Hips *DO* Lie

It’s been hot lately in Chicago. I mean, I’m not complaining. Considering how just a few months ago I was complaining how frickin’ cold it was outside.

Now that Hubby’s here with me permanently, I have to admit that I’ve been using him (and our car) as my primary means to get to work. Because sometimes getting to work in a sweltery mess (when I’m supposed to be lookin’ all professional and sh*t) is not always a pleasant thing. Yeah … like I’ve always said. I don’t “glisten” like most women do. I down and out sweat. Like a hog.

I’m spoiled, I know. In many counts. But in this scenario, the fact that I get  air-conditioned door-to-door “valet” service in the morning is wonderful. That, and the absolutely spectacular view I get of Lake Michigan every morning is downright overindulgence.

So yes, that’s how I find myself getting to listen to morning talk radio on the 7 mile/20 minute ride into work every morning. And truth be told, I have missed that part of my daily commute with my previous employment.

Morning talk radio is absolute smut. But seriously, that’s how I tend to get my latest celebrity gossip. (How do you think Hubby heard about the scheduled Johnny Depp appearance?) That, and my daily laughs of stupid conversation topics. Like the worst advice your parent may have given you. Or the worst back-handed compliment someone may have said to you.

That last one was spurred by the description Marlon Brando apparently made about Jackie Onassis in an unpublished passage of his biography. If you hadn’t heard the latest news, Brando and Jackie O. allegedly had an affair about a year after JFK was assassinated. He described her as having “boyish hips” and a “muscular frame.”

Now, as a non-girly girl, I don’t find anything offensive about that comment. But I suppose if I was seen as the fashion icon of the ’60’s … it would be considered a slap in the face.

And that’s how radio listeners began to call in with various back-handed compliments they had received in the past. One woman called in saying that a blind date told her over dinner that she was “stocky” and then made things worse by rescinding it back and calling her “healthy.”

Apron Strings on them "Child-bearing Hips"
Apron Strings on them "Child-bearing Hips"

Another woman called in about a shoe salesman who told her that her legs and ankles were “pretty thick.”

So of course I had to turn to Hubby and tell him the worse compliment that I can remember being told. And that was that I had excellent “child-bearing hips.”

For the life of me, I can’t remember who had told me that. But I do remember that it was prior to marrying Hubby. Which would mean that it would be before Hubby and I even started trying to “bear children.”

And even though I do have a large-ish ba-dunk-a-dunk, which is supported by them wide hips of mine … it still stings a bit when I remember that “compliment.” Especially after all the years of my hips failing to bear those children.

D*mnit. Shakira was wrong. Apparently, hips *do* lie.

Okay, so ‘fess up, blog world. What’s the worst compliment anyone has given to you?

Emily Goes Stalkerazzi

293Oh yes. The day has come.

The day where Emily takes being a fan to another level. And becomes a fanatic.

But d*mn, was it worth it!

Let me paint the picture. As I’m busy at work earlier in the morning, preparing for a day chalk-ful of meetings and more meetings, I receive a phone call from Hubby.

“I know where you need to be later tonite,” Hubby tells me. And as I question him why, he tells me, “You need to be at the AMC River East tonite.”

“Because … ??”

“Because it’s the premiere of ‘Public Enemies‘ and Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are supposed to be there.”

“Really?!,” I just about screamed, as my cubicle neighbor looked up from shuffling songs on his iPod.

294“Really,” Hubby confirms.

And so that’s all I needed to hear. Hubby, the awesome husband that he is, met me after work and accompanied me to the downtown movie theatre off of Illinois Street in Chicago. And there, on the barricaded street, we waited along with the thousands of other fans.

Patience finally paid off as we started to see unmarked black SUV’s pull into the street. And a few moments later, we began to hear screams from the crowd. First Christian Bale came out to the crowd to sign some autographs. Then, after more screaming and a walk down the red carpet to the media tent … my man, Johnny Depp hit the street. And walked down to greet his fans.

Lucky me, happened to be towards the very end of the street where Johnny decided to begin his trip. And also lucky for me, I managed to be up against the barricade.

Oh yes, girls. I got face-to-face, up close and personal to the one celebrity my awesome husband once gave me permission to leave him for.

