GEEZ LOUISE!!!

Tuesday morning, the daughter of my best friend called and asked if I was going to be home.  She, her daughter and grand son were headed to Howell to visit her aunt and then wanted to bring me lunch on their way to the Costco store in Brighton.

Gosh, I was so glad to see them!!!  They brought Arby's and Diet Pepsi for me.  So many tight and long lasting hugs from (Arlene's daughter) Kathy and her daughter Mandy.  I had met the little guy in November at our Old School Gal Pals luncheon, but now, I had him all to myself--kind of.  He is such a smiley Precious Boy.  Came right to me, like he had at the luncheon.  I even got my old knees to cross so I could give him a "To market to market to buy a fat pig, home again home again, jiggity jig", on my ankle.

When Kathy left she said, "We are making new sweet memories, because the old sweet memories are so dear."  A few tears from all three of us.  It was wonderful.

Then I was trying to take the long panel off the front of my furnace to change the filter. The little plastic button that unscrews the panel, was not moving--no doubt the last person who put in a new filter, screwed the closer in crooked! So--I got a pair of pliers and took care of the problem--broke that plastic thingy right off! No way to get the panel off unless I pried it until it snapped/broke/whatever. Afraid of doing that and cutting myself and bleeding to death, I called my handy-dandy appliance service plan coordinator to send out a service guy. I was afraid they wouldn't send out a tech just for a broken door, so I just said, "I have a problem with my furnace.   No problem. "He will call you between 8 and noon tomorrow to tell you know when he will arrive." 

I had an interesting thing happen that afternoon. Every prescription med I take has the side effect of dizziness. I tend to get dizzy spells if I stand too quickly. I also have an optic nerve problem.  If I am doing close work or reading and stand up too fast, my eyes don't adjust and I get dizzy and my eyes gets weird. 

I was crocheting that afternoon, I jumped out of my chair to walk quickly to the bathroom. I felt the dizziness start, but instead of stopping to lean on the dryer, as I usually do, I turned to go into the bathroom. My eyes were all googlie, and as I reached out to grab the side of the door, my hand met nothing but air. My legs then suddenly became invisible and down I went. Landing on my bad shoulder, cracking my neck and my head bouncing off the (thankfully) carpeted floor. 

I rolled over onto my back to assess any broken parts--there didn't seem to be any and I actually said--out loud--"Help. I've fallen and I can't get up." Which made me giggle. But--I really didn't know how I WAS going to get up. I can't just rise from the floor and stand up and besides, I was still kind of dizzy and hurting all over. I finally, rolled over onto my tummy, pulled myself over to the throne, pulled myself up on my knees and cradled that toilet like a sick drunk! 

My head was pounding, my shoulder was screaming, but I managed to open the toilet lid, grab the seat and pull myself up, then slammed down the cover and sat for awhile. I never lost consciousness, the dizzies just took over my brain. I was fine the rest of the day, but my neck felt like someone judo-chopped the back of my neck and my shoulder hurt way down to my elbow.

I really kind of worried that, as hard as I had hit my head, and being on a blood thinner, I might have a hematoma or a small brain bleed, so I called Pearl and told her what had happened.  I asked if she would look out of her bedroom at 8:00 the next morning to make sure I was still alive.  "I will open my bedroom curtain the minute I get up.  If you don't see it up by 10:00, you have a key to my house, come down and check."

My biggest fear of living alone--dying in the middle of the night and no one finding me for weeks!
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I sat my alarm to make sure I didn't miss the 8:00 call from the service  tech.  When I woke up, my head hurt like crazy--I couldn't turn my neck from side-to-side and my eyes still weren't focusing very well.  I opened my bedroom curtain to let Pearl know I was still alive.  I waited for the service tech to call at 8:00.

He called at noon and was here in fifteen minutes.  He asked what was wrong with my furnace and I told him and explained that I didn't know what to tell the service coordinator as I was afraid they wouldn't send someone and pay for the repair.  He got an Allen Wrench and had the screw out of the panel in about 5 minutes.   He will bill my service plan $95.00 for a service call.

After he left, I took the plastic knob, put a teeny little dot of Gorilla Glue in it and stuck it onto the end of the screw.  Worked like a charm.

I decided I better get something to eat, it was going on 1:00.  Just then, John and Maizey knocked at the door to come in for a visit.  "I can only stay a minute", John said,  "I have to go to the store and get some stuff to make Chili."

