Which is why over a year later, she's still here. It works for us, and while it's not permanent, we're in no rush to see her go.

Scott jokingly calls her the non-sexual sister wife. And in many ways, this is what she is.

In addition to being my friend, she is now Scott's friend, and one of Wee Burb's favorite people (Cous Cous, too). In fact, when I tell her no, she often goes running to our roommate for comfort. "She" being both Wee 'Burb AND Cous Cous in this scenario, sadly.

Frankly, I think the whole polygamy thing gets a bad rap. Having an extra person around to help with cleaning, diapering, and just overall amusing my kid is like a dream come true. I will be the first to admit I have a completely skewed version of motherhood as a result. Scott has a week-long work trip? That's cool, enter Sister Wife to help me with dinner while I give Wee 'Burb a bath. Scott's not excited about going to the zoo and a craft fair? Come on, Sister Wife, grab the keys!

Her mother has thanked me approximately 400 times for taking her daughter in and welcoming her. The truth? I want to thank HER every day because sometimes I think cheap rent and her own bathroom isn't nearly equal to all the help she provides.

Now naturally, the whole issue of sharing a man doesn't come into play here. Being firmly in the kindly brother/sister camp, there's no risk of hanky panky going on with the roommate and the husband. So I get the help without the uncomfortable sex scheduling thing.

I recently read an article on 10 reasons why Tina Fey would be a great sister wife.  What celebrity would you love to have as your sister wife?

My 5 Things to do Before Getting Married

Shine ran this article on things you should do as a couple before getting married. Their list:

1. Living Together
2. Babysit
3. Get a Joint Checking Account
4. Couples Counseling Classes.

I actually think this is a pretty good list given that it represents the common pitfalls for couples in marriage: household duties, children, money, and long-term relationship health.

But I have a slightly different list, although I am going to co-opt their #1 for mine. I understand completely that some people don't believe in this, and that is of course totally your prerogative. But I think for most couples, cohabitation is imperative to really understanding how your relationship will progress. When you each have your own corner to run to when things get tough, it's just not the same as having to be in the same space and work it out. You can read my opinions and recommendations on this here.

2. Travel Apart and Travel Together. When Scott and I first met, I took off for four days with my friend to Rome. It was important to me to have this time away and be on my own a bit. I missed him like crazy and it took our relationship to a more serious level when I returned because I realized I missed HIM, not just having a relationship. So then we also traveled together. And one of the highest compliments Scott has ever paid me was "you're the only person I can travel with for more than a day or two without getting totally sick of them." Though I don't like the thought of a "test", traveling together is definitely a good indicator of the foundation of a relationship. Before I met Scott, I had traveled with a guy who liked to get to the airport 30 minutes before the plane takes off (I'm a 2-hour before girl) and planned a million things to do right off the plane (whereas I like to settle into my hotel, get organized). Don't believe me that it's a test? Just look at the Amazing Race.

3. Live on Your Own. Yes, living together is crucial. But living on your own before that is crucial, too. You don't know who you are until you're paying your own bills, cleaning your own place, cooking your own meals. You start to separate your needs from your parents and roommates. And then when you go into a relationship, you go into it with a solid idea of who you are and your wants and needs.

4. Make and Keep Your Own Friends. I can't tell you the number of people who "joked" that Scott would never be "allowed" to go out once he got married. I was horrified. Why should a piece of paper and a name change alter the fundamentals of our relationship with each other and our friends? Keeping your old friends and making ones outside of your marriage is crucial to a healthy separation of church and state when it comes to coupling. But also?

5. Have Stuff That's JUST for You Two. My first fight with Scott was over hobbies. He was afraid we didn't have much in common because I wasn't into the outdoorsy things he was. BUT, we found common ground on cooking, reading, watching the same movies, and even kind of silly things like UFC (I freaking love UFC, I have problems). We like to spend our spare time doing the same types of things. And even more long term we agree on how we want to spend retirement.

So, tell me, what are your 5 things you think need to happen before someone gets married?

Guest Post: It's Blogworthy Explains Why I Got a B.S. in Communications

I discovered Amanda at It's Blogworthy and fell in love with her pie charts and goofy work stories. Since then she's had little Baby Blogworthy and, if possible, gotten even funnier. She's also the one who convinced me to join Twitter...so thank her or punish her as you see fit. If you learn nothing else from this post besides why Stephanie got a B.S. in Communications (true story), please remember text books don't speak. And forgiveness is a tree. Thank you. And thank YOU, Amanda, for helping me out while I visit Alcatraz.

