South Florida Sojourn

On a virtually cloudless Sunday morning,

I traversed the state of Florida

On a tollway known as Alligator Alley.

Dewy spiderwebs sparkled

On sturdy cyclone and barbed wire.

Behind this cypress, palms, and pines

Gave way to amazingly vast expanse,

God terrie’d in swamp grass

Long enough to dump a wetland

Called the Everglades.

Down the fence lined lane,

Feeling like a penal colony guest,

I drove more than an hour before

Welcomed by a rest area.

In the shade of a gazebo

I chopped a tomato and

Smashed an avocado,

I quickly drowned in buttermilk.

Blinding sun rose towards zenith.

Riders rallied round the restroom,

Strolled the grounds,

Finding respite from the road.

Savoring my salad,

Dreading the final miles,

Under the pavilion I sat.

A fine family of foreigners,

Speaking a language,

I don’t know

Joined me under my canopy.

Without looking my way or

Acknowledging my presence,

All five lit cigarettes

Apparently with no regrets.

Having been flatulent all day,

I couldn’t think of a better way

To say so long than to go up wind,

To huff and puff and hold my breath,

To pass gas that smelled like death.

Senior Lady Dating Manifesto

I'm looking for someone to spend a pleasant day with, who has a zest for life. We don't have forever; each day needs to have a little sparkle. Do you spoil yourself?

My day begins with thanks for another chance and a stretch to bring my soul back into the body followed immediately by coffee. Two hours later coffee and I are on the internet before I head for the gym. My days are lovely, my roads wind through tropical forests with sheer facing rock walls before showing me the ocean.

A handsome man to look into my eyes, who enjoys my wit and finds me attractive spells a fine afternoon, but a man with humor and candor makes a day too short.

The laundrymen listing all they have and what their friends have from the moment we meet are in the top five of those to avoid; what do I care? I’m not a young chick in nesting mode.

An interesting attractive man may command my attention for a while, but drone on and on without wondering about the woman you’re with becomes too braggadocio for my taste; I’m not a chick just out of the nest.

When your stories match his, you feel like you’ve met a male kindred spirit. You could do a freaking happy dance because you’re sharing your stories with someone who has the same sense of adventure. Little by little you question, disbelief dampens the flames of desire. Ladies, you know how deflating a liar is, right.

A man with a passion for almost anything, I prefer to the guy who lists his assets, upon deciding that those assets should be enough to attract you slides rather rapidly into fault finding, a constant complainer. Yuck.

I’ve had real love and I’ve had forever, at least forty-five years of it. As I recall, we built that a day at a time.

A man who loves his job can tell me stories about something I don’t understand; I’ll ask questions while admiring the twinkle in his eyes as he speaks, but he must ask about me. I don’t spew or interrupt a man waxing eloquent on himself. A man who doesn’t ask about the woman he’s with doesn’t care who you are; screw that and bye-bye.

A lively conversation, friendly banter and a bit of innuendo don’t mean a thing, but time well spent; I could enjoy that, but too many woe-be-gone faces want to tell me their problems. They remind me of a very talented woman who applied for a job as my secretary. I was liking her for the job, told her I’d call her, and on the way out the door she said, “I suffer from melancholia.”

Companions, partners, or mates should bring us up; some days we struggle to enjoy our day. Before we’ll help each other; we must care. Time well spent together brings that, so don’t tell me about forever; let’s just make a beautiful day and see what happens.

By the way, I’m a spoiler; do you know what that is?

It’s a woman who when she’s happy, she spoils you silly.  

My Life Purpose Really

Lately, nothing pleases me. I spent all morning searching for a jazz festival in the Caribbean; the Cuban Jazz Fest cheered me somewhat. How bummed must you be when planning a trip to one of the great jazz experiences on the planet doesn’t hit your yahoo button?

Maybe my biggest fault is that my love is not unconditional. I’m sorry, but it seems to me that the biggest spouters of unconditional love frequently treat each other like shit, alternating between hugging and hitting. The verbally unkind bring out the worse in me; sooner or later my mouth flies open and damage done.

Don’t call me stupid or don’t call me bitch; I would rather be alone than with a verbal abuser. Be kind or go home; it’s that simple.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of kind people in the world. Every day I encounter lovely human beings. I have people I love and who love me up to the point of, “Oh, gee, that’s sad; I’m going to miss her. What’s for dinner?”

My ties to the planet slip away, the girl always on a crusade let go. My husband would have seen the change.

Entering that final act scares me, but not like I thought it would when I was young. The worse part of now isn’t being alone; it’s being without my husband. Without him, death will ultimately be welcomed. Thinking about it helps, as long as I don’t dwell on it. What’s funny is that I could never contemplate my husband’s death, but my own I can bear.

Even on those bad days when my honey’s death feels yet unbearable, I manage to occupy myself with a movie or planning a new adventure. Today nothing helps, I miss my man in my life; I could howl and cry. If you’ve ever gotten sick and tired of something, you know how this feels. Being tired of the hurt may be helping because I trying harder, yes, there I am; that’s me.

I believe in God, who teaches me to laugh at the bizarre happenings such as the president breaking past world leaders like he’s in grammar school.

Each life has lessons and purpose; God waited, for now, to give me my biggest life purpose. That’s funny.

