MORE.... OHHHH DEAR!

Well, he called last night. I emailed him
my phone numbers around 4pm, later
about 9pm I went to the supermarket for
milk, and when I came back there was an
email asking the best time to call. I replied
any time before 12m was fine. He called
right away. And as I predicted I was tongue
tied, couldn't keep my thoughts in order
because I was nervous. He said he would
call me again tonite. I just hope he didn't
think I'm a crazy old lady and decides not
to call. And yes, he did say my voice would
take some getting used to. I hate my voice!
I probably missed my calling to be one of
those weird voices in cartoon movies.

Ohhhhh dear.

As Eeore would say: "Ohhhh dear!!!"

I posted a few days ago about a

gentleman I am really interested in

meeting and he had said he was

in the process of talking to and

meeting another lady. While

disappointed, I understand and

decided to wait my turn, at least

for awhile, and be content to be a pen pal.

I feel the same since one person to

date at a time is all I can handle.

It's not that it's a moral issue with me.

My brain is simply too disorganized

and if I were dating two men I am

sure I would end up talking to

one about our last fun date when

it actually was with the other. It

happened more than once when

I was a teen and it quickly resulted

in not getting asked out again.

The first thing this morning I

received an email from him

suggesting we meet. I am totally

dumfounded, a nervous wreck. It

is now 3:30pm and I still have

not responded. Oh, I am more

than happy, in fact I would

categorize how I feel close to

feeling like a teenager again who

has scored some attention from

the class heart throb.

While I intend to respond with a

"yes" what else should I say?

Where should I suggest we meet?

What if he does not like me?

What if I say all the wrong things?

And worse, what if I am so

nervous that I cannot talk much

at all. And talking? What about

this horrible voice of mine?

Ohhhhh dear.

To say my voice is "distinctive" is a

gross understatement. Even

after living in SoCal for 11 years I

still have my wacky South Jersey

accent interspersed with my

Southern roots on the DelMarVa

Penninsula. NOT a good

combination. Then add to that

is I have this nasal tone that

makes me sound like the

old TV actress, Selma Diamond,

from the show Night Court.....

or a bit like Fran Drescher, from

the TV show "The Nanny".

And there's just no changing how

my voice sounds unless I

only whisper.

Ohhhh dear.

So now I am a nervous wreck. It has

been FOREVER since I have

dated. I married when I was 23,

he died when I was 58 and I

soon met Art, who I had previously

met in the past.... it really

wasn't a date, it was a reunion

after talking via the internet and

telephone for six months and

discovering we actually met

years ago. Of course I did not

clearly remember him but he

remembered me and quite accurately.

I guess I made an impression?

Will I make a good impression with

this new gentleman?

Ohhhh Dear!

And talking to him when we meet. I am a

writer and this comes very easy to me.

But holding a conversation face to

face? When I write I can put

my thoughts in order. Delete, cut and

paste, back space and proof read. I am

typical of many hyperactive and

creative people, there are so many thoughts

running through my head that my

mouth just cannot keep up. In the

middle of what I am saying there are

a dozen other related thoughts trying to

make it into the conversation and I

often change subjects in the

middle of the sentence, start to

talk about something else, then fail

to get back to my original thought.

Especially when I am nervous.

Ohhhhh dear.

And I cannot rehearse what I am going

to say when meeting this man...

not like I used to do when I used

to give financial presentations, or when

I was teaching about something.

This is different, it cannot be

rehearsed. Ohhhh dear!

If I am so happy I am going to

meet this man why am I so much

in a flutter about it? For goodness

sakes... I'm 71, I'm not a teenager

any more so why am I feeling

like one? Relax Mary, take a deep

breath, and stop being a

worry wart.

Ohhhh Dear!

and another heavy

SIGH.....

GETTING BACK INTO THE DATING GAME

This is my family. Left to right:

My baby, Marybeth

My oldest, Eva (Diva)

Little ole me

My "adopted" sister, Bobbi

My middle child, Anna

Now, for the reason to post.

It has been a long time since

I have posted. I haven't been all

that busy. In fact I'm

beginning to realize that my

life has become lonely and boring

and that I miss having a man

around the house.

I have been on vacations and

cruises with my daughters

and girlfriends, trips with

the senior citizens, but too often

I find I'm doing my favorite

things alone. My daughters all

live back east, my favorite travel

partner has found a new love

and our plans for a trip to Ireland

and Scotland as well as a cruise

up the Rhine, to Hawaii and

Alaska have been put aside.

