Friday, May 28, 2010

Am I Carrie or Samantha?

"NO! Not tonight Emma". That was my first response when she asked if I wanted to go to the opening night of the new Sex and the City movie. I hate standing in line-ups for one thing, and I am past the point in my life where it matters if I see a movie the day it opens or a few days or even weeks later. I know I will get to it eventually and my ego is not wrapped up in being "first"! Don't get me wrong, I definitely wanted to see the movie - just not last night, I had put in a 10 hour day at work, had closed a big deal by the end of it and all I wanted to do was come home and have a glass of wine and congratulate myself, shoes off, feet up and early to bed after that. However, not good at saying no to her, and the consequent guilt I would feel disappointing her, I gave myself a shake, freshened up my make-up, threw on some comfy shoes (gold Juicy Couture flats in keeping with the occasion - sorry - just couldn't muster up the energy for stilettos) and a little navy blue summer frock and headed out to dinner and a movie with my kid. So glad I did. It turned what had already been a good day into a great day. Dinner was surprisingly good - a piece of grilled black cod that was incredibly moist and delicious washed down with a perfectly chilled glass of Beringer Chardonnay, and a short stroll over to the theatre to settle in to watch my favourite group of gals and their various men for 2 and a half hours. Staying awake was going to be my challenge and Emma only had to nudge me once or twice about a third of the way through but I managed to hang in there for the eye candy festival. The clothes were awesome as always. The bodies were taught and tanned. The locations shots were appealing. Kim Cattrall looked awesome at 52 - the same age as me - so it gave me hope that I still have a little something too. Maybe not her bank account, but at least some of her shall we call it "enthusiasm" for life. You go girl! I know these movies are mostly fluff and fun, and I would never profess to describe them as anything but, however, once in a while it does a girl good to sit in a theatre surrounded by other like-minded women, (there were only about 4 men in the entire place) and share some laughs, some tears (although - this time I did not shed any like I did in the last one) and catch up with that fab foursome - Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. Talk about a gold mine. They could probably pump out one a year and we would all keep going - just to spend some time with them. It is a bit of a cultural phenomenon when you really look at it. If you are not a fan, then you won't understand, but if you are, you know what I am talking about. We just can't get enough of these women. We want their wardrobes, we want their careers, we want their men (well, some of them) and we want more than anything - friendships such as theirs. The good news is, I have been inspired by their wardrobes over the years, had some career success, a few good men and some really awesome friendships. Hey, wait a minute. I don't need to envy them. I am them. I really am. PS. A combo of the two - call me Ms. Bradshaw-Jones.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Victoria - she may have a weekend named after her, but she was no beauty!

As many of you are aware, I have been an absentee blogger for a few weeks now. My hectic schedule has gotten in the way not only from a time perspective but from a creative perspective as well. Just too pooped these days to write. This morning is different. I have four glorious days of freedom spread out before me. There was a time when it would not have seemed a big deal. When I worked for myself it was easy to create a four day weekend - I did it all the time. Now that I am "owned" by corporate America, those four day weekends are a faint memory. I only found out about my good fortune when the schedule was reset about a week or two ago, so I didn't really have a chance to think much about what I would do with my time off. I didn't rush out and make a plan, or book a flight or even contemplate the possibilities until it was really too late to do much of anything. So now, I have this big open window of time to fill. My husband had a plan in place weeks ago for a golf holiday with the boys, so he is off tomorrow for a week, leaving me and my daughter alone together to plot and plan. So far, I see a little shopping, at least one movie, a drive to my home town to visit the folks, and the odd fitness walk along the Humber River. I'd also like to fit in some gardening (aka - weeding), some organizing chores inside the house, a couple of drinks poolside to try and diminish the ghostly white colour my legs have turned over the winter and at least this one blog. I may get ambitious and write another before the weekend is up, but I'm not putting any pressure on myself to make that happen. I have had blog ideas lately, but nothing urgent enough to make me sit down and tap out a tale. One idea was about men who dump beautiful women - or rather - screw around on them and consequently get dumped. I have a hard time with that one. I don't get it. If you are a man and you are married to Halle Berry or Sandra Bullock or Elin Woods, what pushes you into the arms of another woman? I would like to examine the role beauty plays in relationships. We live in a world where beauty certainly equates with success in love, but when it comes down to it, obviously it is not everything. Where did these marriages break down? I think that topic is almost worthy of a serious in depth study - a book perhaps. A thesis. It fascinates me. It is the talk around thousands of water-coolers around the world. I must not be the only one fascinated by it. "She was the perfect woman! How could he?" I hear it over and over. Perfect. That is just it. There is no such thing. What looks perfect initially, never lasts. Is it possible to make it last? How do you dig beneath the superficial and get to the guts of a person, to their soul? What happens if you dig and there is nothing there? Is that what happens in these marriages? Are the beautiful shells empty or are the diggers looking for something that does not exist? Is their disappointment in not finding it what drives them to look for it elsewhere? As I ponder these thoughts about relationships in my garden this weekend, maybe some answers will come to me. Or did I just answer my own questions? Not sure. Stay tuned - I may come up with some more answers or maybe just more questions as my four days unfold. Right now I need to stretch and move and see about these pale limbs of mine. Later.