Random Pea-Brained Thoughts

1. I refuse to spend $200 on a pair of jeans unless they make my ass sing.
2. Good news! Apparently, Starr & I are not alone. In times of crisis, women are more likely splurge on shopping sprees than in normal times.
3. Why do we stop being friends with our Maid of Honor? Weren’t these women supposed to be our closest friends when we got married?
4. I hope that Izzy and George are both dead.
5. Planning a girls trip shouldn’t be more stressful than the daily life stresses from which we’re trying to escape.
6. Why is it true that our most high maintenance friends can’t see themselves as that? Having to explain it all the more supports the theory.
7. I admit it, my Cougar blog post was not my best. I hear ya.
8. If I haven’t called in a few days it’s not because I’m mad at you. I just don’t have anything new to say.
9. Computer illiteracy is just as bad as reading illiteracy. Get with the times!
10. I acknowledge my Twittering is a narcissistic habit. Why wouldn’t the world be interested in following my every move?
11. If you have more than a few hundred “friends” on Facebook, you’re just a friend collector to placate your own insecurities.

Wishing you a safe & sunny Memorial Day weekend!

Fight for dominance

Friday night, my kids and their cousins were enjoying some night swimming. Casey wanted to swim too. He’s almost five months old now, and getting big. He just learned how to swim, and being a water dog, wants to be in the pool at all times.

Swimming with the kids, however, is a bit of a problem. Whenever one jumps in, he jumps in after them. As he doggie-paddles around, his sharp claws extend and he often scratches the kids. They have yet to learn how to grab him underneath his belly and hold him. When I do this trick, he relaxes in my arms. He likes this position and even rolls over so I can scratch his belly at the same time, like a big, hairy baby.

So in my effort to control my dog, keep him out of the pool and thus save the children, I tried to coax Casey of the water. He ignored me. I called him sternly, in my deepest I’M SERIOUS NOW! tone, to no avail. Finally, I dragged him out by the back of his neck.

Once out of the pool, he decided to play-bite me. He chews at my ankles like a juicy rawhide and it’s painful. I yell again, No biting, DAMN DOG! Not surprisingly, he ignores me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maverick and Doc J laughing at me, knowing that the battle of wits, woman vs. canine, has begun.

Now, I’ve tried all the Dog Whisper BS to establishing dominance. I’ve bit Casey’s ear, thumped his rump with a magazine, tried positive reinforcement with a treat….all to no avail. He sees Maverick as the alpha-male and I’m just another litter mate. However, I’m sick of this household position and want to win. So this time, I try to get down on Casey’s level.

I bent down, threw him on his back and stuck my face into his muzzle while holding his jaw closed. NO BITING, I growled. Casey squirmed beneath me, trying to get back to his feet. I hear Maverick and Doc J coaching me. Growl louder. Holder tighter. Don’t give in.

Casey wriggled. I growled as low as my vocal chords will allow, GRRRRR…. I dug my fingers deeper in his muzzle. Casey squirmed harder and I felt like I was losing control. I threw my whole body’s weight on top of him. I’m going to BEAT HIM, damn it. I’m not going to let him win. I laid on top of him for several minutes, until he stopped moving and gave in to my domination.

AH-HA! I won! You stopped struggling, pup, and I am your MASTER! You WILL listen to me! You will OBEY me! You will… Oops.

I must have given an extra inch of room while doing my mental celebration lap. Not sure what happened but the next second, Casey was standing right next to me, while I was on all fours, and we were practically nose to nose. For a very long pause, we looked each other square in the eye. I questioned silently, have I won? Is he going to listen? Did I teach him a lesson of who’s boss? Is he going to stay where he is?

He responded in returned silence by making a mad dash straight back into the pool with a big jump and huge splash ending. Maverick and Doc J. laughed their asses off. I sulked back into the house, knowing that I’d lost again.

