It's that time of year again... National Blog Writing Month, or as the "in crowd" calls it NaBloWriMo. A bunch of us crazies have pledged to write a blog post every day in the month of October. I did it last year, and it was a challenge, but also a lot of fun. I got to read and love a few new blogs, and I picked up a new reader or two myself.
I think this is the kick in the pants I need because you may have noticed that I've been rather absent from blog world lately. I'll take one more day off to gather my thoughts and seek inspiration in the mundane moments of every day life. Then stand back and watch the posts roll in like waves on the North Shore of Oahu.
Wanna join me? C'mon, you know you do. Don't be scared. If it doesn't work out, nothing bad will happen... bad luck will not befall you. If you succeed, what do you get? The personal satisfaction of accomplishing a goal. Just pop over to NaBloWriMo and leave a comment that you want to join. See you on the blog roll, baby!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
An Unwelcome Passenger
I think the smell is starting to dissipate, or is it only wishful thinking? It is getting a little cold to ride in the car with the windows down, and I can only hold my breath for so long. I should probably back up a bit.
In July, I noticed a smell in my car, particularly when the air conditioner was running. I knew what it was because my mom had the same smell several years ago. It's a mix of gamy, earthy and incontinence. I was pretty sure a mouse was living somewhere in my car. My mom's mouse was in the engine, so I popped the hood and had a look around, but I didn't see anything that looked remotely mouse related. A few days later I found some paper napkins in my glove compartment had been chewed and there were a few mouse poops stuck to my lint roller. At that point, I had a thorough look through the interior of the car, but saw nothing amiss.
Fast forward to the end of August. My clothes dryer was broken and awaiting service. Every time I hung laundry on the line... without fail... didn't matter how sunny it was... didn't matter what the forecast was, it would rain before it was dry. I gave in and took a basket of wet laundry to the laundromat to dry it. I popped it in the dryer, fed it quarters and headed to the school for 45 minutes to prepare for some volunteer work I do there.
Once my work and drying time was up, I walked out of the school to my car and saw I had a flat tire. I called Sweetie, who was working at home, with this multiple choice quiz...
a. Did he want to come change my tire?
b. Should I call AAA?
c. Did he want to come down with the compressor to blow it up and change it at home?
He chose, d. None of the above. He would come down with the compressor, but I would change the tire. While that sounds reasonable now, I wasn't in a reasonable mood then, and he did fail to mention that he would help me. While I waited the 15 minutes for him to drive to the school, my mood deteriorated, as did the weather. It was sunny and cloudless when I called him. It gradually got gray, then black and the wind started to blow. As he pulled in, random, giant rain splats were hitting the pavement. By the time, we hooked up the compressor, the skies had opened up. I was madder than a wet hen, and when the tire was inflated, I looked like one too.
I hurried to the laundromat and grabbed the clothes from the dryer which had long since stopped. I noticed that one of my nice Garnet Hill, monogrammed white bath sheets was missing. It had been stolen from the dryer. My town is not a hot bed of crime. Nothing happens here. People who do drugs, do them quietly in their homes; nobody robs, kills or assaults, but there was a bath towel burglar running amok. They're lucky I didn't catch them in the act or I might have bludgeoned them with my box of Bounce. I could have used a towel about then as I was standing there dripping over my dry clothes. And why couldn't they have stolen one of the faded, worn JC Penney towels? But I digress...
I rushed home before my tire deflated, and started my lesson in tire changing. When I got the spare tire out of the back, there it was... the beginnings of a mouse nest and lots of little mouse leavings. I cleaned everything up and put a box of mouse poison where the starter nest had been. It wasn't long before the smell changed. This time, it was clearly decomposition. It was my hope that the unwelcome inhabitant would leave the car before his or her demise, but I wasn't so lucky. So far, my searches have not turned up a body, and I will probably have to wait until it's nothing but dust before the smell disappears completely. Has anyone else had an experience with mice in their car? Misery does love company.
In July, I noticed a smell in my car, particularly when the air conditioner was running. I knew what it was because my mom had the same smell several years ago. It's a mix of gamy, earthy and incontinence. I was pretty sure a mouse was living somewhere in my car. My mom's mouse was in the engine, so I popped the hood and had a look around, but I didn't see anything that looked remotely mouse related. A few days later I found some paper napkins in my glove compartment had been chewed and there were a few mouse poops stuck to my lint roller. At that point, I had a thorough look through the interior of the car, but saw nothing amiss.
