"The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth"

I'll admit it, I've only ever read the "No Fear Shakespeare" version of A Midsummer's Night Dream. I like watching Shakespeare's plays, but have never, not once, enjoyed reading them. Methinks he doth befoul the language too much.

But he was a man who knew a thing or two about us crazy humans. And didn't he just nail it on the head with "the course of true love never did run smooth"?

I am not currently in true love. I am not even in mediocre love (although I am abnormally attached to a new pair of shoes I recently purchased). But I have been in love and I am currently in search of love again. And I'll tell you, the course TO true love never did run smooth either, Will.

The course TO true love isn't a stroll on the beach. It's more like scaling the side of a mountain without a Sherpa in sight. And now that I'm in my mid-30s, it's not getting any easier.

'Cause here's the thing - I have an inkling of what I'm looking for now. It's not like when you're in your early 20s and you're thinking - "He's hot. I'm in love." Oh no, it's more complicated than that now.

It's about personalities. It's about a sense of humor and that doesn't include telling knock-knock jokes. No, we're talking about a sense of humor that will allow the two of you to laugh when life feels like it's falling apart. Being able to see humor in your mistakes - big and small.

It's about forgiveness. Love isn't about "an eye for an eye" - it is balls out Jesus-sized forgiveness...every day.

It's about understanding the perfect amount of space. This is like super-duper scientist stuff. We're talking spatial-temporal reasoning type understanding. What's the middle ground between distance and smothering? I'll let you know when I see it.

We'll leave out the part about how he needs to be employable, into hygiene and able to drive down the street without tailgating, cursing or flipping someone off. (I don't want to sound greedy.)

And the big truth is this - it's not just that I know what I'm looking for (or what I'm not looking for). It's that, at 35, I know me.

It's been me and me for a long time now and I guess I know me as well as I know anyone. I know who I am. And without getting all "big-heady" about it - I'm a pretty cool chick. And I'm looking for a pretty cool guy. Sounds simple, but it's not.

So, I'll continue to be patient (insert fingernails tapping madly on linoleum tabletop). And I'll be comforted by those who came before me.

The course of true love never did run smooth? No shit, Shakespeare.

Of Mice and Men

I have, over the course of my life, acquired two fears. Neither of them is based on sound, reasonable logic. They are, in no particular order:

1. Mice
2. Men

I have no problem with mice when they are in little wire cages and running on a wheel. They are, in fact, a bit like men. If you know what they’re up to and when they’re gonna pounce, they aren’t too terrifying. This led me to wonder, what else do my two nemesis have in common?

1. They’re unpredictable. No telling when they’ll show their beady little eyes
2. They do, on occasion, hang out in your house uninvited
3. They make weird noises at night, conjuring visions of poltergeists and making one check under their bed for monsters
4. They look cute, but have been known to attack and leave you with life-threatening diseases that involve remedies including needles as long as your arm
5. Some of them would rather lurk about at home than get dressed up and go dancing
6. They leave messes for you to clean up
7. They think that chewing their fingernails and toenails is equivalent to a day at the spa
8. They do not utilize the toilet and quite possibly think you’re interested in checking out their doo-doo
9. Some don’t mind having millions of offspring, since they’re more about the breeding than the parenting
10. They make grown-ass women turn into a girly-girls of the highest order, instead of acting like rational, professional, educated women
11. They always seem to side-step the traps I carefully lay for them

Cheap Ass Bitch

Did I mention than on occasion I am what one might call a - cheap ass bitch?

In general, you will not find me in the mall shopping for clothes. Clothes are expensive. Especially when you cheap out on the generic laundry detergent and you clothes actually begin to disintegrate after 3 or 4 washings. Who can afford to spend 50 buck on a shirt that has a hole in the neck from some battery acid detergent after you've only worn it a couple times?

Anyway - I am particularly in love with this one Cheap Store. I will not share its name, as those who know me - know of which store I speak. And those who don't know me, well, you really shouldn't be judging someone you don't know, now should you?

The point, is that today is the first day of a well-deserved vacation and I thought it was appropriate to celebrate by buying some cheap ass clothes.

I dutifully traveled to the Cheap Store to see what loveliness I might find to cram into my closet.

On a side note - I usually hit the Cheap Store at 10:01am on Saturday mornings, as it's right next door to a bookstore/coffee shop and that ain't a bad way to spend a Saturday morning. So, I am not exactly used to running into actual patrons of the Cheap Store, as I show up one minute past opening and am out of there in 20 minutes flat. It's just me and the teeny tiny shopkeeper chippies and that's always worked just fine for me.

As you might guess, at 7pm on the day before a big holiday weekend - it's a little busier. Not only busier, but jam packed. Not just jam packed, but packed with people who one might not consider socialites of the highest order. In fact, I walked into some kind of bizarre milieu where everyone was loud, everyone was bumping into me and everyone was yanking their kids by the arm (the ones that actually had any idea where their kids were - hint: peeking under my dressing room door). In fact, one patron (who sadly had hit the Mad Dog 20/20 a little hard before she went clothes shopping) was actually getting the boot as I was exiting my dressing room - careful not to step on the little street urchin who had previously been staring at my potential purchase and yelling - "That's really orange!"

Even though I'd considered buying the "really" orange shirt, I left it on the return rack and exited the Cheap Store with as much haste as my flip flops would allow.

It left me feeling a little icky and remembering the adage - you are what you eat. But what if you are also where you shop? That was more than I was willing to consider and so I rushed a few stores down and popped into my books and coffee shop. I tried to melt in with the snobby books and coffee people. And while I can get snooty with the snobbiest, there is the teeniest tiniest part that is probably also just a cheap ass bitch.