Not long ago, I wrote a post about grad school and found out Stephanie was also a communication studies graduate, which is akin to getting a degree in making stuff up. Sure, I learned stuff, but what other major allows you to take classes about things like non-verbal communication?

One of the more ridiculous classes I took in graduate school was conflict communications. That’s right, folks, a class about how to fight with your significant other, friends and family in an effective way. The professor was the least qualified person to teach a conflict communications class, as he had recently been involved in a scandal in which his wife was cheating on him and instead of communicating with her about it, he took out all his pain on his female students.

The class met on Wednesdays from 6:30 to 9 in a small auditorium in a building on campus. No one could understand why we met in this particular place the first day of class, but as we gathered it became clear that we’d be participating in some role playing. Listen, people, I’m more of a backstage, behind the scenes, standing-up-in-front-of-people-gives-me-anxiety kind of girl, so role playing in a class of 35 people wasn’t what I signed up to do. But knowing that I was already starting out with a less than stellar grade from Professor Misogynist, I took my chances.

The first day of class, each person wrote on note cards about three different arguments they’d had in the past. The notes were thrown into a hat and each meeting, students volunteered to “act out” the scenarios the way they were written, and then act them out again the way we should act them out if we weren’t all hot headed college students. Most of them were the typical boyfriend/girlfriend arguments. I'm pretty sure none of us actually succeeded in this little educational experiment.

In addition to the role playing, there were lectures and a textbook. I am a note taker, so I wrote down every word, I highlighted, I circled words and bookmarked. I was determined to learn how to be a better person, to learn how to argue in an educated way. I thought I'd wow friends and future boyfriends with my intelligence and honesty. I thought this class would do it for me.

Until the last class of the semester.

That night we learned that forgiveness, she is a tree. The trunk is the transgression or conflict, and one branch leads to forgiveness through "internal processing", while the other branch leads to forgiveness through dialogue. And these two branches can connect to form a reconciled relationship.

And if I may say so, THAT WAS THE BIGGEST BUNCH OF BULL SHIT I HAD HEARD IN A LONG WHILE.

The class was also a split level, so we had graduate and undergraduates in the same place. My professor had to lecture the class, which is comprised of undergrads and graduate students, how to properly cite articles in APA format (even though there is site on the MU Library site that DOES IT FOR YOU). He needed to mention that it is not acceptable to write a sentence beginning with "Our text says..." BECAUSE TEXTS ARE INANIMATE OBJECTS THAT CANNOT SPEAK.

Ahh...the joys and sorrows of communications classes.

The Lonelies

A friend once described to me the depth of her Sunday Lonelies. Sunday, being a typical family day, was a challenge for those of us who were single, away from our families, and childless, and didn’t wish to be so. You could try brunch and TV movies and keeping yourself busy with tasks for the week ahead, but those Sunday Lonelies lurked, culminating in that pit in your stomach and overall numbness that just bordered on tears.

When she and I discussed this, I had recently ended a bad relationship and was smack dab in the middle of “what now?” I am a planner, a plan had just dismantled in very dramatic fashion, and I was just left floating around. In a constant state of Sunday Lonelies.

I realized how much time I had spent in that relationship, and others before and since, that so closely mirrored that Sunday Lonelies feeling. Not even just with men, but at various times when I would tie myself to groups of women, never feeling secure that they really wanted to be my friend, saw me as worthy of being a part of them. I vividly felt so many times that feeling in the pit of my stomach saying, urging, I don’t want to be here. That feeling was so much lonelier, somehow, when it happened among other people.

I was thinking about this as I was reading a book to my little girl. I smiled and looked down at her. The truth is, my Sunday Lonelies ended when I met Scott. I think in some small way that’s how I knew he was THE ONE, as they say. I never feel lonely around him. I never get bored of him.

And now, of course, Sunday IS family day. And I cherish that. But as I looked down at my daughter, I wondered: how do I tell her that if she gets that feeling, that lonely feeling, she’s in the wrong crowd, she’s with the wrong person? Would I have understood that and taken it to heart if someone had told me long ago? The me who was so positive I was unlovable, unkeepable, uninteresting? I hope with all my might Wee ‘Burb will never feel that way about herself, but I also understand the world and a growing girl’s often uncomfortable place in it. So instead I will just hope she finds someone who makes those Sunday Lonelies disappear.