295As Johnny was about three fans away from me, I tried to help this tween-age girl move up to see Johnny and get his autograph. But then the crowd around us pushed us up against the barricade. Johnny happened to notice that and paused in front of us long enough to make sure she was okay before signing her book. Then as he looked at me through those blue-tinted sunglasses, he reached out and squeezed my arm.

Seriously, people. If Johnny asked me to run off with him to a faraway island at that very moment, I wouldn’t have given a second thought. (Sorry, Hubby. But you did give me permission … )

But of course, we all know Johnny wouldn’t have done that. And in reality, I could never leave the incredible man that is my husband. Because even though he doesn’t own a Caribbean island and make millions of dollars like Johnny does … I am absolutely in love with my Hubby; the one man who allows me to go all Stalkerazzi and still loves me for who I am.

And now, for your enjoyment (and mine) …


The Zen of Yin and Yang

Anybody that has ever met me knows that I have two left feet.

Okay … so the Filipina in me can, at the very least, dance to a beat. But put me in a pair of heels (or heck, even flat shoes give me problems), and I can’t even walk a straight line without tripping.

I can even fall down while laying in bed. Seriously. Okay, so that part was really caused by Hubby turning over and taking all the blankets that I was lying on top of … but nonetheless, it was ME that fell on the floor.

290The other day, as Hubby and I strolled the streets of the Magnificent Mile, I contemplated how throughout my life I’ve always been at one extreme or the other. I’ve thought about how I’ve either been extremely happy or in the throws of despair. Or I’ve either totally loved my job or completely hated it to the point of quitting. Or I’ve felt completely optimistic about IVF to being downright pessimistic about my infertility.

And then I tripped. (D*mn Crocs on uneven pavement …)

After being caught by Hubby and subsequently asked how my “trip” was … I thought about the irony of my last “fall.” Tripping when contemplating how unbalanced my life is.

So after I regained my footing, I began to contemplate whether my life has always been unbalanced. Much like I’ve always had two left feet. Had I always seen things so black and white? Did I always approach life in a yin and yang type of manner?

291Hubby seems to think I do not. That I tend to see things in this manner only when there is some sort of major disruption in my life. Whether it’s IVF / Infertility or work-related issues … or even any “fun” situations like moving to Chicago or traveling to different places … it seems that I try to garner control of things by seeing them as “relative” yes or no situations. Right. Or wrong.

And looking back at any “interesting” moments in life, I realize that Hubby is absolutely right. The times in my life where I’ve had no control over any situation are the times that I felt most “unbalanced. Unfortunately, it’s also those type of situations that I always tend to focus on rather than the “uneventful” peaceful times in my life.

Why think about those lazy Sunday afternoons where Hubby and I sit at the local cafe and read, drink coffee and otherwise relax? Not when I can spend the time obsessing over whether or not I’m doing a good enough job in my new boss’s eyes. Why get excited over our recent move to the Windy City and all the new places we get to explore this summer when I can worry about whether I made the right decision to move? Why think about how d*mn unfair it is that other women can get pregnant at the drop of a hat when I can think about how much of an impact I may (or may not) have made on my nephew’s life?

292So after that last literal trip, I decided that I should focus on the wonderful aspect of every day life. And that I shouldn’t take for granted something as simple as Hubby catching my arm as I trip over my two left feet. Because it’s those little things … those every day wonderful thoughtful things that provide the balance that I need in those otherwise chaotic, uncontrollable moments in life.

Time Warp

There’s a radio show on the Detroit airwaves that I love listening to on any given Sunday morning. It’s a show on a station that, back in the late 80’s/early 90’s, was the first major station to play alternative music. (And when I talk about alternative music … I’m not referring to the mainstream alterna-sh*t that gets played over and over again. I’m referring to music that was only played on college radio stations or late late night on local public radio.)

Unfortunately, since a certain company took over management of commercial airwaves, we’ve been relegated to a snippet of time on Sunday Mornings where this particular station can play that kind of classic alternative music. This show, of all things, is called Time Warp.

