MaryB and the City

Love is patient.

Every single one of us possesses an achilles’ heel. Evidently, mine is accepting that my grandoise master plan concocted in my subconscious hasn’t come to fruition.

The older and wiser I get, the more I realize and believe in the depth of my Being that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. That every single solitary part of my journey to date has a purpose; the good, bad and ugly.

Yet, even though I *know* this, sometimes, my silly ego with a poor memory forgets.

Like today, while on Facebook, I stumbled across professional photography of a couple {K & C} who recently gave birth to their first child. My computer mouse and I innocently scrolled through the delicious images and instantly got drunk on their love…which has expanded beyond just two individuals in a romantic relationship. Now, they know what love beyond reason is. They created a human life, together.

My mind took an unexpected detour and suddenly transitioned into a time machine; I am sitting at Mr. Big’s dining room table in or around 2005/06 {I told you my memory stinks}. Mr. Big and C are in the kitchen cooking, K and I are enjoying conversation over wine, waiting for our boyfriends to serve us their home cooked Valentine’s Day dinner. K is telling me about their plans to eventually move in together…and before long, the rest was history.

That basic story composition has been regurgitated dozens of times with other couples. It’s like watching the same movie, re-made over and over and over but with different actors/actresses. You know the beginning, middle and end. After a while, you wonder when you’ll be cast to play the lead part.

When I felt tears filling up in my eyes, partly because I’m so overjoyed for their joy, and partly because I have ‘future envy’ {why aren’t we there yet, or even half way there?} — once again, I gently remind myself:

Our journey had some detours. I hold onto hope that we’ll arrive ‘there’ too someday…

Wherever there is.

My story, my scripted plan laced in patience may still be in the editing room, but I don’t think I can hold on much longer to the table-for-one cliché.

A few weeks ago, Big and I hung out with another couple who had just celebrated their 6-year wedding anniversary. They know our entire history, and vice versa.

Me: I still can’t believe that she gave him an ultimatum to get married. I just couldn’t do it, not my style. Do you think he still would have proposed even if he didn’t have that declared cut-off date?

Big: Yes, he still would have proposed, maybe not when he did though.

Meanwhile, I’m reading and working on a review of the book, Blow Me. It’s authored by a smart, witty gal out of Los Angeles. Her literary work has been compared to Sex and the City…which had me at, Hello may I please have a copy? She is very active in the social media world and has a weekly column, Ask Lennie. I couldn’t help myself…so out of curiosity I emailed…and submitted a question.

I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that a fury of 20+ comments on her fan page plus another five on the web site were the result of such a controversial question.

How do you feel about women giving their man an ultimatum, like an engagement proposal deadline?

People vacillated between “absolutely not” to “hell to the yes.” I didn’t inquire because scripting a final proposition is something I’m considering, but because I truly find the dynamic fascinating. In my opinion, if your man doesn’t ask for your hand in marriage by {insert appropriate time based on your personal situation} then you either have an honest conversation about intentions, and/or you exit stage left.

As the brilliant Steve Jobs said, “You have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.”

I trust that our time will come. I trust in love.

Best Staged Plans.

Life changing.

That’s how I describe the day Claire Cook entered my life. Sure I loved the movie, Must Love Dogs, which is based on her best-selling book…but the gravitational force that occured all around after hearing the author speak, changed me.

She was the final keynote speaker at the skirt! writing conference I was attending in Atlanta. Before she dived into her insightful speech, first she asked all 100 attendees to write our name on a small piece of paper and put it in a bin that was passed around the room. At the end of the hour, a name would randomly be drawn and the winner would receive a journal and tote. 

Claire explained that she goes through this exact ritual at the beginning of every speaking engagement — and has kept in touch with each person who takes home the prize. Each person has also gone onto becoming a published author, and she even attends their debut launch party.

I can’t explain how or why or when psychic-tendancies wash over me, but the moment my name was placed in the bag…with certainty, I knew mine would be the one picked.

And it was.

My eyes started to water. Not so much because the symbol was somehow a magical spell for my dreams to be achieved. But because it felt like the Universe was saying loud and clear, “You believe you’re talented enough to become published, but the reality of it actually happening feels too far out of reach. Well guess what? It’s not. You can do this. You will do this.”

Ever since that day, my world continues to lead me toward crossing off pre-pubbed in front of the word: author. I know it’s fundamentally because my consciousness shifted; I started to believe, really believe. And Claire Cook directly and indirectly facilitated that. Through the serendipitious token that evidently my belief system needed, but also through her empowering stories and encouraging lessons.

I cracked open the authographed copy of her book Best Staged Plans a few weeks ago. There was just no way the summer could come to an end and the 238 pages not be consumed…something about it just screams: Read me with sand between your toes.

Sandy Sullivan is an expert at transforming cluttered rooms into attractive houses ready for sale. If only reinventing her life were as easy as choosing the perfect paint color. She’s eager to put her family’s suburban Boston home on the market, to downsize, and to simplify her own life. But she must first deal with her foot-dragging husband and her grown son, who has moved back home after college to inhabit the basement “bat cave.”