I Never Learn

In the five years I have known my husband, I have never won a bet.

I’ve won my share of Super Dates.

But no bets.

It took me about three years before I just stopped betting him. He says it’s no fun. I say it’s about preserving our relationship.

But today, you guys, today I was SURE I had him.

We were at Costco and as I was pulling out my checkbook. Scott rather gallantly announces: “I’ll pay for this one.” Yeah, we have separate checking accounts. Let it go, it works for us.

I hesitate for a second and then ask him if he really has that much cash? We had gone a little overboard on olive oil and diapers, people. This wasn’t a small bill.

He looks at me oddly and says he will put it on his card.

I tell him Costco only allows you to use American Express. They were very adamant with me on this point. I choose not to get an American Express, so I always bring my checkbook.

He says he can use his card, no problem.

I start writing out my check. He’s still insisting he can use his card.

So I challenge him: Wanna bet? He immediately says okay. We bet a date night.

I am so smug. I grin at him and say “know what? I am going to sign this check because I don’t want to hold up the line with your wrongness.”

So we get up to the checkout and I ask the girl: “you don’t accept debit cards, do you?”

And I am already packing up the groceries, planning on where to make him take me for dinner. It’s restaurant week next week in Minneapolis, what bliss!

So I barely here her say: “Welllll, some…”

I look at her and sort of choke. But I think I can still save this bet because she may not take HIS debit card.

He hands it to her confidently. Turns to me and grins and says: “I’ve used this here before. A bunch of times.”

BURN!

Although…he did buy the groceries. So, life isn’t all that bad.

But the moratorium on bets is SO back on!

Everything I learned about love, I learned from Lifetime TV Movies

I love Lifetime movies. My love started with TV movies on the regular channels back in the day, specifically the competing ones that came out over Amy Fisher, the Long Island Lolita! Hooked!

To this day, if I see one with the name of any former 90210 or Melrose Place actor, I will watch it, no matter how crappy the storyline. In fact, the crappier the better!

So on this Valentine’s Day, I submit to you the invaluable love lessons I have learned from Lifetime TV Movies.

1. If your boyfriend or husband ever utters anything about a “secret mission” he is not a cop or secret agent or military personnel. He is a rapist or murderer. Or he has another family. Those aren’t mutually exclusive.
2. If you are seen putting on eye cream or skin cream at night and poking at the invisible wrinkles in your face, your husband will soon be cheating on you, if he’s not already. [This one goes out to the woman at Sephora who was kind enough to ignore my slight teariness when she recommended I purchase eye cream]
3. If you are cheated on, don’t look at it as a bad thing, though. It will show you the holes in your relationship, which you will of course wish to repair when your husband realizes the chick he was banging on the side is as batcrap crazy as you are. And requires more maintenance.
4. Do not accept a death certificate until you’ve seen a corpse. Seriously, do you know how easy it is to fake your own death? Until you see the body, you are to assume your spouse is not at all dead, but in fact has drained your bank account and moved across the country to become some sort of local politician, meaning someday years later you will see his picture in the paper, recognize his lying face as the one you thought you buried, and go on a rampage.
5. If you know someone who used to be ugly and is now pretty as a result of an accident that required plastic surgery, run away from that person. She is out for revenge. You will get in the way. The results will be unpleasant.
6. The same goes for anyone who lost family in an accident, or believes you caused their beloved brother’s death (it’s almost always a brother or a daddy). Trust no one. Enter witness protection if you can.

 Your turn! What have you learned from TV movies? How are you spending Valentine’s Day?

Christmas Nazis and the Men Who Love Them

I love Christmas. I’m obsessed. I was once (affectionately, I choose to believe) called a Christmas Nazi. I may or may not have insisted her topiary in a red pot was NOT a Christmas tree. I can’t be held responsible when I am in the season, people!

To keep myself and those around me sane, Christmas and I have a strict no contact order until the day after Thanksgiving. Then I can do all the calling and stalking (stocking, hee!) I want.

And I do. Ohhhhh, but I do!

