Our First House: Lace, Vintage Furniture and Many Books

I haven't been reviewing many books or reading anything outside of my PhD research and I haven't written outside of January Rain. I've also been really busy working on our fixer upper. It's starting to look is much more like our home instead of the poop brown, drunkenly stripped house that we saw last spring. Hopefully I'll be finding more time to blog, but in the mean time, here's what I've been busy doing...

 Downstairs Bathroom:

Before:

After:

Guest Room: 

Before:

After:

 Hallway:

Unfortunately I don't have a before, but picture a lot of poo brown paint and fun-tack on every door.

Kitchen:

Before:

After:

Bathroom:

Before:

After:

The floor took forever, and we're still working on parts of it. I don't know why they put press and stick tiles over real tiles that were in really good shape. They also slapped a bath surround over a window, I'm excited for next weekend because the tiling will be done and I will have a finished, beautiful bathroom. Pictures to follow. 

Living Room:

Before:

After:

Our 2nd Anniversary & the Power of the Universe

I had this dream the other night about Bad Love. Up until that point, I couldn't even tell you the last time I had thought about him let alone had a dream about him. It was very strange. We met at what I think was a cafe and he sat in front of me and told me how he wanted to make it work out. All I kept saying was, "what about Phil?" He eventually starts getting frustrated with this answer and stops talking. It's one of those heavy, awkward silences that's almost painful. I get his attention again and I go, "You know what? I don't need you anymore."

And just like that, he got up and left. Then, I woke up.

"Been around the world so many times,I'm of the air, I'm of the sky. I wonder what my feet need the ground for, no one sing lullabies no more."

Fast forward to last night when my friend Catie and I were working on editing my latest manuscript because I promised myself that this was the year I was going to publish as much as I could. It's another manuscript that I had written and worked on and off on for several years...I would just always get nervous having people read my stuff. Which is really stupid when I think about how much of my stuff is out there for people to read. Anyway, this leads to discussion of Bad Love and the dream I had.

And then...it happened. When Bad Love and I were dating, he drew a picture of the Eiffel Tower for me. I so loved it. It was beautiful and it was my favorite place-- PARIS! It was the one thing I kept from that relationship over the years. It lived in a book case and it matched two more drawings I had acquired from a thrift store of the Arc de Triomphe and Sacre Coeur. Phil came into the room holding the broken frame and apologizing that it was the strangest thing, it just toppled out of and off the bookcase, breaking into four different pieces. Every other picture that's in there is still there, including the one that was in front of the drawing. Phil also had no idea what I was talking about to Catie at that moment because we were facebook messaging.

How creepy is that? The universe is very clearly wrapping up a brief chapter of my life that I turned into an extremely long chapter by using Bad Love as an excuse to date tool bag wannabe band boys.

Today also marks the two year anniversary of when Phil and I sat in an Applebee's drinking and eating hamburgers and playing never have I ever with a napkin. We were "official" by the end of that date and I think that was really only our 3rd or 4th date overall. We pretty much met and that was it, the rest were just formalities. Two years later, having backpacked across Europe together, gone to Disney World, adopted a dog and bought a house-- I can say that we have definitely been busy :0).

We spent the day today shoveling out from the monster blizzard we had and recuperating. I actually took a nap today that how run down and tired I feel with all that's going on. I'm thankful to have a snow day tomorrow and I'm also thankful that I got to be snowed in on my anniversary with the man I love, our dopey dog and our silly cats. It was definitely one of those super awesome weekends where you didn't have much of anything to do and you just got to be with your person.

Getting to watch Molly almost somersault backwards because she got stuck in a snow drift on our deck was also pretty priceless.  

Looking for travel?

Then, you should check out my other blog "A Hart Full of Love" for a complete review of my month in Europe! 

Book Review: The Botticelli Secret by Marina Fiorato

Steeped in the turmoil of the non-unified Italy of the 1400's, Marina Fiorato skillfully weaves a detailed and evasive mystery around one of Botticelli's more famous paintings, Primavera or Allegory of Spring. The painting is packed with meaning alone, but Fiorato takes the painting to an entirely new level in her book, The Botticelli Secret.

