Forgive Me Cybergods for I Have Not Blogged..

Forgive me cybergods, for I have not blogged. It's been two months since my last blog entry and I am repentant. As my penance, I have vowed to blog everyday for the rest of my natural born life and if that doesn't stick, I'll respond to every facebook poke and reciprocate every single facebook flair.

It's been a long time since I have blogged but the New Year means a new attitude and a new list of priorities along with the rest of humanity. All this "new" is going to predictably lose its novelty in precisely three months. However, in a moment of levity, (actually the realization that I need a daily brain dump for my own sanity) I have made a promise to myself to include blogging as part of my overall fitness routine (my daily mind exercise) to coincide with working out at the gym to keep gravity in check.

Over the craziness of the holidays and overwhelming pressure of writing deadlines (i.e. paying gigs-yes people really do pay for my words) I missed blogging and realized just how much it helps me make sense of the world around me. I don't have anything profound to say but i do think my neurotic tendency to overthink and hyperobserve lends itself to some interesting insights every now and then. So, for anyone out there who reads this (and it might just be me) I apologize for disappearing from the blogosphere and promise to do better in the New Year. Stay tuned!

Change is in the Air

Have you noticed that the air not only feels different; it smells different? The weather is finally changing in Central Florida and we’ve enjoyed two short lived days of cooler temperatures sans humidity. The sensory novelty of new weather makes us feel more alive, puts a subtle spring in our step, and perks up our moods. There’s something about change; however subtle it may seem, that puts a positive spin on our daily existence. Tonight, many of us are feeling a little anxious about tomorrow. Change is certain tomorrow. We will elect a new president, a new administration and with it the prospect of something different than we now know today. Whether you vote Democrat or Republican, Election Eve is a lot like Christmas Eve for adults, we can’t wait to wake up and find something new. See ya at the polls!

Sign Hawkers-A Sign of the Times!

If the downsizing continues at rapid fire pace, we at least have a new booming job niche to find work-the Sign Hawker. He’s the person at the busy intersection screaming at you while waving assorted signs such as: “Going Out of Business Sale-Everything Must Go!” or “Open House- Buy Your Dream Home Today and Get a Free Pool” or this one-“Condo Auction Today! Below Appraisals.”

Sometimes the occasional grand opening gimmick appears-the guy in a chicken costume advertising the new wings joint or the large dancing cup of coffee pointing to the new gourmet coffee stand. There’s a lot of competition for high traffic turf these days. The crappy economy has humbled many business owners and it seems they are all competing for our attention on the cheap. No more money in the marketing budget for glossy magazine ads and direct mail brochures. Instead, enterprising entrepreneurs have found a way to get around county and city codes that prohibit advertising signs on right aways and grassy medians.

Back when the economy was humming along, the only people standing on street corners waving signs where high school kids promoting car wash fundraisers. Today, this new breed of sign hawker fills a real job description. They are paid in cash by the hour to stand at traffic lights while you are held hostage to the red light for several minutes all the while screaming for your attention with various tactics-some dance, others sing, and the real efficient ones just jump up and down and yell.

My first reaction is to rubberneck and I’m sure there have been a few fender benders from motorists transfixed at the oddities at the intersection. It’s a bizarre marketing tactic and a dangerous one too. The only good that comes out of it is employment for the unemployable-the ones who would stand out on said street corner anyway with a pan handling sign “Out of Work, Hungry. Help!” There’s still quite a few of those too and given the crashing economy, they now have to compete with desperate commerce as well. So, if all else fails we can make some quick cash by wearing a sandwich board for a few hours until we get ticketed for loitering. Or worse, until our neighbor drives by and honks. Hey, every economy has its quirks.

If Only Life Was Like Monopoly-

Since I don’t feel rich these days, I can at least make my fortune with a good game of monopoly. I get to hold a wad of cash, even if it's only monopoly money, and buy up prime real estate, sit on it until the market turns, then capitalize on the subsequent building boom by constructing billions of little green houses and big red hotels then retire early before the next downward cycle. As a side investment, I’d horde all of the Get Out of Jail Free cards to sell to the soon-to-be indicted Wall Street Execs.