This may be happier than ACTUAL Christmas day, when I pull all my stuff out of storage. Especially because last year, I saved my money and bought a TON of stuff the week after Christmas. And like a good little girl, I put it in my Christmas bin. And promptly forgot what I had purchased.

So it was like…well, Christmas…opening everything on Friday and seeing all the goodies I forgot I had.

And then…well, then Christmas opened up and spewed more gooey happiness my way.

My husband, who I am slowly converting from years of Scroogedom, looked around and said to me: “I don’t think we have enough Christmas decorations.”

And he was serious.

Momnesia: The Sequel

I feel it’s important to document my moments of Momnesia so that whoever ultimately decides I belong in the padded cell will feel completely vindicated.

So, like many couples, Scott and I have a nightly ritual. Once we’ve put Wee ‘Burb to bed, we typically sit down with our Tivo, Cornelius. Named after Yukon Cornelius of Rudolph fame. This is our second Tivo, our first, Big Papi, having passed about 6 months ago.

Anyway, we go through and determine which shows we want to watch. Yes, we watch TV at night. We’re intellectual neophytes. We’ve embraced it.

So once we’re settled into a show and a good couch snuggle, we’ll usually hear the jingle of Cous Cous’ collar going downstairs. And then the “who will let the dog out” dance begins. It goes something like this:

Me: Cous is downstairs.

Him: Is she scratching?

Me: Not yet.

Him: Okay. [goes back to whatever magazine or Internet article he’s reading until seconds later, we hear scratching on the sliding door downstairs]

Me: Now she’s scratching.

Him: Mmmm. [His way of pretending if he just waits it out, I’ll go down and take care of it. Only he knows this ain’t happening because I have the distinct pleasure of being Cous Cous’ full-time caretaker during the day. Which means I feel after-dinner doody is his duty, ya know?]

Me: Okay, now she’s whining.

Him: Sigh. Groan. Fine! [Gets up and goes downstairs]

Because I am a very considerate wife, I hit pause on the Tivo. Yes, I force him to go into the cold of night to let the dog take her 50 years to find the perfect poop spot, but he won’t miss nary a second of Dr. Phil. I’ll take my Wife of the Year Award now, please.

Anyway, so the other night Scott was packing for a work trip and for some reason I end up feeling bad for him every time he goes on these trips, even though it’s me who ends up being the single Mom trying to care for the insane dog and even more insane (and now mobile) baby. So I heard her scratching and instead of waiting for him to come out and here her, I was nice enough to go down and take her out.

But before I did, I hit the pause button on the Tivo.

The TV wasn’t on.

I'm Baaaack!

Happy November, People! As I mentioned, last week was my anniversary. What I failed to mention was that Scott was out of town the whole week. Oh, and Wee 'Burb decided to run a fever that was high enough to force her to stay home with me, but not high enough where she wasn't wired at the idea of being home in an only partially-babyproofed house.

So that explains my absence.

We had an AMAZING anniversary celebration this weekend, though, including a much-needed night away from the feverishly normal Wee 'Burb. We ate at La Belle Vie, which is the closest Minnesota has, or ever will have sadly, to5-star cuisine. AMAZING! Let me just tell you this: I have issues with carcass. I can't eat anything when it's in the form it was when alive. No lobster, I have to hide during the Thanksgiving carving, and definitely no chicken wings. But I ate marrow, people. AND I LOVED IT!

Side note: wanna know how much I love my husband? A few years ago I actually hosted Thanksgiving, including sticking my hand in a turkey's ass, and washing it. WASHING A CARCASS! ON THE INSIDE!! Now that's love.

After our amazing dinner, we checked in to the Grand Hotel, where we were upgraded to a king-size suite. It had a TV in the bathtub. Not the bathroom, the bath TUB!

In addition to the complimentary bottle of champagne they sent us, we also enjoyed a small version of our cappucino souffle wedding cake from Buttercream Bakery.

Last, but certainly not least, after getting up WHENEVER WE FELT LIKE IT, we ate an amazing brunch at Hell's Kitchen where I had a ham, cheese and pear melt that almost made Scott irrelevant.

Anyway, I should be back on schedule this week, assuming Wee 'Burb doesn't sponteaneously combust.

What are you all up to?

Are YOU Happier Than You Think You Are?

