This Dating Whoa was all me.

Back in 2005 I got married, and by January of 2007 I was divorced. I’m giving this little bit of background information because it’s probably important in understanding why I was “nervous” on my first date after spending nearly 6 years with the same guy. First dates, after being with the same person for numerous years, are scary, mind altering episodes. Of course, that might have just been me. Lets face it. I was the girl in high school that hugged the wall, walked quickly to class with my head down, never made eye contact, never played sports, and never kissed a boy until I was 18, let alone went on a date. Yeah. I was that girl. *head desk* Which reminds me of one of the few times I went to a football game and wore a cowboy hat. Only cowboy hat in the crowd.

October of 2006 I decided I was done spending life as a wall flower and that I was going to take the world on for a change. I signed up for a dance class to learn how to two step and jitterbug. I’d never been taught, and only rarely ever danced, even though it was the one thing in life I desperately wanted to learn. I was too shy to go after it. Back then, I certainly wasn’t living my new mantra of “Pioneer On!” like I plan on doing now.

First night at the class was great fun. The guy to girl ratio was about right and the instructor was good. Even with the wafting B.O. cloud that followed him. I was hooked and proud of myself for stepping outside of my safety zone. Second class was even better because a group of hunky guys showed up. Same age group as I, and fun. One guy in particular, James, was hunkier than the others and me being drunk on my new found “take charge” attitude decided getting a date with him would be my next goal.

Several classes and a couple emails/phone calls later first date happens. Now in my defense I was nervous. Real nervous. Changed clothes about 30 times and probably restyled my hair at last 15. I was determined to make a good impression. Probably a little to determined because I ended up picking him up, and planning the evening’s activities. Which was supposed to include a drive to Sir Scots Oasis in Manhattan Montana. They’ve got the best steak fingers of all time, and it’s an insanely friendly place to go.

Ended up being that I didn’t plan very well because Sir Scot’s was full and we ended up in Bozeman and Johnny Carionos. No biggie. Still good food, just a slightly farther drive and plenty of time to get to know each other, right?

Cue the strawberries and blueberries.

My car just happened to be in the shop at this time, so I was zipping around in a sporty Pontiac G6. A car that had me literally speeding everywhere because I wasn’t used to having a vehicle that accelerated quickly.

Add in my nervousness about being in a small car with hunky James and it was a recipe for disaster.

Ended up with a speeding ticket for doing 97 on the highway, which has a speed limit of 75. And I tried flirting with the officer in an effort to get out of the ticket, which didn’t help.

I’m pretty sure that was the beginning of the end of that relationship, which lasted 3 weeks and ended with him saying “He just wasn’t falling in love”.

Go figure.

*head desk*

I have spring fever, along with cabin fever and sushi fever.

*sigh*

So, in the guise of perking myself up, I’ve created this new outfit to work towards purchasing.

What are your thoughts?

Spring Out by UBetchaApparel featuring zip jackets

So for the new year, I’m researching recipes from the Great Depression. And yes I realize that Clara has a corner on the market with her recipes, video’s and stories of what it was actually like to live during the depression. I can’t compete with that. And I’m not about to try. I just want to try making a few of the more obscure recipes that were invented during the depression.

You know. For fun!

I’m planning on starting with this recipe. This sounds a lot like my Granma’s recipe called “Shipwreck”, but with a few variations. Although, I’m betting that during the depression ground beef might have been hard to come by, so I wonder if they used hot dogs instead? Or no meat at all? Anyone know?

1929 Depression Casserole

1 1/2 lbs. ground beef
Kidney beans (1 can)
5 sliced raw lg. potatoes
3 sliced raw onions
10 oz. bottle catsup
Salt, pepper and garlic powder
Green pepper

Brown ground beef and flavor with salt, pepper and garlic powder. In 9 x 13 inch casserole pan layer kidney beans, sliced raw potatoes, sliced onion, diced green pepper, top with ground beef, and cover with catsup, repeat with a second layer in same order. Cover and bake at 375 degrees for about 1 1/2 hours. Uncover during the last 15 minutes of baking. May need to add small amount of water if too dry.

