I Wish All My Ex’s Lived in Texas

I was out last week with a group of friends to celebrate a 40th birthday. The birthday girl’s husband had reserved a private room at a local bar, opened the bar to us, and made sure the snacks were abundant. I didn’t try any of the snacks. I know this because I was happily keeping my custom-printed cup full of cocktails instead. It was gearing up to be a fantastic night.

When the timer on our private room expired, we moved upstairs for the band. At this point the remaining group was a heaping handful of close friends, all married, all spouses accounted for, and me. The single woman. I am used to being the only single person in a group of married people. I show up to most social events alone. I don’t bring a “crutch” date (another single girl friend or a married person that is out without her husband). I just go everywhere alone. I mean let’s face it, folks: I am alone when it comes to couples events.

So…we were – how should I say this politely – loose with drink. And ready for some dance therapy. Cue birthday girl to the stage! Said birthday girl drags “the posse” of girl friends with her. And oh, what fun. I love to dance. Music lifts me right out of the world where we are all firmly planted, and I escape into the rhythm, music and vibe. And that was where I was delightfully lost when a man took my hand and helped me off the stage.

Then I found myself standing face-to-face with my EX-HUSBAND! No shit! I can’t make this kind of tragic crap up. He is saying something. My friends are staring and starting to think…who’s the guy? (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I pull my ex away from the speakers to hear what in the world he would want to say to me at the very bar where he spent an outrageous amount of our money drinking while he was cheating on me and tearing our marriage to shreds. But I am hopelessly curious (and stupid).

Yep, you guessed it. I got the “I really, really miss you. I always loved you” drunken-goo-goo-eyed pick-up line. I was speechless. If you know me, “speechless” is very, very, very rare. I stuttered. My knees felt weak. I shouted over the band, “Where is your wife?” He didn’t answer. He just repeated the line about missing me and loving me. I took a breath, regrouped my courage, and resorted to a one-liner to cover up my devastation. “Of course you miss me, I am fabulous.” I walked off.

Don’t be impressed. I immediately marched outside, where it took me 20 minutes, two friends, a strong drink, 2 cigarettes, and a face full of streaming tears to get my ass ready to return to the dance floor. When I returned to the dance floor, I closed my eyes and let the music carry me away.

What is remarkable about this story is that it is not remarkable at all. This happens to people all the time.

The week before, my ex-lover showed up at STUFF during our Wings of Hope event to say “hello”. He had been driving by and thought it would be a good idea to stop and catch me in front of my store (where I can’t walk away). And then he came back a second time to bring me food he had been cooking all day with his wife, kids and close family friends.

And, if that wasn’t enough, two years ago at the holidays I was dating a man (who chose to compare me to “new car smell” and classify me as “one of his obsessions” on Facebook after I asked for a break). This man has called, emailed and come to the store multiple times over the last few weeks looking for me. At least he offered help and shopped.

going forward...never straight...at the wheel.

These men that I shared my heart, my mind, my body, and a small part of my soul with never once stopped to think about me. Not once. They just marched all over my personal space, my feelings, and my life. They showed no respect for me, my family, or my business. I don’t seek them out. I haven’t played games. I haven’t posted veiled (or direct) references on Facebook about them. I have left them alone.

“The holidays” make men and women want to couple. I get it. I feel its powerful pull every day in November and December, too. After the first week of January it fades, and I fall back into my natural state. I too want to fall in love again. I want a husband and a big crazy combined mess of a family. But, in the meantime, I want to avoid stomping on the very people that I cared for deeply…and I want to avoid them stomping all over me.

These ridiculous happenings have left me sad, frustrated, exposed, raw and lonely. But, they have also left me proud that I have the courage to stand alone, even when I don’t want too.

 Casey

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Bold Beauty

I started wearing reading glasses about a year ago. And I have noticed I have been wearing more and more jewelry at one time lately. Do you think when I grow up I can be as bold and beautiful as Iris Apfel?

I started wearing reading glasses about a year ago. And I have noticed I have been wearing more and more jewelry at one time lately. Do you think when I grow up I can be as bold and beautiful as Iris Apfel?