I found this article on the 9 signs you’re happier than you think really interesting. Sometimes life gets so busy, we don’t think about if we’re really happy or not. Or, maybe more accurately, how happy we are. I know I’m happy to have my husband, baby, family…even my crazy puppy! I am blessed to have a house and a job. But those things take up so many mundane minutes of your life, you don’t think about it. Hmmm…I’m really happy.


Anyway, the signs that you’re happier than you think are:

1. You were a smiley student

2. You have a sister

3. You’re not glued to the TV

4. You keep souvenirs on display

5. You make exercise a priority

6. You have a healthy love life

7. You hang out with happy people

8. You stay warm with hot cocoa

9. You have two best friends

For me some are better than others. I don’t have a sister, but I do have people in my life who have taken that role. I definitely watch too much TV. But I have a few best friends in my life who have been there through thick and thin, and my mantle is full of souvenirs, including these guys (wax animals I got at the zoo on an early date with Scott).

The one that made me stop and think was #7. This is something that has drastically changed in my 30s. In my 20s, I desperately wanted to fit in. I didn’t really find my place in high school after switching schools halfway through. I was a guppie in a huge pond in college. I found my friends and I had people who loved me, but I was always desperate for attention.

My first job in my 20s happened to have a host of new graduates like myself. There was a group of maybe 5 or 6 of us, and they were the “cool girls.” They had a line on all the cool places, all the new drinks, wore only the best clothes. And for once, they liked me. I wasn’t outside looking in, I was part of them. Or trying to be.

To me, it was like something out of a sitcom or a book…I was a young single girl about town! And I got very caught up in it. I never thought if I liked the girls. They liked me, or seemed to, so I bought into the group mentality.

About a year in, two things happened. The first was that we started to splinter within the clique. There was one girl in particular that the other girls would tell me was too full of drama. My intense fear of being the one they talked about next led me to oust her just as quickly as the others.

Then 9/11 came and a few of my friends’ jobs were threatened by the economic downturn. They began talking about our company as a sinking ship and sought to drag me down with their rhetoric.

I didn’t think I paid it any mind, but eventually I noticed I was less happy at work, that I started looking for holes in the sinking ship. And eventually I moved on. It wasn’t a bad career move, but it was definitely motivated by some of the wrong things.

I’m embarrassed to say my desire to be liked continued, and maybe even got worse, after I returned to my childhood town in my mid-20s. I met a girl who I thought was really cool. She just seemed to have a personality, something I just still didn’t feel I had. I just wasn’t sure there was anything discernible about me. But there was about this girl and when she reached out to me as a friend, I jumped at the chance.

I have a confession. When I meet someone I admire, or want to be friends with, I get total verbal diarrhea. I don’t know why I do this. I just start telling my life story without thinking. And it’s obvious that I want someone to lead me. I tend to imprint like a baby duck on a mommy duck…or a random monkey, whoever will lead me.

From day 1 she was very negative about dating and work. I followed her advice to the letter like a good little duckie, and looking back I sabotaged myself in both areas. She filled me with distrust and dislike for other people, and I never saw it coming because she embraced me at a time when I really needed new friends who liked me for whoever I thought I was becoming. Now, of course I was responsible for my own actions. But I let her lead me down a road of such self-protection that I faced the world with my arms crossed. Her approval was emotional currency for me, and I was getting rich!

In fact, before our friendship took an abrupt turn, I had met Scott and he later told me that he felt I was not at all interested in him. The truth was, of course, that I was! I liked him a lot, and I saw him as great long-term potential (hey, I was self-conscious, not stupid!). But I had studied Negative Nelly and learned not to tip my hand that way so early on. So I went in thinking I was aloof when in fact I was frosty.

Fortunately for me, our friendship ended shortly after that when I expressed my feelings about a topic she was not at all interested in hearing about…basically, her negativity about relationships and how she approached them. I hadn’t really let go of a close friendship like that before, and I realized how important it was to actually cast people out my life. I tried very hard to keep the relationship and I was rebuffed repeatedly, until I realized how much work I was putting in to a friendship that really hadn’t done anything for me except make me view the world as a rebel force out to get me.

Since that time, I have been very careful to surround myself with happy people. Now, I don’t run around with a bunch of Suzy Sunshines, don’t get me wrong. We have real lives, and so real feelings. But they are people who mostly view the good in life, and in people. And when they face the world, they do so with arms wide open.

So, are you happier than you think you are? Do you agree with this list?