Painted in 1482, the Primavera was created by Italian Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli. He was of the Florentine school and worked during the Early Renaissance or Qauttrocento. It is suggested that the allegory had been petitioned by the Medici family.

The work is largely accepted as an allegory of springtime; however, other themes and meanings have been explored, including the idea that the painting illustrates the ideal of Neoplatonic love. For Fiorato, the painting serves as the basis for her art history mystery in her novel.

Fiorato opens her novel with the introduction of her heroine- common whore by the name of Luciana Vetra. She is described as a classical beauty, with long flowing ringlets and a sharp tongue from the four years that she spent on the streets of Florence. She is aptly named for how she arrived in Florence. Her origins for much of the novel are unknown, but from the beginning Luciana speaks of her uncommon arrival in the city- as a baby washed-up on the shores of the city in a glass bottle.

The reader is quickly drawn to her, despite her abrasiveness and crassness that are abundant in the earlier part of the novel, but softens as she finds herself and finds love during the course of the story. Her flaws make Luciana realistic and easy to relate to, despite the over-the-top mystery and life that she eventually gets swept up in to.

Fiorato's story of Luciana, Primavera and the mystery that engulfs everything is skillfully rendered and so lush that the reader easily gets immersed in the world of what Italy was like during the early part of the Renaissance. Fiorato leaves nothing to the imagination and stays away from romanticizing the period, leaving the reader with a raw and detailed depiction of what life was like during the time that Botticelli lived and worked.

The Botticell Secret by Marina Fiorato was originally published in April of 2010. It is available for purchase through St. Martin's Griffin, New York with ISBN 978-0-312-60636-7.

Book Review: Sunflowers by Sheramy Bundrick

Art historian and professor, Sheramy Bundrick shines in her debut novel about the final years of Dutch painter, Vincent Van Gogh.

There is nothing easy about writing historical fiction. Once a writer adds art into the mix, the project becomes something entirely different as many artists, especially those like Vincent Van Gogh are not so easily defined. Furthermore, having the ability to blend factual art historical information with the fiction a writer creates, is difficult and can often produce novels that are more of a creation as opposed to a well-researched, factual backdrop with a fictional story also added for entertainment.

This, however, is not the case with Sheramy Bundrick's Sunflowers. As an art historian and professor, Bundrick brings to the table a strong set of skills and research that are more than evident in her fictional retelling of the final two years of Dutch painter Vincent Van Gogh's troubled life. She recounts with some liberty, the time that the struggling artist spent with a young woman named Rachel – the very same lady that would be presented with a fragment of his ear.

In reality, there is nearly nothing that has survived in history about the real Rachel, other then a document that lists her name, address, occupation and that she was the woman Van Gogh asked for at the brothel to present her with a piece of his ear. Other artists such as Bernard and Gauguin mention Rachel in their writings and letters only in passing, referring to her as the "cafe girl" or "a wretched girl" respectively.

Irregardless of the reality of the factual, historical relationship between Van Gogh and Rachel, Bundrick writes her story having imagined what it might have been like had there been a relationship between the two people while incorporating factual information regarding the time period and Van Gogh's work.

Moreover, Bundrick creates this mixture of fantasy and art historical fact seamlessly. She captivates her readers from the very first page and does not let them go until they reach the inevitable end of both the novel and of Vincent Van Gogh. Her intricate descriptions make her readers feel as though they are part of the dingy cafe where Vincent and Rachel meet to talk, part of the garden where he draws her and even part of the city and busyness of the city of Arles as a whole.

Overall, Sheramy Bundrick's work is captured best through Susan Vreeland, author of Life Studies, " [Bundrick] lays bare in rich, compelling scenes the mystery of the turbulent and misunderstood final two years in Van Gogh's life." Sunflowers is a gem of a first novel and makes for an interesting glimpse into the mental decline of one of the world's most famous artists.

Sunflowers – A Novel of Vincent Van Gogh by Sheramy Bundrick is available for purchase through Avon with ISBN 0061765279.

Book Review: The Sidewalk Artist by Gina Buonaguro and Janice Kirk

When a struggling New York writer escapes to Paris, she finds herself falling for a charming yet secretive sidewalk artist.