Recipe found at Cooks.com

You can’t make a depression era casserole without wearing a vintage inspired apron, right? Didn’t think so. Try these babies on for size.

Beyond Avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?) – (Author: Jake Nickell)

Go after something I really want.

I’m a coward. I say I want things, and I’m certain I work towards them, but if you don’t actually obtain them, or make them happen, can your really say you are working towards them? Eventually there has to be some kind of completion or goal met, so that you can create a new set of goals and work “towards” those with the end justification being to obtain those as well.

If you haven’t completed anything, and you’ve been in a perpetual state of “working towards” something isn’t that just a little bit lazy? Or hypocritical?

Guess I just feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. Maybe 2010 was my year of awakening and I’m just now realizing how much time I’ve spent “working towards a goal” that as of yet hasn’t been obtained and I’m sort of feeling like I’m lazy. Maybe I don’t want the goal enough? Maybe I’m not listening enough? Or trying enough? Or working hard enough?

Maybe I don’t really have a clue what it is that I want out of life? Maybe I need to spend some more of life taking a few more chances, seeing a few more sites, and making a few more decisions that push me outside of my lazy comfort zone? Maybe this years “Beyond Avoidance” is to say yes more often than I say no, try something new more often than stick with the old comfortable routine? Wear more dresses and makeup, and play in the snow and the sunshine more often. Maybe I really should learn to drive a semi truck and push myself to rope better? Maybe I should figure out how to play the stock game or gamble in Las Vegas?

Maybe I should step off the merry-go-round and embrace some new changes?

Maybe I should make an actual list of obtainable goals? You know. Write them down and post them somewhere for everyone else to see.

Maybe that list is what I’ve been avoiding all along, and in reality, that’s my first failure? Because if you make a list, and you don’t finish anything on it, that’s failure slapping you in the face.

Of course, maybe I’m just not very good at finishing things I’ve started?

What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011? – (Author: Leoni Allan)

I looked up the definition of heal/healing, because lets face it, I don’t have a clue what healed me this year.

1. To restore to health or soundness; cure.
2. To set right; repair: healed the rift between us.
3. To restore (a person) to spiritual wholeness.

And the phrase “restore” kept bumping into me. For some reason this held more “healing” power than the word “healing” did. Per my previous post and my decision to “Pioneer On!”, I started doing just that when I restored faith in myself. Even though many of the previous posts have been based on inadequacies that I find in myself. Things I dislike, hate or just wish would go away, all of those things are part of who I am and part of what makes this journey of my life so interesting. Trust me. I don’t want to feel inadequate or “less”. I don’t want to think of everything that’s wrong with me. I know this is just me bagging on myself. I realize this. Doesn’t make it any easier to quit doing it, but I realize this. I heard that women don’t really start living life until they turn thirty. I’m starting to believe this.

Life before thirty has been a pinball machine of triumphs, mistakes, misery, love, gratitude, selfishness, hate, worry, jealousy, idiocy, and a whole other slew of imaginative words that escape me at the moment. I felt like this little ball bouncing around, being flung against bumpers, and dropped in holes. It was frightening. Okay…lets be honest. Life scared the pants off me. And honestly, can anyone say that life before thirty didn’t make them want to curl into the fetal position and sweat. I’m pretty sure I wanted my mom to fly by with her magic “mom” wand, and make everything better.

I lost so much during my twenties. My sense of self, family members, love, friends, money, time, hair. And oh did I dwell on all of this. Stress was my constant companion during my twenties. I vaguely remembered a time before all the stress started eating away at my psyche, when I was a kid again. And all I wanted to do was draw paper dolls and create business cards for my dolls. I just wanted to spend the days coloring with my crayons and reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books. That’s what I wanted out of life. To just do what I wanted to do.

Fast forward twenty years and I’m looking thirty in the face, and as much as everything around me is telling me “Oh thirty is the DEVIL. You don’t want to turn thirty. You can’t have kids after thirty. You’re thirty? What have you done with your life? Where’s your husband? What career are you working on? You’ve lost that hot-twenty-something body!” I just wan to scream. That way of thinking is just so wrong!