Unfortunately, life isn’t like monopoly and lately it hasn’t been fun and games. This past week, I’ve witnessed three casualties of the crummy economy and I am sure the jobless body count will continue. My friends are all victims of corporate downsizing and cutbacks and from various industries-one works in human resources, another in PR and a third, a close colleague of mine, lost his job in TV. Given the cutthroat job market, I have resorted to accepting a few crumbs from the crumbling economy myself –low paying freelance writing gigs for the sake of work because it's slim pickins out there.

A lot like life, at least the kind of lives around here, the object of MONOPOLY is to become the wealthiest player through buying, renting and selling property. It seems Florida has gets a big fat F in this area and everyone is suffering the fallout. Apparently, none of us played monopoly in our childhood. If we had, I’m willing to bet we would’ve learned how to hold onto that wad of monopoly cash with wise investments and realize the banker isn’t our best bud, he’s the enabler.

BTW-If you’re short on cash, you can print more monopoly money from the website. If only the same were true for the US Treasury department.

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Why Did the Turtle Cross the Road?

In one week, I have seen on three different occasions good Samaritans, perfectly looking sane individuals, stop traffic, get out of their car on a busy roadway, and risk their lives to help a turtle cross the road. I’m not sure if it’s turtle mating season, or the turtles are just as restless as the locals, given the dicey economy and daily doom and gloom financial news. But, whatever the turtles’ motivation, these creatures seem to be out in full force on suburban roadways. What is it about a turtle that seems to bring out the best in us? While we might think twice about stopping to help a stranded motorist (easier to dial 9-1-1 we reason-they’re the professionals plus I’m sure Road Ranger or AAA is on its way) Few can resist the silent cry for help from a cute wayward turtle who has ventured into the concrete jungle in search of a pocket of greenery and a pond.

Case in point: Headed down International Parkway mid-day, I pump my brakes as I see the car ahead of me come to a dead stop. My first impulse was to honk the horn at the idiot who stopped short almost causing an accident but then my heart melted as I saw this twenty-something man jump out of his car scoop up a dawdling turtle and walk him safely to the other side of the roadway. Next encounter: I am driving down Lake Emma as I approach two lanes of traffic at a standstill. Yet another good Samaritan saving a turtle as he simultaneously directs traffic with one hand while holding the lost turtle in the other. Then just yesterday, I exit the gates of Lake Forest and stop suddenly: another turtle crossing the road unassisted. A woman in an SUV suddenly jumps out barefooted dressed in her tennis outfit and runs across the on-coming traffic exiting the gates and whisking the turtle away from his certain fate as road kill.

Although I doubt crossing guards for turtles are in the municipal budget, maybe we can designate turtle crossways much like we have those road signs warning motorists of bears and assorted wildlife activity. We need the turtle perhaps more than it needs us. The cute creature brings out the best in us, reminds us of our humanity and challenges us to do the right thing. Now more than ever, it’s comforting to see humanity at work. People may be stressed about their mortgage, the fate of their 401K, heck- their jobs for that matter but everyone seems to have a soft spot for the turtle. It gives me hope that we all hold on to our compassion even in tough times, especially in tough times.

Target Onomics

Somebody wake me from my Target induced stupor. I am hypnotized by the big red bulls eye that drains my bank account dry week after week despite my better judgement. I can't resist the siren call of Target or its big sister Super Target and I'm not alone. Since there's a Target store on just about every street corner in the Suburbs, quitting my Target habit is like weaning myself from coffee ( if you know anything about me-not gonna happen!) Free and unbridled to roam the aisles during the workday, my stay-at-home mom friends and I are the perfect "targets" for this big black money sucking hole that masks as a discount store. Around here, it's socially acceptable to shop at SuperTarget while completely gauche to admit shopping (least be seen shopping) at Walmart Super Center. So this peer-anointed mecca to needless merchandise (well Target does sell groceries) is cause for a serious case of shopper's regret, an affliction for just about all who venture inside. Most of us arrive with the best of intentions: to pick up a birthday gift, shop for groceries, or maybe buy our children some stylish but affordable shoes or play clothes. Our perfectly justified expenditure suddenly and magically balloons into a budget-busting binge as we roam the aisles admiring assorted designer labels and designer items retooled for the mass market.