A blocked writer, unhappy with her life and relationship takes off for a Parisian vacation. It is there that Tulia Rose encounters beautiful chalk drawings of some of Raphael's most beautiful and famous creations of cherubs and light. The chalk drawings' artist Raffaello, intrigues Tulia. She quickly finds herself asking if she loves him? Or is he a stalker? Or could he even be the reincarnation of the Renaissance artist Raphael?

Tulia's story and eventual love-affair takes her across Europe to lush settings that are both dreamy and romantic. Readers are indulged in sensual Paris, dream-like Tuscany and beautiful Venice as Tulia navigates herself through her budding affair and eventual break-up with her New York boyfriend, Ethan.

The settings are beautifully described and detailed by an author with a keen eye for the intricacies that the romance of Europe offers its visitors. Buonaguro writes, "What truly moves Tulia is not the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame Cathedral or any of the wonderful sights. It is the little things.

A windowsill with a pot of geraniums and a glimpse of lace curtain, the way the sun glances off a puddle, the echo of her heels as she walks down a narrow cobblestone street, the taste of coffee at an outdoor cafe, the sound of children calling out to each other in French," making it easy for the reader to fall in love with Paris even if they haven't had a chance to make it there yet.

The downfall of The Sidewalk Artist, in my opinion was Raffaello - Buonaguro's hero. Instead of being the romantic artist that was meant to sweep readers off their feet as they read, I found Raffaello to be more creepy than to be someone with whom I would want to disappear into the European countryside with. I kept waiting for a plot twist wherein the entire story line became something sinister and it was with that thought that kept me from completely falling in love with the story though I did find the idea of the parallel plot and romance to be creative and intriguing.

The Sidewalk Artist by Gina Buonaguro and Janice Kirk is available for purchase through St. Martin's Griffin with ISBN 031237805X. It was released on April 1, 2008.

Well...Hello There 2014!

I have gotten so busy that I rarely write anymore unless it's for my masters.

Which is already more than half over already?

Much like the school year is half over and I am now working towards wrapping up my first full year of teaching middle school English.

While I'm dating this wonderful guy who does really sweet things for me like keeping a blanket in his car for me so when I get into it and it's cold, he tucks me into the my seat :).

And I'm going back to Europe this summer?

Backpacking throughout Europe most likely with aforementioned sweet guy that I'm dating?

And it all just sort of feels good and exciting and happy...

This is my years of nevers. I always said I would never teach in an urban school and I would never teach middle school again. I am doing both and I absolutely love it. I also said I would never meet anyone at work...and I did...thank God I am officially done with online dating. And I also felt like I was never going to get to go back to Europe, but I'm getting that too.

And after last year, I am just *so thankful* for all of this. It feels so good to be happy and peaceful again. 

Grief, Not Guilt by Jeanann Verlee

I wish you a tongue scalded by tea.
A hangover. Burnt toast. Stubbed toes. A lost job.
I wish you weeping in the shower. Salt in the sugar bowl.
A wishlist of sorrows. Grief, not guilt.
"Hole in your favorite coat. Stain on the good suit.
Arthritis for your joints. A broken guitar string at every show.
I wish each breath a little harder. Each workday
an hour longer. I wish your heart a thousand breaks.
All your sports teams, bottom rank. I wish your friends
go quiet. The leaves brown above your head.
A thunderstorm every morning. Nothing but pearls
when you shop for her diamond. I wish you bad knees,
a sore back. Empty sheets. A ghost to haunt your house.
A tub brimming with mud. Closet stuffed with too-small shoes.
Flat beer. Sour milk. Weak coffee. I wish you
flat tires, soggy pasta, a tax audit to fail.
Bent forks, dull knives. A hangnail for every finger.
I wish you a room wallpapered with my photographs.
A chamber filled with empty bassinets."

Pretty much, pretty much. 

The Search for Mr. Fabulous: Olivia Pope Says It Best

"I am not a toy that you can play with when you're bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done."

- Olivia Pope, Scandal

The Search for Mr. Fabulous: What I Don't Get About Guys

And probably never will, but it just gets me.

I had a friend that has her own band boy. When she talks about it I just go UGH can't they both just become BFF, form a jerk club and run off into the sunset together? All the while vowing to never again try to date another girl because they're just going to do the same to her.

It won't happen, but one can dream.

