I Am Organized to the Point of Dis-Organization

I am so organized. I have a labelled bin for everything. And a laminating machine to laminate my labels (lest they get damaged by a flood).

Sidebar: If you don't have a laminating machine, and I realize you probably don't if you aren't an elementary teacher or an Office Depot employee, you should get one. It is the best $25 you will spend and hours of fun.

So back to my dilemma. Despite my fervent organizational attempts, I still can never find anything I'm looking for.

Case in point, yesterday I needed printer toner. So I dashed to the bin labelled "Office Supplies" but of course it wasn't there. Twenty minutes later, after sifting through bin after bin, I found the elusive toner in the "Batteries" bin.

I need to find a copy of Trey's birth certificate for pre-school (actually, I've needed that damn certificate since August). It should be in the bin labelled, "Very Important Documents (in other words, this box should be a safe)", right? Nope. I've culled through 20+ bins and still, no birth certificate. I know he was born, I was there. And I'm certain they gave me some sort of paperwork to document the event. Now where is it?

Same with files. I've got dozens of labelled file folders organized alphabetically. But try to put my hands on my 2007 taxes, or a warranty, an important receipt or much less a phone number, and you can be bet your bottom dollar that said items will NOT be in their designated folder.

I've tried to instill my stellar organization skills on my family. But we are all chips off of one very dis-organized block.

B-E-D Spells Bed

I had an episode with my 3-year-old son Trey tonight.

First, after passing himself off as potty trained for the last few weeks, he stood in his room and - with reckless abandon - relieved himself (on the rug of course, not on the easier-to-clean-up wood floor). Then he came to tell me about it. As in, Oh I had an accident in my room, Mom. It's in the way, you need to change me and clean it up.

Then when I tried to get him into the shower, he had a huge fit. Totally lost it. Just like a 3-year-old.

So I said slyly to John (my husband, Trey's Dad), I've had it. He's going to B-E-D early tonight.

Trey, just 3, is evidently a better speller than he is a social rule follower.

b-e-d? B ... E ... D? That spells bed. I don't want to go to bed!!!! He screamed.

That's it. Tomorrow, I'm learning sign language. Or French.

I Get Really Winded Whenever I Work Out

A friend of mine who is not that much older than me recently underwent emergency triple bi-pass surgery. He is recovering well, he looks great and has a radiant glow on his face I've never seen before.

You look fabulous! I told him recently. Better than ever!

Thanks, he told me. Everyone says that. I tell ya, it's the healthy living. Eating right and exercising regularly.

Oh, crap. Does that mean if I don't do these things I too could end up having to have triple bi-pass surgery in a few years? (Yes, I straight-out asked him that.)

I used to think the same thing, he admitted. That I didn't have to worry about it, that I had 20 or so years to get my act together. It's just not true. He delivered the hammer. You have to exercise regularly to keep your heart strong.

My heart sank. His words made me literally depressed. You see, I'm that girl who puts on her work-out clothes approximately 2 times per week, but gets busy doing other things and ends up changing into regular clothes sometime in mid-afternoon. I have a membership at the Y, but haven't graced the establishment for over a year.

I'm also a rationalizer by nature. I talk myself out of working out with thoughts like, What? I'm going to burn say, 300 calories. I'll just eat less food for lunch. It's a wash.

I've never been able to establish a "regular" work-out routine (or even an "irregular" one) because, face it, I hate to work out.

I pressed the issue.

How did you know you needed to see a doctor to have your heart checked out? I asked my newly-healthy friend.

Well, I just got really winded whenever I tried to exercise, he revealed. And I was making some pretty bad choices, eating a lot of fried food.

By now, I'm past depressed and moving into full panic mode. I GET REALLY WINDED WHENEVER I WORK OUT! That's why I don't do it! I make bad food choices. Yes, I drink a smoothie every morning, but in my world that affords me free points to eat chips, salsa, wine, fries, eggs, bacon, etc. etc.

So, I calculated quickly, I have two choices. Drag myself to the gym (at least once) to check in on this "really winded" thing OR go straight to the heart doctor to have an MRI. I decided to start at the gym. I haven't keeled over on the elliptical yet, but I'll keep you posted, no pun intended.

14 Things I Know For Sure

1. I will cry at some point while watching any episode of Brothers and Sisters.

2. I cannot resist eating chips and salsa with reckless abandon if they are placed in front of me.

3. Ann Curry will stumble on her lines at least once while reading the news on the Today Show.

4. The soundtrack to Spring Awakening will always put me in a better mood.

5. I will never be completely caught up with laundry or bills. There will always be a pile of both in my house to make me feel guilty.

6. My camera and video recorder will work perfectly and hold a charge, until I arrive at a recital or go to Disney World.

7. One margarita is never enough. Yet, depending on how big and how strong, two is sometimes too many.

8. In my social life, I will consistently and optimistically commit to at least one thing more than my bandwidth allows. Consequently, I will cancel at the last minute (or pull the occasional "no show"), therefore perpetuating my reputation as a somewhat unreliable social-slacker.