I call this phenomenon Target Onomics, the micro economy of this superstore that has people spending for the sake of spending. Do I really need a Isaac Mizrahi anything? or that pink Dyson customized for breast cancer awareness or any pink kitchen or household items for that matter? I am afraid there is no hope for me nor my cohorts. Just the other day, I applied and received my new REDcard (target visa) "where shopping just got a lot more rewarding" The jury is still out on just who is benefiting for this reward system but I venture to guess that Target Onomics knows the bottom line.

Faking the "It" Bag-My Social Barometer

So this summer, I was proudly toting the season's "IT" bag- a floral printed hobo with yellow snakeskin handles by Dolce and Gabbana. Said "IT" bag brought me a lot of attention and unsolicited compliments from admirers of my designer find. Mysteriously enough, nobody around town seems to be able to locate this oh.. sooo.. chic bag of the moment-not even at the Mall of Millenia. That's because my bag is an imposter. I bought it from the docks of the Nassau straw market during my annual spring girls' cruise to nowhere. In general, I tend to play by the social rules of my little universe except when it comes to the game of fashion oneupmanship that we women play. Here, I'll gladly bend those rules depending on the encounter. You see my fake bag has become my social barometer of cattiness versus coolness or rather bitchiness versus best friend material. My answer is always calibrated to whether women are doling out the compliments and questions genuinely or for ulterior motives. Those ballsy enough to ask me if it's fake are guaranteed to get my standard white lie "On this bag, bought it in New York on a trip last spring." While those truly interested, get the truth: "On this bag, isn't it great? It's totally fake, bought it in the Bahamas after negotiating it down to 65 bucks."

Let me illustrate said scenario:

This morning for example, I am in the bathroom of a local cafe when a complete stranger compliments my bag then asks me where I bought it. Instinctively, I know that she is sizing me up so I feel justified with my white lie: "New York City," I say sounding vague while instantly ruling out further questions, so I think. "Oh, did you get it from Canal Street?" she inquires, the subtext of which is challenging me to prove it's real.

"Oh no," I say. "It was a gift. Thanks for the compliment," as I smugly exit making a mental note to self, Note to self: if you must ask if it's fake, then I will fake it. If you don't give a damn then hey let's hang out! Maybe I'll even show where I buy my designer jeans.

Saving Face on Facebook

First off, let me just say that MySpace scares me so you won't find me posting pics and personal details to potential cyberstalkers. For people of a certain age (c'est moi) any of these social networking sites seemed to me to be a cyber naughty land of Internet affairs, false indentities, suspect chat rooms and suspicious IM friends. So,when my friend sent me an invitation to Facebook I struggled with my conscious and my commonsense. After all, no self respecting mommy-housewife would put herself out there for mass consumption in cyberspace? Right? Well, apparently I am way wrong on this one. Facebook has become cyber crack for many of my women friends with time on their hands while the kids are at school. It's a welcomed break from their daily routines and a chance to connect with friends but there is a downside. Facebook is also the big black virtual hole in suburbia sucking gobs of our limited free time as we type away tweaking our homepages adding pics of our kids, dogs, extended family and friends..you get the picture-actually if you're Facebooking then you're probably getting too much of the picture or should I say pictures.

For many of us, Facebook is like a giant billboard with bragging rights where we can show off just what precious, perfect, overachieving offspring we have as well as parade out our posse of friends for public view. It's also a source of unnecessary and needless details, the minutia of our daily lives posted in a constant data stream. Do I really want to know that someone is reorganizing her kitchen pantry or prepping for a playdate? But, there are some redeeming qualities as well. People really are reconnecting with long lost friends, extended family members, and making new friends. Facebook also is fast becoming the source of a new social pressure in suburbia- an unspoken competition to see who can rack up the most Facebook friends, achieve the most points playing pointless games such as "Which Sex in the City Girl are You?" So how many drinks have you received from Happy Hour? How many pieces of Flair have you collected? Ha, bet I can out Facebook ya or at least I'll try.
Well, got to go because I have to complete my Top Friends List to improve my popularity score. Hey, it is all about saving face on Facebook just like in real life. What do you know? Virtual reality really does mimic reality. Now if I could only become a You Tube celebrity. Any ideas?