He left an hour later!!!

I knew I had to run up to Wal-Mart because I had hardly a thing to eat in this house.  No milk.  No Diet Pepsi.  No food and I needed to get a new filter for the furnace.

I started out at one end of the store, got the filter, got some cotton yarn, over to the grocery area and up and down every stupid aisle!  I have no appetite, so it is difficult to shop for food when nothing sounds good.  Up and down the aisles.  I got up to the front, near the frozen food section and all of a sudden, I started sweating and my hands started trembling.  I felt like I could barely move my legs.

I grabbed some frozen entrees' and headed to the check out line.  Thankfully one was open, so I rushed in and started unloading.  I felt so weak--not dizzy, but very, very weak.  I do not remember what I bought.  I do not remember even speaking to the cashier.  Just got my stuff into my cart, swiped my Debit card and got to my car.

It was only when I got into my house and down in my chair that I realized, not only had I not eaten all day, but I had forgotten to take my morning pills AND my noon time pills.

I got a bottle of Special K protein drink open and started chugging.  I grabbed a piece of string cheese.  I got my pill case and got my morning pills down.  I take Potassium and if it gets low--I get in trouble.  Low Potassium is what sent me into A Fib last spring.  Plus I had not taken my high BP pill or my anti-depressant.  I waited an hour and took my noon time pills.

All this time, my groceries were in my trunk.  I didn't have the strength to get them.  I called John and asked if he could come and help me unload.  He had been cooking Chili so he brought me a nice container full.  I didn't let on that I wasn't feeling well.

Getting up at earlier than normal, with only about 5 hours sleep, plus no food and no meds, just about put me under.  I went to bed last night at 9:00 and slept until 10:00 this morning.

When I got up this morning, the front of my head still felt "heavy". The Tinnitus ringing in my head/ears has been louder than normal--probably from the head slam?  So, I took two Advil, which I am not supposed to take, but by noon I was feeling pretty good.
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I took my garbage out this morning, walked around a bit.  The sun was so warm--48 degrees today.  Look what I found in my garden.  Daffodils coming up (unheard of in January) and laying beside them, this little heart shaped rock.  Where did he come from?

I think I need to make an appointment with my Chiropractor!

ARRGH!

I will try and write later on Thursday.  I've had a couple of ruff days!

Honestly?

No--I am not a Lesbian, although there is nothing wrong with that.  I had a couple of Lesbian friends.

Yes--for all concerned, I have tried a vibrator.  I just thought it was laughable--sorry.  It wasn't that sex was intolerable to me.  It wasn't painful or awful.  It was--okay.  It is that just in my MIND, it was all about control and me not wanting to let go, perhaps?  How can you let yourself go when you don't quite trust men?  When you know that you know that you KNOW, eventually they will leave, hurt or betray you in some way.  And I was right about that, from my father on--in every single case.  My father started the betrayal by not loving me, but not letting me know I was special to him.  That knowledge was hard to bear.  If "they" could have that kind of power over me--if I had "given all of myself" to them?  The betrayal would be so much harder to bear.  In MY mind.

With my Freddie--I was the real me.  I didn't have to be Miss Chef in the kitchen and Miss Whore in the bedroom.  I didn't have to be---anything.  He just thought I was the most wonderful, caring, loving, loyal women he had ever met--and I was.
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I think one reason I stay to myself and don't join any "groups", is because I am afraid I will mess up again!!  Perhaps that is why I still wear my engagement diamond Fred gave me?  It sits right there on the ring finger of my left hand.

Honestly?  Not to sound boastful, but I still look pretty good and younger than my years.  I still see men look at me and have recently been flirted with by a man in his early 60's.

That scares the living heck out of me!!!  I try to remain unobtrusive, which is kind of difficult when I am near six feet tall and all legs.  Men seem to fantasize about long legs wrapped around them.  Not kidding.  Just ask them.

I haven't been to church in over a year because, one of the ushers, always seemed to push the other ones out of the way, and they'd kind of nudge each other, as he took my arm to seat me in the sanctuary.
"You always sit in the same pew.  I got it memorized now so I know right where to take you."
"Yes.  I am a creature of habit, I guess."
"I never see your husband come with you.  Are you married?"
"No.  Widowed."
"Ooohh."