Fast forward to the end of August. My clothes dryer was broken and awaiting service. Every time I hung laundry on the line... without fail... didn't matter how sunny it was... didn't matter what the forecast was, it would rain before it was dry. I gave in and took a basket of wet laundry to the laundromat to dry it. I popped it in the dryer, fed it quarters and headed to the school for 45 minutes to prepare for some volunteer work I do there.
Once my work and drying time was up, I walked out of the school to my car and saw I had a flat tire. I called Sweetie, who was working at home, with this multiple choice quiz...
a. Did he want to come change my tire?
b. Should I call AAA?
c. Did he want to come down with the compressor to blow it up and change it at home?
He chose, d. None of the above. He would come down with the compressor, but I would change the tire. While that sounds reasonable now, I wasn't in a reasonable mood then, and he did fail to mention that he would help me. While I waited the 15 minutes for him to drive to the school, my mood deteriorated, as did the weather. It was sunny and cloudless when I called him. It gradually got gray, then black and the wind started to blow. As he pulled in, random, giant rain splats were hitting the pavement. By the time, we hooked up the compressor, the skies had opened up. I was madder than a wet hen, and when the tire was inflated, I looked like one too.
I hurried to the laundromat and grabbed the clothes from the dryer which had long since stopped. I noticed that one of my nice Garnet Hill, monogrammed white bath sheets was missing. It had been stolen from the dryer. My town is not a hot bed of crime. Nothing happens here. People who do drugs, do them quietly in their homes; nobody robs, kills or assaults, but there was a bath towel burglar running amok. They're lucky I didn't catch them in the act or I might have bludgeoned them with my box of Bounce. I could have used a towel about then as I was standing there dripping over my dry clothes. And why couldn't they have stolen one of the faded, worn JC Penney towels? But I digress...
I rushed home before my tire deflated, and started my lesson in tire changing. When I got the spare tire out of the back, there it was... the beginnings of a mouse nest and lots of little mouse leavings. I cleaned everything up and put a box of mouse poison where the starter nest had been. It wasn't long before the smell changed. This time, it was clearly decomposition. It was my hope that the unwelcome inhabitant would leave the car before his or her demise, but I wasn't so lucky. So far, my searches have not turned up a body, and I will probably have to wait until it's nothing but dust before the smell disappears completely. Has anyone else had an experience with mice in their car? Misery does love company.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
I haven't blogged in many moons... well, four phases of the moon to be exact. I thought I'd spare you all my negativity because frankly, it wasn't such a great summer... particularly the last month. It was difficult for me to find humor in all that life was throwing at me, and since I write to entertain or inform you rather than garner your sympathy, I thought I would stay away until I had an attitude adjustment. I'm better now, so I'll spend less time taking quizzes and tending my farm on Facebook and a little more time writing and reading blogs.
I celebrated my improved mood with a flu shot yesterday, and it made me feel really good to take some control over my health. The last time I had the flu was in February 1997. Sweetie and I got it at the same time. I like to joke that we didn't get out of bed all of Valentine's weekend, and we shared a bottle of red (it was Robitussin). We were so sick that we took our temperatures and whoever had the lowest had to go make food. Food was tea and toast or Lipton soup and crackers. It was almost a month before we felt completely better. After that, we've both had a flu shot every year, and Pipsqueak gets them too. I'm thrilled to say that we've been flu-free.
I hear a lot of people say, "I'm not getting a flu shot. I got it last winter, and I was the sickest I've ever been. I got ______ (fill in the blank with pneumonia, bronchitis or any other viral or bacterial comeuppance)." People, the flu shot doesn't make you sick! It won't give you that stuff; it doesn't even prevent that stuff. It does not lower your immunity. It gives you a very good chance at preventing the flu, or if you do get the flu, it will lessen the severity. It would be like saying, "I'm not wearing my seat belt anymore, because last time I did I was in an accident and got seriously injured." It does take 30 days from the injection until you're fully protected, so you could still get the flu in that time. If you do get a non-flu virus, it has nothing to do with the shot. You were just unfortunate to be in close contact with someone with an upper-respiratory infection, and you caught it.
