I had some shopping drama this weekend...not so much about how much to spend, but what to buy?!

I've been so remiss about dressing categories (business casual, evening wear, etc), that my closet has evolved into a blur of casual funk (like I said before, it's dangerous to let your inner-teenager do your clothes shopping). Let's face it, I am not Carrie Bradshaw (from Sex and the City - LOVE THAT SHOW!). Not only do I not have her freespirit lifestyle (how she supported herself on a columnists salary in New York city is another issue), but I do not have the movie star cache to support any of my fashion missteps (sometimes Carrie did look a little silly), and sometimes my thirty-four going on thirteen mini-skirt and tank-top is not going to equal serious professinal in office America.

So, today, while every fiber of my being gravitated to a sequined tank top, I had to have my wonderful friend Dana, take me by the hand and put in it a basic black button down shirt. It was a seminal purchase in my thirties life.

Just for today, I can dress like an adult.

I may as well eat red plastic, but nonetheless, just for today, the sight of that bright neon red tub sitting in the office kitchen is a temptation beyond my control.

I must have a psychic sign on my forehead that reads, "talk to me about your sex life!" because last night, this morning, and this afternoon three separate friends felt very comfortable unloading the gory sordid details of their various bedroom lives to my non-judgemental born-again-virgin (anyone who hasn't had sex in a year...according to my friend in college) ears. While I am honored to have the confidence of these fabulous ladies, I'm taking this as a sign that it's time to give up the mourning period of my last relationship and start dating...already...(sigh).

Why am I writing about this in blog daylight?

Well...if I'm expected to post an ad on some Internet Dating site (so that I'm, according to my friends, "open to the universe") which sounds about as much fun as job hunting (and almost as sexy as licking my computer screen), then I may as well write in my blog about the fact that, quite frankly, I'M AVAILABLE!

It's not that I'm desprate (in fact, I'm feeling more da bombish than ever), but I'm genuinely worried that I could spend the next 15 years living in my single pad apartment, feeling superior to people in dysfunctinal marriages, helping lost boys find a good male therapist and waking up at 49 and...well, it doesn't sound quite so bad. But I want kids! And a husband to deal with the barbecue! And stuff! Like houses, and dish sets, and lots of crap in the garage! It's really about time that I got all yuppified and normal and stopped scaring my friends from college with my blatant disregard for the establishment.

Just for today, being single is fun (see blog below), but it's time to start dating.

....which is not hard to pick up on, as I'm a terrible actress when it comes to preserving the dignity of my appearances.

Aside from work, the most exciting thing that happened to me all week was getting felt up by my male doctor. Ok, so he didn't really feel me up, he gave me a "breast exam." Come on, is there really that big of a difference?! If I didn't find him somewhat attractive (in a disturbing patriarchal Republican sort of way), I guess you could say he was doing his job. But being a very prudent (hard up) participant in the social dating world (hahahah), it felt like action to me.

I'M JUST KIDDING, EVERYONE (and by everyone, I mean mom, grandma, and any other family)!!! My doctor is actually a very nice man (even if he does prescribe antibiotics like their tic tacs) who is dedicated to his work. I'm just reaching a new milestone of singlehood...!

In truth, though, I am really enjoying being single for once in my life. It's a million times better than the dysfunction junction that I had confused with relationships. Beside the firm body, youth is highly overrated. It's much more gratifying to have a grip on reality and know one's limitations.

Just for today, I am happy to be single.

My father has undergone a dramatic change in the last few years. I try not to question it, lest I jinx it, but it has resulted in new behaviors, many wonderful, some a little strange. At any given moment he might break into his Samba dance moves, or wax poetic about Dionyses (I am not making this up). However, this afternoon when I walked to his SUV and saw a bumper sticker that says, "WELL BEHAVED WOMEN SELDOM MAKE HISTORY," stuck onto his (MY FATHER'S!) car, I thought he'd had gone completely insane.

"Your aunt gave that to me for Christmas," he casually said.

My aunt giving him a feminist bumper sticker sounds about right. My father PUTTING IT ON HIS CAR, is about as predictable as catching Dick Cheney whimpering at a screening of "Brokeback Mountain."

