I found a speaker on YouTube that I really like. Her name is Gabrielle Bernstein, and one of her videos really inspired me. In the video she mentions that it’s good to ask the Universe for signs that you are on the right path. So I did. I wanted a sign that Birdy and I are meant to be (OMG how completely lame am I?!?!).  I asked the Universe to signify this by showing me a butterfly. I got the sign several minutes later on Instagram funny enough. I wasn’t searching for butterflies. This was just in my feed. It was the tenth picture down.

The butterfly came with a message “let go or be dragged.” I am taking this as my sign that Birdy is indeed for me, but if I want him, I need to let go. I need to learn to hold with an open hand. To be present, but to let go of the need to determine the path of our relationship… to just let it be, and to have faith that the Universe (or what I call God) has my back.
I thought about it about it again several hours later. I take what I call “smoking breaks” at work. I don’t smoke, I never smoked a cigarette in my life, it’s just what I call the little 10-15 min breaks I take to get my steps in (my Fitbit has changed my life, for sure). And can you guess what I saw?!?! Yes! A real live butterfly. It was black and yellow, and it gave me the biggest smile. 
I think I am starting to manifest!

Yeah, I know some people might find my belief in Law of Attraction somewhat batshit, but I absolutely do believe in it. Don’t make me chase you down on my unicorn.

I think if life has one big lesson to teach me, it’s the art of letting go. I lost my attachment to most things. I’m not very sentimental about objects the way a lot of women are. Don’t get me wrong, I do adore designer goodies and beautiful treasures … but I know I can be okay without them, and I’m not too fussed if I loose them. Two times in my life, I have purged the majority of my possessions. The first time was when I left to England to get married, and the second time was when I returned to America as a result of my divorce. I came home with only one suitcase… and do you know what? It was okay. I didn’t really miss anything. It was actually incredibly liberating. Who would have guessed?

One aspect of letting go that I still have a lot to learn though, is when letting go has to do with people. When I love someone, I fight tooth and nail. This is what my heart knows how to do. Slowly my brain is catching up though, telling me that you don’t have to fight for love. If you are efforting (a word I learned from watching a lot of Abraham Hicks videos) so hard, something is just wrong.
So I can talk a good game, but am I putting this into practice? Let’s just say I’m a work in progress. For my birthday, I wish to gift myself with this skill (um… and cake, plenty of cake … cake in Paris). How am I going to do that? Well, I just need to immerse myself in it: books, helpful videos on YouTube, and most important — lots and lots of practice.

Okay, time to hop on to my unicorn and get my ass to Paris! Shenanigans await.


First of all, I just wanted to say thank you to the kind comments you left me on my last post. I was really feeling low. There are times when this world seems like a very cruel and dark place, but you helped to remind me of the good things.

In less than a month, it will be Valentine’s Day … again. Last year, I thought for sure that by the next time this holiday rolled around, I would have rediscovered love. That didn’t happen. That’s the bad news.

My dad taught me something cool when I was a little girl. When I had a problem, and I would cry, he would let me cry about it for a while, and then he would ask me, “okay, so what are you going to do about it?” It taught me that there was a time for tears, and a time to take matters into your own hands.

So now, this good news part is about me telling you how, in my own small way, I have decided to do that. Because as much as I don’t mind being 100% real and telling you when I feel low, I sure as hell don’t want to be the type of woman that people feel sorry about (or to spend loads of time feeling sorry for myself, for that matter). Yes, it’s natural for a girl to go through low points, but I believe that truly good women do not stay down. I believe they make the effort to pick themselves up.

In my own frivolous way, this is how I have chosen to do that: I am going to spend Valentine’s Day in New York. For four days and three nights, I am going to give myself the best ever Valentine’s alone that a person can have. I am going to the museums, I am going to hunt street art, I am going to browse around Barneys, Bendels, and Bergdorfs, I am going to eat burgers and stuff my belly with fancy cake, I am going to get my hair done at a chic salon, and I am going to the MET for the first time to see an opera. It’s going to be F’ing freezing, but I don’t care. Some overpriced gloves and some new boots will take care of that. What I will not be doing is sitting around at home crying about being alone. I’m going to be bad ass with a fat ass LOL. I am so looking forward it.


6a05bb877f07ce1f4ad92769d4ce3da3I know I have been writing a lot less frequently these days. There is no excuse really, except that I just haven’t been feeling like it. When I had a food blog, back in the day, I felt obliged to churn out a post every week. It became almost like a job that I didn’t get paid for, which kind of sucked because my blog was supposed to be a hobby—something I did because it was fun. I don’t do that now. I just choose to write when inspiration strikes and there’s something I want to say or share.