This year, just to heighten the confusion and panic, we have swine flu. (I'm sorry, but I'm not going to call it H1N1. I mean no disrespect to pigs, and I continue to eat them. I love me some bacon, but it's swine flu for me.) So there's a lot of worry over the rush to create a vaccine. Will it be safe? Will it cause Guillain-Barre in some people like the swine flu vaccine of the 70s? Will there be enough for everyone that wants it? Let's be calm and take a deep breath. This vaccine wasn't rushed anymore than any seasonal flu vaccine. The seasonal ones are based on whatever is going around in the winter for the southern hemisphere (our summer). It takes about four months to create a vaccine. Swine flu reared its head at the end of April and really got a foothold in May. Four months have now passed, and the vaccine is now being tested. It should be available in mid-October. It's not clear that there will be enough for everyone that wants it, but the CDC is recommending it for those age 6 months -24 years, particularly school age children, pregnant women and those people with underlying health conditions. If it's available to me, even though I don't fall under any of those categories, I will get it.
I'm not a medical expert; I don't even play one on tv. The information I have I got is from experience, the CDC and the WHO. If you have questions, go there and read. I'd rather hear that you're not getting the flu shot because you're afraid of needles rather than because you're mis- or uninformed.
You might buy a lottery ticket because you'd like a chance at several million dollars. You go on a date because you'd like a chance at love. Why not get a flu shot because you'd like the chance at not being sick in bed for days
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Good Bye to a Friend
My heart is breaking, and I think it will stay broken for awhile. That's the way death is. The ones left behind suffer. The words aren't coming easily because there aren't words to adequately describe grief and confusion. I guess I'll start at the beginning.
Twenty six ago, I started high school. A skinny blond guy named Shawn sat in homeroom behind me because we sat in alphabetical order. He had a locker next to me too. We talked, we teased each other in a friendly way. He called me blueberry eyes, because I wore blue eye shadow when I could get out the house with it unnoticed. I called him Bear, although the reason why escapes me now. I found out recently he had a crush on me. Unfortunately, for him, I had a crush on his brother. (It was unfortunate for me too, since the feeling wasn't mutual.) We talked on the phone once in awhile, hung out in the same crowds and were generally in each other's orbits every day for four years, having fun, supporting, encouraging and just listening to each other. The memories of over two decades ago are now more like snapshots than the short films they used to be.
After school, we lost touch. He didn't come to any of our class reunions, but I was always hoping he might be there. A few months ago, he friended me on Facebook. I was thrilled, because he is someone that I really regretted losing touch with and was happy to have him back in my life even though he was on the other side of the country. I twisted his arm into putting up more photos. I shamed him into posting to his blog again after a two year hiatus, so he wrote a post about ME! Scalawag! He followed my blog; I followed his. We followed each other on Twitter. It was an electronic reunion of sorts. Sweetie and I talked about going to California again in the near future, and in my mind, it was going to include a visit with Shawn.
That brings us to this morning. I woke up at 5:45 and couldn't get back to sleep. I grabbed my iPhone and checked Facebook. There was a message from mutual friend of Shawn's that I didn't know. Shawn had been missing for several days, and he wanted to hear from anyone that might have heard from him. I had that feeling of panic wash through me where it feels like water has been thrown over your body. I just laid there with my heart pounding, not knowing what to do. After a few minutes, I decided I'd look at his profile page and see when his last post was. That's when the second wave of panic came. I saw three RIP messages from other friends unknown to me on his Wall.
My hands were shaking and I felt sick. I was hoping they just mistook missing for dead. I was hoping he'd just hooked up with some hottie and was locked away in some hotel room not coming up for air. His family had moved away and I didn't know how to contact them. I sent a message to the friend that send me the "missing message" and tried (rather unsuccessfully) to get on with my life.
After a couple of hours without a response (it seemed much longer), I sent messages to the people that had posted RIP messages on his Wall. Before long the the shock waves came rolling in... yes, Shawn died... he took his own life... he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge.
I can't begin to understand this and even those closest to him can only speculate and wonder, but with close friends in CA, parents in FL and a brother in CT, it maybe awhile before things become clearer. Or maybe we're all looking for answers when there aren't any. Death is my greatest fear. It's too final and unknown. I have a hard time understanding the elderly or terminally ill becoming resigned to it; someone young taking his own life is unfathomable to me.
A friend told me about the biography of Audrey Hepburn she read a few years ago. Hepburn lived in Switzerland, and was close friends for years with the French actress and model, Capucine ... the beautiful woman who was in "The Pink Panther", and other films. Capucine had suffered from bi-polar and clinical depression for decades, was under very good care by doctors, took medication and had lots of support. But, she took her own life, at 57. In anguish, guilt, grief, Hepburn and her husband talked to Capucine's long-time doctor; as the book says, " .... a kind man they knew through many 'Cap crises' .... " And, it goes on: "He told Audrey something that shocked her: 'The pain Capucine was suffering was so immense, this {to her} was really the best solution.' Only then, says Rob, did Audrey make her peace with it."