Creeps me out!!!

Honestly?  I know myself.  If some good looking, tall man, with lovely gray hair came along and showed any interest, there I'd be.  Getting all stupid again.  Painting his living room.  Buying him new drapes for his windows.  New bedding and pillows for his bedroom.  I've done it before, too many times--I'd do it again.

 ....and if this one came back and was serious?

His smile is a bit crooked and adorable.  He has the most wonderful giggle.  And--he has season tickets to all the MSU football games.

He will come back, for a lunch date or a chat, he usually shows up every couple of years, but he will never be serious.  He likes to check and see if I've changed my mind about having sex with him.

If he even remotely acted like he was serious, I still wouldn't trust him.  Because I've known him for 60 years--my teenage Summer Romance.
<maybe someday he'll tell me he is totally impotent and can't have sex.  THEN I'd marry him,  LOL>
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Honestly?  I do not trust myself!  Better to just stay here with my cats and my crafts and have a conversation with John and Maizey once in awhile.
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Honestly?  The troubles with Jennifer and me are probably 60% my fault!  Yes, she is very sensitive and can be overly dramatic.  I have said things, that to me were kidding, but she took the wrong way.

Yes.  I wrote about her and her husband in my previous blog and (a cousin) told her and Jen was very offended.  I guess I shouldn't have a blog because I let it "all hang out".

Yes.  The step-mother drove a huge wedge between us 20 years ago, but we had seemed to get past all that.  It was Jen's idea for me to move down here.  We got along so well for 10 years.  I guess I'm the one who blew it.

Yes.  At times I get bent out of shape and rant to my girls and sister.  Jen takes it personally.  The rest of them know, I am going through a phase and it will all be over the next day.

Yes.  No matter how hard I try to--give it all to God, I overheard that Jen will be back in the area this weekend.  The kids are getting together at Karen's.  I will not be invited--and that hurts!  I am just going to pretend I knowing nothing about their plans.
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Honestly?  I can be passive-aggressive.  I have posted things on Face Book, knowing full well that my neighbor's would see it and perhaps take the "hint" and finally "see the light"?

I used to post political links.  Those offended a few friends.  I didn't care.  If they posted a political link for their side, I came back with one of my own to prove to them how "stupid" their thinking was.

A friend might post a "status" and instead of just reading it and moving on, I had some great need to give them MY advice in their comment section.

It's been the same way with Pearl and Dar.  I see them as having no common sense and while chatting, I give my unsolicited advice.

Honestly?  Who died and made me teacher of the world?

No one!

I won't be doing any of that anymore.
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Honestly?  I have waaaaay too much pride.  I don't want people to help me!  I WANT to be the helper.  It makes ME feel better if I am the solver of problems for someone else.  I feel weak, if people help me.

Yeah--I've heard it all.  How I should take help because then I will make THEM feel better.  Yeah. Yeah.
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Honestly?  Since my Daddy died, I AM the oldest member of the family--the blood line.  The Matriarch, so to speak.  It seems NO ONE in my family views me that way and honestly?  It does tick me off!

I remember how everyone in my family feigned all over my father.  They went to HIM to visit.  When they entered his house, he sat in his chair and they went to HIM.  They don't treat me like that.

I feel like if I don't get up and "move around", they would completely forget I am even in the same house.

Honestly?  Why did my sister, and my kids inherit money and land from my father when I am the oldest blood kin?  He believed in "blood" over everything.  Why did I get by-passed?

Was/am I viewed as the black sheep of the family?  I HAD to get married.  A great disappointment to him--he was mortified that it ruined our family reputation in the community.  Then, I went and got divorced.  GASP!

He wasn't too pleased with the way my two older kids lived and yet--they got two of his farms, the rest of the grand kids got $10K each.

My little sister wanted to "move back home", but she meant, back to Michigan, she didn't mean on the family farm--way out in the boonies.  She had envisioned a nice home near East Lansing.  She really didn't want to inherit the family's original farm.  
Honestly?  Not a single one of them living on those farms, love that land as much as I always did and always will.  It makes no never mind to me that I couldn't afford to live there.  It's the principle of the whole thing!
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Honestly?  My "adopted" daughter, Chris, who lives way out in Texas, treats me better than my own kids. She really cares what happens to me.  She really loves me.  I can call her and talk and tell her things I never would tell my kids and she can tell me things she never would have told her own mother.  It is a Win-Win!
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Honestly?  Deep down, I am not a very nice person.  I am selfish.  I am cranky.  I am needy.  I think that most people I now know are quite lame in their thinking.  When, quite honestly, they have it more together than I ever have.  