Cougars on the prowl

I've got a cute doctor. He's much older and very good looking. I see him every now and again, and we have pleasant conversations and talk about medical things. But in the back of my mind, I wonder, is he flirting with me just the tiniest bit?

I have another cute doctor. He's much younger and very good looking. I see him every now and again, and we have pleasant conversations and talk about medical things. But in the back of my mind, I wonder, is he flirting with me just the tiniest bit?

When you read my story the second time, do you think differently about me when you now know my cute doctor is much younger than I? Does that make me a Cougar? And at what age does that term come into play? Actually, where did that term even come from?

I looked it up on Urban Dictionary. I found the most highly rated definition was hilarious and probably right on the money:

"An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man...can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity -- particularly the true hotties -- as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together."

I wondered, could I possibly be old enough to be considered a Cougar? To me a Cougar is at least in her forties, I convince myself. Then I realize I'm just about there. No, no. I'm still too young. A Cougar must be in her mid to late forties, right? Now I have to look up the answer:

“An attractive woman in her 30's or 40's who is on the hunt once again. She will not play the usual B.S. games that women in their early twenties participate in.”
I have to laugh. Online, you can find tons of websites devoted to hooking up with a Cougar and a Cougar communities for women over 40. Cougars seem to be a pretty hot topic lately. There’s even a TV reality show about a Cougar and a viral video about Cougar Barbie.

So I wonder, when my friends and I check out the cute college boy at the hotel pool, does that make us Cougars? Is it the same thing to look and think, but not act? Or does the woman actually have to pounce and devour her prey to earn the title? I hope so. Then again, I have several Cougars I’m quite close to. So I’m, really not judging, are you?

A new pea-brained feature

I’ve tried desperately to get you, my readers, to comment and engage with me on my pea-brained thoughts. Apparently, you’re either not reading, not thinking, don’t care to comment or just don’t know how.

Now, I’ve made it even easier for you give me your feedback. At the end of every post is a checkbox for you to gauge your reaction: Love this post! Like this post! Don’t really like it.

Let me know what you think. I’m interested in your feedback, more than ever. I hope you enjoy what I’m writing, but even if you hate it, I want to know that too. Now go get to it!

PS. I'm also releasing my new Pea-Brained look to my blog. Be sure to check back soon to see it.

Tired from mother's day

I had a wonderful Mother’s Day. My goal was to not do much but relax. I had breakfast and Starbucks served to me, and spent some quality time in the pool with Maya and Casey. Then I had the family over for dinner. It was lovely.

Later that night, I checked my Facebook to see that Maverick had updated his status. It read: I love to spoil my wife, mom, sister, mom-in-law…for mothers day! But, it is one tiring damn day!!

I wrinkled my nose in despair at that last part “one tiring damn day!” I have to laugh and at the sake of killing the good place Maverick and I are in right now, I have to give a very loud HARRUMPH to this notion that spoiling me on this day could be so tiring.

First, the bagel and egg breakfast paired with Starbucks arrived after 11am. Maverick slept in with me and then, when he was ready to head out to get my breakfast, also informed me that he was going to run an errand to Home Depot too. I did ask him to go to Home Depot, but I kinda expected him to bring me breakfast first!

So, instead of having my nice, warm breakfast served to me on a tray, in bed, I had to wait for him to run his errand. I should not have to wait, stomach growling. Breakfast should have been prepared and anticipating my beck and call, preferably from a bell placed on my nightstand. I’m a fantastic mother. I deserved it on my day.

Afterwards, Maverick had to run yet another errand. He was not home all afternoon while gallivanting around town doing stuff. I didn’t get to hang out with him, nor was he around to fetch me a drink when I got hot. I had to do that myself on MY mother’s day. Plus, if he didn’t leave his errands for the last minute, I wouldn’t have had to suffer. So if he was tired, this was completely his own doing.

