Sin, confess, repeat
Photo Credit: Splash News Online
Word on the street is that a very pregnant Jennifer Garner has checked into Cedars-Sinai hospital w/hubby Ben at her side.
This could be IT… here’s hoping she pops that sucker out BEFORE the champagne pops!
(no one wants to miss the midnight Dom… )
without Bruce.
Merry Christmas! Love, Contessa
i hate the part in me that can’t get past regrets. the part that wants to replay a particularly painful event over-and-over again. plotting out a better script. a better ending. me actually being satisfied with how i handled the situation.
I once read, in one of my many books on meditation, that the Buddhists believe there should be no regrets. that looking back is a total waste of time. that nothing good can come from it. that this “looking back” and examining the past is where pain comes from– the type of pain that is crippling and at the root of depression. Conversely, it does no good to look forward– as one cannot predict the future. Therefore, it’s not productive to attempt to plan a course of action with the sole purpose of fixing the outcome, nor does it benefit anyone to fret about what will, or will not, happen tomorrow, or the next day.
Rather, it is best to live in the Present Moment. To take pleasure in the goodness that is right before your eyes (be it your breakfast tea, the warm cat on your lap, or the soft, apricot glow from your table lamp). This living in the present moment is the SECRET to peace…
Truth is, I am a BELIEVER when it comes to living in the present moment (practicing Mindfulness). In fact, years ago, while in the midst of a serious depression, i sincerely believe that meditation saved my life (not that the counseling and drugs weren’t beneficial– but those were more like band-aids). Discovering and practicing Mindfulness was a coping mechanism that could be called upon when i needed it… and the benefits were often immediate.
That being said, i seriously need to revisit my meditation books. I’ve been so bitchy and angry lately… so caught up in regrets and wishing for do-overs. My heart has forgotten the art of finding joy in the Present Moment.
(i’ve forgotten to see the stars, to really look into the eyes of my loved ones, to delight in warm, fluffy slippers)
It’s time– past time– to help the heart remember.
Merry Christmas Eve!
Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen.
The book came highly recommended– but NOT by Oprah. At least I don’t think it’s an Oprah fave– god, let’s hope not!
Full book review to follow upon completion. Hoping I get through this one much quicker than the Sawtelle book. Wish me luck… LUCK!
Let the reading commence!
Around 9 AM, on the last day of our Vegas stay, I came down with a migraine. A horrible migraine. Trust me when i say that the blinking lights, ding-ding-ding, and Frank Sinatra Christmas music wasn’t helping matters…
Throw in the cigarette smoke, the fact that the temp outside was in the 30’s, factor in that we’d already checked out of our hotel room, and consider that our departure time wasn’t until 11:55 PM– and just trust me, again, when I say that I was suffering. seriously suffering.
All I wanted was a somewhat quiet, somewhat warm, non-smoking area to rest my weary head. And for a while, a very brief while, I thought I had found relief in the form of a wooden, Jimmy Buffet lounge chair “parked” outside the Margaritaville Gift Shop located to the right of the hotel lobby.
But, no!– according to H, this was not an “appropriate spot.”
He moves me to a small, draped-off room– apparently used for slot machine tournaments– located next to the hotel’s side alley exit/entrance way. The room contained two shabby, questionable couches along with 50+ old-school slot machines. And, while the air was relatively free from smoke, the speakers were blaring bad Vegas music, and there was a constant draft from the door being opened/closed by noisy guests, staff accessing the alleyway.
Niiiiiiiice…
I didn’t want to sit on the couch– let alone lay my head back on the couch cushions. When I expressed displeasure in the “arrangements,” my husband barked that he was doing me a favor because he, “didn’t want people pointing and laughing at me in the hotel lobby!”
In other words, the fact that I was leaning my head back on a lounge chair– with my eyes closed– in the side lobby of the Flamingo Casino was an embarrassment to my husband (and my country).
H would rather hide me away in some forgotten, unkept room for appearance’s sake– to hell with whether or not his beloved wife was comfortable…
Asshole.
Ever been to Vegas? Trust me– one last time– when I tell you that no one would point and laugh at a well-dressed, well-groomed, female hotel guest resting her head while seated in a lounge chair.
(except, apparently, my husband)
Double asshole.
In closing, I’m providing random shots of random people sitting in Margaritaville chairs. CAUTION: GRAPHIC IMAGES. You may want to shield your eyes… (just sayin’)–
I didn’t make it to church yesterday (I was on a plane flying home from Vegas). Hey, it was a good run while it lasted…
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