While that's very helpful to hear, it's still too raw and fresh for me to make peace right now. Sadness, anger and regret are right there at the surface like an open wound. I know it will scab over; I will pick it and it will bleed again. But eventually, it will heal and the scar will fade, but never completely disappear.
Twenty six ago, I started high school. A skinny blond guy named Shawn sat in homeroom behind me because we sat in alphabetical order. He had a locker next to me too. We talked, we teased each other in a friendly way. He called me blueberry eyes, because I wore blue eye shadow when I could get out the house with it unnoticed. I called him Bear, although the reason why escapes me now. I found out recently he had a crush on me. Unfortunately, for him, I had a crush on his brother. (It was unfortunate for me too, since the feeling wasn't mutual.) We talked on the phone once in awhile, hung out in the same crowds and were generally in each other's orbits every day for four years, having fun, supporting, encouraging and just listening to each other. The memories of over two decades ago are now more like snapshots than the short films they used to be.
After school, we lost touch. He didn't come to any of our class reunions, but I was always hoping he might be there. A few months ago, he friended me on Facebook. I was thrilled, because he is someone that I really regretted losing touch with and was happy to have him back in my life even though he was on the other side of the country. I twisted his arm into putting up more photos. I shamed him into posting to his blog again after a two year hiatus, so he wrote a post about ME! Scalawag! He followed my blog; I followed his. We followed each other on Twitter. It was an electronic reunion of sorts. Sweetie and I talked about going to California again in the near future, and in my mind, it was going to include a visit with Shawn.
That brings us to this morning. I woke up at 5:45 and couldn't get back to sleep. I grabbed my iPhone and checked Facebook. There was a message from mutual friend of Shawn's that I didn't know. Shawn had been missing for several days, and he wanted to hear from anyone that might have heard from him. I had that feeling of panic wash through me where it feels like water has been thrown over your body. I just laid there with my heart pounding, not knowing what to do. After a few minutes, I decided I'd look at his profile page and see when his last post was. That's when the second wave of panic came. I saw three RIP messages from other friends unknown to me on his Wall.
My hands were shaking and I felt sick. I was hoping they just mistook missing for dead. I was hoping he'd just hooked up with some hottie and was locked away in some hotel room not coming up for air. His family had moved away and I didn't know how to contact them. I sent a message to the friend that send me the "missing message" and tried (rather unsuccessfully) to get on with my life.
After a couple of hours without a response (it seemed much longer), I sent messages to the people that had posted RIP messages on his Wall. Before long the the shock waves came rolling in... yes, Shawn died... he took his own life... he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge.
I can't begin to understand this and even those closest to him can only speculate and wonder, but with close friends in CA, parents in FL and a brother in CT, it maybe awhile before things become clearer. Or maybe we're all looking for answers when there aren't any. Death is my greatest fear. It's too final and unknown. I have a hard time understanding the elderly or terminally ill becoming resigned to it; someone young taking his own life is unfathomable to me.
A friend told me about the biography of Audrey Hepburn she read a few years ago. Hepburn lived in Switzerland, and was close friends for years with the French actress and model, Capucine ... the beautiful woman who was in "The Pink Panther", and other films. Capucine had suffered from bi-polar and clinical depression for decades, was under very good care by doctors, took medication and had lots of support. But, she took her own life, at 57. In anguish, guilt, grief, Hepburn and her husband talked to Capucine's long-time doctor; as the book says, " .... a kind man they knew through many 'Cap crises' .... " And, it goes on: "He told Audrey something that shocked her: 'The pain Capucine was suffering was so immense, this {to her} was really the best solution.' Only then, says Rob, did Audrey make her peace with it."
While that's very helpful to hear, it's still too raw and fresh for me to make peace right now. Sadness, anger and regret are right there at the surface like an open wound. I know it will scab over; I will pick it and it will bleed again. But eventually, it will heal and the scar will fade, but never completely disappear.
Did you know how much we'd worry?
Did you know how much we'd cry?
Did you know how long we'd search for answers why?
Did you know we'd rather say "I love you"
than have to say "good bye"?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Food... I Just Can't Quit You.
I love food and everything about it... the way it looks and smells, the texture, the ritual and (oh, be still my heart) the taste. I know a man who said if he could take a pill and not eat, he'd be happy. I wish I could take a pill and eat everything and anything I wanted.
