Hi, folks…Joelle and I are still working out a few kinks in the design, but we should have them all fixed up in the next day or two.  So, if you’ve had trouble commenting (looks like we have white text on a yellow background) or if you noticed that my Daily Anomaly popped up in the regular entry section as well…you’re not losing your mind (not over this at least).  I’m going to hold off on posting another Daily Anomaly until we get the issue solved - which should be tonight or tomorrow.

In the meantime, stroll around, check things out. Pretty cool, huh???  And enjoy the highly anticipated finale of the The Bachelorette tonight…my palms are sweating just thinking about it!

Look at me!  Look at me!  I’m all pink and sassy and kitchy and stuff!  We still have a few minor kinks to work out with the design…but it’s just about there.  So, let me give you a quick tour:

Obviously the title, The Anomalous Life, has now been given its proper fun-loving font.  I have to give a big shout-out to Joelle at Moxie Design Studios for not only the fabulous design but for perfectly understanding (and capturing) the essence of what The Anomalous Life means to me…fun, stylish, REAL, alive…not depressing, forlorn or lonely.  I may be a thirty-something single woman, but I am living and learning and having a DAMN good time doing it.  Thanks, Joelle, you nailed it, rock star!

Below the title, you’ll notice the new tagline in blue.  I can change this monthly, daily…hell, I can change it each hour if the mood strikes.  And if the urge hits you to send over a tagline suggestion…be my guest (I’ll even give you credit…in tiny, tiny print).

If you want to peruse past blog entries, have at it.  You can do so via the Archive link in the top (horizontal) menu bar or (and I prefer this one, b/c it’s so, so easy) you can click on the pull-down menus in the sidebar links under Past Indiscretions…sorted by date or category.  Check it out, there’s some juicy stuff buried in there!

Need to send me some cyber love, but don’t want the whole world to see your mushy words?  Drop me a line through the Contact link in the top menu bar.  I’ll try to respond with relative speed, unless you’re slamming me…in that case, give me a day or two.  I’ll need time to cut out and stuff your voodoo doll.

To formulate your regular blog entry comments, just hit the little pink text bubble at the end of each entry.  See how simple it is?  Now I fully expect to hear from each and every one of you.  No more hiding in the shadows.  It’s creepy.  You can check out the most recent comments from your fellow readers in the sidebar link titled From the Peanut Gallery or to see comments for a particular entry, hit the aforementioned entry bubble.

Want to see picture evidence of my zany life?  You’ve got two options here as well:  click Photos on the top menu bar, or click on one of the featured pictures in The Papparazzi sidebar link.  The fabulous Joelle at Moxie was able to honor my request to have this link open in a separate window, so you no longer have to backtrack to make your way back to the blog.  Isn’t technology great?

To check out some of my favorite bloggers, click their links in my blogroll:  Shout Out to… and to do a keyword search throughout The Anomalous Life, plug your words into the provided space in the sidebar called Look Around.

Now we’re to my favorite new addition to TAL (my own little Rachel Ray-ism for The Anomalous Life) - and this new little slice of heaven is the Daily Anomaly.  See it up there in the right-hand corner?  The big text bubble coming down from the main menu bar?  I am SO. LOVING. THIS.  This is my abbreviated daily musing…my words of wisdom (or complete bullshit) and possibly a picture or two.  On those days that my haggard ass can’t whip up a full blog entry or those nights I’m at the Porch Swing tossing back some adult beverages and engaging in a conversation about our Founding Fathers, you can still count on a little sumthin-sumthin in the Daily Anomaly bubble.  And you can comment there as well.  Another loopy request of mine that Joelle granted.  Seriously, I don’t even think she’s human.  I bet she’s climbed Mount Everest.

So, there it is!  The new look for The Anomalous Life.  Let me know what you think, and for my male readers…it’s pink…I know.  I’m a girl and so is your wife, daughter, sister.  Your momma is too, and you remember what she used to say:  The woman is always right!

Very few of us would call ourselves lazy.  It’s a nasty term, isn’t it?  One that conjures up images of hairy, beer-bellied men with intestinal issues or perpetually out-of-work ne’er-do-wells.  But the truth is, to a lesser degree, we all have our moments.  Call it what you will…laziness, procrastination…hell, call it task-challenged if it takes away the sting.  We are not immune, on occasion, to shirking a responsbililty or two.

