Just Assume It's Pee: Simple Truths and Lessons Learned

I woke up this morning and realized that I’m going to be thirty in a little over six months. Thirty is this Bermuda Triangle where a lifetime of expectation and reality meet.I find myself more and more anxious for the big three-oh. I know myself, my needs and my capabilities a million times better today than I did a couple years ago and if self awareness and confidence are the side-effects of getting older, I’ve got three words for you: sign me up. Truthfully, I thought my life would be a lot different than it is. I did not anticipate ushering in my thirties as a single lady flying solo in Los Angeles- but every day I become more and more impressed with the person that I’ve become. It’s not that I’m Mother Theresa or anything, but for the sheltered girl from Lake Elsinore who assumed I’d be a married stay-at-home mom by the time I was twenty-three, I’ve grown a lot. It’s not that I’ve figured everything out, but there’s a lot of stuff that I have figured out.


Nothing is ever worth the extra five minutes of sleep..

Not only will the extra five minutes do absolutely nothing for you- but it’s just not worth it. It’s not worth it to be late for stuff. Parked on the street? That extra five minutes is JUST about the time that the little City of Los Angeles Parking Enforcement Car is making the rounds. Sidebar: for those who are new to parking in Los Angeles, read the damn signs- those meter-maids are RELENTLESS. Parking aside, there is always some sort of unexpected snafu that occurs as I’m walking out the door, those extra five minutes- that’s my snafu margin. As a pet owner I’ve learned the five-minutes rule the hard way. I have laid in bed and convinced myself that Nigel is just being antsy or that Henry heard a noise and wants to investigate. Either way it always ends with me stomping on paper towels or playing the “name that smell” game, which leads me to my second point....

Just assume it's pee...

Oh the lies that we pet owners tell ourselves, just to avoid this simple concept. It’s probably not a leak from the dishwasher or a wet spot from me running out of the shower to answer my phone. It’s pee. We all know it, just assume it and save yourself the trouble. Don’t get into weird crampy crawl positions to do the sniff-test. I love my pups, but I live in a one bedroom apartment with no balcony, accidents happen- I’ve got my handy portable carpet shampooer and a jumbo tub of Nature’s Miracle on hand at all times. If you live on carpet, I highly recommend the Bissell Spot Bot. Moving on...

Candles are the perfect gifts...

I’m a total candle nerd and I buy GOOD candles. It’s a problem. Even when I was a poor college student, I managed to find the funds to keep my house smelling like Henry Bendel Quince candles. It was ALL OVER when I discovered Capri Blue and Voluspa. I still can’t pass up the Bath and Body Works sales on three-wick candles. It’s all good. Candles as a very personal gift and a luxury that most people won’t spend on. A beautifully scented candle in a beautiful jar (not a Yankee Candle, guys) is just wonderful.

I buy things that put a smile on my face and make me feel good...

I just bought a tote bag from West Elm that has pictures of goats on it along with the caption “Totes Ma Goats”- it was $18 and I regret nothing. I’m looking at it right now, and it is just the best thing ever. If it makes your soul feel good and you can afford it, buy it and display it. This mindset is how I ended up with a Waffle House mug, a lucky wooden seal miniature and an Admiral Akbar figurine.

I don’t convince myself to feel romantic

It’s pretty self explanatory, but not everybody is meant to date and not everybody I’ve realized this. It’s not about being an asshole and hurting feelings- but more or less, knowing myself well enough to know that if I have to convince myself to go on a second date, I’m already over it. It’s okay to not be into a guy and it’s OK for a guy to not be into me. It’s OK to think they may be a great friend, but it’s also OK to not be friends too. I’ve allotted far too much mental real estate trying to convince myself to get psyched about some guys and some dates- and if I’m not organically psyched- it’s just not worth it.

The list is every growing, who knows I may look back on my fortieth birthday and laugh at myself. As I get older I become more comfortable in my own skin, with my choices and my life. While I may not have is 100% together and my dogs still pee on the carpet occasionally- I’m looking forward to the upcoming decade.

The Scarlett "D": I'm Divorced. Really, Who Cares?

I got married when I was 21 (almost 22) to my college boyfriend. I got married because that was just the cycle that I assumed life was supposed to go in. You go to college, meet a guy, get hitched, etc...

J and I met through mutual friends my third year of college. We had initially started talking because I was trying to set him up with my friend. I was so convinced that they’d be a perfect match, that I even accompanied her to meet him. It was about half-way through my self-imposed third-wheel situation, that my friend turned to me and said “dude, I think YOU guys are the match here.” She was right. He and I continued talking. The beginning was very sweet. We went on picnics, totally said “I love you” two weeks in- we were young and in love- something we both desperately wanted and never experienced before.

