The Single Life

This past weekend, I celebrated a friend’s imminent passing from the life of single and sometimes fabulous, to a life of wedded bliss. At this age, bachelorette parties are becoming more and more frequent and every time I get the chance to attend one of these events, I secretly sing under my breath…
…Another one bites the dust. And another one bites, and another one bites, another one bites the dust.

I kid. While the fact remains that I myself am still single and fabulous, I have yet to feel like I’m missing out on something, even though I’m getting up there in years and those around me are falling like flies. In fact, I may not ever even bother to think twice about it except that probably the most common question I get is the dreaded, ‘why are you single’???

What, may I ask, would be an appropriate answer to such a question? I honestly think it’s probably the most asinine question one could ask. It’s quite obvious I’m not a nun so I have not dedicated my life to religious devotion and given up my right to marry. Either I throw myself under the bus and claim to be totally un-dateable and un-loveable (in which case I might as well become a nun), or… I throw them under the bus and claim there are just none out there that measure up to my awesomeness. Well I won’t tell you what side of the scale I believe the truth to be found on, but if you know me you could probably take a wild guess.

I kid. The truth remains that there are a lot of fabulous single people in this world of both sexes, and for some reason they haven’t met each other yet. I believe I’m in that group and I truly believe that my future husband is as well. So I wait patiently for him and in the meantime I don’t worry about the fact that I haven’t found him yet. There is no reason for me not to be single right now and that is the most honest answer I can come up with. Besides, as fabulous as I might be, perhaps God is still working on me and preparing me for the more fabulous version that will exist in the future and knock the socks off my future hubby. If that’s the case…patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, anyone have a clever answer I could add to my arsenal?

Angels Game: Two Perspectives.

Many of my friends know that I blog. They always wonder if whatever we are doing at that particular moment will end up on the blog and what my spin on it will actually be. Yesterday I went to the Angels and Yankees game with a friend and he asked if I was going to blog about it. “Maybe”, I replied. And then he said he could probably blog it for me because he knew what I was going to say. So I told him to give it his best shot. Tell my story, in my voice, the way you think I experienced it. Even though it wasn’t as easy as he thought, he did give it his best shot. And since I had already blogged it too, I’m giving you my real version. How close did he get? (I know…it’s hard to nail down my biting sarcasm).

HIS VERSION

I decided to take the train to the Angel Yankee game last night. It's a two hour train ride, but its better than dealing with traffic, and the train arrives exactly at game time 5:00. I'm supposed to meet someone there at 5. However, he didn't show up till 6. Obviously I am annoyed by this, I can be understanding when it comes to traffic, but an hour, come on buddy. Not to mention this isn't the first time this person has made me wait before. I'm debating whether or not to turn around and go home and delete this person from my phone. Needless to say, he finally arrives and although a little annoyed we proceed to go into the game.

When going to a baseball game one of the many traditions is to experience stadium food. You can't go to a baseball game and not experience the fine cuisine. Being a bud girl, I had to partake in a couple bud lights and some sliders from Ruby's Diner. Being that it is a baseball game I also had to have a hot dog. You can't go to a game and not have a hot dog right? It would be Un-American.

The game was very entertaining, from the action on the field to the drunk yankee fans that proceeded to high five me on his way out. Even though I wasn't rooting for the yankees, I wasn't wearing my Angels red and neither was the person I was with. I can see how I can be easily confused with being a yankees fan.

All and all I had a great time at the game, and the person I was with completely made up for being late and I enjoyed his company tremendously. He walked me back to the train station, saw that I got off safely and I proceeded to enjoy my train ride home.


MY VERSION

I like going to sporting events even when I’m not a particularly big fan of the sport. Like Baseball for instance…I never watch a game on T.V. during the regular season. I’m going to need a little more action and a little more signifcance if I’m going to shell out 3 hours of my life like that. But I will go to a baseball game, and I’ll even be excited to go if it’s the playoffs. So when my friend called me up to ask me if I’d like to go to the Angel game at 5pm, when it was already 2pm and I was sitting in San Diego, I did my best to make it happen.