Me llamo Karen

Hola, Me Llamo Karen. I'm not a trained teacher but I play one in the Seminole County School system teaching espanol to my daughter's second grade class as a volunteer. It seems our public school system, like most across the nation, feels foreign language is not a priority as say Art, Music, Physical Education and Computers (otherwise known as CAMP) which collectively compete for the daily "enrichment" time slot in her school day.

Most of our elementary school children in Seminole County don't speak any foreign language despite the fact that Florida has one of the top five Spanish speaking populations and our very state name originates from a Spanish word meaning flowery. So what's the mother of a bilingual household to do? Our own state heritage and demographics don't make a strong enough case for foreign language instruction at the elementary school level. But who can say no to free Spanish lessons, compliments of enthusiastic volunteers como yo?

Today was my first official class and the county school system provided me with a manual "Digalo en Espanol" that looks like it was written on a typewriter and steno graphed much like the ones I received in school long before Microsoft Word was commonplace.

I am not a trained, certified teacher but I am college educated. Heck I even have a Master of Arts degree that is totally useless in my current stay-at-home mom capacity. What makes me qualified to teach other than a firsthand desire to see our children prepared to thrive in our global economy? Let's just say I've experienced how language opens doors to culture and commerce, as well as our hearts and souls. My own husband is Mexican and I'll admit that I spoke not a word of Spanish when we first met. Ironically being from South Louisiana, I learned French (in sync with my own state's heritage and demographics) from my elementary school years through college. We all know that a child learns foreign language more readily than an adult, their brains are simply more pliable and receptive to mastering the sounds and vocabulary. I don't expect any of my "students" will become fluent by the end of the year. Hola. Como Estas? and Como te llamas? won't get any of these kids a CEO job at a South American conglomerate but it will at least expose them to possibilities of speaking another language and that is the very least we owe our children in the big wide world we live in.

Adios Amigos
-karen

Hairless Wonder-Help I'm Addicted to Laser Hair Removal!

I am addicted to laser hair removal. Help, is there some sort of support group for this kind of thing yet? The other day I realized the extent of my addiction when I was perusing Facebook and this ad popped up for a do-it-yourself laser. There, up in the right hand corner of my webpage, an ad for Eplia- a DIY laser. It was an Hallelujah moment..you mean I don't have to shell out thousands of bucks for this at my local medical spa? I can actually do this myself in the comfort of my own home? Well, sign me up sister. So, I clicked on the ad and subsequently purchased the $200 laser that I venture to say isn't FDA approved (it came from Hong Kong) but I don't much care. Just look at Europe, the Europeans seem to be on the cutting edge of aesthetic procedures sans any government approval and often these very beauty treatments eventually end up on the menu of medical spas in the states. At least that is what I'm telling myself before I singe off a body part as I attempt my do-it-yourself laser hair removal.

I figure that it's a good gamble-lately I've been paying $280 per laser treatment to go Brazilian and I'm into the thousands. So hey, what's another $200 bucks to try this one out. Wish me luck and if you see me around town with scorched forearms (my next body part targeted for hair removal) be kind and remember that I am venturing to go where few women have gone before-into the uncharted, unregulated world of home laser hair removal. (In my defense, I can't stand the way my long arm hairs stick up when I'm cold. With my underarms and bikini line gone, furry forearms seem like my next logical target.)

Now, I'm not sure this is what Mother Nature had in mind in the evolutionary chain of development in terms of body hair but it seems many women are bucking the system and opting to pluck, wax or zap it off. Blame it on our pop culture and our emerging national phobia of all things body hair but I am the first to admit, once you start zapping unwanted body hair it is hard to stop. I am a laser hair removal addict and if my do-it-yourself laser fails me, then I'll be back at my local medical spa for another round.

