Here is a picture taken from a distance of a red wine spill on my white tile. (I know, I hate this part of my house. White tile is dumb.)

I’m almost bummed my housekeeper will wipe it away tomorrow. Until then, it stays. And reminds me of love.

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Facials are scary for kids.

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But more than that, a kid has made me appreciate the smaller things in life. Like quality time with people I adore and the simple and sweet gestures (not the middle finger kind of gesture).

Before she entered my life, I would have expected recognition and quite frankly, a HUGE birthday bash on any October 3rd in celebration of my birthday. But now, the simple fact that she remembers and does little things to make me feel special for a day make my heart smile. It not about the extravagant gifts and public acknowledgment that it once was. There I said it…that all used to matter to me. And my ex husband was talented at doing this well. Call me spoiled, shallow, entitled, whatever. That may have been the case back then.

But once Elle came along, it all changed.

The other day I opened a calendar I keep specifically for her schedule. I turned to October and found this…

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Those who know me might think this is impossible. I’m a girl that thinks camping is staying in a less than 4 star hotel or a place without a minibar in the room.

With this in mind, I knew I had to take pictures along the way. You know, to prove that I’m officially outdoorsy.

First, here’s what I wore. A white linen skirt. Super campy. Oh and flip flops with a  proper french pedicure. I bring sophistication to the outdoors.

This is the spot where I camped. Near the water. For all you wilderness survivors, I’m sure this makes sense to you. But check out the natural beauty. Snowcapped mountains in the background, blue skies, decorative reeds. Those things are tall. Really brings height to this lounging area.

I had to have bubbly on Sunday, and when you’re in the wild, sometimes you get more than just bubbly. Yep, that’s a bug. Which was flicked out of my plastic drinking cup and the liquid was consumed.  Once again, just proving that I’m super outdoorsy.

This is where I should have taken lots of pictures. But I didn’t. At least not ones I want to share.

On the drive back in to civilization. Yeah, this is the bitter sweet moment, but honestly I was kind of sad. Had to capture all the emotions.

One last shot of me…unshowered, wind blown hair, slightly kissed by the sun, 100% relaxed.

So do you believe me? I may have to trade in my Mercedes for a pop up top van or something. Okay, maybe not. But I did have fun.

For those of you wanting more detail…here goes it. I was about 25 miles north west of my house. For an ENTIRE afternoon. And I survived. *reaching arms wide for your congratulatory hug*

Blissful really.

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If you’ve had sex here then you’re automatically a member of the Mile High Club. I joined years ago. More than once. Lots of travel and transatlantic flights helped my membership to this club.

In this photo I’m backed up against the wall and holding the camera up to the ceiling. I’m about 5′ 3″ and I can touch the ceiling.

Being in here now, I can’t imagine how it worked back then.

Maybe now I’m just a germaphobe and can’t imagine sitting my bare ass up on that metal sink.

Or maybe I’m just too sober.

Or maybe they started making these airplane bathrooms smaller.

Or maybe now I’m no longer up for crazy fun.

Whatever it is, I plan to conquer this adventure again. First I need to pound several stiff drinks, grab a slim guy, put on a body condom and jump in.

Are you a member of the club?

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Let me guess…a man (with a very happy wife) thought of this company name.

Classic.

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Question: Can you get me a glass of wine?

Answer: Absolutely.

Question: Want to cook me dinner?

Answer: Hell yeah.

Question: Want to help me with this project?

Answer: Yes.

Those are just some of the examples where an affirmative answer is the only one I want.

Well…

Yesterday I was in the middle of an amazing workout with my trainer and I asked a question.  I was on pike #14 when it happened. You know pikes? The horrific exercise where your hands are on the ground (like your doing a push up) and shins are on an exercise ball and you roll the ball to your feet while piking your butt up in the air making a “V” shape. It’s a killer core muscle workout. My trainer had me do a few sets of 20. I died.  Before my death, I asked a question. Mostly because my t-shirt was slipping towards my chin everytime I made the “V” shape. Side note: I was wearing t-shirt, yoga pants, sports bra and a standard g-string.

Question to trainer: Are my panties showing?

Hoping to hear an answer I normally don’t want to hear. Such as “NO!” or “not at all” or “you’re fine”.

Without skipping a beat, my trainer said “Yes!”

I fell off the ball. Tucked in my shirt. And pulled up my pants as high as I could on my waist. Then I finished my remaining 6 pikes.

All with a red face.

I hate pikes.

Well the other day I had a revelation. Of course, this thought isn’t new to me. However it hit me so hard the other day, I was stopped in my tracks.

I need to get control. Not over people. Not over things out of my control. But with things that are 100% in my control.

• spending – I buy whatever I want, without any thought to cost
• eating out – I eat out most days for lunch and several nights a week for dinner (this doesn’t help my calorie intake or my spending)
• imbibing – I drink frequently (1-2+ glasses of wine every night!)

These are all things I have set limits on before and done successfully. But for some reason they all feel like they have spun out of control recently.

And by losing control over these things, I seem to have gained everything (mostly bank fees and weight). I don’t want those things!

So here’s to getting a grip on my life. And I started last night…by eating homemade, healthy soup (Don’t freak out. Yes I cooked!  And yes it was fabulous.), skipping wine and not spending money to eat out.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I plan to still eat, drink wine and spend. But in moderation. For example, I don’t need to have a glass of wine EVERY night. I can drink it several times a week and still feel okay. I also plan to still spend money. I make it. I can spend it. But I need to put some limits on how much I spend. I have lofty long term goals, like living as a rich person when I retire, and this takes some restraint now. I plan to eat out, but not everyday at lunch and most nights at dinner. I will force myself to cook at home and/or bring a lunch to work.