So, the thing that gets me and I will never understand? Ok. Ready? Ready.

I will never understand the kind of guys that play a big game. I mean the type that say that they want a relationship with you, tell you that they love you and that they want to have a life with you, but then one day, usually very soon after they profess all that go, oh wait, never mind, he no longer has those feelings, but I still want to talk to you everyday and be your BFF because I do love you.

Wait. What?

I've had it happen to me twice. The first was Matt, my first real "adult" relationship after college. He literally called me up one day after our first strained part of our relationship and goes, "I thought I love you, but I don't. It stopped growing."

My response? "Well, then this is done." Followed by a long bloated silence. To which I finally say, "hello?"

"I can't believe you just said that to me," he responds.

Er. Didn't you just after a year of dating me  and talks of me moving and taking a new job and you wanting to live together CALL ME to tell me that you didn't love me? "What do you expect? I'm done with this game."

"Well can't we still be friends?! I want to talk to you! I have to talk to you!"

"No." Click.

And I hang up. And I mourn for a long time because he was the first person that really broke my heart and my trust in people. I didn't talk to him for three years and even then that "friendship" lasted a summer, if that because he couldn't take responsibility for what he had done. He admitted it was a screwed up thing, but never said it was him or his fault or that he shouldn't have played the love game if that wasn't what he felt. He had started all of that talk, not me and I felt like if you don't feel that way then don't say it because it builds up the other person, it helps build up their feelings and their hopes and its just cruel because eventually you're going to leave them, so why make them think that they are loved and that you won't?

Four years later, band boy enters my life and we share a lot. Like pretty much every dirty detail of, everything. I open up about this whole thing that happened with Matt. And he tells me how cruel that is and how it was done to him too.

And a year later? Turns around and does the same exact thing. In a text message. And then wants to be friends and BFF and text me all day long and call me as if everything that happened didn't and like it was all okay. Like he did nothing wrong.

Gets me because guys like that really think they did nothing wrong and in turn try to manipulate me into feeling bad because to them *I'M* the one making them the "bad guy," but the reality is they are the bad guy. They were selfish, careless and totally disregarded how their actions were going to make you feel. And just thought that it was all okay because in the end they didn't get hurt and could walk away without a thought in the world. That "we just dated and it didn't work." Really, dude?

I can be friends with people I have "just dated" and even ones I had relationships with that didn't work out. My high school sweetheart and I would have been together 10 years yesterday. We reminded each other of it like we always do, talked and wished each other well deciding that since I was spending it doing work for my masters and he was going to a music fest that it was pretty much on point of how it should be.

That's one thing I admire about my relationship with him. Neither one of us ever took our love away or demeaned the other's feelings or thoughts or the promises we made, but after years of trying, realized it just wasn't it for either of us and found a lifelong friendship instead.

Because when you truly do love someone, it doesn't go away, but sometimes it just evolves into something else all together. But to demean someone, their value or their feelings or to lie to them and play them and then act like its no biggie is just so...you know what? It's so Don Draper.

And really, who wants to be in love with friends with Don Draper?

The Search for Mr. Fabulous: Gifts from the Universe

When you're out there looking to meet the right guy you have to date your way through all of the sludgey toads that cross your path. So, that when you do meet the one, the only Mr. Fabulous, you not only know beyond a shadow of a doubt, but you also appreciate him for all of the wonderful things he does for you that the icky toads never did.

And in the interim, there are guys that the universe gives you as little gifts along the way. They can be the guy that on your worst day just stopped and held the door open for you, or the guy that complimented you when you least expected or if you're really lucky the guy that just takes you out. These little gifts sort of help to restore your faith that he is in fact out there and that no matter how crappy you may feel or even how lonely and frustrated you become, that Mr. Fabulous is out there, waiting to treat you all the time like these little gifts do and that he too is looking for you just like you are looking for him.

I entered the land of dating again last week. I sort of loathed the entire idea. I absolutely hated it to be honest. I mean how many dates and relationships can you go through? That end bad? That hurt you? Like when do you just say enough? I was to that point, but my best friend from college wasn't going to let that happen so she created an online dating profile for me.