Not only did I make it, I made it on time. What is the implication here? The fact that he did not. If I hadn’t already traveled 2 hours by train, I would not have still been sitting there almost an hour later when he finally showed up!! I don’t appreciate waiting on people, especially when the excuse is bad traffic. This ain’t Kansas buddy, this is the 5 Freeway in Southern California at 5 pm on a workday en route to a major sporting event. You may not live here, but our traffic has a reputation, so there can be no cop out. So I did what I do best, and failed miserably at hiding my irritation.

We managed to make it into the game before either team had scored (big shocker there), so my experience wasn’t totally ruined. I then proceeded to eat 3 days worth of calories in the next 3 hours. If you can’t watch a baseball game eating and drinking the whole time, I really don’t even see the point.

The Angels ended up losing and I pretended to care but it was all for naught as I was accidentally dressed in Yankee colors and I got more hi fives than sad looks anyway. In fact, the buddies I met on the train ride home invited me to join them in their celebration. Who am I to ruin a good time? So yes, I ended up enjoying myself. And next time, he probably knows if he is going to be late to just turn around and go home.

The (HOT) Body Issue

I know I may be a little late on this, as tons of pictures have leaked on the Internet and people with subscriptions have been drooling for over a week, but can we all just take a moment and applaud ESPN’s Body Issue?! Don’t worry…if you aren’t sure yet if this is something to be celebrated, I will do my best to convince you that it is. In my opinion, if people are going to disrobe, this is the best possible way to do it. In a way that celebrates and admires the hard work that athlete’s put in to making their bodies the finely tuned machines that they are, and showing the beauty that can be found in the broad spectrum of physical form that exists in sport. But of course, if you show pictures of people with little to no clothes on, there is bound to be controversy. But I encourage people to truly see the positive messages in these pictures.

For starters, we have almost an equal number of beautiful men and women showcased. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any other huge publication that has done this. Personally, I am grateful for the ability to get my fair share of drool on. (Thank you “Gooch”.) From my understanding, people posed in as little as they could be comfortable in. So often, when it’s time to bare skin it’s the women carrying far too much of the load, but in this instance, because the focus was on athletes we were able to see both sexes represented equally. And while there still is some obvious sex appeal, that most certainly isn’t all there is. All these different body types have one thing in common—they are used to compete at the highest level of competition. That is something we all can admire, and if a little drool slips out in the process--so be it.



I have probably heard the most criticism of Serena Williams cover and I think the majority of it is ridiculous. She is definitely the biggest named athlete to appear totally nude (thumbs down to Adrian Peterson and Dwight Howard for not following in her footsteps), and her cover is supposedly a bit too provocative for some. Yes, she looks sexy. Good for her. Serena is workin’ with a whole lotta body, and in my opinion she works it well. I take issue with people who believe that athletes should be one-dimensional. Being a badass on the court should not diminish your femininity or your ability to put on lip-gloss and heels (or nothing) and pout your lips with the best of them—if that’s what you so choose. Taking a hot picture doesn't diminish or marginalize one's abilities or attributes in another area, and when people make it out to be so, I think the problem lies with them. Maybe it can work both ways and we can start making the Kim Kardashians of the world famous for something more than a good pout.