Meanwhile, I still had to make lunch for Maya, and listen to her incessant whining about how I wasn’t playing with her in the pool. Finally, I informed her that his was my day, and all I wanted to do was float quietly on my raft. If she wanted to join me in doing what I wanted, I would like it. But on my day, I didn’t want to play mermaid. I wanted to do nothing.

At three, I had to get out of the pool and prepare for the troops to arrive. So I straightened up the house, cut up the veggies and assembled the appetizers, washed the dog, prepared the kitchen for dinner and vacuumed the floor. I bathed the kids and myself. All in an hour. On yet another errand, Brian left to pick up the to-go food.

Everyone arrived, and I served the appetizers and made sure everyone had a drink. I heated and served the food. I made plates for my kids. I fed the dog. Maverick, along with Doc and the other men watched golf. Finally, someone shouted that the women were going to sit down and leave the men to handle the rest.

Afterwards, I helped clean up dinner, pack up the leftovers, serve five (5!) cakes, clean up dessert and usher everyone out the door. Once the company left, I got the house back in order, vacuumed again and walked the dog. So much for me not having to do anything on this day.

All in all, Mother’s Day was not much different than every other day. It was a very nice day but I’m not sure what constituted “so much work” for Maverick. Nor am I sure I accomplished my goal of rest and relaxation either. I guess I can take another shot at it come Father’s Day.

SuperNanny coming to Palm Beach

In my obiligation to pass on relevant information to my readers, I just found the following on Sun-Sentinel website:

Is your family messed up? Are you willing to expose their bad behavior to the nation? The Supernanny would like to talk to you. The reality show is in the Palm Beach area through Thursday, seeking candidates for next season. If you think your family is sufficiently out of control, call 877-626-6984 or e-mail supernanny@shedmediaus.com.

I know of several families "sufficiently out of control". I'd be happy to suggest them to you personally, or you can just make the call yourself.

facebook conversations

I’m having fun with Facebook again. Tonight I had the best conversation with a bunch of my friends, who collectively don't know each other. They read my Facebook update and began a dialog, a virtual conversation with strangers they wouldn't recognize on the street but all connected through me.

Backstory: 7:45 pm. Kids are fed and bathed. Casey's back from his playdate with Rhodie, his canine girlfriend. I realize there is nothing edible in my refrigerator. Decide to order in. Look at take-out menus. Realize there's nothing good because the five restaurants in my area that deliver suck (my favorite Italian joint aside!)

How many times can a girl eat the same five places? I hate it. It's not fair. I wish I lived somewhere that had more selection and better food. I have this thought and decide to update my Facebook status.

At 7:52, I write:
Tracy Friezer Fives: One of those nights I wished I lived in NYC so I could have delicious food delivered.

Then the following conversation occurred responding to my post:
Larry at 8:02pm: But then you'd have to take out a 2nd mortgage - do you how crazy food is in manhattan today? Trust me, stick with the 4:30 early bird dinner specials...

Brian at 8:15pm: It's a little more expensive but it's worth it for the convenience. The food in Manhattan is incredible. You can always have it Fed-exed to you. LOL.

Christopher at 8:22pm: there is no food like Manhattan food. Also you get $ 400 per night for a 2 diamond hotel, $57.00 for a bagel, $70.00 per day to park car.......Having the hotdog vendor serve you from water that has been sitting all day wondering where he /she goes to the bathroom or washes his hands......priceless

Brian at 9:35pm: I just had Filet Mignon, King Crab legs, crab cakes and creme brulee. Mmmmmmm. In Reston, Va. Lora at 10:12pm See you make the best of where you are! Although NY would be a fun trip with you Tray!

Patricia at 10:22pm: I had an awesome meal in NYC just this past weekend - French - funky Lower East Side restaurant. Can't think of a place in South Florida I could get duck for <$20 and an oversized NY strip for $22. Got a slice in Little Italy for $2.50. You can eat cheap and well in NY if you look in the right places. Brian at 10:26pm: Pat, that place across the street from you in the Keys was awesome!! Key Largo Coffee house or something. They loved Casey.