Our relationship started to show signs of wear about a year in. We figured we’d get married to each other. I was a virgin. He was the first dude that ever got past first base. A relationship was something we both wanted. However, J and I were different. We were different and it didn’t work. Our relationship was failing before we ever walked down the aisle- both of us stressed and arguing constantly- bound to roles that we didn’t want to fill. For J, it was having his own family structure and for me it was to be taken care of. A mix of obligation and a massive post-graduation panic attack.  Our wedding happened after a brief argument that ended in J calling my “let’s just go to Vegas” bluff and us both being incredibly defeated and prideful. His parents were there, mine were not. I didn’t even tell my parents until months later.

Our marriage ended a couple weeks after our 1-year anniversary and by that time we were already living separately. J had already met somebody else. It was time. We knew it was over and that was that. It was a hot mess for a while. We hated each other and had mean passive aggressive Myspace fights. We were both young. Then we grew up. J and I are even more different now than we were 9 years ago and over the years we’ve managed to establish a friendship. He’ll always be somebody important in my personal timeline, but to be completely honest- sometimes I forget that we were ever married. It feels like a lifetime ago. It certainly isn’t anything I dwell on.

As much as I have moved on, my divorce is this weird thing that haunts me in relationship-land. I don’t see myself as a divorcee, honestly, I totally forget about it...then I started dating. People are REALLY weird about it and this thing that I rarely ever think about becomes this weird source of insecurity. I don’t want to hear about exes on a first date, but it seems that people think I need immediately talk about my divorce. Like, oh better put it out there because it’s such a BIG DEAL. It’s really not. I promise. I don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to hear about it. It's really not that exciting.

My experiences (good and bad) have made me into the person that I am. I definitely don’t want to get divorced again, but I wouldn’t re-write my story. I am very pleased with my life. I work hard. I am a unique person with a unique point-of-view. I care deeply for others and always try to do the right thing. There are a LOT of antiquated opinions on divorced women- even from the most well-meaning of people, I’ve heard them ALL. I'm not made of stone, my feelings get hurt. I’m not damaged goods. Guess what? I’m almost 30. The men I date are also in their 30‘s. We've all boned other people, have exes, broken hearts and had our hearts broken. By this age, we’ve all got stories. To everybody that bet on the right horse the first time around, that is AWESOME! I still have aspirations and dreams of falling in love, getting hitched and growing old with somebody. I certainly don’t think that being divorced is that weird- I don’t see it any different than the baggage that comes from any other relationship. It’s not a scarlet letter. It’s just me. It’s just life. It’s time to move on.

 

"So what? Who Cares?" 

Happy New Year!

I'm not sure where this graphic originated, but I did not make it :)

2012 was a good year for me- filled with ups and downs, but overall a time of tremendous personal growth. I couldn't be happier to ring in 2013 and all of the hopes, dreams and goals therein.

My Christmas Miracle: How My Friends Became My Family and Consumerism Will Save Us All

Shifty-eyed baby Rachel. When Christmas was all about deluxe applique sweatshirts.

I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge after he’s just awoken and realized that he is alive and life is wonderful. I’m half tempted to throw money at the neighborhood kids and tell them to buy the biggest Christmas goose and bring it to the Cratchet house. Instead of pelting the dear neighborhood children with Susan B. Anthonys, I’m going to opt for a good old-fashioned soul-searching kind of blog. You see, the reason I am so happy is because I’m not sad. I am so happy to not be sad that I could shout it from the rooftops.

It's now a tradition for my friend Carrie (since we are alumni) and I to see The Young American's The Magic of Christmas.

This is my fourth holiday season without my Dad. The first two were rough. Hell, life has just been rough without him. Since my Dad passed away a week before Thanksgiving in 2009, I was kind of thrust into the holidays in full on survivalist mode. I’d tell myself every day to just get through it. It’d be over soon. This manifested into full on dreading the holidays. Christmas 2010 I refused to join my roommates in a santa hat and eggnog session. Christmas 2011 I completely forbade all decorations. My holiday depression(holidapression?) usually began before thanksgiving and ended with me making an ass of myself drunk on New Years Eve probably making out with a stranger. I expected this year to be a sleigh ride into more of the same.

Thanksgiving hit me hard. Really hard. Like, barely-hold-it-together-and-get-through-the-day hard. I was waking up and crying. Crying myself to sleep. Completely riddled with grief. This year, however, I tried something new. I let myself breathe and I let myself grieve. After I let myself deal, I wanted a tree... and that was just the beginning.

Playing it fast and loose with presents and dogs. My house is now a "gifts go on tables" house.