In fact:

Last night I ate a mini bag of Orville Redenbacher’s Smart Pop, Mrs. Farrell’s leftover rice and some Wheat Thins with peanut butter.  Why?  Because when it comes to grocery shopping, I am one lazy bitch.  And here’s the ironic part…to avoid it, I will perform tasks I also abhor - just to a lesser degree.  I will vacuum, lint roll dark clothing items (curses to my precious kitties) and yes, even empty the dishwasher. 

In my defense, grocery shopping for one can be challenging at best.  Fresh produce is often wasted and expiration dates - which I watch like a hawk suffering from hypochondria - come and go all too quickly.  Just as my slightly unwarranted fear of bees may find me careening into a neighbor’s pool, my keen olfactory senses can detect the presence of E. Coli, possibly before it exists.  Is this a lingering childhood reaction to my mother’s tendency to scrape mold from the top of sour cream and serve it as new?  Or her refusal to be ruled by silly purple dates on canned food items?  I won’t dismiss the possibility.  And because she is a psychotherapist by trade and trained to understand these lingering traumas, I often remind her of her role in my apparent grocery store phobia.

(Read with exaggerated Texas accent) “My Gawwwwwd, Nikki!  You haven’t been sick a day in yur life from spoiled food!”

“Oh, but you forget so easily, Momma.  What about the awful food poisoning incident in China?  Do you not recall my violently expelling the contents of my stomach in the hole that served as a bathroom on the train to Hong Kong?”

“That wasn’t my cooking, dear.”

“But, still.”

 She rolls her eyes, turns her back and continues the preparation of her bacteria feast.

“Mom” I say.  “Did you check the date on this milk?”

“NIKKI!  OUT OF MY KITCHEN!  NOW!”

I am open to curing my fear of day-old food and welcome the feeling of happily strolling through the aisles of my local Kroger.  But, at present, these stores mock the life of the thirty-something single woman with their “family-size” lasagnas and monstrous heads of lettuce.  They ignore the ”anomaly”…however exponentially our numbers may be growing.  And so I vacuum over newly vacuumed carpet.  I pull out my lint brush to capture that last, lingering strand of cat hair, and I search the cupboards for my next eclectic meal.

Call me what you will…lazy, slightly obsessive, or just plain odd.  But if you must do so, I also ask that you help a girl out.  Pass on your simple meal ideas for one.  Offer up your grocery store tricks…your ideas for (safely) prolonging the life of perishables.  If you do so, I promise you this.  I will get off my ass and make that frightening trip down the street.  I will park my car in that dangerous parking lot.  Without shaking, I will roll that squeaky-wheeled, screwed up cart through each and every aisle.  And I will do it with a smile.  Just for you.

 Let’s get right to an explanation of the blog name. How it came to be will tell you more about me than a list of stats. 

 So, what is an “anomaly”?  Well according to an older “gentleman” (old enough to pull from his Social Security) in small-town Oklahoma…an anomaly is what I am. Why? Because (in his words - which I feel uncomfortable even repeating) I am thirty-seven, unmarried, no kids, attractive, humourous and intelligent. Did I mention how uncomfortable it was for me to repeat that? Women’s guilt, and all.

 Realizing that I’d just been dealt a subtle dig under the guise of a few (somewhat creepy) compliments, I chose to respond with my own not-so-subtle retort:  “Well…in the big cities, it’s not so much an anomaly.”  His response:  “Yes it is.  You’re an anomaly.”  Well, alrighty, then.  I, Nikki Wynn, am an anomaly.  I’ll soon enter a treatment facility for this apparently rare illness and hope to have my 30-day anomaly-sobriety chip by the end of March.  Wish me luck.