9. Although I am old enough to know better, I am certain to over-imbibe to the point of a hangover just often enough to remind me not to drink too much.

10. I will always be sad that I missed out on auditioning for the Real World (I was 23 when the first season aired, but I was too busy living a tv-free life so I didn't actually see the show until I was an ancient 28). So to make up for the lost opportunity, I will continue to religiously watch every single episode of Real World and the challenges, no matter how old I am.

11. Thank you notes, although I acknowledge they are socially correct and fun to receive, are the bane of my existence.

12. If given the opportunity, I will put off until tomorrow what can (and probably should) be done today.

13. There is almost nothing better than reading a can't-put-it-down-until-its-finished book.

14. I will always, always side with Jennifer Aniston. None of this was her fault. Wrong place, wrong time I'm thinking. What did Brad, John Mayer and the others NOT see in her that all of our husbands see?

I Have Obsessive-Compulsive Facebook Disorder

Isn't Facebook funny? As in funny-strange, not laugh-out-loud funny.

I can't stop, but I want to. But I can't. I tell myself I don't care to know so many details about people I haven't seen in years or barely know, but evidently I do.

Like a voyeur, I pore through peoples' photo albums. The best is when a friend gets "tagged" in a stranger's photo and I end up leafing through an album of 75 random pictures from "Alan's Surprise Party" (and I don't know Alan, or anyone else at the party). That's when I have to push myself away from my computer and start a load of laundry.

Or how about that friend you broke up with a few years back so no WAY are you going to friend him. But you have mutual friends, so you can kind of stalk him indirectly.

Oh, and I also read people's status updates religiously. Even people I don't really know.

The people who brag ("Off to the beach house for a week for fun in the sun! Will post pics when we return!") Of course you will.

And those who take a stand ("Maine, I am so mad at you!"). I like the people who use their status field to communicate with just one person ("Kathy, thanks for your note!! Yes, come by on Wednesday, can't wait!").

And new friends keep showing up. From the strangest places, out of the woodwork.

The girl on the treadmill next to me at the gym learned my name and "friended" me! Now I know all about her! Cool!

My brother's ex-wife whom I've not seen in 20+ years ... yep, she's my new friend and I enjoyed all the pictures she posted of her recent wedding.

My neighbor down the street with whom I've never actually spoken in person. A friend from high school's Mom. My daughter's pre-school teacher, from 3 years ago.

I've heard many people say things like, "I wasn't their friend in high school, why would I want to be now?" when describing those random friend requests we all receive from the faces from our past. But, I disagree.

It's like a big anthropological experiment to me, a real-life reality television show, to see how all of us have morphed over 20 years. We'll all probably eventually get bored of Facebook (or they'll start charging us to use it) and we'll collectively move onto something else, but for now I'm having fun. And I admit it.

I Was Not Picturing Julia Roberts When I Read Eat, Pray, Love

Admit it, you weren't either.

Call me stuck in the 80s, but I saw her more as one of the Elizabeths. Elizabeth McGovern (from her She's Having a Baby days) or Elizabeth Perkins (somewhere between About Last Night and He Said, She Said). Possibly Elisabeth Shue, post Cocktail but pre-Leaving Las Vegas. (Facebook friends suggested more modern picks Anne Heche or Naomi Watts.)

But Columbia Pictures decided to make the movie starring Julia. For ratings perhaps? The book wasn't exactly a riveting plot twister, as much as I enjoyed it.

I just can't imagine Julia Roberts lying on her bathroom floor bemoaning her unhappy marriage. Or gaining 25 lbs. in Italy. Or meditating for days on end in India.

I can't, in fact, stop picturing her blissfully happy in her marriage to camera man Daniel Moder, living in Taos with her three conspicuously-Hollywood named kids - Phinnaeus, Hazel and Henry.

Either that, or I'm trying to shake the image of her as a female escort, accepting that beautiful necklace from Richard Gere with her genuine Julia-only laugh, or listening to her Walkman in the bubble bath, singing a bad Prince song.

I bet author Elizabeth Gilbert, while she maintains in interviews she is honored, agrees that Julia is just a little bit too perfect to play this role perfectly. Nonetheless, I can't wait to see the movie.

Our Daughters Think We're Old

At dinner recently with my college girlfriends (sorority sisters if you must know), we discovered a commonality, at least among this sampling of four 40-year-old Moms.

Our daughters think we're old.

Our little Mini-Mes, who thought we were beautiful and perfect when they were 4, are noticing our fine lines and wrinkles.

When a commercial for an "age-fighting" night cream came on, friend #1's daughter tactfully suggested that she try it, "You know," she said, "to take care of those," pointing to her crow's feet.

Friend #2 told us how her 6-year-old said, "Mommy, I don't like those things up there," referring to the worry lines on her forehead.

Friend #3's first grade son recently came home from a play-date and told her incredulously, "Mom! Guess what? Avery's Mom is only 30."

We laughed over our wine as we pictured Avery telling her Mom, "Ewwwwww, Wyatt's Mom is so old. She's 40."