Bold Beauty
Bold Beauty, Iris Apfel

Casey

I scanned this photo from the October 2009 issue of American Style Magazine.

Iris Apfel is an amazing woman that you can read more about in the New York Times here.

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Indian Love Affair

I have loved saris for years. I’ve even wanted to own one …

I have loved saris for years. I’ve even wanted to own one and wear it. And for more than costume parties. I think this may be my true style. The authentic Sloane.

Tonight I went trolling on Google and Pinterest for images and was befuddled. All the women shown looked like hoochie mamas.

The woman to your left has not spent day one in India, I’m pretty sure. She’d be laughed off the continent.

Where’s the woman who was at Costco a few days ago that I followed down the main aisle totally mesmerized by her grace?

She walked at a full stride – on shorter legs than mine, which made my gait a bit crumpled as I walked behind her – and never once fussed with her clothes. She was older than me, darker skinned than me, sporting the most amazingly mixed shades of watermelon and salmon, and wearing not very attractive sandals, but I was in the throws of a full-on girl crush. I was a stalker, if only for a few minutes.

And then, tonight I found her again as she lives in my mind’s eye. Right here on my screen:

Isn’t she incredible? What’s not to love?

Sloane

p.s. “Hoochie mama” is a coined phrase I lifted from my sister Casey. Make of it what you will, but know that she cracks me up. Here are a few more hoochie mamas.

 

 

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Never Say Never

Today I stooped to a new low, even for myself.

Today I stooped to a new low, even for myself. I answered – and sent on! – a chain letter via the Internet. But only to eight people, who I’m sure now think seriously less of me. In my defense, it came from a reliable and trusted source, and the message was sincere and did not involve a scheme of any flavor.

I had not sent one of these since I folded six letters in the 7th grade and sent them on with quarters taped to them. I was going to be rich. The letter said so.

I told my 12-year-old self – when the money failed to roll in – that I would never do that again. I asked myself, “How could you be so stupid?”

My 46-year-old self answers, “because you followed your heart and threw caution to the wind.” This wiser me remembers recently thinking, “I’ll never do Facebook. Who has time for that? Pinterest? There’s not enough hours in the day for crazy, frivolous things.”

Now, at the end of a busy day before a very busy weekend, I have logged out of Facebook, finished pinning in Pinterest, and received two – count them two! –  responses from the recipients of my first chain letter in 34 years.

Sloane

 

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Cancer on the Run

On achingly beautiful days – days full of falling leaves, crisp air and sunshine – cancer lives with us. It doesn’t present itself, it just waits for us to find it.

On achingly beautiful days – days full of falling leaves, crisp air and sunshine – cancer lives with us. It doesn’t present itself, it just waits for us to find it.

On such a day not many days ago – with his cancer apparently on the run – our father met with two tumors that didn’t play with the team on the first go-round of chemotherapy. It was a day mixed with a little bit to celebrate and a whole lot to continue to deal with and worry about. Our dad needed a mental and emotional break from cancer – we all did – before starting his next therapies. He will now have to wait longer for that much needed break.

We at STUFF spend months preparing for our holiday open house – Wings of Hope – every year. This year, November 5th and 6th will be the days at STUFF that are meant to remind us that when one of us has cancer, we all have cancer. The days will be full of laughter, tears, food, drink, smiles and friendship.

Wings of Hope is special to us: we remember our family and friends lost to cancer, we re-commit to our fight to find a cure, and we thank the universe for keeping our parents – both cancer survivors – standing with us on these special days.

We hope you will join us at Wings of Hope and shop. We will proudly donate a part of your purchase to benefit cancer research at the KU Cancer Center. Our friend Susan Henke Miller showed us the way years ago – to keep cancer on the run we need piles and piles of research.

It has been the loss of friends and family and the battles in and outside of our tribe that have taught us that we can’t stop looking for cures and treatments.

Join us this weekend at Wings of Hope. Together, on these two special days – and every day – we can help find a much needed cure for all cancers.

Casey & Sloane
Sisters, Co-owners and Believers in Hope

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Copyright Casey Simmons and S. Sloane Simmons. People who steal other people's words & thoughts are asshats. Don't be an asshat.