After reading them the riot act, Sandy takes a job staging a boutique hotel in Atlanta recently acquired by her best friend’s boyfriend. The good news is that she can spend time with her recently married daughter Shannon in Atlanta. The bad news is Shannon finds herself heading back to Boston for job training, leaving Sandy and her southern son-in-law, Chance, as reluctant roommates. If that’s not complicated enough, Sandy begins to suspect that her best friend’s boyfriend may be seeing another woman on the side.

Just like Claire was relatable in person, so are her characters in a hardback. The book is humorous and heartfelt. And something I especially treasured is how short the chapters are. I absolutely loved how effortlessly the page turning took place…and if I needed to stop at a moment’s notice, the bookmark wouldn’t get swallowed alive inside of a ridiculously long section.

For example, when sneaking out of the office during my lunch break, enjoying food and fodder at the same time…but quickly needing to head back; there’s nothing worse than having to close the covers to a book and feel total abandonment. Claire keeps you covered with a sense of closure every few pages.

To be honest, I was initially worried that I couldn’t relate to the main character, a middle-aged mother who covets her ‘readers’ (reading glasses) the way I swoon over stilettos. But Claire did an amazing job of building the storylines, filled with witty one-liners throughout, that the age gap never left me hungry.

One aspect in particular that I adored about Sandy’s character is how neurotic she can be at times, and is also super genuine.

• She talks to her GPS as if it’s a friend in the passenger seat, finding ironic metaphors in redirecting routes on the road, and in life.
• She befriends a homeless woman who she passes on the street and comes up with creative ways to help her get life back in order.
• And last but not least, she goes shopping for a paint ball gun with her BFF in pursuit of getting revenge on an unfaithful partner (absolutely brilliant strategy!).

I took away this message: Even someone who professionally stages rooms, homes, and hotels to appear perfect — cannot force her own surroundings to be pristine. We all in our own right stage plans for life, but it’s important not to let the meaningful people and moments pass us by in the meantime when we’re busy plotting.

I’m sad to say good-bye to my 12-12:30 p.m. daily date, today was our last one. But I guess that just means I’ll need to backtrack and pick up her other seven novels.

Besides, the Life Changer offered advice for me and my fellow writers back in June, to actively support each other. So now, on a regular basis, I purchase and review my peers’ books.

I’ll be sure to share this sentiment with Claire, and explain how she influenced me greatly…when we’re standing around a table at my book signing.

Fashion night out.

On my first day at the job as a Brand Manager for a pet products company, I knew my boss and I would get along just fine.

Her cell phone started ringing; Sex & the City’s theme song blasted from the pink-cased iphone — her custom ring tone for incoming calls. Then and there, we’d become sole mates.

One might think it is hard to make pet gadgets appear sexy, but oh no ~ her department oversees the fashion and fun category.

A few months later, she recycled (two bags) of stilettos from her closet to moi. You see, she was running out of room in the shoe closet. The shoe closet that was custom built by her husband. God bless that man.

During our weekly status meetings, we inevitably dish about something…anything fashion-related before diving into business; complimenting my styling choice on that particular day, eyeing her new fabulous chunky necklace, or asking the other to ‘be on the look out’ for XYZ garment while ‘in the [shopping] field.’

Many more months passed, and she introduced me to Anthropologie. Previously it was a store I never paid any attention to because, frankly, my budget didn’t allow for us to seriously date ~ or even casually court for that matter. But you see, Krista is an SSS: savvy, strategic shopper. She became my personal mentor…a store ambassador if you will. 

In all of my life, I’ve never met anyone who possesses such thoughtful, calculated, premeditated skills like her, including: micro-monitoring the Anthro web site for sales (note: discounts are coveted to come by as many pieces cinch the wallet), calling in outfits [brilliant!] to be placed on hold as soon as they do go on sale…until she can physically make it into the store for pick-up, saving the only coupon they distribute annually (birthdays) and cashing it in when their semi-annual sale launches to double-up on savings at check-out, and last but not least — on occasion, purchasing in cash so the husband won’t be privy to her palpable passion via the bank statement.

During a very important writing conference I attended in the spring, knowing I’d be meeting editors, agents, and authors, I took it upon myself to check out the inventory and acquired some adorable, affordable reduced ticket pieces.

The selection crosses many style tastes ~ from 1950’s-esqe dresses, to sophisticated attire, to sassy palates, to polished/conservative ensembles. Even the showroom’s backdrop is inviting; think Pottery Barn full of clothing racks and comfy chairs to rest upon between fitting room visits.

My boss continues to fill me in whenever she spots an eye-catching garment, a “wish list” item taken down in price, or strictly to co-gush over lovely frocks.

It didn’t really surprise me the day she squealed, “I’m going to be in a fashion show!! My sales gal at Anthro asked if I would participate.”

Krista is beautiful — I mean, really, really Barbie Doll beautiful. She’s also really, really short. But given the fact she’s such a loyal customer, can rock 5” heels like no one’s business, and exudes serious confidence, the invitation was a no-brainer in my envious humble opinion.

New York City lives in my heart, and although I couldn’t make it to The Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, my local runway show would happily serve as a sufficient supplement. Here is a snapshot of the Fashion Night Out, starting with my favorite finds on the floor, followed by what I intrepret to be classified: Boho-Chic.

anthropologie, fall 2011 collection.