After all of these years, I’ve come to two conclusions: Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is the best Christmas Song of all time and I don’t know where I’d be without my friends. The holidays are about family and for me, family has evolved. My friends are the ones who brought me into their homes, with their families, made me smile and like me even through I kind of have chronic bitch-face and repeat the same jokes over and over again . New traditions, gatherings and events I look forward to throughout the year all entangled with a single common thread: friendship. My best memories were all centered around my new family, my tribe, my people- my friends. My friends saved me and saved the holidays.

Crisis averted.

 I’ve spent the past month coordinating wrapping paper (shout out to Paper Source), shopping and just letting myself enjoy life again and it feels great. I’ve spent way too much money on gifts for myself and others. I’ve figured out the hard way that my dogs are not as potty trained as I thought when it comes to boxes left unattended under a bedazzled plastic pine tree. I know I went a little nutty, but sometimes it’s good to go a little nutty.

Christmas is back, I’m kicking ass and I couldn’t be happier.

Out-of-Town Style Identity

I leave for New York City in a few hours for a week of work training. Vacations and work trips are always exciting for me. I get that restless excitement I used to feel the night before a trip to Disneyland. That first-day-of-school feeling of being an adult in a new city. I  bought a bunch of new clothes, packed with the tags on and neatly arranged into outfits. Getting out of town is the best test run for reinventing myself and I always discover things about my personal style on the journey. As far as everybody in New York is aware, I just wear impeccably styled Anthropologie dresses all the time. They don't need to know that I'm Talented Mr. Ripley-ing a few things. 

The "Bird Dress" I bought from Anthro and have been waiting to wear in NY.

Let's get one thing straight: I am a total slave to fads. I admit it. I embrace it. I have my "airplane" outfit planned out and it consists of fresh nail art, grey harem pants, an obey shirt and moccasins if that gives you any insight. Sometimes the fads are more universal (i.e. skinny jeans) or weird personal ones (one year I wore almost exclusively knee high striped American Apparel athletic socks and black blazers, another year I lived in white "wife-beater" tank tops and black bras). Whether it's a universal or personal fad, I usually dive in head first and those can be expensive lessons that can end up leaving me with a crazy surplus of clothing I will just never wear. I don't just buy a couple pairs of striped socks, I will buy ALL of the striped socks- Ron Swanson style.

This was me in my blazers, striped socks and straight hair phase.

It was on a trip to Atlanta that I discovered that bell-bottom jeans, not for me. It was on a trip to Palm Springs that I rekindled my love for surf-brands. My first summer living away from home at college, I decided to only wear obnoxious lipstick colors.  The freedom of being in a new place with enough friendly faces to feel comfortable but enough distance to truly not worry about how other people
perceive you is really quite exhilarating.

 Taking some nail art for a test-drive.

  I'm just finishing up my final things around the house before leaving. My duffle, filled with new outfits (tags attached) is waiting for me at the door and I am ready. Let's do this NYC.

The Antidote to Pillow Face

I’m not one of those make-up artists that hates make-up or conversely feels the need to wear make-up every day. I love my job and I lurrrve make-up, but on my days off my make-up is minimal to non-existent. I rely on great  make-up removal products to keep my skin in check- as to avoid the dreaded “pillow face” situation. For those that don’t know what “pillow face” is, I will save you the downward spiral that eventually leads you away from Urban Dictionary and straight to Wikipedia that eventually leads you to mourning for the sake of humanity while reading the comments on Perez Hilton’s blog until three in the morning. God bless the internet: the cause and solution of boredom and restlessness worldwide. I know that downward spiral well. “Pillow Face” is what happens when you sleep with your make-up on and the inevitable transfer of said make-up onto your sleep stuff (sheets, pillow cases, your white Miniature Schnauzer- he’s a snuggler). Apart from the fact that your face will absolutely wig out if you don’t take your make-up off, it’s a complete pain in the ass to remove it from your sheets- especially if you fancy waterproof formulas... once those polymers and volatile silicones latch on to fabric, watch out. 

Make Up For Ever Sens’Eyes ($24):
Sens’eyes is the holy grail of waterproof make-up removal. Just squeeze a pump onto a clean cotton round and you are good to go. If the make-up is very stubborn, allow Sens’Eyes to sit on the area for about ten seconds and it will totally break down even the most sturdy make-up (I’m looking at you, Stila Stay All Day Waterproof Liquid Liner).  Bonus- it’s safe for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers. 

Amore Pacific Treatment Cleansing Oil ($50):It’s like a magic eraser for your face. I never shy away from oils, I love them. Cleansing oils are no exception. You want to get your face clean super fast? Cleansing oils are the business. When my day is over, I work two pumps onto my dry face and then emulsify in small circular motions with water. The water causes the oil to lather up and rinse clean. It’s magic. 

