Category Archives: Reality

It’s Resort Time, Folks!

Let’s get one thing straight. I’m a mom. And as much as I don’t like to admit it, a Suburban Mom. I’ve even been a Soccer Mom – complete with mandatory Soccer Mom Tahoe – for three straight seasons. So my idea of a resort is my bedroom, at night, with a quiet house, a cup of tea and a stack of books to peruse. Maybe some yoga or Pilates from my DVD collection (even though Rodney Yee in his blue Speedo distracts from my Zen). Oh, and unlimited time. And the stamina to actually stay awake during this ‘resort time.’

Apparently that’s wrong. See, I’ve been a watcher of enough Real Housewives to know that Resort Season is coming. Really soon. And that means that I should be getting my wardrobe packed and ready, my social calendar organized for one thing – High Season. My mailbox agrees. In the past two weeks I’ve gotten enough Athleta, Vicki’s Secret, DSW and BCBG Resort Collection catalogs to outfit ten women for High Season ten years into the future. My Facebook wall is full of destinations, workout tips and beach-ready skin tips as well. Oh, and emails from Fit Magazine to ‘Suck it up so you won’t have to suck it in’ bikini season workout tips. This should be my focus because everyone hits the Caribbean for High Season, right?

WTHeck? Who are these people? Who does this? Do any actual living, breathing real moms-without-nannies seriously hit the sand in St. Barth’s, Grand Cayman or St. Croix this time of year? I’m just now getting into my winter sweater rotation! Bikini body? Who are they kidding? All the Christmas goodies are just now settling into my muffin top for at least two more months of hibernation, and looking forward to their Valentines Day friends.

Oh, yeah. Now I remember. I’ve met some of these people. I used to teach in an area where, now that I think about it, the common theme this time of year was so-called Soccer Moms heading out for their tennis lessons, hair extensions and spray tan appointments. In prep for the Winter Vaca. Destinations, anyone? Forget Cancun. We’re talking Colombia, Belize, Cabo, etc. And resorts? Forget that. These ladies would take the fam to one of these fab destinations and stay in a House. Not a time share. A House. Complete with Staff. As in, a maid, a cook, a butler and a driver. Kids would come back and write about ‘how I swam with the dolphins at Cabo.,’ or ‘how many animals my dad bagged on safari.’ I’m not kidding, folks. 

My kids write about ‘how many cigarette butts we found on the beach at Galveston’ or ‘how many rocks we threw in Lake Lewisville.’ That’s our reality. And frankly, it’s a heck of a lot more fun in my opinion. Granted, my childhood idea of heaven was playing in the treehouse us neighborhood kids built in a vacant lot down the street, sucking the honey out of the honeysuckle in my friend’s yard and biking to the 7-Eleven for candy with our allowance money. But you know what? We had fun. It makes me sad that my minions have to miss out on some of that because of how much the world has changed since then. I worry about what’s going to happen to these jaded eleven year old world travelers when they hit college or the working world – and it’s Ramen noodles and a budget. Reality check, anyone?

So back to the topic at hand. Thanks to my inbox, Facebook and actual snail mail, I now know exactly what facial creams, microdermabrasion devices, nips, tucks, cosmetics and overpriced pieces of dental floss (apparently this is what the High Season Crowd uses for swimming) I need in order to survive High Resort Season in style. Whew! Thank goodness!

Now, if I could just find my kid’s lunchbox – from last school year – that ‘disappeared’ into the closet and get my cat to stop peeing on the couch, I’d really be in business!!

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Filed under High Season, Real Housewives, Reality, Resort Fashion, Vacation

It’s All Subjective Anyway

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About philosophy and reality. Heavy stuff, I know. That whole idea from Descartes about reality being just a figment of our imagination. Both scary and king of thought provoking or tempting at the same time. I mean, if I could just imagine a totally different life tomorrow? Take away all the crap and have it the way I want it? Man, who wouldn’t want that?

What I really need right now is a ‘Q’ moment. Like that one episode of TNG where Q shows Picard how his life would have been different – drastically – because of one simple choice. Wish I could just look at that and see.

And why is it that memory is so subjective? Probably because it involves people. How can two people remember – or not remember – an event so incredibly differently? I mean, I can remember every detail of one past New Year’s Eve as clearly as if it were yesterday. After spending the evening with friends, a dear friend and I struck out on our own to look at lights and hang out – and ended up in one of those horrible, logical, non-shouting big deal ‘discussions.’ I remember what they said. I remember the pain – it cut me to the core and didn’t stop. I cried and cried. I cried for two days, basically – until my eyes swelled so much that I had to go to the ER to get my contacts taken out because my eyeballs were so swollen. I held onto that hangdog pathetic ‘poor me’ attitude for a while. But it didn’t work. It didn’t solve the problem.

So what happened? My competitive streak kicked in. I was going to show them. Prove that I could be smarter, prettier, thinner, more talented and a better friend than anyone else could be. That didn’t work either. Still doesn’t, sadly enough.

And my friend? They don’t remember any of it. None. Zero. Zilch. They remember only that our friendship was peaceful and happy the entire year.

How is that? I mean, really? Can they really not remember? Or are they lying? I can’t think of any reason why they would have to lie to me now, after all this time. It just seems really Matrix-like that I have all of these detailed memories – and they don’t Just a vague sense of contentment and happiness. Any what really sucks is that I’m the one carrying around the negative stuff. Not them. Me.

Why is that? Is it just my tendency toward the negative? My cursedly accurate memory? Or is that really not how things went down at all – and just my skewed perspective of events?

It’s weird. Really weird. Definitely something to ponder – what if the people we know and situations in which we find ourselves are all just figments of our imagination?

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Filed under Choices, Memory, Perspective, Reality, Star Trek