Wish me luck!

What things do you have to limit in your life?

A few weekends ago, I went to Napa Valley. This is my heaven. I love Napa. This love affair began when I was in college and dating a wine master. We spent a gazillion weekends up there. But since I moved to Utah 15 years ago, I’ve only been back to thearea a few times. Napa mixes all the things I love: wine + mild temperatures + sun + wine + friendly people + green + beautiful estates + wine+  magnificent food + everything Napa Valley.

In an effort to combine Wino Wednesday and Wordless Wednesday, you can experience my trip with pictures and very little text. I love that I can have solid justification for not putting too many words in this post. I’ve not been in the mood to write much lately.

So the story goes like this…

I took a large suitcase with lots of extra room to bring back wine. Found a place that shipped it to me so didn’t need the space in the end. I had a morning flight and started my day with vodka and cranberry juice. I’ve got to stay healthy! Vitamin C, people.  

I flew in to Sacramento airport. I love their baggage claim area. Crafty for that town.

The view from our villa was awesome. There were cows grazing in the hills behind us. The cows are the black spots. Me soaking up the sun first thing Saturday morning. It felt so good. Don’t mind the natural look, but I had just rolled out of bed to enjoy this.

First stop on Saturday, where I fell in love, was Gloria Ferrar. Just to be clear…I fell in love with the amazing sparkling wine. We went to several other wineries, but I got sidetracked and forgot to take photos.

Gloria Ferrar was so impressive, we went back on Sunday. I kept my champagne Sunday tradition by enjoying a few more glasses of bubbly. Which were served to us. While sitting in the sunshine. And looking out at the amazing view.

On our way out of town, I fell in love again. This time with a vineyard on the hill.

And this is my story.  And this is how it left me…

Super happy with a smile that can’t get any bigger.

Blue skies. Sunshine. Vineyards. Bubbly. Love. This makes me happy.

What makes you happy?

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Of course, I love any day in my weekend. However I have started to love Sundays the most. It is my free day. I try to take care of all my errands and chores on Saturday so I have the entire day on Sunday to relax and do whatever.

And here are what my Sundays are for…

• Sun (or snow in the winter).
• Champagne
• Sheets, clean ones
• Sunkissed tan skin
• Celebration – of life, love and all good things
• Settling down – after a blissful weekend and charging up for the week ahead
• Soaking in the hot tub
• Showering in the evening – before slipping into my clean sheets
• Sexy, sensual and silly – enjoying all things which are that
• Shows – it’s one of my favorite nights to catch up on my DVR’ed shows
• Skin – keep it bare with no makeup
• Sag – NO BRA day, of course, mine don’t sag any more

So here’s to the best day of the week. Sunday. Cheers. *clink*

]]> http://www.offthechest.net/2010/03/21/sundays-are-for/feed/ 0 http://www.offthechest.net/2010/03/10/im-a-matchmaker/ http://www.offthechest.net/2010/03/10/im-a-matchmaker/#comments Wed, 10 Mar 2010 17:00:35 +0000 Susan Mercedes http://www.offthechest.net/?p=5707

Photo courtesy of www.scientificamerican.com

Seriously I have succeeded in an unplanned new path! No, I’m not trying to trap a guy by getting pregnant. That’s not my thing. Mainly because my tummy is flat and I’d hate to stretch it out again.

I officially stand at a 100% success rate for successfully setting up people. I’m a matchmaker. I’m a human love connector. That shit deserves an award. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PEOPLE! That’s epic.

Let me share a specific story to illustrate my success.

My dear friend (and waxer) was single 3 years ago. So was a guy I worked with. Both had been in other relationships prior. And I’d had known both for many years before that.

One day I had a brilliant idea. I’d set them up.

So we did it. Sight unseen. They both agreed to meet for a cocktail. I agreed to join them with another decoy…the boy’s best friend.

That was July 3rd, 2007.

Soon it will be July 3rd, 2010. And guess who will be getting married that day? They will. Adorable, right?

Here’s my secret. I only set up people who will hit it off for the long haul. And by people, I mean two very specific people. SO WHAT that this is the only couple I’ve ever set up! It worked. And I’m taking all the credit.

Maybe I’ll get a free wax job out of this. Do they call those things wax jobs? Boy does that sound like something worse.

I was at a friend’s house recently and felt super uncomfortable while peeing. Then I realized why. The toilet paper direction was opposite of how I keep mine.

I’m an over girl. Always. Under is just wrong. Thankfully all hotels agree with me or I’d have all sorts of problems staying in them. And if that were the case, I’d have to camp. Which would turn me into a hippie (see step #8). And I can’t do that!

I’ve been known to change the toilet paper direction at other people’s homes without realizing what I’m doing.

So please, tell me what you think. I’d like to confirm that I do it the right way so I can change the world. One roll at a time. Because that’s how I roll…small actions that eventually change the world.

Because when you order take out and you ask for extra spice, you will get this:

FOUR HUGE CONTAINERS OF RICE! And when I say huge, I mean it. I swear each one was stuffed full and weighed five pounds.

Clearly the order taker heard “we’d like extra rice” versus the intended “we’d like extra spice”.

So blame me if crazy things happen that can be traced back to the price of rice in China. And please, don’t tell Dr. Atkins what’s in my fridge. He’d have a heart attack.