Just for today, I have yet more evidence that anything in life is possible.

I've been in NY for five days visiting my sister at NYU and friends from college. Even as a visiting tourist I feel compelled to walk quickly and with a purpose. This is a fantastic city, but I have to say I'm a California hippy at heart. My natural speed is significantly slower...and I live in LA (not exactly a sleepy town). I'm not sure exactly where in NY I can go to express that part of me that wants to speak in non-sequiters and stare into the ether (do any Pisces actually live in NY?)...but if there is a place, it's definitely below ground in the subway.

Last night a guy got on my car and announced that he was from outer space and was here to save us by playing a song on his trumpet (he was quite good). After his song he told us that he was going to take George Bush away and asked for a collection to support his mission. At which point I, and most people handed over some money.

Just for today, I heart NY.

I'm visiting my sister at NYU. While in her dorm room I noticed a sticker of a yearbook senior photo of some guy stuck on her radiator. I asked her about it and she replied, "Oh, that's Sticker Steve. The yearbook screwed up his picture and gave him thousands of stickers with his picture on it. We've pasted them all over our home town and even in Europe."

It reminded me of when I was ten and my grandparents gave me thousands of pencils with my name on them. Maybe it wasn't thousands, but it was enough to create a diaspora of pencils over the next few years to the far reaches of my local universe. Without any apparent effort on my part, my pencils turned up everywhere and were often seen in the hands of people with little or no connection to me. One time someone saw the Korean owner of the local corner store near my junior high writing with one of my pencils. Even after I graduated high school, my pencils could still be occassionally found in my aunt's desk. I couldn't get rid of them.

While hearing about Sticker Steve I realized that I no longer own a single one of those pencils and I felt strangely sad. When an era is finally over I always wonder why I was so eager for it to pass?

Just for today, I can own my pencil legacy.

I'm visiting my sister at NYU. While in her dorm room I noticed a sticker of a yearbook senior photo of some guy stuck on her radiator. I asked her about it and she replied, "Oh, that's Sticker Steve. The yearbook screwed up his picture and gave him thousands of stickers with his picture on it. We've pasted them all over our home town and even in Europe."

It reminded me of when I was ten and my grandparents gave me thousands of pencils with my name on them. Maybe it wasn't thousands, but it was enough to create a diaspora of pencils over the next few years to the far reaches of my local universe. Without any apparent effort on my part, my pencils turned up everywhere and were often seen in the hands of people with little or no connection to me. One time someone saw the Korean owner of the local corner store near my junior high writing with one of my pencils. Even after I graduated high school, my pencils could still be occassionally found in my aunt's desk. I couldn't get rid of them.

While hearing about Sticker Steve I realized that I no longer own a single one of those pencils and I felt strangely sad. When an era is finally over I always wonder why I was so eager for it to pass?

Just for today, I can own my pencil legacy.

I spent my entire therapy session flat on my back on the floor. No, this is not some new fangled way of releasing blocked negative feelings from my childhood. I pinched a nerve in my back this morning (probably as a result of some blocked negative feelings from my childhood...) and spent the whole day walking sideways or flat on the floor (I managed to find a way to lie on my chair). The point is, I got to see my therapist's office in a totally new light...literally, she has a skylight and some really lovely oak beams. Here I had spent so much time admiring her color coordinated furniture, wall decorations, and carpet that I had forgotten to look up and see what a damn cool ceiling she has. It was also an interesting perspective on my therapist (slightly up the nose).

Just for today, I can see things from new perspectives.

I'm going to enjoy this moment. Yes, it's that time of month when my eyebrows and my toes look perfect (because I just got a pedicure and an eyebrow fix). Normally, I wait until my eyebrows are all scraggly to appreciate the time when they were these finely plucked perfect arches above my eyes.

This past week I mistook not one, but two gay men for heterosexuals. It seems that straight men have been so metrosexualized that my normally non-functioning gaydar is even more challenged. What is going on out there?! Why can't things be simple?!

At least I have a pedicure.

Just for today, I can be grateful for the little things.