Friday, October 21, 2011

Home Ownership = Marriage?

It's been almost 3 years since I bought my place, which is hard for me to believe. That means that I've lived in my place a year longer than I've lived in any place in my adult life.

You see, kids, besides being a people pleaser who hates people, I'm also a commitment-phobe who's afraid of taking chances.

This was no doubt a big decision and the most stressful decision I've made in my life so far. It's also occurred to me that home-ownership is a lot like what I think marriage is like: Most days you're content, if not happy, but then there are those days....those days that you think, "This is the worst decision I've ever made in my life. I can't even stand to look at you right now! How could my friends and family have let me make such a horrible decision!!!"

There's more.

I don't know of anyone who hasn't had real-estate buyers remorse or at least questioning at some point. I still find myself stalking my range on MLS listings yelling at the computer, "What?! I could have had that! I wish I'd known that would be a %#$@&(* option!"

Then I have to calm myself down by reminding myself that no place is perfect, and mine's pretty good most of the time. I also try not to think about me possibly being stuck with it for the rest of my life, but if I am, I'm going to make the best out of it.

I know what you're thinking: I'm going to be such a catch for some young man someday.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Southern Women

The Queen Mother, herself via Google Images

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be from Texas. I've done the math, and the way I see it there are at least 40 states crappier than this one. Better to be infamous than not known at all, right? Right.  

Southern women tend to have the same philosophy. Here are a few lessons that my mama, Betty, taught me that like any good daughter I've learned to ignore:

- Wearing black is for a funeral.
- Must always have toenails polished. Always.
- If you got it, flaunt it! (okay, I still follow this one.)
- Marry rich. For God's sake, marry rich! (not that I'm against it. How you doin, Zuckerberg?)

There are tons more, but that's just what comes to mind. I've often thought about what I'd be like if I were raised or lived somewhere else. For example, I can guarantee that if I lived in NYC, I'd probably look like a big ol' lesbian (like, even more than I already do by Dallas standards). Every once and awhile, I'll see something that I think, "If I lived in NYC, I would totally rock this."

Example: Oxford flats or saddle shoes.

I'd loooove a pair of each, but in Dallas, no, that would not fly. Even though they're all over mags and the blogosphere? Why? Because they do nothing for your gams, silly! The horror! I mean, what if  you went out in public without looking like you're about to strut a runway?! Might as well just cut your long, beautiful hair off and join a softball league while you're at it!

Basically, here women are taught at an early age that beauty is the most important feature a woman can have.* Betty was good about teaching me to be independent though, and advised me to watch Gone With the Wind once a year just to see how much more stupid Scarlett seems as I get older. She also used to sing the old Doris Day song to me when I'd get all worried about if I were pretty enough as a kid**:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

I've met some women (from the Midwest and Northeast, respectively) that don't know how to apply lipstick or have never dyed there hair, and I feel like I need to get them into a rehab program or something before the rest of the natives find out!

What about you? Any quirks in your area? 

*And, hopefully like me, were also informed that there will always be someone more beautiful out there, so don't go crazy about it.
**Always a worrier, this one. I was 4 days late when I was born, and it was probably from overthinking the whole ordeal.

Monday, October 17, 2011

I really dislike children.

Here's what I've learned from adopting a 6 year-old fully trained dog at the age of 29: I really can never have children. I already have to do the "I'm so sorry" whisper combined with a wild eyed look when my dog starts barking at other dogs hysterically because she just wants to sniff their butt soooo bad. I tell her these actions make her look desperate. She ignores me. (In case you're trying to figure out where I'm going with this, yes, I am comparing a dog to a child. Just go with it.) I now feel like I understand what those moms are going through when I give them *the look* at Target because their kid is acting a fool.

And, in case you're wondering, yes, I do follow a ton of mommy blogs. :) They're clever, people!