For me personally, what I find most refreshing about this issue is allowing each and every body to be showcased how it truly is, and in turn sending a message that if you want to work hard towards something, work towards what you see here. Pick up any other magazine, and you’ll see models who are 5’10 and weigh 110 pounds soaking wet, and that is supposed to be what a beautiful body looks like. Sure, that might be beauty to some, but it shouldn’t be what we strive for, especially when it’s darn near unattainable. Most people can only be that thin by eating crackers for dinner. What we do as athletes to be at our best on the field, court, or track, is treat our bodies like the temples they are. We eat healthy (most of the time), and we exercise and getting more people to do that would certainly be a good thing for our society. A lot of times the byproduct of that is muscles and for women that is perceived as unfeminine but every picture I saw in this magazine showed women who were feminine while being athletic. That’s a strong message and a realistic one. When I did the SI swimsuit issue last year, I was chosen as an athlete, but by the time they were done with me in Photoshop, I had my muscle mass significantly reduced and an automatic boob job. That was their standard of beauty, not what I brought to the table on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mind the cleavage, but I respect these pictures a lot more.

So if you haven’t picked up your copy yet, I strongly suggest you do. It’s definitely different than what you might expect…and in a good way. The Sumo wrestler is pretty darn impressive… let me tell you. I also am curious as to what others think of it. I want to hear your honest opinions and I welcome your feedback on mine.

Spinning

I am an athlete. I don’t just mean a track and field athlete, I mean an athlete. Period. If there is something athletic to be done, I will more than likely be good at it. It’s in my blood and part of my genetic makeup. And while there are some things that I am better at than others, I always believe I will be at least above average when it comes to the general population. Well…until now.

Monday I attended spin class. They offer it at the 24 hour fitness and I walked in and was greeted by a random slice of the general population. These weren’t fitness buffs or cycling gurus, just your regular joe’s and jane’s stopping by for a good sweat. I needed to start being active and this seemed like a good place to start. Well, if I learned anything, it was to never step into a spinning class after sitting for almost a month. Many of these gen pops kicked my butt and it kind of embarrassed me. Even when I’m not in shape I still look athletic and I look like I shouldn’t be huffing and puffing after 5 minutes. But I was. And I don’t quit anything so I knew I was in this for the long haul no matter what. And long haul it was. But the important thing was that I finished. I got off that bike looking like I stepped out of the shower fully clothed and with my legs still shaking and discreetly thanked God for keeping me alive through that torture.

And because I secretly like inflicting pain on myself, I’m going back today. Well, really it’s because I’m so darn competitive I at least have to go enough to be better than average. I simply cannot let the soccer mom out spin me.

Have you guys ever tried Spinning? I need some confirmations that it’s as hard as I believe it to be! If you don’t agree…keep it to yourself. ☺

Off-Season

You know what I’m doing on a day-to-day basis? Nothing. Well, that’s not exactly true. I get up around 10 or so and read books…go to coffee shops…watch movies…eat every fattening food I can think of…stuff like that. It’s basically what you’d call the life of a socialite. Well…the life of a broke socialite. Which if you think about it, takes all the fun out of the experience. It’s funny, because I used to think that doing basically nothing would be the life. And even now, when I explain my day to my friends they’ll claim how they wish they had my life. But guess what? They don’t really mean it just like I don’t really want it. Don’t get me wrong…I like a vacation just as much as the next person. But then after you have sat around and done nothing for too many days, you get veeeery tired of it. You shouldn’t have to put your trip to the bank on your schedule just to give your day some structure. Even eating dessert twice a day gets old. (I know. Crazy!)

I plan on beefing up my volunteering in the next few weeks, and even though it’s not time for me to get back on the track yet, I do think I will start being active. Working out 5 hours a day down to 0 is hard on the body, even though it sounds backwards, so I’ll get moving in some civilian type of ways. Perhaps a spin class or two and maybe I’ll jog by the marina and let all the people pass me as I huff and puff. The thing about our off-season is that it’s crucial that we do let our bodies truly rest and our nagging injuries that we’ve been ignoring get a chance to heal. So I know I have to respect my body enough to give it that time. But I guess that doesn’t mean I need to be a bum. So I plan on being a more productive member of society for the rest of my time until work starts back up. And perhaps I’ll cut the desserts back to one a day.