I am really no longer the center of anyones world--except my cats.  There is that.  However, someone else would take good care of them if I couldn't.

Honestly?  I feel it would be better all around if I were not here.  The kids would have one less thing on their list to think about--even as little as they think about me now.  I am not vital.  Don't appear to be useful, or needed.  

Honestly?  Why am I here?

I have thought of suicide, more in 2015 than ever before.  Boy--I'll show all of them!  See how selfish that is?  Don't worry.  I wouldn't do it.  I desire to go to Heaven when I die and I still believe, no matter how un-P.C. it is, that God still believes, "Thou shalt not kill", even yourself.
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Honestly?  I don't spend days thinking about these things I have posted in the last three days.  I'm really quite over the anger/bitterness/angst of my previous years.  I think it was the new year that prompted a day of sitting and pondering.

Honestly?  I'm just kind of sad/depressed/tired/worn out most days.   No real ambition or want to do anything.   

So--because it is a new year and most people think on how they can change to make their life better, I too am thinking on that.

I know I need more human contact.  I will work on that.  Just don't expect me to be joining social groups--that is not or ever has been my thing.

I will try and call my girls every other week.  Not something I have ever done, but I will try and remember.  I am not or ever have been much of a phone person, but I will try.

I really believe that God is in control of my life.  It's easier to believe that then in thinking I can control any aspect of it.  I have believed that for a number of years, but sometimes I don't sound like it.

No one can really hurt me.  It is how I react that makes it hurtful.  Yeah--right.  No one should go around intentionally saying whatever hurtful things they want to say.  It CAN hurt and it can hurt for years and years.  What did old Eleanor say?  "No one can make you feel inferior, without your consent." Well, that's a bunch of B.S.!  Especially if you are the kind of person that has little self-esteem to begin with.  Words like that just reinforce the bad feeling you have about yourself.
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BUT--this is MY quote: "I choose to get happy and stay happy, no matter what!"  Perhaps that smacks of denial?  Oh well.

I do know what to do to have a pretty good rest of my life.

Honestly?  It's time to stop talking about it.  Time for action.  

I am going to Walk the MY Talk!!!!

Honesty, Part Deux

You may want to by-pass this post.  It is shameful and graphic.

But, it's honest.

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Sex?

Honestly, I never cared for it.  

If I told any of my girlfriends that now, they'd all laugh.  They thought that I was the sexy one in the group.  Not so!  It was a means to an end.

My husband and I dated all through high school,  We didn't engage in sex until two months before I graduated.  The ever spoken "prove you love me" statement from him was finally going to be quelled. Thank goodness, we waited until then, because I got pregnant the first time.  We didn't have sex again until we were married two months later.

Neither one of us knew what we were supposed to do.  I had to ask my best friend what I was supposed to do with my legs.  I had no brothers.  I had never seen a naked male  Fumbling along we went and figured it out. I think.  How would I know?

"Nice" women weren't expected to get too involved.  As my best friend told me, "You just let him do whatever he wants.  It won't take long." The "Missionary Position" was all there was, or so we thought.

Don't get me wrong.  I loved the kissing and petting and all the fore play, but the actual sexual intercourse?  

Honestly?  

Messy, clumsy, having to lay in the cold, wet spot afterward, while he moved over to his side and went quickly to sleep.  Whenever he wanted it.  It didn't matter if I was nine months pregnant, or just home from the hospital with 40 stitches outside and inside from where the 4 days old  NINE POUND BABY had recently exited.  I couldn't say "no", because we all knew that if a man waited too long, all that sperm can build up and back up and cause him terrible problems.  His testicles might go blue  and drop off or something equally terrible.  We wives had to prevent that!!

Later--if I wanted to see my grocery allowance on the dresser on Saturday morning, I'd better be "nice" on Friday night.  If we were camping and the three kids were only a mere five feet away and hopefully sleeping, there was always a "Mom, what is that?"  "Go back to sleep Honey.  It's just the wind blowing and making the trailer rock."