Korres Milk Proteins Cleansing Wipes ($12): 
I first purchased theMilk Proteins Cleansing Wipes when a celebrity client’s “people” requested “high end” make-up removal wipes. The celeb used about two of them and the rest of the package never even made it into my kit. I kept them at my bedside for those days that I wasn’t wearing a full face and wanted a quick cleanse.I’m a huge fan of Korres and I recommend it to clients daily. The Yoghurt line, in particular, is my favorite. The amino acids in milk proteins are widely renowned for balancing out the skin and for their anti-inflammatory and softening properties as well. I highly recommend this for any dudes, teenagers, travelers or lazy folks in your life that you just cannot convince to wash their face. 

How Did I Not Know About This?: Sriracha and Food Aversion

I don’t know what has happened to me in the past couple years- maybe it was a hormone shift or finally processing the food aversion mental block. Either way, foods that I’ve literally spent a lifetime hating and avoiding- I was starting to like. I just look in the mirror and think- who is this woman? I’ve been avoiding things like salmon, jalapenos, raw tomatoes, mushrooms and spicy hot sauce for EVER and all of a sudden they make a reprise in my late twenties to critical acclaim.

I think the best cure for food aversions is to be a) embarrassed to be a woman nearing her thirties being a high maintenance eater or b) servers that forget stuff and get your order wrong. All of a sudden, they’ve forgotten you asked for dressing on the side. Total crisis. Everybody at the table has been waiting for their food and nobody wants to be an asshole and start chowing down while you are sitting at an empty place setting looking like Oliver Twist (please sir, may I have some more?) and you don’t want to be the asshole that is eating their entree when everybody else has moved on to desserts. Take this situation and multiply the pressure by one hundred if you are out on a date or a dinner with clients. Seriously, a client dinner is what introduced me to the glory that is the spicy tuna roll. There is just something that is innately childish about food aversions and while I’m totally comfortable keeping my pantry as I see fit- sometimes you just have to take one for the team in public.


My love affair with sriracha came about in such a way. It was a random tuesday here in Orange County. My best friend and I had just attended a blogger event and her boo met up with us at a little waffle sandwich and local beer restaurant called The Iron Press. As a pescatarian I automatically accept the fact that I may be limited to some sort of carb and melted cheese situation. The place was bumping. When places are bumping, you just kind of expect to be there for a while. We looked at the menu, surprisingly the grilled cheese stood out to me the most and it wasn’t even a question whether or not the lady would have the tater tots. The lady will always have the tater tots. The thing about these local foodie-lite joints is that you will always have to ask for any kind of “regular” non-infused or re-worked condiment. If my picky eating were a five, my best friend is easily an 8 or 9 so when we ordered a single round of tots- the waitress was met with three different sauce orders. To my chagrin, the sauce I was hoping for was the one that got left behind. So there I was, sitting face to face with a basket full of tots and sriracha infused ketchup. Whatever, I was one beer in, not really a crazy ketchup person and I’ve always been terrified of sauces with pictures of animals and what I’m sure is descriptive language of said sauce, but in a language I cannot read- it couldn’t hurt to give it a try before I ask the server to bring another option.

The tots and sauce that changed everything. Photo courtesy of TheIronPress.com

I tried the sriracha ketchup and it was delicious. Seriously, guys, it was so tasty I actually got a little pissed that nobody had MADE me try this before. This delicious sauce that apparently everybody knew about had been sitting mere inches away from me so many times and nobody ever thought to give me the hard-sell??? It’s irrelevant because we’ve found each other now. I stood in front of it’s house, Love Actually style, with a poster with “to me you are perfect” written on it. I ran out the next day to buy a bottle for myself.

Because I’m a weird people-pleaser I always try to keep condiments that other people like in my house. God forbid I make a dude breakfast and he just can’t eat his eggs without Tapatio. It’s one part co-dependence, one part good hostess. Either way, can I just blame Martha Stewart and my conservative Christian childhood? Ok, good, let’s go with that. A couple of weeks before the sriracha incident a guy I was dating introduced me to chipotle Tobasco, also delicious. Mild panic attack ensued. Am I becoming one of those hot sauce people? Is this the first step? Dear infant baby Jesus, please don’t let me become a person that cannot eat food without hot sauce.

Honestly, I’ve just really started to take stock into my food aversions and made the decision to challenge myself a bit. Read some new recipes or order something new when I go out. What else have I been missing out on? Let the adventure begin.


If the idea of sriracha Ketchup sounds tasty to you, or if you just want to mix it up for a party- just mix two parts ketchup with one part sriracha. If you want to expand your sriracha experience Bon Apetit has twenty-five suggestions for you.