I did want to let you know that I’m doing okay. Well, some days I’m doing okay. I had a few rough days this week. I still have days where the tears start right after work, and they can last for hours. To be quite honest, I’m not sure if I still suffer from depression, or that these feelings are just the natural byproduct of what I’ve been going through.  I do have a therapist friend who tells me I’m depressed, but I don’t necessarily believe that. I feel like I just have depressed moments. I never want to go back on antidepressants. I feel like whatever emotions I experience, I’d rather just experience them, not mask them. What am I crying about? Feelings of fear, loss, wondering how I’m supposed to do this thing. How am I going to continue to put one foot in front of the other? I often suffer from feelings of complete hopelessness and loneliness. I feel like there is this vast emptiness inside of me. I hope one day that goes away. But there are some really good feelings that I’m experiencing too. Although I’m far from what I might classify as “successful,” I am becoming a person that I respect and admire – and that is something which I didn’t have back in my housewife days. I find that so completely ironic. Without the money and the comfort, I am a person that I like even more now. Somehow I see myself as more real and more beautiful. I’m more compassionate, more in tune with what makes me who I am, more arty, more passionate. I’m just more. I do like that very much. I think I’m becoming someone pretty special. I love me so much, that I believe I could marry me LOL.

I’m reminded of a famous quote by Gloria Steinem: “We are becoming the men we wanted to marry.” I now understand exactly what that means. As a housewife, I was glad to give all the responsibilities to my ex. He was the breadwinner, the problem solver, the one who was supposed to “make things happen.” I never realized what a huge burden and responsibility that was until now. I am now the one who earns my money, who solves my own problems, who makes my dreams come to reality. It is both a confidence booster and a terrifying prospect at the same time. Now, whether I fall or I fly, it is totally on me. While this does not excuse my husband AT ALL from being a complete whore, It does gives me a new respect for the kind of responsibility he carried on his shoulders, and it makes me appreciate what an exemplary provider he was. Now its my job, and being realistic, I know I’m not going to achieve what he did, but I’m determined to achieve what I consider to be enough, and that will just have to do.

I am now my own knight in shining armor, and I’m going to have to rescue myself. I have encountered men who will say the magical words I’ve longed to hear: “I will take care of you.” These “Prince Charmings” … God, I don’t even know what happened to them. They may look the part, and talk the part, but there is something inherently wrong with them. They have no honor and their words lack value. These days, knights in shining armor are nothing more than A-holes in tin foil. They are completely lacking in moral character; they just say what they need to say to get what they want. If that’s going to be the case, then as lonely as it is, I choose myself. When heroes are in short supply, sometimes you have no choice but to become your own. Though I don’t consider myself to be the hero type, not even in the slightest, I have no choice but to become one.

Slowly (extremely slowly), I see a life forming ahead of me that I know I can be proud of. I would just really like to find someone who is worthy of sharing it with. I would like to know that truly good men still exist. Until then, I know of one truly good woman I can lean on, and that would be me.

Wishing all of you a very happy Thanksgiving. Be thankful for who you are, because you are awesome.


I was exposed to classical music, opera, ballet, and a lot of other arty things at a young age because of my grandparents. I vividly remember being in the back seat of the car with my grandfather and grandmother upfront driving though tree lined streets during the autumn, listening to my favorite piece of classical music: Scheherazade (it’s a long piece, but if you want to listen to it, here it is). It is playing now in the background as I type.

Do you know the story behind 1,001 Nights? It is the story of a sultan whose first wife was unfaithful. To never feel the sting of betrayal again, every night he marries a new woman, only to have her killed the next day, before she has the chance to be unfaithful. One day, however, he marries the splendiferously brilliant Scheherazade, a woman unlike any of those who came before her. She enraptures the sultan with her magical storytelling, weaving a tale that lasts for 1,001 nights. On that last night, the sultan comes to the conclusion that the pleasure of this woman’s company, who kept him enthralled over all of this time, was worth the risk of betrayal.

Admittedly, this story is a bit farfetched, but let me tell you my take on this story: a woman must be very special indeed to keep the attention of a man. Men are the most fickle creatures, with attention spans not much greater than that of a peanut.  In the beginning you will fascinate him, that’s not a huge deal. In the beginning you are unlike any other to him. But as time passes and the novelty wears off, the woman who once seemed so unique no longer holds his interest. It makes me wonder what happened to Scheherazade after her story ended.