When I got divorced, I was still pretty naive about the physical part of a relationship.  If the guy I was dating wanted to have sex, and of course they all did, I thought that meant he had fallen in love with me.  Good Grief!  There I was in the mid-80's, still with 1950ish standards in my head.

What I found out fairly quickly was--sex is quite the same no matter what man I was with.  (Now you one-man women know--you won't have to wonder.)

Oh sure, different styles, positions, shapes and sizes, but the end result is a man going quite out of his mind, pumping and making noises like he is having a heart attack, then a heavy, dead sort of weight, then a parting and a loud snore.  If I was lucky, a sweet kiss before the parting and snoring part.

They think they are the best lovers.  The biggest studs on this earth.  HAH!  One man told me, "I have never left a woman unsatisfied!"  When we broke up, 5 months later, I so wanted to tell him he was wrong.  Of course, it would have been my fault because--he was so supreme in his thinking.

I don't think I have ever had a climax.  At least not like they are described in medical books.  BUT--instead of medical books, my book shelves should be lined with golden awards and trophies for Best Actress of the Year.  

I suppose I used them as much as they used me?  I used to keep a little "black book" with names, birthdays, phone numbers and statistics written down.  A little red check mark was written in if the man told me I was the best sexual partner he had ever had.  I think at one time or another, they all said, "I can tell if a woman is faking it."  Yeah--sure you can.  Men are soooooooooooo dense.

One interesting request did not come from a man--well not directly that is.  When I was divorced, a friend asked me if I would please have an affair with her husband.  In his late forties, he was experiencing a bit of sexual dysfunction and was "constantly after me!"  She stated flat out that she thought I could "help him" and keep him away from her for awhile.  Who better to ask than your friend?  Right?  She knew her husband and I would not take it seriously and it would be a big relief to her.

She had no way of knowing that over the years, he had suggested the very same thing, more times than I wanted to remember.  Usually when he was drunk, but a couple of times, he was very serious.  

I declined her offer!!!

I was this really confused woman, looking for love in all the wrong places!!!  IF I could just find a man that loved me, it would prove my father's hurtful words wrong.  I was worth-while.  

IF I could just find a man to love me, it would prove my ex-husband wrong.  A man that loved me would want to be with ME, not out every night, playing golf, betting on the ponies, getting drunk.

No matter how old we get or how normal we appear to the outside, the hurt little child we once were, remains in our heart, souls and minds for a very long time.  It flows into each aspect of our life.  Doesn't it?  It can come from a critical father, or a judgmental, cold mother, but it is there.

Now, these weren't one-night stands.  Each relationship lasted 3 to 9 months.  All the men were good men, none of them drank, none of them abused me, at least not physically.  Some of them were executives, some of them were regular working men with not a lot of money.  Some of them extremely intelligent, some dumb as a box of rocks.  I had a great need to help them in whatever way I could.  I had to be the most wonderful, non-critical, reasonable, most undemanding woman they had ever met.  Sex was a means to an end.  It made them feel good.
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Never in my own home, however.  I didn't want my teenage daughter becoming confused with all the "uncles" coming to spend the night.

One day, after a particularly hurtful end to a 9 month relationship, I looked in my bathroom mirror that next morning and said, "You are nothing but a whore!"  and stopped dating all together--at least for a year.  I liked my life.  I felt clean and pure and almost--virginal once again.

I asked God to forgive me of being so sinful.  I was like the prostitute that Jesus forgave and said, "Go and sin no more."  I would sin no more.
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About a year later, I had been divorced for 8 years by this time. I met a really wonderful man.  A few years older than me, very intelligent, not much money.  

He was so nice when we were dating.  He would do anything for me and did.  He didn't seem to want a sexual relationship, "until we get to know each other better."

We had a snow storm one day while I was at work and he drove 25 miles, into the parking lot, cleaned all the snow off my car just minutes before I walked out of work.  We had a picnic-date in a park and up drove a Florist delivery van and the delivery guy came walking over to where we were and gave me a dozen red roses.  "This are from him" and the guy pointed to my date.

Swept off my feet!  He wanted us to live together--no, not live together, but be married.  We had to be married to prove to the world that we were serious and in love.  My youngest child was leaving for college in a few months.  I would be all alone, in that big farm house, way out in the boon-docks.  Why not?

Sure.  Indeed.  Why not ruin your life with a decision made out of fear?