Adventures in Babysitting

You know what I love the most about babysitting? The fact that it ends. You are able to return the lovely kiddos to their rightful owners and be done with them. I’m kidding…kind of. Truth be told, there are only a few kids on Earth I will even agree to babysit period. It lies in the fact that I love them and their parents and so in my heart I feel a sense of duty that I should at one point in their years of childhood be responsible for them. If not for this strong emotion you would probably never see me alone with kids until the day I am blessed with my own. (If that day ever even comes).

This weekend my lovely sister took advantage of said emotion and coerced me into being not only Aunt B, but also babysitter Bri. Yes, I wanted to spend time with my lovely niece and nephew because it’s been months and they grow so fast you end up barely recognizing them when you let that much time go by. But I always prefer a chaperone if I can help it. She somehow took advantage of my guilty conscience though and convinced me that after a whole day spent together, she should be allowed to slip out and I should be in charge on my own. I realize it’s not too much of a sacrifice, being that I have every night to myself free of diaper duty and endless cartoons, so I “happily” obliged. I’m happy to report that everyone made it out ok. I’m sure it’s a well known fact between the two of them that Aunt B really has no rules and that I will pretty much let whatever go as long as we keep the fussing and crying to a minimum, so they did their part and I did mine. Ty is grown up enough that he has decided he actually likes me and wants to be my buddy, but Tristin still has a bit of uncertainty. This is understandable…shoot, last time I saw her she could barely utter a word and now she’s a chatterbox. Plus, she’s still in diapers. I think she can sense I’m not that diaper friendly. All in all, I think we had a good time together. They both stayed awake until their bodies naturally fell asleep, and Tristin and I ate pizza at 10pm. What are Aunt’s for??!

Here are some pics from the weekend…

-The four of us at the L.A. county fair (next time it's going to be the L.A. county park!!)


-Can you tell the kid is related to me? I teach him well!




-Of course I buy them their own! (I just forgot I was responsible for them the rest of the night.)


-I like being an AUNT! :)

Country Music??

It’s hard to tell that my mother and I are related. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve seen the pictures of us together in the hospital the day I was born, I would probably have my doubts. And it goes far beyond our physical differences. Yes, she’s 5’2 and extremely Caucasian, but the differences go far beyond appearances. Take for example what she’s doing for fun this weekend. She’s up in the mountains somewhere…camping in a tent. I think it’s something like 20 degrees at night so anything less than a nice, cozy cabin with a blazing fireplace just seems like unnecessary torture. And why is she up in the mountains? Well, because it’s hunting season. That’s right…my mother goes hunting. Well, she doesn’t exactly hunt herself but she accompanies those that do, which is mind-boggling to me—the fact that I know someone that knows someone who likes to go out in the wilderness and walk around all day in camouflage in the hopes of shooting something. And that’s the fun.

Our taste in music is no more closely related than our hobbies. Which is why she was the first person I thought of when I came across some tickets to a Brad Paisley concert. I wasn’t aware of any of his songs, but I knew he wore a cowboy hat, and therefore I knew my mother would be a fan. I, of course, would not be a fan. Of cowboy hats, boots, and plaid shirts—yes. Those things happen to be in style anyway and I have no problem with the trends. The music just isn’t something I’ve ever been able to jam to. But since our hobbies seem to have such wide degrees of separation, I figured it’s necessary to go outside my comfort zone every once in a while and this would be a lot less painful than hunting. So I called her up and invited her down to the concert. And guess what??! It wasn’t half bad. Granted, it’s not my type of music but it’s really not bad to listen to, and it’s nothing if not catchy. The guy sings the hook once and you’re ready to sing along the next time around. Not to mention the whole atmosphere was fun. Country music folks really enjoy themselves.

I’m not ready to change my presets but I am glad that I went. It was bonding time for my mother and I, and if I do say so myself…I look pretty darn cute in a Cowboy hat.



(Note: This hat had to be borrowed in the interest of picture taking but I'm thinking of investing)