Patricia at 10:40pm: I love that place. Key Largo Conch House. Good to hear you all had a good time down there. Next time we'll go together so we can take the boat out!

Tracy Friezer Fives at 10:42: Had to settle for Chili’s. Next time I’m cooking for myself.

I love this web 2.0 stuff. Fascinated by the fact that now we’re all somehow interconnected to everyone else. Very Kevin Bacon, six degrees and all that. Hope you're having as much fun with it and all the other social media tools creeping into our lives.

Viagra Handshakes

Tonight I read a blog post about Viagra Handshakes. (ed. note. Click the words Viagra Handshakes and read the post I'm referring to...)I laughed at the concept, but as I contemplated my Viagra handshake, I suddenly felt pissed off.

Every woman should learn to have a Viagra handshake. Whether it's for the sake of a job interview or for an introduction to a mutual friend, women should shake hands as strongly as a penis on Viagra. Like men. It signals to men that we can make decisions, be firm, go toe-to-toe with them. It shows we have strength and determination. The will to kick ass. And it's way sexier than a soft, delicate handshake, anyhow.

Much of my early career was spent working in the timeshare and banking industries. Both extremely well known for being boys clubs. Where women could never quite get promoted above her male boss. These boys ran the show and women were just not allowed in the sandbox. Sure one or two with breasts had a big toe dangling over the edge, but those women were still sat at the kiddie table on Thanksgiving.

The men may be smart, but the women were often smarter and savvier. Women knew that to even keep up, a Viagra handshake was critical, even if it seemingly made no difference in title or pay levels. Truth be told, behind every powerful man was a workhorse wonder of a woman.

I worked for several of those men. One guy asked me to do the impossible and then when I pulled it off, he took all the credit. Another schmuck hired me because he thought I was cute, which I disappointingly learned after trusting his as my mentor.

Then there was the little Napoleon-man who snorted. I had to suffer through Monday morning updates with his other direct report, who also happened to be his best friend. They bickered like a sex-deprived married couple. Seriously, it was that bad. My accomplishments were never rewarded like Napoleon's "wife" was, even though I kicked ass and exceeded my goals, unlike the little woman. And why should I have been? Just because I earned it? Wrong. I still didn't have the merchandise between the legs to justify recognition.

I had the BIG boss who I was required to refer to as "Mr. So & So. " He was so big and important, I was prohibited to call him by his first name. He once scolded me that if I wanted to be a "big girl", Tracy, I'm just going to have to learn how to "play with the big boys" and "sit quietly" while the "MEN" made decisions of this "Magnitude". Seriously.

So, if a man asks if a woman needs to have a Viagra handshake, my response is absa-fucking-lutely. I'll pump your hand, Viagra-style, because I'm just as good as you, man. Not to earn your respect, but just because if I wanted, I bet I could kick your ass, too.

PS. One insanely interesting fact: The active ingredient in Viagra can be found naturally in walnuts.

Baby no more

Last week, I had to drop Maya off at school by herself. Typically, I carpool with a friend and drop the girls off at the light by the school;. Maya and her friend walk to the corner, cross with the crossing guard and make their way into the building by themselves.

On this day, the friend was sick, so I planned to park the car and walk her in. I pulled into a standing spot, turned off the ignition and opened my car door. Maya asked me where I was going and I explained.

She said, verbatim: "Now, Mom, I love being with you and like that you want to walk me in, but only the babies in kindergarten have their moms walk them in. I can go alone."

With my mouth agape, I slowly closed my door and mumbled, "Of course, honey, I know you can." And off my baby went. I sat in parked silence and watched her walk to the corner, wait for the crossing guard and run across the street. That day, my daughter was just a step ahead of me.

It was one more sign that my little girl was moving ever closer to young adulthood and farther away from being the babe in my arms she once was. I'm not surprised by this change, as growth and development is obviously expected. I just didn't realize it would happen so fast and made me a little sad.