I was lucky as a teen and an early 20-something; I could eat everything and anything I wanted and not gain weight. When I got a little older, I noticed a few pounds creep up, but I'd cut back a little and they'd fall right off. I've never dieted, but I did keep a food diary for awhile in my 20s when it occurred to me that I might not have the healthiest diet. Okay, I didn't need a diary to tell me that sugared jelly donuts didn't make a good lunch, but it did help me see the error of my ways.
In my 30s, I was eating healthy, well balanced meals, but I could still eat desserts, snack on junk when I felt like it and still maintain my weight. But recently, something happened to change all that. Although, I felt like my eating habits hadn't changed, I put on 8-10 pounds last winter.
In addition to my vigorous walks, I thought I should re-evaluate my eating. I was browsing at Borders a few weeks ago, and bought "Skinny Bitch" by . I got about half way through the book and quit. They recommend not eating meat, dairy, sugar or drinking alcohol. No wonder they're bitches. That takes all the fun out of food.
But I am going to make some changes. First the scary one... I'm giving up all alcohol for almost three weeks until school starts. I won't give it up forever because it's a taste and ritual I love, but I'm hoping it might jump start the weight loss. I haven't looked up the calorie count of one mixed drink or glass of wine, but that along with the nuts or cheese and crackers every night, must add up to a lot over the period of a week.
Other changes:
I was lucky as a teen and an early 20-something; I could eat everything and anything I wanted and not gain weight. When I got a little older, I noticed a few pounds creep up, but I'd cut back a little and they'd fall right off. I've never dieted, but I did keep a food diary for awhile in my 20s when it occurred to me that I might not have the healthiest diet. Okay, I didn't need a diary to tell me that sugared jelly donuts didn't make a good lunch, but it did help me see the error of my ways.
In my 30s, I was eating healthy, well balanced meals, but I could still eat desserts, snack on junk when I felt like it and still maintain my weight. But recently, something happened to change all that. Although, I felt like my eating habits hadn't changed, I put on 8-10 pounds last winter.
In addition to my vigorous walks, I thought I should re-evaluate my eating. I was browsing at Borders a few weeks ago, and bought "Skinny Bitch" by . I got about half way through the book and quit. They recommend not eating meat, dairy, sugar or drinking alcohol. No wonder they're bitches. That takes all the fun out of food.
But I am going to make some changes. First the scary one... I'm giving up all alcohol for almost three weeks until school starts. I won't give it up forever because it's a taste and ritual I love, but I'm hoping it might jump start the weight loss. I haven't looked up the calorie count of one mixed drink or glass of wine, but that along with the nuts or cheese and crackers every night, must add up to a lot over the period of a week.
Other changes:
- fewer chips with a sandwich at lunch. I'll be counting them out instead of grabbing a handful. And I will never, EVER again eat them out of the bag.
- drinking more water.
- eating more fruit, especially as snacks
- cutting way back on sweet treats, but not denying myself because I'd only want it more.
- portion control
- no finishing Pipsqueak's leftovers
- eating slower.
It's really just being more conscious about what goes in my mouth. I don't want to do anything that I can't keep doing or isn't well-balanced. I also have to think about the example that I'm setting for Pipsqueak. I don't want her to be a dieter; I want her to be a healthy eater.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Emancipation of Me.... Me!!
It's time I freed myself from an unhealthy and near-sedentary life style. It's one of those things that no one can tell you to do. You just have to decide to do it yourself, and I've decided it's time to get off my fat butt and get that fat butt off.
I gained 8 or 10 pounds last winter. I had maintained the same weight for almost 20 years except for when I was getting divorced and lost almost 20 pounds (not a recommended method of weight loss), and when I was pregnant and put on 30 pounds which I lost in just under a year. Weight just hasn't really been an issue for me and not something I had to work to control... until now.
It's not even ALL about the weight. If my body is a temple, mine has been crumbling. I have way too many aches and pains, tension in my neck most of the time and a general lack of energy. I convinced myself that I had a thyroid condition, but I had my doctor check it, and he reassured me that I'm just a hypochondriac and don't have a life-long condition requiring medication.
It's easy to make up excuses of why not to exercise:
I gained 8 or 10 pounds last winter. I had maintained the same weight for almost 20 years except for when I was getting divorced and lost almost 20 pounds (not a recommended method of weight loss), and when I was pregnant and put on 30 pounds which I lost in just under a year. Weight just hasn't really been an issue for me and not something I had to work to control... until now.