My middle daughter has also

found a new love and has changed

her plans to spend two weeks

with me in September. Yes, they

were all here once this year

but I was looking forward to

another visit. From the way things

are going my daughters next

vacation will be a honeymoon.

I'm so happy for her but.....

My sister and girlfriends got

together for a combined

birthday party. Two of my

friends, Dottie and Bea, were talking

about all the fun they were having

since they joined a senior dating

site. In fact Dottie, at age 80,

seems to have found her perfect

match. So I came home and

joined up.

I'm way way out of practice with

this dating thing. As my past

blogs say, after my first husband

died it was only a year and a

half before I met my 2nd, who after

we started talking we realized

we had met years ago at several

corporate financial conferences.

So there was no real dating,

looking for the perfect mate, we

just melded into a wonderful

10 year relationship.

Still, how hard could it be to

seek out a new mate? Not to brag

but I look darned good for my

age, I have a good sense of humor,

I'm happy and positive, I'm

reasonably intelligent, and I am

financially secure. In my (biased)

opinion I am a good catch.

And here I am a month later

still without a date. Perhaps one

mistake I made was to state

I am financially secure. Seems this

put up the "scam antenna" out

to attract 50 somethings looking

for a sugar momma. Half of those

who contact me are in this

category. Hey guys! I wasn't born

yesterday. I am not flattered or

all-a-flutter. I got my money because

I'm smart, know how to invest,

and worked hard.

I get lots of "winks" and "I'm interested"

messages. At first I responded to

a few of them and found out they

came from men who seem to be

incapable of constructing an

entire sentence. If you can't tap out

a decent message how well will

you be able to communicate?

I was married to a non-communicator

for 30+ years, no thanks to that

again. And finally the most

annoying ones. Elderly men looking

for a test subject to so they can

try out their Viagra prescription,

and/or obviously looking for

a replacement housewife who

will cook, clean, and do laundry.

Sorry guys, my idea of

planning a meal is deciding

what to order from Chinese

take out. I do laundry for two

reasons, I ran out of under ware

or I have to sit on the cloths

hamper to close it. And cleaning?

I vacuum up the big chunks

and tell everyone that all

flat surfaces are not really

dusty, they are frosted.... Just

don't touch them and spoil

the effect.

So I finally found one really

good prospect.... exactly what

I am looking for. Seriously

involved with vintage cars,

something I have loved forever,

active, and can actually

communicate.

Unfortunately, one big draw back,

he's 5 years younger than me.

Well, he answered me right away.

Said the age difference is not

an issue. Yea! But as I read

on the disappointment came....

he is already communicating

with someone else, I hope it's

not Bea, and he wants to

meet her before moving on to

meeting me. But he wants to

remain pen pals.

Oh well, I'll wait out being 2nd

place choice for awhile...

But.....

SIGH.....

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO EVERYONE

Tis the season we're supposed
to recite all we are thankful for.
My list is so long that I'd
not only run out of room on this
blog... but also would never
get done saying all that I am
thankful for until New Year's Eve.

Each new year I write in my journal
what I was thankful for the
previous year and my thoughts about events
in my life. I have been doing
this for years. Once I'm outta here
and my daughters come in to sort
through all my useless shit they will
find my journals piled in the
cabinet under an end table.
These journals contain a lot of thoughts
and events in my life that they
have never been told. Hopefully they
won't be so shocked that they will
stash my ashes under the bathroom sink
next to the toilet bowl cleaner.

Okay. First, I am VERY thankful that
I wake up breathing every day. Not unusual
to be thankful for this at my age!

Second, is my family. My girls,
Eva, Anna, and Beth grew up to be
wonderful and independent women
capable of taking care of themselves.
All three are vastly different from the
other (Eva would disagree with this)
but each is a delightful gift in my life.

And for my husband Gene who was my
best friend for 30 years. If there is that
heaven he believed in I am sure he
got a special spot just for putting
up with my shit. Poor man was
stuck in a house with four females
with hormones. Plus the family dog,
Sunny, was a female. He didn't stand a
chance against us. Still, even until the end
he joyfully lived his life without seeming
to have a care in the world.

And for Arthur, the brainey nerd, who
put up with me for 10 years and
accepted that he was my 2nd love
without complaining. We often joked
that we were together because
we were the only two people on earth
who could tolerate each other.

I am not thankful that Gene and Art are
gone but I am thankful for the
happiness that each one brought
into my life.

