There Is No “U” In Single

fish-in-the-seaI was divorced in February of 1980. It was a rough couple of weeks. Two weeks before my divorce my dad died. There was a lot of loneliness going around back then.

But years later I would start having parties and bringing cake to work for my “divorcaversary.” My favorite was the cake that said “Love Stinks.” Since my divorcaversary is on February 11th it was a nice touch to have the cake right around Valentine’s Day.

I have had relationships since my divorce but nothing that stuck, and more than a few that stank. It’s part of the charm of life.

I tried eHarmony and Our Time dating services but for me it was more off key than harmony and definitely not my time.

But I really don’t care — there are a few times when I think it would be nice to be part of a couple but in general it’s not a big deal. And now that I’m retired the pickings are slim and the desire is anorexic. Don’t get me wrong, I would never say no to love but I’m just not stepexpecting it to show up. Of course I didn’t expect arthritis to show up and here it is.

You just never know what life will bring your way so be ready for adventure, but watch where you are walking.

A Salute to Baby Carrots

pseudo-baby-carrotsJanuary 1st is the beginning of the end for thousands of bags of baby carrots. Everyone who has started their diet today will buy a bag of baby carrots with the intention of eating them instead of a bag of chips or a bar of chocolate or a box of cookies. And eventually they will be pushed towards the back of the fridge behind the bowls of whatever until one day they are discovered and discarded.
So here is a salute to the baby carrots who have given their lives to support the dreams and illusions of the world dieters.

It Seems Insurmountable

up the stepsThis is a picture of my great-niece Vicky in Paris or Spain (I’m not sure where she is) but she loves to climb steps so she is off again. I’m pretty sure she’s not thinking well that building is way too far away I’ll never get there — she is probably thinking one more step and then one more step etc.  Actually I don’t have any idea what she is thinking but I do know she is brighter than most of us … just keep going until you get to where you want to go (unless some adult comes along and scoops you up and keeps you from your destination). Of course if some adult comes along and tries to scoop us up we can kick them in the balls or knees if they are testicle-impaired people. Either way we can fight the scooper.

I don’t know what this suppose to mean but when I saw this picture this is what I thought about and I decided to share it. Of course it is another chance to show off Vicky too.

Here Comes The Train

crossingToday as I was driving home, trying to avoid the 85 areas around me of road construction, I got to one of my best shortcuts home and there was a train going down the track I had to cross.

When I was growing up we had to cross this track on the way to and from my grandma and grandpa’s house. I used to silently pray for a train to go by because I loved to watch them and usually the guy in the caboose would wave at you if you hung out the window and waved at him. It was one of my favorite things.

When I said I would “silently pray” it wasn’t because I was a quiet and shy child — it watrains because my parents didn’t share my joy when there was a train. They thought of it was just a delay.

Today I thought of that and I wondered at what point did I change from the kid who loved to see a train go by — to watch in awe at one train car after another that passed by and wonder what was in those cars — to an “adult” who saw them as an impediment to my progress to wherever I was going.

Today I was in no hurry — I didn’t have to get home to do anything in particular; there were no frozen foods melting in the backseat; there was no job timing my arrival; Keifer Sutherland wasn’t waiting for me to arrive — with the exception of Daisy wanted to get out of her crate there was no rush. But there I was annoyed like the people in front and behind me. I even turned off my car since I had no idea how long I’d be there.caboose Then as I saw the final cars approaching I started my engine, looked up, and saw the guy in the caboose waving at us. I waved back and was suddenly that kid again; at least until the car behind me honked.

The Day The Music Died (Well A Wonderful Funky Chunk Of It)

onstage during The 57th Annual GRAMMY Awards at the at the STAPLES Center on February 8, 2015 in Los Angeles, California.

Yes, it’s another Prince tribute. I’m still trying to grasp the news of Prince’s death. It amazes me how people (because I know I’m not the only one) can feel so much grief for a person they “didn’t know.” And, like so many people from Minneapolis I had my Prince sighting. When the movie “Purple Rain” came out I went to see it with a friend at the Skyway Theater. When it was over we stood up and saw Prince sitting about two rows behind us — apparently he liked to go to see how people reacted to the movie.

But that’s the cool thing about Prince and other people I mourned for when they passed that were not part of my life in the way that we hung out together or talked on the phone or emailed pictures of cute dogs and cats — they were part of my life in a totally different way.

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Bob — The Navy’s Best Pilot

IMG_0475Meet Bob — he told us he is the Navy’s best pilot — EVER. Then he told us that every Navy pilot had to feel that way about themselves or they couldn’t do what they do.

Last night the Social Media Marketing conference partied on the USS Midway. I didn’t know at first if I would go but decided to get out of my comfort zone and attend. When I saw all the steps we had to climb to get onto the ship I almost turned around and went back to the hotel but I said “I can do this” and I did it. Of course at the top some nice guy took my arm to help me — I must have looked or sounded pretty bad (at least it wasn’t a Boy Scout; when the Boy Scout helps me cross the street I’ll know I am over the hill). Of course I discovered later there was an elevator.

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Travel Is Not My Thing

The view from my balcony. I am suffering

The view from my balcony. I am suffering

I am now in San Diego for the Social Media Marketing World conference. Over 3,000 people will be attending. After the wonderful time at the Erma Bombeck conference I am afraid it may not be as warm and welcoming a group — but you never know. I am adorable and cuddly.

I have been lucky to be able to do some traveling in the past few years on my employer’s dime — San Diego, Las Vegas, San Jose, Chicago — but I just want to go back home.

Not sure why I don’t get into it like other people do. Of course I am at these places on my own and I think that makes a difference. I’m pretty sure if I have a travel companion (are you paying attention Keifer Sutherland) I’d be more excited and adventurous. I did find a number of web sites about the single traveler but the people in the picture looked much more together than I am. I’m thinking after I retire I would like to get in the car with Daisy and drive around the country visiting friends — I already know where you live so don’t try moving now.

Of course leaving Daisy behind does not make it any easier. Today I watched as the nicest person at Now Boarding was dragging her off — should would not walk. He finally picked her up. I felt like I was sending her off to the Bataan death march. Perhaps if I could travel with her I would have more fun — or at least feel better.

Okay I’m rambling a bit — sorry. Had to get up early (for me) to get to the airport. Of course now that I’m in San Diego I am 2 hours younger — I can see it in my face.

I’ll keep you posted on Social Media Palooza (as I call it).


drugsToday I went to pick up some prescriptions … yes I have multiple prescriptions to make somethings higher, somethings lower, and somethings not want to go screaming naked into the night with a baseball bat. The pharmacist started scanning them in and said “There’s no cost. You get free drugs.”

Yes, free drugs that cost me $3,500 in medical bills between January 1st and today. Now it is a treat to know that for the rest of the year my drugs will be “free” and so will most of any medical visits.

While I was contemplating my “free” drugs it took me back to 1978 — in a place far far away called Sandstone Federal prison. My then boyfriend was getting out after serving a few years for things I’m better off not talking about. I had driven up to the prison to pick him and bring him back to the cities where he would be spending a month or two in a halfway house.

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