Growing older but not up

Had a great trip to Dallas this weekend. Saw Jimmy Buffett in Frisco last night with my friend Krista. The concert was fun--if not a total sea of humanity--but I'm not looking forward to the catalog of tickets I amassed while running through toll booths on the way back and forth to Pizza Hut Park. Seriously, Texas, you should be able to finance a secession from the union with the sheer volume of tolls you collect around Dallas.

This morning we slept in, ate breakfast, then stimulated the economy at the outlet mall in Allen. Believe it or not, I actually wore out a pair of running shoes (file under: sentences you never thought I'd write), so I bought new Shox and a watch today to keep up with my runs. It measures my pace, distance, and time, and then uploads to a website via the USB port in my watch. How seriously cool is that?

It was awesome planning on my part to schedule a vacation day tomorrow. I'm crashing after a super busy week, so I hope I can sleep in tomorrow, then nap excessively. Hello, four-day work week!

Contrary to popular belief, I only had one margarita last night. I was driving, and since they were $14 each, I was one of the more sober people in the audience. The weather is here... wish you were beautiful! (Love that I'm holding some singles here... that doesn't look trashy AT ALL.)

The best things in life aren't free

Yes we can, indeed. And if you drank the Obama Kool-aid, there's no need to read further.

I openly acknowledge my high maintenance lifestyle. I consider pedicures and massages to be necessities in my monthly budget. I don't color my own hair or mow my own lawn. I insist on nice hotels, great meals, and fabulous handbags.

In other words, my life ain't cheap.

Luckily, I went to college and despite all the partying, managed to graduate and go on to earn a master's degree. My job is stressful and often it's more than 40 hours a week. But I don't mind because I'm fortunate to have a job I love, and because I am well compensated for thinking about work 24/7.

With a nice salary comes some nice perks, like a nice home and a dependable (albeit recalled) vehicle, cosmetics from a department store counter, and the opportunity to travel. See, I'm obsessed with weekend shopping trips and concerts and nice dinners. I find myself planning months full of weekends to Dallas and Kansas City. Right now I'm saving to buy my nephew a laptop for his high school graduation. I have 20th row tickets to see Bon Jovi in Tulsa next month. I'm headed to Temple twice in April, once for a race and once just because I miss Jen. I'm currently trying to talk Scott and Alisa into Dallas in May to see Jimmy Buffett, and I want to schedule girls' weekend with Sorne, Kelly and Amanda to see SATC2 Memorial Day weekend.

Ruth's Chris for dinner? That's just a Wednesday night for me and my pal Lori B. And in December, Krista and I will be happily ensconced in our Times Square hotel suite in NYC.

If you're going somewhere, I want to go. If a great band is playing, I want to see the concert. I like stuff. I like places. I love spending time with my friends.

But often, I find myself having to stop planning things. Not only do my weekends fill, but I run out of funds. And when you don't have money, you have to stop spending it.

Unless you're Congress. Then you can continue to spend money you don't have on people who don't need it.

See, when I use credit to pay for things, I have to pay it back with interest. Where's my blank check?

But you know what? If someone gave me a beautiful new red patent leather Louis Vuitton bag with the understanding that it was totally free to me, but someday my niece and nephews would have to pay for it, I'd say no. Because I believe in paying for my lifestyle, even if it means doing without.

You listening, Nancy Pelosi?

Let's make plans for July, when I might be solvent again!

Out with the old, in with the new

I think I've officially gone off the deep end. For some reason, I've been in a great mood all week. Yeah, things are going well at work (in a scary sort of way, like the calm before the storm), but I'm beginning to wonder if I'll die alone. I mean, seriously, the men I date make me wish I were attracted to women. But the good news is that I'm supremely blessed with great friends, and that more than makes up for the incessant text messaging and lame apologies.

A couple of weeks ago I made a new friend, and she called last night on her way home from St Louis to comisserate about our terrible dating experiences. There's something about knowing I'm not alone that makes me feel a lot better. Misery loves company, I suppose.

But you know what Jimmy Buffett said, "If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane."

One more day 'til the birthday celebration. Got my present yet?

Ironing out the wrinkles

I know that aging is inevitable and infinitely preferable to the alternative, but when did I get so old? It’s as if an alien has invaded my body and I don’t like it.

This morning, after painfully rolling myself out of bed, taking an Advil for my back and head pain, and slathering moisturizer on my formerly oily face, I got in the car to head to work. On the way, I was looking in the mirror at a stoplight (hey… I’m old, but vain) and noticed craters in my forehead. When did that happen? Jimmy Buffett once said, “Wrinkles only go where smiles have been,” but I doubt my forehead’s had much to grin about. Man, I’m tempted to call Dr. Beverly Hills Plastic Surgery and schedule some botox. Maybe they can suck the fat out of my rear end or thighs and fill the crevices in my face.

It’s very disturbing when you realize you’re getting old. My friend Joe and I were talking on Monday night about how we’ve stopped trying to be fashionable and have started buying clothes because they’re comfortable and stretchy.

Now I know why your eyesight goes as you age… so you can’t see how haggard you look. If I feel this old at 35, how am I going to feel in 20 years?

35’s not hold, right? I mean, my uncle’s mother was celebrating her 20th wedding anniversary when she was my age, but that’s unusual.

Guess it’s true what they say… getting old ain’t for sissies.