I am thankful that at my
age I am still in decent shape.
At age 70 and without the assistance
of hair dye, botox, or surgery I
STILL look younger than most
everyone else my age. And that right
now I feel better than I did for
the 20+ years that I was in hypo hell
and undiagnosed. Unfortunately it
took a goiter the size of a half a
tennis ball then cancer to FINALLY get
diagnosed. But so far I have been
in remission for a bit over two
years and my magic Armour pills has
restored my life to feeling "normal".

And last I am thankful that I
have enough to live, buy and do just
about anything I please. Of course I do
not want a lot or live expensive.
It's just not my style.

Ah yes, LIFE IS GOOD.
I am thankful for the time I have
been granted to live, laugh and most
thoroughly enjoy this tiny blue
and fantastically beautiful
orb we call earth placed somewhere
in this never ending creation
we call the universe.

Happy Thanksgiving

LEARNING TO READ

This is my Daddy, Mom, brother, and
me when I was 3 years old. Notice
I am in the process of escaping.

I can't say I was a smart kid. Maybe
stubborn, persistent, always off to a world
of my own discovery. Very curious,
and probably a bit hyper-active.
Daddy nicknamed me "Contrary Mary",
which for the rest of my Mom's
life was used as an insult whenever
I crossed her.

I knew how to read by the time I was four.
I do not think it was so much because
I was a brilliant kid. One of my earliest
memories was getting my big blue book
of Grimm's Fairy Tales and sitting on
my Mom's lap while she read all the
stories over and over and over.
I don't know if I actually knew the words
I was seeing or if I had memorized
ever page.

I was also very jealous that my older
brother could read. I wanted to read the
comic books like he did. So I would steal
his old reading work books and sneak up
to the attic to study them.

Sunday morning we were all sitting at the
breakfast table. Daddy used to read the
Sunday comics while we were eating.
Daddy's favorites were
"Alley Oop" and "Li'l Abner".

Being Daddy's little girl I got on his lap
and started reading the words in the
balloons for each character. My Mom
remarked that it was cute that I was making
up words to pretend I was reading the
comics. "No", Daddy said, "She's reading
all the right words."

Of course Mom was in disbelief and demanded
to know who taught me to read. I was only
four, how did I know why I knew how to
read? I wanted to know how to read
so I learned.

I never did mention to Mom that I also
knew what she was saying when she
spelled things in front of me so I wouldn't
know what she was saying.

That was my secret!

MY 7th THANKSGIVING

I cannot remember ever believing
in Santa Clause. I'm sure I
did before I was 4. Doesn't
every child believe? I
just don't remember.

I have an older brother.
Maybe he told me there was no
Santa. We were always fighting
and no doubt he spilled the
truth to get back at me for something.
Again, I don't remember.

I do remember thinking it was
stupid to think that reindeer could
fly or that Santa delivered
presents in a sleigh when there
was never snow in NJ in the 1940's at
Christmas. Besides I never saw
a reindeer pulling the wagons and
carts for the milk man, bread
man, or huckster. It was horses
that did that. Deer is what Daddy
shot and what we ate. Pretty much like
the chickens, pigs and cows. Did
I mention I was a farm kid?

I also questioned why it was always
god who would punish you all
year long until after Thanksgiving.
Then suddenly it was Santa
who knew if you were good or bad.
I was quite aware that it
wasn't god or Santa who knew when
I was bad. It was Mom.

To add to these doubts there
were always packages hidden under
my parents bed and on Christmas
morning it was only those
packages that appeared under the
tree. Then there were all
the Santa's at stores, at the church
and VFW parties, standing on
street corners in the city ringing
a bell. All in smelly, cheap
costumes with an obviously fake beard.
Mom tried to tell me they were
Santa's helpers and the "real" Santa
was at Gimbles Department store.
His beard was fake too.

Still, every year my Mom would
dress up my brother and I the day
after Thanksgiving for our
yearly trip to Gimbles to tell
Santa what we wanted for Christmas.
I clearly remember my brother and I
fighting and fidgeting while waiting in
line to see Santa.
He was instructed to hold my hand and
of course he kept squeezing it so hard it
hurt. And both of us could not wait
until it was over because then Mom
took us to the fancy restaurant in the
department store for lunch.

I was a Daddy's girl. When ever he was
working in the garden, cutting the
grass, raking leaves, cleaning
out the chicken coop, etc. I was there
following him like a puppy dog.
I could talk to Daddy. Mom was the
rule maker and keeper and whatever she
claimed was truth could not be
disputed. Dad would talk, tell me
to use my head and figure it out for
myself.