Desperately Seeking Democrats in Suburbia

This morning as I dropped my four year old son off at preschool, I discovered my new best friend, only she doesn't know it yet. In fact, I am so besotted that I subsequently stalked this woman, following her Volvo SUV out of the parking lot hoping to catch a glimpse of her face in her rear view mirrors. What do we have in common you may ask? A Barack Obama bumper sticker adrift in a vast sea of suburban Republican mommy driven family vehicles.

Among my closest friends, I am the odd woman out-the lone crazy, reckless Democrat ostracized because apparently I am for higher taxes since I am not for McCain. What's even more egregious, according to my BFF's is that I am a traitor to my own species opting not to vote for the supermommy Republican VP nominee with her five kids and multi-tasking superhuman talents.

So, back to the Obama bumper sticker in my son's preschool parking lot. Imagine the unbridled joy I felt at realizing that there existed at least one like-minded stay-at-home mom who believes there are bigger issues at stake than the possibility of higher taxes. If the economy continues its downward spiral, there will be no money to make hence no higher taxes to pay. I'm sticking with the Democrats in hopes they'll have a better way to better days. And... I'll gladly pay higher taxes if it means the Democrats can turn this economy around and we all start making money again.

I'm not for war, nor for higher taxes but (but that doesn't explain why I am voting Democrat) I am simply seeking better days for our family, friends and the nation at large.. for anything that is not status quo. So I think I'll ask my new potential mommy friend out for a coffee so we can bond over being the uncool kids in this election. And once it's over, maybe I can sit at the popular kids lunch table again!

Closet Coupon Clipper

Okay, let's all admit it. These are tough times we're living in and we are all feeling the pinch regardless of where we live and our socio-economic status. So here's the deal. I have started clipping coupons and I actually look forward to my Sunday morning ritual with the newspaper, my cup of coffee and scissors. It's like going on a treasure hunt and the biggest find of all are the dollar off coupons. Wow, cha ching! But here's the problem, I can clip'em but I am embarrassed to use them. I am a closet coupon clipper. Armed with my bulging coupon organizer, I actually try to shop during off hours-you know what I mean-the times of day when my mommy friends aren't likely to be grocery shopping. As any stay at home mom knows, the school hours between 9 am and 2 pm are prime time for grocery shopping so I troll through the grocery aisles at night looking over my shoulder for fear any of my neighbors might see me coupon shopping. I need to get over myself as well this ridiculous need we all have to save face in the suburbs and believe me, I'm working on it. For the ranks of coupon clippers among us, I thought I'd offer up a few treasured websites so you don't have to wait for the Sunday newspaper coupon bonanza. Here are some great websites that I get my coupon fix from: Boodle.com, Smartsource.com, coupons.com and eversave.com Enjoy and feel free to spread the savings around by sharing your own favorite coupon resources. Cheers!

Getting Sexy Back in Surburbia

I was looking at pictures of my former self the other day, my college years and it occurred to me that I dress and look hotter today (just two years shy of 40) than I did at 21. Not because the signs of aging have escaped me but rather, over the years I have discovered how to better manage my look-my hair, my figure, my makeup and wardrobe. Around here, we suburbanistas shop at Cache not Chicos where cleavage and body hugging outfits scream for attention.

So I asked around my social circle about our conscious attempt at obtaining hotness as we age? I checked out their old college pics and a common theme emerged. Yes, we as women seemed to have gotten much better at managing our look- that sexy, sultry hotter self as we age. Why is that? Do we simply have more confidence now than as twentysomethings? Do we feel pressure to dress the part to compete in our youth obsessed culture? Or were we just simply clueless as to the benefits of looking hot when we had gravity and youth on our sides? Whatever the answer, I venture to say that many women my age are wondering the same thing as they look back at photos of their former selves. We've worked hard to stay in shape and ward off encroaching age spots, wrinkles and tummy rolls so why not flaunt it? Does that make us pathetic or hot housewives?