The truth is, I am thirty-seven.  I am unmarried and without child.  And I even have some friends who share the same story.  But the thing is - now hold onto your hats here - I’m a pretty happy, fulfilled person.  Well, most of the time.  I wasn’t so happy and fulfilled a few weeks ago when I got my beating, broken heart handed to me on a platter.  Which means, yes, I was in a relationship.  A short-lived, somewhat tumultuous relationship.  One which I was moments away from ending when what happened?  He ended it with me.  What!  You can’t do that!  That’s what I was going to do!  I just needed two or three more hellish weeks to get me to the point of ending it without pain.  Yes, I am quite evolved.  That’s me.  An evolved anomaly.

By the way, I looked up “anomaly” on dictionary.com (I looooove that site), and here’s what it said:  “an odd, peculiar, or strange condition, situation, quality, etc.”  Really?  A single woman in her 30s is odd and peculiar?  But I thought Oprah recommended selfishness in our 20s (think I did that quite well) and growth in our 30s (in process).  I think I’m right on track.  Which doesn’t mean I don’t have moments of sheer panic…societal pressure will do that to a girl.  I mean, there are times when I can literally feel my eggs drying up.  This generally happens when a relative makes one of two comments:  1) “Nikki - we’re getting worried about you” (in response to hearing about yet another broken relationship), or 2) “Have you looked into in-vitro?” (this, of course, is before inquiring if I’ve even decided I would like to have a child).  Yes, this is normally a cringe-inducing line from a romantic comedy (which ends in blissful happiness), but in this case, it’s my life.  Really.  It happened last weekend.  Right before the old man tossed out “anomaly”.  It’s quite clear to me…the pressure ain’t comin’ from me, it’s from the (I’m sure well-intentioned) folks on the outside.

Here’s the reality.  I’ve had my share of relationships.  Some good, some not so good.  But they’ve all brought with them lessons.  Just as my good and not-so-good career moves have offered.  And had one of those relationships turned out swimmingly well, I would have considered walking down the proverbial aisle.  But, in then end, it just hasn’t been right.  And I ain’t gonna settle for average.  Merging two lives is difficult enough - in fact, many of those (well-intentioned) folks offering their advice have had their share of drives on the rough roads of life, but we are taught, by family, the media, and many other outside sources, that we are not complete unless we have someone to share our lives with.  And I don’t necessarily disagree with that…if, and only if, you’ve found that good match.  My guess is, many of you reading this know how difficult a task that can be.

So, I am a work in progress.  I have had many wonderful experiences in my life.  I’ve had great boyfriends.  I’ve had wonderful jobs, which have brought me from Houston to Manhattan and back to Houston again.  I am now writing for a living (as a freelance marketing consultant).  I’ve written a children’s book that is in many schools in the Houston area and I’m working on Book #2.  I am still searching for that purpose in life that we all strive to find, and I find myself closer and closer to it every day (I’ll explain that in more detail in later blogs).  So, life is good.  Things are heading in the right direction.  And if the path I’ve chosen - up to this point - makes me an anomaly - then bring it on!  Call me what you will!

If you choose, you can join me on this journey as my own personal cheerleaders (or critics).  You can read about my interesting nights out, the perils of finishing another writing project, the joys and heartaches of navigating that sometimes achingly exciting and painful road of male/female couplings, the interesting musings of my pyschotherapist mother (note: musings which don’t necessarily work so well on their own children) and the dry banter from my brilliant father (which I believe I enjoy more than he does…well, sometimes).

 Okay, I’m off to prepare for another night of American Idol.  And were The Bachelor on, I would watch that as well.  And so I can balance out your opinion of me, I also enjoy politics, current events, biographies, the goddess that is Oprah, the Discovery Channel, my beautiful nephew, Henry, a good verbal (but fair) debate, and chocolate…lots of chocolate.  Did I mention that I just got a Kitchenaide Mixer?  I haven’t used it yet, but dammit, it looks beautiful on my counter.  And I will use it, people.  I will make baked goods until the cows come home.  As soon as I have time.  Or have children.  Whichever comes first.  Oh, God…we’ve come full circle.  We’re back to in vitro, aren’t we?  And those thoughts are back.  Why didn’t I break up with him first?  Oh, the tragedy!

 Let me hear from you.  And join me often for the next entry from an anomaly.  Yes, I think I like this.  I am Nikki Wynn, and I am an anomaly.  Screw rehab.