Sunday mornings have got to be one of my most favorite times during the week. It’s the time where I can either sleep in or wake up early and relish the absolute peace and quiet of the day. It’s the moment during the week where Hubby & I can go out for an early breakfast or a leisurely brunch. And well, having the ability to listen to “my kind” of alternative music during that moment in time? Well, it caps off what I could consider a perfect morning.

Why am I bringing this all up late on a Thursday night? Well, it’s because I’m resurrecting an old post from my other blog. And I’m doing that  … well, quite frankly because I haven’t had time to sit down and write a proper post since last week.

But I promise … a new one sometime this weekend.

Without further ado … here is my “Time Warp”:

***

As You Wish …

Also known as the “Not-So-Funny Thought of the Day

Okay, so on one of the blogs I read there was discussion of favorite movies to watch. One of them mentioned that “The Princess Bride” was one of their favorite movies.

I totally agree. That movie probably ranks as one of my top movies of all time. If it’s ever on TV and I’m randomly flipping through channels, I would always settle on watching it again.

But then I thought (again, always a bad thing) of one of the most famous lines in that movie. Yes, you know … the one that Vizzini always says when he is utterly shocked, suprised and dismayed …

INCONCEIVABLE!

Wow. In the infertile world that I live in, that’s a pretty appropriate saying …

Forty-plus Days

In the Catholic-Filipino tradition, a 9-day novena is held immediately after the death of a loved one. On the 40th day, a mass is held in commemoration of this loved one as it is believed that this is the day they’ve ascended into the heavens. It’s also the day where the act of “mourning” (wearing black, for example) officially concludes. It’s supposed to be the time where a person is supposed to outwardly “show” that they’ve began to “move on” with everyday life.

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Yet another "borrowed" picture from another cousin

Except … anyone that has ever mourned the loss a love one (or heck, even the loss of anything in life — like the ability to have children, for instance) knows that grief doesn’t last for a set moment in time. Life doesn’t just miraculously get better after 40 days, several months or even years. If anything, grief is a process that must be worked through completely before a person can successfully move on.

Sometime last week was the 40th day anniversary of my Grandma Rose‘s passing. In all honestly, the date escaped me. It wasn’t until I saw pictures of a celebration at my Uncle’s house on my cousin‘s Facebook page that I remembered. And if the rest of my Mom’s family in the U.S. didn’t live on the East Coast, I might have been there celebrating with them. Instead, I celebrated with them in spirit; once again reflecting back on the incredible life my 99-year old Grandmother.

This past Monday, on Memorial Day of all days, I happened to get the first part of an incredible gift in my email inbox. This same cousin, who posted pictures of the 40th day celebration, sent me … along with the rest of my cousins and Aunts/Uncles in her email address book … a scanned copy of a notebook written by Grandma Rose.

290About 32 pages in length and written about twenty years ago, this handwritten notebook told the most basic lifestory of my grandmother in her own words. She had left it to my cousin, who took it upon herself to scan in each page and send it to all of us.

It was absolutely wonderful to read these pages and physically see it my Grandma’s own handwriting. Many of the accounts she documented were stories that I can remember her telling me. Other stories were ones that were passed down to me from my own Mom. But reading them now … well, they brought back such warm memories of listening to my Grandma Rose tell these stories and being fascinated on how life in the Philippines was so different than my own.

For years, we had told Grandma that she should write all these stories down … that she had lived such an interesting life. While many of these stories never made it into writing, I still feel incredibly blessed that Grandma left her own legacy behind and in her own words.

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Last night, after I finished reading these pages I, once again, felt this incredible closeness with my Grandma Rose. It felt as if she was right there next to me, telling me these stories like she did when I was little. It felt as if I could put my arms around her and hug her, while she read aloud to me what she wrote.

And just like that, the tears sprung up again. Because then I realized how much I missed her and still miss her. Even after these 40-plus days.

***

And because the number 40 always reminds me of this song … I have to pay homage to one of my favorite bands of all time. I have this vivid memory of being home sick one day in high school and watching “Live at Red Rocks: Under a Blood Red Sky” … so it’s this clip I had to post.

For those that don’t know, this song is based on the Bible’s Psalm 40. Which … given how spiritual my Grandma Rose was … is incredibly appropriate. Enjoy.