Which lasted until last night, but that's a different story. Today's story is about a gift from the universe in the form of a guy. He was older. He was very educated, travelled and cultured. He was on my level which after dating a kid for the past year, it just felt really nice to be out on a date with a grown up. He took me to a crazy expensive restaurant and I ate amazing seafood. The date was awkward and it was clear we both were not meeting Mr. and Miss Fabulous that night, but it was nice to talk to someone who was interested enough in me to take me out and ask me questions about travel and about my life.

And it was even cute for the week that we were talking and he would text me each morning in Italian and I would answer him in French. I know, totally gag worthy, but after this last relationship go-round, I really just needed that awfully cute yet clearly over-educated stuff. I craved it, someone showing an effort just for me.

In the end, it was okay when we both stopped texting. It was never going to be a great romance, but for me it was a little gem that gleamed into my life and reminded me that he is out there...somewhere.

It reminded me of nice it feels to be courted as opposed to having someone chase you down to try to  "hookup" with you to see if it "goes anywhere." That's the big difference I have found between guys my age and men in their thirties, older guys don't even think that that bs hookup culture is how you go about a girl that you like and want to pursue.

And I just love that!

 I know that I'm going to get over all of the bad I have felt even though I am never going to get an apology or even an admission that what my ex did was wrong, selfish, manipulative and absolutely hurtful. It's cool though, it seems the universe has got this. 

I just didn't see the green light...

Ever since I was a child 

I've turned it over in my mind 

I sang by the piano 

Tore my yellow dress and 

Cried and cried and cried 

And I don't want to see what I've seen 

To undo what has been done 

Turn off all the lights 

Let the morning come, come 

Now there's green light in my eyes 

And my lover on my mind 

And I sing from the piano 

Tear my yellow dress and 

Cry and cry and cry 

Over the love of you 

On this champagne-drunken home 

Against the current of gold 

Everybody see I love him 

'Cause it's the feeling that you get 

When the afternoon is set 

On the bridge into the city 

I don't want to see what I've seen 

To undo what has been done 

Turn off all the lights 

Let the morning come 

There's green light in my eyes 

And my lover on my mind 

And I sing from the piano 

Tear my yellow dress and 

Cry and cry and cry 

'Cause your're a hard soul to save 

With an ocean in the way 

But I'll get around it 

'Cause your’re a hard soul to save 

With an ocean in the way 

But I'll get around it 

Now there's green light in my eyes 

And my lover on my mind 

And I sing from the piano 

Tear my yellow dress and 

Cry and cry and cry 

Over the love of you 

Cry and cry and cry 

Over the love of you 

(I can see the green light 

I can see it in your eyes) 

Cry and cry and cry 

Over the love of you 

I can see the green light 

I can see it in your eyes

The Search for Mr. Fabulous: The Fairy Tale to Hold All Fairy Tales

My grandfather died twelve years ago today. His was the first death that really hit me probably because my grandfather was just the best. He would always hug me, play with me and make me feel loved - no matter what. He'd carry me around, call me sweet pea his raspy voice and laugh whenever the kids did something funny.

It was such a deep, happy laugh too. When I think about it now, I just think of comfort and consistency.

And that's just who he was. He was just such a man. He worked hard, he loved his family and was happiest when he was with us.

He also loved my grandmother to absolute pieces. He was about 9 years older than her. He was my age when they met and she was just a teenager, but to this day, she will tell you he is the only man she had ever loved.

My favorite story about my grandparents is that my grandfather had been engaged before he had met my grandmother and gone off to war, when he came home the woman was having a baby with some other guy! Can you believe that? So, my grandfather of course leaves her and sometime later meets and marries my grandmother.

Fast forward to a trip to Coney Island a couple years, after they're married. My grandma at this point is very pregnant with my aunt and she sees my grandfather talking to some girl. She walks over to them, probably as pissed off as my hormonal grandmother could have been and waits. Within seconds, my grandfather bursts into a smile, puts his arm around my grandmother and goes, "And THIS, this is my wife, Helen," oozing with all sorts of adoration and pride at showing her off to the very woman that had probably hurt him very deeply years before that.

That's the kind of man my grandfather was. When he loved, he loved for real and he protected and adored.

My grandmother tells me one other story about my grandfather that moved me to tears. At the time I thought it was because she was telling me this as a means to make me hold out for that kind of love following another relationship ending, but even now, I'm tearing up as I type this.