It's not even ALL about the weight. If my body is a temple, mine has been crumbling. I have way too many aches and pains, tension in my neck most of the time and a general lack of energy. I convinced myself that I had a thyroid condition, but I had my doctor check it, and he reassured me that I'm just a hypochondriac and don't have a life-long condition requiring medication.
It's easy to make up excuses of why not to exercise:
- can't afford to go to the gym
- no one available to watch child/ren
- don't have the right clothes/shoes to wear
- don't have the time
- don't feel good right now; maybe when I feel better
- it's raining
- don't like to sweat.
What convinced me to do something (other than make excuses)? The sight of myself in shorts and (Egad! The horror!) a bathing suit. I've always had this dream that when I was 50 I wanted to be in shape like Tina Turner or Cher or Madonna. That's only 5 years + away, and it's not going to happen overnight.
Last week, I put together a playlist on my Ipod of music that keeps me moving, put on some comfortable clothes and sneakers and started walking. And I don't mean strolling. I mean if I was going any faster, I'd be running. When I was on vacation, I did 2 1/2 or 3 miles since it was on the coast and flatter. At home, it's a lot of steep up and down hill, so I'm doing 2 miles. So far, I've walked about 13 miles total, and I have to admit, I like how it makes me feel. I have more energy after I walk, and I like the happy endorphins I feel when I'm done.
The weird part is that I don't want to do it before I go. I feel like I have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on another. The devil is making excuses and the angel is telling me how good it is for me and how good I'll feel. When I get back, I can't wait to go out again. Unfortunately, that feeling passes, and I'll struggle again the next time. As my friend, Ellen so aptly put it, "Inertia is a wicked, wicked force."
Tomorrow, I'll talk about what I'm doing on the inside to change how I feel and look.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
There's Romance In The Air
Last night, I got fantastic news. Our good friends (I'll call them Doc and Chuckles) are getting married. While this seems like an ordinary event that happens every day, I find it extraordinary and exciting. They are 40-something and 50-something and have been together for 8 years. I thought they were the east coast versions of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. They seemed more married than some married people I know. But what makes it so special was the fact that they aren't getting married because it's expected of them, or because they want to have children (they already have two teens a piece and a 7 year old together), or because logistically and economically it will make sound sense. Nope. They're getting married because they were overcome with the knowledge that they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives .
I admit it, I'm a sucker for romance. I cry at every wedding and when the man and woman get together at the end of every romantic comedy. Romance and love are two of the few good things in this world of many bad things. Just think of all the news you receive and how rarely it's good. I've felt happy all day today... almost giddy and distracted because they brought me news so exciting it made me squeal. The sky seemed a little bit bluer, the air clearer, and Sweetie seemed even more attractive to me. It brought back all the happy memories of my engagement, wedding and marriage to Sweetie.
My physical therapist got married two weeks ago, the school principal got married a week ago, and the owner of the farm where Pipsqueak rides is getting married in September. In case you thought romance was only for the young, these are all 40 and 50-somethings. At that (my) age, that usually means it's a second (or third) marriage. Some are able to get it right the first time. Statistically, it's about 50%. The other 50% of us weren't that lucky or smart or observant.
I'm looking forward to Doc and Chuckle's wedding (date so far unknown). Second weddings are much different than first. They are less about tradition and more of a celebration of love, and are usually a better representation of who the couple really is. Doc and Chuckles are funny, crazy, youthful, creative and eccentric. Sounds like my kind of party.
I admit it, I'm a sucker for romance. I cry at every wedding and when the man and woman get together at the end of every romantic comedy. Romance and love are two of the few good things in this world of many bad things. Just think of all the news you receive and how rarely it's good. I've felt happy all day today... almost giddy and distracted because they brought me news so exciting it made me squeal. The sky seemed a little bit bluer, the air clearer, and Sweetie seemed even more attractive to me. It brought back all the happy memories of my engagement, wedding and marriage to Sweetie.
My physical therapist got married two weeks ago, the school principal got married a week ago, and the owner of the farm where Pipsqueak rides is getting married in September. In case you thought romance was only for the young, these are all 40 and 50-somethings. At that (my) age, that usually means it's a second (or third) marriage. Some are able to get it right the first time. Statistically, it's about 50%. The other 50% of us weren't that lucky or smart or observant.
I'm looking forward to Doc and Chuckle's wedding (date so far unknown). Second weddings are much different than first. They are less about tradition and more of a celebration of love, and are usually a better representation of who the couple really is. Doc and Chuckles are funny, crazy, youthful, creative and eccentric. Sounds like my kind of party.
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