Should a woman always keep part of the story untold? Or in other words, should she always keep a bit of herself to herself? Personally, it seems a little sad to me, to never be loved in your entirety, to always have to hold something back to keep your love interest wanting more. Maybe, however, it is necessary. My ex husband knew me on a level that no other human being has come close to. Being that I’m a legend in my own mind, I would think that truly knowing me would make him appreciate me all the more. Rather than treasure me, however, Dr ManWhore was always on the look out for more (possibly better?). My story got old I guess. Looking back I can clearly see how that happened. If you have ever lived your life in the service of a man, you will know that over time, the pages of your life can easily loose some their richness. The unfortunate fact is that your book becomes easier to put down when you become too comfortable. I don’t want to make that mistake again. At the same time, I long to find the man who adores me to the extent that he will want to read me from cover to cover, over and over again. I want my pages to be underlined in places and bookmarked in others. When it’s all over, I want my spine to be worn and peeling at the edges. I want to be read until the pages come apart from their binding. What makes this happen?  Why do some books get checked out all the time while others collect dust on the shelf?

The only thing I can think of is what Scheherazade figured out. She created a “never ending story.” To translate this into terms of men and women, it is about constantly evolving and never stagnating. It is about staying interested and interesting. So much so, that even when the cover fades, it is still worth leafing through the crumbling pages.

I would love to know your thoughts on this one. Share with the class dollies.

What is it about me?  I mean, actually I think I know. It’s my neediness, and my clingy nature. I don’t really want to be this way, but it’s who I am. I guess men sense it in me and they run the other way. They run a mile, sometimes thousands of miles. As time goes by, I am becoming more independent, but this does not seem to make me any less “needy.” And gosh, I have really grown to hate that word. I am starting to come to the conclusion that I am just not loveable. Women love me, but men: no.

I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. I know I’m a square peg. I like being one … most of the time. All the people who I love and admire had that awful feeling of not belonging too, all of the great artists and poets. But I am no artist or poet, I’m just a stranger in a strange land, wishing for a place to belong. Who knows if that place even exists.

My heart is tired.

Women who are difficult to love, by Warsan Shire

Moi? Bitter? Maybe a little.

I am not loving men at the moment. What strange creatures they seem to me, almost alien. Why do I want one so bad when all they seem to do is hurt me? Well, I know the answer: I just want to be loved, to love some one, and to be high on that feeling of being in love. I’ve never really experimented with drugs, but can it really compare to how you feel when you are in love? Oh how I want to experience those feelings again… but… WTF is wrong with the men that are out there? For F’s sake, the pickings of good men are slim. So today is really just a shit list going out to all they guys out there, cause seriously, you guys kinda suck! I may have to consider becoming a lesbian.

"All right you little  shi*t, time to go back into your cage!"
“All right you little shi*t, time to go back into your cage!”
I think I'm going to just stick to romance novels. Guys in books are way better.
I think I’m going to just stick to romance novels. Guys in books are way better.
Yeah, I'm totally going to have to save myself.
Yeah, I’m totally going to have to save myself.


Prince Charming my ass LOL
Prince Charming my ass LOL
God, I hate it when guys do that!!! Totally pisses me off.
God, I hate it when guys do that!!! Totally pisses me off.

I’ve been feeling a little rough. It’s a little hard to explain, but I feel like my life has no joy in it anymore. Nothing horrible and dramatic has happened recently, I am just deeply unhappy. It’s not 100% of the time, but it is most of the time. The things which once gave me pleasure don’t seem to interest me much anymore. Last night I went to bed at 7:30 and I slept for 12 hours. It wasn’t because I was super tired. It was because I was feeling sad. I cry often and easily. I want to believe that there is something left for me. I want to feel that this is just a rough patch, and maybe one day I will wake up and feel good again. Right now I’m having a hard time understanding how something better is going to manifest itself, but I read somewhere that it’s not our job to figure out the “how,” that that is better left to God.

On that note, rather than wallow in my feelings, I wanted to focus on the good stuff. Several months ago I read the book called The Secret. Although I do not necessarily believe in all of the concepts presented there, the one message I took away from it is the importance of gratitude. I really believe it has a very transformative power. So today I want to focus on a few things that make me happy while I’m not at my best (from the trivial to the significant).

1. Random acts of kindness: I love to be reminded that people are generally good. It gives me hope.

2. The chocolate dipped coconut macaroons at Godiva. I always end up eating the whole four pack in one day. I have no self control LOL. What can I say? Sometimes a girl needs to treat herself.

Try them, trust me on this one.
Try them, trust me on this one.

3. Books: When I was in college I used to love reading the vampire series by Anne Rice. Recently, she just wrote a new book, Prince Lestat, bringing all my favorite characters back to me. It’s like catching up with old friends (glamorous, blood sucking friends LOL). Sitting on the porch, on a sunny day, reading about what they are up to now… it’s nothing short of lovely.

Bite me Stuart Townsend LOL (he was devinely sexy as Lestat in the movie Queen of the Damned).
Bite me Stuart Townsend LOL (he was divinely sexy as Lestat in the movie Queen of the Damned).