Twelve years ago when my grandfather was dying and his mind was rattled with dementia, he didn't really know us anymore and it was fleeting glimpses really. But there was one last conversation she had with him where he turned to her one day in the hospital, knowing that his end was in fact coming and said to her, "I'm scared."

Nodding, my grandmother seeks to comfort him. "I know."

"I'm scared for you," he tells her.

She stares at him.

"When I'm gone who will take care of you?"

Mustering up what I feel would need to be a huge amount of strength, my grandmother says to him, "It's okay, John. God will take care of me."

"Then I leave you in God's hands," he replies.

He died a few days later. Even in the end which I am sure is the scariest freaking thing that can ever happen to you, his thoughts were for my grandmother. Now, isn't that the fairy tale? To know that you were loved that much, for so long and even in your partner's final moments, his thoughts were solely of you for a bit.

Every year since then, I visit my grandmother because I can not imagine how horrible this day still must be for her. I couldn't get there this year and we had all but a five minute phone call, but I know she still appreciated that because sometimes you just need someone to care.

She listens to me cry over my breakups, well the big ones that actually bother me, and sometimes I wonder if she wants to slap me because the love she lost seems so much greater than the love that I've had in my life.

I still can't believe it's been 12 years already. It seems like yesterday but in the same time, another life time ago as well. 

My Hiatus

Five years ago I took a hiatus from dating and well from life as a whole. It was hard. I was hurt, lonely and I couldn't find a job for the life of me because the economy tanked. 

And for three years, I didn't date. I had very little to do with guys. I cared, but I didn't.

And then for the past two years with the job and graduate school all figured out, I dated all different kinds of guys and found myself single again. And today as I left work, my third French teaching job in a year, I felt very happy with it just being me again.

I get up, I go to work, I speak French and then I come home and watch Mad Men on netflix while I craft. I even stained my desk chair to match my new furniture. I've been reading all of the books I've had piling up and I am even nearly finished making the softest baby blanket in the history of the world.

The yarn was just so soft, I had to buy it even though there is no baby for this blanket, but seriously, this blanket just had to exist. And it will and will probably be given to one of my college friends that are all getting married and you know, having babies. Or, it will sit in my closest until that day where I need it.

It's weird, I blinked and suddenly everyone I went to school with has moved on with their lives. I have too, but I am officially the last one that's still waiting on that special guy to show up. That idea used to scare the crap out of me, being the last one. But it has happened and I'm happy.

I'm just doing me. This year was a big one, my first  "real" job, having a boyfriend for a hot second, buying a car, getting completely out of debt, paying back student loans - it was like hello, adulthood. And I did it. I did it all.

I have a banging art program all planned for the summer and a whole bunch of new adventures starting. It's a good feeling and I am enjoying my dating hiatus. Which has a totally undefined ending point. I think the next time I start dating someone will be far into the future and it will also have to be someone that wows me from the beginning. The next one, is going to be the right one and until then, I'm just going to teach, paint, knit, watch copious amounts of netflix and craft.

He's out there, he's just with all the wrong women right now and he's going to have to find me, I'm done looking for him.

Meeting Mr. Fabulous

Have you ever watched the movie Practical Magic with Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman? It's one of my favorites. I absolutely love it. I love when Sandra Bullock's character creates her true love spell for the guy that she thinks doesn't exist. Only he does and he eventually finds her and well, a whole bunch of stuff happens and he eventually comes to love her. Total chick movie. And I can watch it over and over again without shame.

It got me thinking. Though, I am not longer a relationship blogger or web columnist and lack any real desire to blog about my experiences, I still do think about what it is going to be like when I go fall in love again and hopefully the next time will be with the right person. Which then today got me to thinking what I want the right person to be like.

In college, my room mate and I wrote out these long lists of what we thought we wanted in our true loves. I held onto it for years, but I think I have since thrown it away in the great ex boyfriend stuff purge of 2012.