I guess I was about 4 years old,
I wasn't in school yet.
As usual I was following
Daddy around while he raked up huge
piles of leaves. I told him that I didn't
want to go see Santa. That I
didn't believe he was real. As usual
Daddy didn't tell me if I was right or
wrong. He just said I had a good
head on my shoulders and to use it.
But he told me that it was important
to my Mom to go see Santa because it made
her happy. He warned me that
it was not a good idea to contradict
my Mom. Just go along with what
she wanted. So that is what I did
until I was 7 years old.

On Thanksgiving morning I was in
the kitchen helping Mom. After she
rolled out the pie crusts she
would give me the trimmings and I
would roll them out, cut them
with the cookie cutter, then sprinkle
them with cinnamon and sugar to
to make cookies.

Mom said the big day was coming
when I would get to tell Santa what
I wanted for Christmas. And Mom added,
being her usual dictator self,
that I had better not ask for
too much since Santa knew that I
had not been good all year.

I told her I not only did not want
to go sit on Santa's lap that
I did not, and never believed he
was real. And, stupidly, I told
her that Daddy told me not to tell
that I didn't believe.

Well, this threw Mom into one of
her snits. She called Daddy into the
kitchen yelling at him for telling
me there was no Santa. Daddy saved
himself, and me, when he told
Mom that it was me who told him
I didn't believe. So then she called
my brother. He also denied that he
ever told me there was no Santa
and again claimed it was me
who told him I didn't believe.
Who knows or remembers what
the real truth is?

You might think that was the end of
it? No, Mom went on and on about
what her friends would think
about her daughter not believing.
And that whether I wanted to or not
my brother and I were going to
go tell Santa what we wanted.

I told her that I would NOT sit
on Santa's lap and I would NOT talk
to him. And this only made
Mom angrier and yell louder at
me for being just like my father.
Well, that made me really mad and I
blurted out "I don't believe in
the tooth fairy either!"

So she told me not to bother putting
my tooth that was loose under
the pillow. There would be no money
for any more lost teeth.

Ah, but I won that one too.
When the tooth finally fell out I
gave it to my Daddy. He gave
me a quarter. This made my brother
really mad because Mom had only
been giving him a nickel
for his lost teeth. Ah, sweet
Victory in the brother/
sister wars.

And an additional note to this story.
Our family had moved to our new
home on Kendall Blvd. Eva
was about 7, Anna was 5 and
Marybeth was just a baby.

I never really told my girls if there
was a Santa or not. I guess they
believed, I didn't promote that they
should. We were sitting around
the kitchen table and Eva asked me
if there was really a Santa.
I didn't say yes or no but I did
tell them that Santa was a business and
sold toys to parents just like
they did at the stores. That I had
to pay Santa for the toys and
that Dad and I didn't have much
money that year so we couldn't buy
them every thing they wanted.

Years later Eva told me that I was
a mean mother for telling her
that. Guess that's where I gained
the name "Mommie Dearest"?

HUMMINGBIRD WARS

It was the biggest spider I've seen
in years. The orb was at least
three feet by three feet.
It spanned from the patio railing
up to the roof totally covering
a triple planter and the front of
the hummingbird feeder.
I wish I took a picture.
The orb was perfect and
beautiful.

Although the chill of fall has
started for most this is
Southern California and it is still
summer. I was sitting on
the patio having my morning
jolt of caffiene before going out.

One by one the hummingbirds approached
the feeder. Although it is normal for them to do this,
none would fly around the web to reach the feeder
from the other side. The would just keep
buzzing back and forth in front
of the feeder as if they were intimidated
by the size of the spider.

When I was a kid I remember seeing a
large spider snare a small mouse in it's web.
So I guess seeing a spider almost
their size the hummingbirds were afraid
of becoming snared in the web?

I have never seen hummingbirds
cooperate in anything. In fact they seem
to take great joy in constant attempts to
intimidate each other. Especially
for exclusive rights to the feeder.

Then two hummingbirds started to buzz
in front of the web. The male actually
appeared to be buzzing a fraction of an
inch from the spider as if to try to
chase it off. But the spider held it's
ground in the center of the web.

What happened next was totally unexpected.
Together the two hummingbirds
started to take the supports for the
web in their long beaks then flying backwards
to tug at them. First one of the webs attaching
the web to the railing broke partially
collapsing the web. The spider
held it's ground.

The hummingbirds continued to tug
at the web until it totally collapsed and
the spider ran off into the plants.

As soon the as web was collapsed
the male hummingbird chased off the
female to use the feeder first.
Back to normal nasty bird hummingbird
behavior.

Maybe you find this little story rather
boring. But for me these are
the little things in nature that make
it so exciting and interesting.