4. My dear friend T: I have known her since we were both three years old. We were in nursery school together.  Although we live far apart, and we only talk a couple of times a week, she is nothing short of a sister to me. This week, she told me she loved me. Except for my mother and my grandmother, no other woman has ever told me they loved me before. I told her I loved her too. Isn’t it wonderful when sometimes someone tells you exactly what you need to hear? When she said those words to me, for the briefest moment, I could feel my heart open like the petals of a flower.

I saw this video on YouTube that kind of expresses how amazing it is to let someone you love know what they mean to you (for the both of you).


5. Surviving: Despite it all, even with this broken heart, I wake up in the morning. I put one foot in front of the other. I’m living and sh*t.  I’m still here. I’m not going to let some ass wipe keep me on me knees.

I'm not there yet, but I promise myself that I will be. What other choice is there.
I’m not there yet, but I promise myself that I will be. What other choice is there?

I am amazed the way this works for me. I really do feel better when I write down what I’m grateful for. What makes you feel grateful?

She may be unlucky in love, but Morello can totally rock "Spinster Chic."
She may be unlucky in love, but Morello can totally rock “Spinster Chic.” As for me, I’m more Dior than detention center, so I just have to leave karma to deal with my ex.

I haven’t been in the mood to write. I just don’t do anything worthy of writing about. This week I hardly went out at all. It’s not east to do stuff when you don’t have a car and are constantly at the mercy of others to take you places. You just become a burden. It gets embarrassing having to always ask for help. So this week I took to downloading Orange is the New Black. For the last several days I’ve been watching episode after episode. I am in the middle of season two, and I am completely riveted.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it, but I totally recommend it. It’s a comedy/ drama about the lives of women in prison. I feel so akin to the women on the show. No, I’ve never been in trouble with the law, but each one has a very relateable story. They are stories about mixing in with the wrong people, stories of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and stories about not having the same chances that “normal” people have. Of all the women on the series, there is nobody I relate to more than a character called Lorna Morello.

Morello is introduced as a friendly, welcoming, big hearted woman. She goes out of her way to be cheerful and kind. You can’t help but like her. In the first series she goes on and on about her fiancée Christopher. It seems like she spends most of her time in prison planning her wedding and the honeymoon. You can tell it’s what keeps her alive while she is locked up. It is not until the second season, however, that the audience discovers that Morello suffers from some kind of mental illness. She is a stalker, and Christopher is most definitely not her fiancée.

I feel for Lorna so much because I too have such a desperate desire to love and be loved. It’s what makes life worth living for me. I know what it feels like to love a man so deeply, only to have him pull away. More importantly, I understand all to well about the the craziness a girl can experience when that love is not returned. I was on depression medication for almost a year after I found out my husband was unfaithful to me. The thing is, I could have dealt with the infidelity. What I couldn’t get past was when he spelled it out for me: “I just don’t love you anymore.” I wonder what happens to all this love when nobody wants it? Sometimes it feels like your heart will just dry up and wither into nothingness, leaving you in an empty, bitter prison of your own making. Sometimes you wish that your heart would actually shrivel up, because the hurt is just too much, and you just would rather be numb than suffer. I know I’m not alone when I say that being in love has caused me more than my share of trouble and has been behind some very poor decision making. But still, I actually believe that love is the most beautiful and magical thing a person can experience. I’m not sure if that makes me a foolish glutton for punishment, or brave. For me, love is like the Holy Grail, and it is why I keep going. I don’t care if I ever live in a beautiful home or drive a fancy car. I don’t care of I have a great job or the admiration of others. Don’t get me wrong, all those things are great, and I accept any blessings God wants to throw my way. But for me, success is about having someone to come home to at the end of the day, someone who you know has your back. The prospect of that is what makes me want to wake up in the morning. My sincerest, deepest wish for myself is that one day my heart will be held by someone who knows it’s value. One day (hopefully in December), a man (who’s name might be “Napoleon”) is going to hug me (in Paris, perhaps?) with enough love that all the millions of pieces of my broken heart will be glued back together. Stay tuned… 😉

Well, from one prison to another, some good news is that I’ve been offered a job (subject to a background check and a drug test). After over ten years of being a housewife, I will be a working girl again. As much as I hate the idea of becoming some horrible drudge who does the same boring job day in and day out, the truth is, that is what I’m becoming by staying in the house all day anyway. It’s one thing when you have a husband and a home to look after, but just hanging around in my mom’s house is freaking boooooring! At least if I’m going to be bored, I can make some money LOL. Caroline has some adventures left, and if you know me, you know that my adventures aren’t cheap! It’s time for me to come out of hiding and get into the real world. It’s time for me to socialize with other people (if I can still remember how to do it). This is a huge step for me. I’m a bit nervous, but I’m totally ready.