The wedding was lovely.  The open house for us was lovely.  We drove away in MY car which my kids had decorated.  Hours later, when we got to the lovely hotel, overlooking the lovely Mackinaw Bridge and the lovely Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, he beat the crap outta me.   Three days later, even farther from home, he took MY car and left me alone in a motel room for 18 hours.

He demanded sex every single day.  It didn't matter if he had beaten me during that day, I was to put all that aside and ante up.  Usually I just laid there and thought of something else, which he didn't mind at all.  In fact, that really turned him on.  He liked it that way.  He felt so in control.  There is no such thing as rape in a marriage.

Honestly?  He told me he'd kill me if I ever left and the night I left, he running down the driveway, along side the car, begging me to come back.  Honestly?  When I turned onto the road, if he had stepped in front of my car, I would have gladly run over him and kept on going.  I have never before or since in my life, felt such hatred for another human being.  I check the newspaper obits in the county he lives in, each and every day.  Honestly?  Hoping to see his name.  He is now 85 and still going strong.
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Can you see how wonderful I felt when I met Fred and on our third date, he had a serious talk with me and told me he was incapable of having sex.  His Diabetes had rendered him completely and totally impotent.  I remember telling him that I hadn't had any sex drive in years and years and none of that mattered to me.

The best and most romantic relationship I ever had in my entire life.  We kissed a lot, and touched and slept spooned together every night and were intimate in more ways than I ever thought---without sex of any kind.  Emotionally intimate.  I was closer to him than any other male I have EVER known.

I didn't have to "put out" to get love.  I didn't have to be "nice" to get grocery money.

If this man couldn't have sex and he still loved me and wanted to be with me forever--than he must REALLY love me, in the truest sense of the word.
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Honestly?  Maybe I am a Lesbian?

Honest and Unvarnished

As I have become this advanced age--I find my mind mulling over what I HONESTLY think about my past life.  HONESTLY is the operative word here.

My honesty, not yours, not anyone else's, but mine.  Most of you have probably never had these thoughts.

In spite of the emotional and physical abuse from my father, I honestly look back on a happy childhood.  I can only thank God for my grandmother, mother and an aunt who thought I was a pretty neat kid.  

A lot of women I know, look back on their school years, especially high school, and didn't much like it.  I LOVED my school years, ESPECIALLY high school.  I wasn't much of a student, my teacher's weren't overly impressed with me--I graduated school in the midst of a class of 30 kids.  But the other kids, my peers, the ones who really mattered, thought I was a neat person.  If I could have, I would have stayed in high school for a lot more years than the allotted four.

It wasn't until 6 years later, when I went to college that I realized I had a brain and was smarter I.Q. wish than I ever thought I was.  

As for marriage?  It was what was expected in the late '50's.  It was security for women.  We didn't work outside the home.  We got married, had children, kept the house clean and supper on the table when our husband, the provider and boss of our life, walked in the door from a hard day at work.

I wasn't a very good mother, not as good as my friends, by the looks of it.  I was an only child for a long time.  I didn't have the opportunity to watch how my mother would handle a house full of kids.

I had no idea what a mother was supposed to do, other than the example I had from the older women in my life.  I did what they had done.  I was faced with more difficult problems than they were however.  I had teenagers in the 70's.  Long haired kids that wanted to be rebels, smoke pot and drink.  Skip school,  run away from home or call, "come get me", from the county Sheriff's office.  I had no idea how to handle those situations in the best way.  Their father was the working man of the family, I was the mother and it was me who was supposed to discipline and not bother him with such matters.  He wanted to take their clothes and put them out on the lawn and not allow them back in the house.  I was the one who had to reason and tell him he was responsible for them until they were eighteen.  He told me to "handle it" and "I don't want to hear about all this after I've worked all day."

Honestly?  I liked my kids a lot more when they were newborns and up until about 6 years old.  I thought it would be a good idea to put them in a cage somewhere, until they reached age 20, and then take them back out to join the family.  Military school for the son, and some sort of parochial boarding school for the oldest daughter.  It sounded good to me, but there were none in our State.

Then, somewhere along about the time I hit 40, I became very disenchanted with life.  I can thank Gloria Steinem for all that.  She kept telling me that I was unfulfilled as a woman because I stayed home and was a "housewife"--that ugly word.  I needed to "get out in the world", get a job, find my true self.