On Easter, my uncle I think got me so mad for the first time ever in life. It's kind of hard to get mad at my uncle, but the last thing I wanted to talk about on Easter was my love life. And he went right for it and made a joke about how I should stop dating tall guys and find myself a nice short guy because maybe what I am attracted to and want isn't what is going to make me happy. I quite literally wanted to deck him over the Easter ham as he went on about women he knew that found guys different to what they thought and couldn't be happier. I promptly told him, then that's great for them, I'm glad settling suits them.

Conversation, over.

But that's the thing, my guy is tall. And he's darker featured and he has facial hair. Think Alcide from True Blood.

He's creative in his own way. He knows how to think outside the box and find different approaches to things. He's good at building and fixing things, he enjoys doing that.

He plays music, but in the way that he does not in anyway shape or form have some dead end dream about being a famous rocker boy. Instead, it's something that he does for the fun of it and the enjoyment rather than the unrealistic ideal that he'll one day be the next Van Halen.

He went to college. And maybe even graduate school. He's ambitious and driven to make a good life for himself where he can support himself and be comfortable.

He believes in God, but not in some nut-so fanatic way, but in the way that he truly knows that there is a higher power and that we do come from that.

He shares my sense of humor and can play it back with equally snappy sarcasm.

He's tender and kind. He can anticipate my needs. He's calmer than I am so when I get all wound up like I do, he knows how to handle it and not get all wound up with me.

He can talk to me about anything and I with him. And even with the hard stuff, it's really not hard because we can make jokes about it with ease.

We have fun just being together, even if we're doing nothing at all.

And he plays with my hair until I fall asleep and holds me while he does it, letting me drift off on his chest.

Most importantly, he believes in family and wants one of his own someday, one that includes me and the potential for children eventually.

And from the moment he meets me, he thinks enough of me to treat me with respect and make me a priority in his life. Spending time with me and getting to know everything that makes me well, me!

When he does spend time with me, he makes me feel protected and cared for. He does things like walking me to my door, opening car doors for me and walking me into a place. As independent as I am, I just love when a guy does that. It makes me feel good.

And he's out there, he just hasn't found his way to me just yet. 

Book Review: I Don't Care About Your Band by Julie Klausner

I read Klausner's book following my breakup from yet another guy claiming musician. I read it solely based on two facts: 1.) my book club had picked it for our April meeting and 2.) because of the slightly long-winded subtitle, "What I Learned From Indie Rockers, Trust Funders, Pornographers, Felons, Faux-Sensitive Hipsters, And Other Guys I've Dated."

I absolutely loved her opening chapter where she compares us to Miss Piggy and these men to Kermit. I found myself laughing to myself as I read. There's is a lot of truth to it. Miss Piggy was awesome and spent a lot of time chasing Kermit, a guy that would never really work to make anything work with her because he was content being with his friends (sans attachment) and working on making his show and it worked as long as Miss Piggy didn't ask for more. But that's the thing when you love someone or even really like someone, eventually you do want more than that. I have spent a large expanse of my dating life going after these guys that have no real sense of obligation, adulthood or anything other then the need they feel to be sitting by the swamp mindlessly strumming their banjo a la Kermit the Frog. 

Klausner really nailed what it is like to be a 20-something trying to navigate the pool of toads in search of the prince. She does it sarcastically and with a great sense of humor as she candidly describes her failed attempts at romance with all sorts of guys that just, well, seemed absolutely clueless. 

What made me want to stop reading her book was when I got to the parts where Klausner seems to have lost her sense of self and overall, her standards for herself. It's one thing to get so wrapped up in someone that you don't really realize how crappy he's treating you until you finally have that moment of clarity, but with a lot of what Klausner writes about, she openly says how there were guys she was with that she didn't even like and often slept with just to prove something. The worst being the guy that used to abuse her that she sleeps with again years later or that one night stand she gets into where she goes home the next morning completely infested with bed bugs. Standards, we need to hold on to those!

Overall, I enjoyed the book despite those sections where I just wanted to grab her and shake her. It was also refreshing to get to the end of the book and not have her end it with a fairy-tale romance of her thirties because that's not how it's always going to happen. Your 30's are not going to be the magical time where it all comes together just like your 20's haven't been either. 

Score: 3 out of 5

Book Information: I Don't Care About Your Band by Julie Klausner is available for purchase on amazon with ISBN 1592405614 from Gotham Publishing. It was reprinted in February 2010.