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Showing posts from January, 2014

Tell Me Why

The other day, someone asked what's wrong with me-that I use to be charming to be around but lately, well, all I seem to do is yell and act like a bitch.

Moi? Well, I act like a bitch because YOU are an @$$.  Really.

I tried to think back to when I lost my perpetual smiley face, and started adding a profanity to every sentence like a dime school rapper. It seems to have happened right after Labor Day.  When my tan starts to fade and I put the shorts and tee shirts away in favor of denim and leather, I become the female version of Kanye West.

I suffer not just from SAD but from T-SAD: THREE-Season Affective Disorder.  I don't get depressed or angry in just the winter (although that's the worst).  I start as soon as the leaves change and maintain this pissy demeanor right up until I can dip my toes in the ocean again. That Polar Vortex thing put me in a high speed wobble-especially when the pipe burst in the garage and water drenched not only everything I had left post Sandy, b…

Where Are You Now?

Back when I worked at "Wrinkle City" (A/K/A the retirement community), our security manager had a skewed opinion about the health of the residents: if they didn't die around the New Year, they would be good until summer.  And statistics say his opinion is correct-January IS the month when most people die-followed by December.  Which is probably why my social calendar has been filled recently with more wakes than parties. These wakes are stressing me out, and it has nothing to do with who is in the casket.

When I'm at a wake seeing old friends I haven't seen in years, I get flashbacks to my 20th class reunion.  At my 10th reunion, I only cared about knowing how many people had gotten married.  But at the 20th, well, I truly felt time starting to pass me by. After 20 years, my life was shaped, the mold set, the direction fixed. I changed physically; the years showing on my face and body. I had a career where I traveled to Europe before marrying Wingman and havi…

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

In the past few weeks, I have:

Spoken with authority to a tax attorney and realtor to help someone out
Cooked a gourmet dinner for 25 people
Pushed a woman's car out of a busy intersection
Bought a snow blower after negotiating the price
Celebrated New Year's Eve in Manhattan by myself
Chastised a drunk on a train 
Changed my own windshield wiper blades

Yeah, I know...

But after months of what I call my "Emotional Constipation" period, I have emerged with a sense of empowerment that I forgot I had.  Your life partner left you and owes the IRS beaucoup bucks??? Let ME talk to the experts.  Dinner for 25???  Hell, I cooked for 500 when I had my catering business. 25 I can do in my sleep.  You ran out of gas??? Been there, done that.  Put the car in neutral and steer while I push.  Yes, I'll take the floor model of the snow blower since you don't have any more.  But you won't give me the sale price since you forgot to remove the sale sign??? Then I'll go to the …

Now with more Ultimate

Remember the summer trips to Minnesota for the big youth club championship tournament?

The highlight video is up.

What amazes me now, watching this, is that both Sarafina and Adam have gotten exponentially better in just a few short months, and they look pretty good in this clip. It's going to be an interesting next few years.

Reliving In Our Eloquence Another "Auld Lang Syne"

New Years Eve's my second New Years Eve since Wingman died and I did something crazy. I went to New York City to see the ball drop in Times Square.

Probably not one of my more sane ideas. Still, I also have this other insane idea that when I die, instead if a dash between my birth and death year on my tombstone, I want there to be dotted lines and a few question marks to indicate the "WHAT WAS SHE THINKING???" moments. Like this one. It was the coldest New Year's Eve in years. And I did it solo.  I haven't done anything solo on New Years Eve since I babysat in high school.

The first few years of going out with Wingman were spent in the bars his band played in.  There were no "magical moments" at midnight because the band was on stage counting down while we, the girlfriends sat nearby.  The groupies got more attention that we did.  After all, they were the reason the band got their paying gigs.

Subsequent years were spent in garden apartments wit…