Enough already! Why can’t life just begin again at thirty? Why does it have to be labeled as this horrible milestone one has to endure! Is this really what reality is about? Because if so, I wanna go back to drawing paper dolls and coloring “My Little Ponies”. I wanna restore that nonchalant kid attitude of “I just want to do, what I want to do!” and screw reality, and society and everything else that comes with being an adult.

I want to spend 2011 restoring childhood aspirations. Because really, it’s just another extension of “Pioneer On!”.

That was the style of paper doll I was drawing. Little bit more rudimentary, but none the less, vintage 1880′s dolls. I’ll get some photos when I go home for Christmas.

What do you want to heal/restore? I’m delighted to hear!

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present? – (Author: Patrick Reynolds)

Honestly.

Only when I’m riding. Otherwise I feel out of place and “Amazon-ish”. When I’m riding everything just seems to flow and is in sync. I’m thinking, reacting, acting, listening, moving, feeling and concentrating all as one happy unit. It’s so freeing to feel like this, especially when I feel gangly and discombobulated most of the time. (Example: inability to walk gracefully in heels).

What about you all? I’d love to hear your “integrated” moment.

What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life? – (Author: Sam Davidson)

I’m not excited about having to dwell on 11 things my life doesn’t need.

Negativity. I’m tired of feeling negative, even when something is a positive. I don’t want to think about what can go wrong. I just want to think about how positive this experience is right now!

Shame. Honestly…this has to be the worst human emotion out there. Yes, I appreciate shame when it’s warranted. But damnit! I’ve made a few mistakes and some mistakes have been made against me. I don’t want to keep dwelling on the mistake and rehashing it and trying to internalize the whole mess! Enough already!

Which brings me to another thing I’d like to get rid of. That nagging little voice that says I’m not pretty enough, or tall enough. The voice that nags me when I’m smiling and makes me think people are just staring at my nose or the space between my teeth! For pete sake! I know it’s there. Why do I have to make myself feel like everyone is obviously staring at it in horror. I’m not Taylor Swift. Why does my brain keep telling me, that ME is not enough! I am enough! More than enough! I’m unique and frankly I just want to be comfortable in my own damn skin! I can’t get rid of it, or exchange for another model. I just want to be comfortable in ME!

Lack of friends. I don’t have any. I don’t need a “BFF” or whatever the heck that is. I just want friends who don’t dwell on drama. Who are striving to do right by others and themselves. Who can walk into a bar or club and hang out as girls without having to worry about every guy in the joint. WHO CARES ABOUT MEN! I’d use the “F” word right now, but I know my Uncle reads this and I really don’t like using the “F” word, but sometimes it feels necessary. I just want that happy friend relationship that’s not threatened by a guy or a huge diamond. I just want respect and trust and a boat load of fun. *Insert internal nagging voice here* “You aren’t pretty enough. Oh and you aren’t flawless, and you like to talk about politics, and you sometimes get a little loud when your drinking. Oh, and, remember. That obnoxious laugh you have when you’re trying really hard to fit in, and it’s so obvious that you don’t. That’s why you don’t have friends.” See what I mean? Why can’t that little hooker leave me alone!

I’m tired of being shy! It’s worse than be a coward, and being a coward is pretty bad. Besides, I don’t look good in yellow and I’m assuming that “shy” is like a big huge florescent pink and yellow flag. It’s so…out there! And I’m not much of a pink girl either. So lets just mix the two colors that don’t fit me, plaster them all over me in a huge swishy jump suit and laugh while I stumble through life trying to remain a wall flower. *insert “F” word* I’m done with this jumpsuit!

Can I say my big feet. I mean, I know they are kind of stuck with me, but I really want to buy *superstar* hot heels and be able to actually walk around in them, gracefully. Not like a knock kneed zebra. GEEZ! Do they give lessons on walking in heels? Because if so, sign me up!