Humblebrag

Tonight, a stranger with whom I had dinner...friend of a friend....it was a group dinner (not a blind date or anything)....asks  me..."do you have a blog?" Um....no, I said. But wait. I do! And then I told her, well...I do but then I wrote something about having a jeans drawer and figured it wasn't mah thang. But she asks  me this because she said I just talk in blog form...and she enjoyed hearing what I had to say! Now, this is just about the nicest thing you could say to me! So maybe....just maybe....minivan musings will live on. Well, at least to try to get this jeans drawer to catch on.

Regrets. Re: Denim

When I hear celebrities and politicians answer the question, "Do you have any regrets?" and answer something along the line of "No -- because I wouldn't be who I am today without the mistakes of the past" -- I know they're lying. Everyone has regrets. They can be big, and they can be small. I think it's the small ones that usually get to me. Because as corny and cliche'ed as that celebrity line is, they may have a point when it comes to big regrets. Relationships gone south, career decisions, drug addictions (that one is the major celebrity one....not mine) -- those could really alter the course of the rest of your life, so I guess -- fine -- I'll leave those alone.

But the small ones. Those regrets nag at me. Like this morning when I went to my jeans drawer. Yes, I have a jeans drawer. I made a conscious decision this past year to dedicate a drawer to jeans. Because jeans should be easy. All the time. And hanging up clothes is not easy for me. If jeans are the easy clothes to wear, to match, to maintain, to wash (or not to wash....because you know you don't have to wash them every time!) -- then they should not be difficult to store.

Anyway, as I dug into my jeans drawer and passed over all my jeans to go to ===aaaaahhh=== my favorite jeans, I felt the pang of regret. Why did I not do more? I could have done SO MUCH MORE!!! (That's from some famous movie I think -- Schindler's List? I know it from Seinfeld quoting it though...) See, let me explain. Earlier this year, I found my jean's body double...in the form of an ebay seller. She is shorter than petite, which is me...but she is not petite in the other areas....which is also me. She pays good money to have these jeans professionally hemmed. She also has extremely expensive taste in designer jeans and she is not too confident, I guess, that she can sell them for a high price. So consequently I have a pair of $200 jeans that I got for $13. They are sooo choice! If you have $13, I highly recommend them. But she also had like 6 other pairs of jeans for sale, and I bought only 2. Both of which "capture my essence" as my hubs likes to put it. I hope she purges her closet again soon.

I'm not quite here yet. 

(Mom jeans - property of SNL)

Massages

Today I had a discussion with someone about massages. A friend told me that he once went to school to become a massage therapist. He is now a ___ rep alongside me. And no, I will never give him an old elbow-nudge and tell him to please let me cash in on his awesome training. I had a massage once. It was nice. I'm not sure I'm ever in a place where I would go pay money to get one again, unless I find a Groupon (but that's a whole 'nother discussion...Groupon gives me the power to do things I wouldn't normally do...) but anyway, I digress.

I get heebie jeebies thinking about giving a stranger a massage. I'm not so sure it's about the touching, the possibly gross body I may be rubbing down, or the uncomfortable silence/ non-silence that goes down during that hour. It's more about the...pleasure. Ew. I feel dirty even just writing that! Nooo. I don't mean like THAT kind of massage. More like, the "I'm-only-here-to-pay-you-to-make-me-feel-pleasure" kind of transaction that happens during a massage. So for this reason, I will never be a massage therapist, a masseuse (there is a difference, I learned today), or probably ever get a non-medically-necessary massage again. I pedicure with the best of them, though, but that may be where I draw the line.

"I think it moved."

Well here I am.

Sigh. Why do a blog (or is it "why blog")? I'm so two-thousand and late.

I think I am jumping on the blogwagon because I feel like so many of my "Deep Thoughts" are interesting. Well, interesting is strong...more like they may evoke the Seinfeldian "Hey! That's so true!" I have way too many of these to clutter up a facebook, and twitter was a swing and a miss for me (but maybe I'll figure it out in 5 years).

I guess I should have a reason for my blog. I have some friends who have great talents. They make stuff, they design beautiful spaces, they do crafts, they cook, they have style, and they make some great blogs. I have a teeny touch of all interests. I don't have too many refined skills, but I'm working on them.

I'm not sure I am going to be putting this "out there," but maybe.

If I do, I suppose this is where I introduce myself. When I read other people's 1st posts, they sum themselves up so succinctly. I am so much more complicated than that...haha. No--I'm not really very complicated at all. I spend my days working as a ___ rep (suffice it to say, I work with "the Public" so I'm paranoid someone will find me), my nights mommy-ing and wife-ing (and daughter-ing and sister-ing sometimes, too). In between all these tasks, I roam the open roads in a metallic mint-green minivan. And I have musings.

The Swaggerwagon (actually I google imaged it because I've never photographed my own minivan)