There I was.  3 out of 4 children grown and away from home.  Living with a husband that was rarely home, who informed me that he still gave me my weekly grocery money allowance, I had a roof over my head, so I should be grateful(?).  When he was home, he rarely spoke to me, fell asleep in his chair every evening around 9:00 and slept there most of the night and hadn't said, "I love you" since our wedding night.  One time, when I asked him, he said, "I told you once.  If I change my mind, I'll let you know."

The day of our 25th anniversary, when I asked him if he would change his life in anyway, he replied, "Well I can tell you...I'd never get married and have four damn kids!"

The next day, I told him we should get divorced.  Oh sure--then he wanted to "work it out".  We tried, but he just couldn't.  He was too ingrained in how he had lived his life for twenty-five years that he was incapable of changing it and still being happy.  In fact, if he couldn't be at the golf course, every summer night after work, or at the race track three nights a week in the winter, he was really quite miserable.

18 months later, we sat in the hallway of the County Courthouse, holding on tight to each other's hands and crying.  I felt closer to him on that day than I had in the 31 years I had known him.

Honestly?  I regret that day.  I wish I had just stayed.  I see my friends that had not so great marriages, still together and have become "friends" with each other or at least can tolerate each other a lot better than they did in the early years.  

Honestly?  If his wife died, I'd probably do everything in my power to get back together with him.  He's quite different now.  I doubt he'd quiz me on how much I spent at the Wal-Mart.  

We'd be a family again.  The kids would come visit us.  We'd do family get-together's.  Or at least, that's the picture that my old, addled mind conjures up.

Out into the work world I went.  Was I fulfilled?  The first job, maybe.  It was exciting.  I got awards and rewards for my ingenuity and..........there were men!  Men, all over the place.  Who wanted to date me because I had such a brilliant mind?  Such an entertaining way of talking?  Tall and slender and blond--I looked good on their arm?

No.  I had long legs and big boobs

but--that honesty will have to wait until tomorrow.  This honesty thing wears out my mind!
  

It Is The Best of Days--It is the Worse of Days

My 4^th Sadiversary, since Fred passed.  He was such a good man.  I have known other, what I thought were good men, but in all those relationships, there was always emotional or physical hurt and betrayal. 

Fred was the first man who truly loved me with no conditions expected.  He was honest, loyal, kind and caring to me.  We were so alike in everything, even our pasts were alike.  We were an extension of each other. The same mind, thought and heart in two separate bodies.  He often said, we were like twins. His total acceptance of who I was, gave me self-confidence and self-esteem I had rarely felt in my entire life. 

Fred and I had talked of it often.  I was 65, he 61, when we met.  We both had given up ever finding love again.  We both felt that even if we only had five years together,  we would be grateful. 

Seven years and not one single disagreement.  We had learned, “not to sweat the small stuff”.  Whatever he wanted to do was fine with me.  Whatever I wanted to do, was fine with him.  We were just content to be with each other, day by day.

With a hug and a kiss, his last words to me were, “I love you, Honey.  See ya in a little while.”  I stepped out of his hospital room, so "they" could do their "test" on him.  15 minutes later, he was gone.

10:51 am  1/1/2012

Friends thought I was in complete shock and denial because I didn’t “grieve” like I was supposed to.  It was because all I could think of was how grateful I was for the years we had together.  

As I drove home from the hospital, every time I thought of him, on that day, and every time since, for the last four years, I just smile.  

Sure, I miss him, I am incredibly lonely, but God brought us together in February 2003, and both of us knew that.  

There is no earthly way we should have ever met.  He was the very best man I have ever known.

I am so very thankful.

Yes--I Like College Football

What a Dream Week for Moi!!!  

Look at Thursday.  One right after the other on the same channel.  11 hours of Bowl Games.  

Friday looks like I might have to use the "clicker" to keep track, but it's all good.  

Can you imagine the amount of crochet I will get done?

and just in case you forgot:

For those of you that don't know what this means:  We play Alabama--they are called the Crimson TIDE.  So------Tides come and go---Spartans are forever!!!  They are favored by 10 points, so we gotta play tough and beat them.  

Another reason we hate them?  Their Coach was once our Coach and he left in mid-season to go to Louisiana for bigger money.  ASSHAT!!!