Alien observers posed for pictures drawn in stone; we can’t imagine how far their technology has come. Think about it. Intergalactic travelers could be covertly immersing themselves in life on earth for fun and adventure while keeping the earthlings busy fighting each other.

Things we see throughout life, pausing to shake a head for a moment before moving on didn’t make sense until everything in my life had gone; I saw something else.

We know the universe is too large for there not to be intelligent life somewhere, if not here. If our ancient civilizations depicted astronauts, I’m guessing they didn’t leave never to return; who does that?

What would it be like to discover aliens with really nothing in common with us in charge? If they owned the world banks and controlled our food supply what else could they do without our realizing that their behavior isn’t normal for earth people. 

Frankly, in America, we don’t care who runs the show as long as we get a fair shake. Other countries allow citizens a nice life with opportunity and health care. Who with so much has so little heart to take away from the disadvantaged and elderly?

If beings from another planet were caught harming earth all people of our planet would be in the trenches together. Our differences would matter little.

Why at a time when people have the capacity to live peacefully and somewhat comfortably do we war? What do six billion dollars buy? Could a guy live on a little less for the sake of others?

In our history, we’ve always been explorers; why are we more focused on repeating our barbaric history than going into space?

I’ve taken many courses and learned of the knowledge and intelligence on this planet; we do better. Why all the out of control bad behavior? Who benefits by stirring the pot?

Worrying about this is not how I should be spending the last years of my life. What I’ve seen; I know, whether anybody believes, well, quien sabe? God has given me a purpose. Thanks.

Take a Look

Old age, the new frontier of my life, I didn’t believe I’d live this long. With this coming birthday there is no politely thinking of myself as older, but somehow still hip or cool; I’m an old lady.

Goodbye days of admiring glances as I walk past; hello, nobody notices. I’m just another granny weaving my way through the crowd.

My brief escape to Condado and beyond gave me another glimpse into life alone and on the go. In this part of the story, I dined on the beach, straining to hear snatches of conversation, but couldn’t.

A repeating loud, phony laugh regularly caught my attention. Bitterness dripped from the edges of each ha-hah-hah and each time three. I heard the call for help from the next table, a family gathering of a man and a woman with offspring’s young families all dressed to the teeth, a fine legacy to be sure.

The family, the picture of success made me doubt the hollow laugh could come from there. I searched the water for cruise ship lights. Ha-hah-hah, there it came again a plaintive howl.

Affluent young locals laughed near the bar, while families or couples chatted at tables, some body language better than others; I saw no one who went with the lonely laugh.

Caught in mid-laugh, I saw from a wide open mouth, dry sound ejected; only the corners of his eyes confirmed the sadness, the remainder of his countenance radiated pride.

I sent a flicker of light in his direction as I wished to God for more nights with my honey.

A nearby couple caught my eye, you know the ones so into themselves that any contact invading their energy, they suffer. The waiter after receiving the order from the man in his fifties, who immediately turned his full attention to his lady, seemed stunned to be so completely shut out, so quickly; it was fun to see.

In restaurants, we commonly see people’s energy entwine creating a cocoon or you see the ones glancing about the room hoping for someone to relate to other than present company. I have never seen a couple create an energy vortex that looked like a black in a restaurant before; have you?

Soft light, club jazz, the hum of conversation, I scan the scene for clothes I like; a beautiful dress or a well-draped man demands notice. Simple outfits, the woman in black pants and an olive loose knit sweater and the equally lean man in shades of khaki, attracted my attention about two o’clock in my sight line.

The calamari melted on my tongue, the party of one at my table blissed out; I hate it when older people grunt when the food is good, but I’m afraid I may have.

I glanced at two o’clock which went dark, like black hole dark in a circle just big enough for them. This disconcerted me, but another piece of calamari calmed me down. The waiter walked past their table with the order; no energy called to him.

I trained in some soft tissue energy methods, which is why I can sometimes see or feel the energy. That’s pretty weird at first, for a long time I thought it had bullshit written all over it, and then, I felt it.

I’m not some crazy old lady telling you that these were aliens; no human couple I know could pull the light in around themselves achieving that level of privacy in public.

Believe me, I don’t want to be telling you that folks from far-far-away dined with me on Saturday, but unless technology exists to build personal walls what else could it be?

Am I crazy? This question surfaces now and again, but I don’t believe so; in less than a decade I lost my husband, business, nest egg, best friends, and now I’m an old lady. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say I’ve been through a lot, but healing.

Regular exercise and frequent travel feel positive; I mean I’m still fat and sad, but not as much. That’s way better than I felt before and I have hopes and goals again, so I believe in my mental health. Of course, side effects can be a bitch, so judge for yourself.

What seems nuts to me is taking away the needs of the poor for the wants of the rich.  How many human beings can look at another who hasn’t harmed you and say, die? People who become rich frequently give back; it’s the human thing to do.

Without someone to stir the pot I find people to be kind. Is it crazy to question those with the unfair advantage, who treat us as the next old tail they want to eat? Or is greed just another substance abuse?

With a short life expectancy enjoying my day became personal. Working people paid into the Social Security Fund, which is one of our best benefits for this time of life.

Am I crazy to believe that the aberrant elite controlling our planet aren’t like the rest of us because they’re not from here? It’s easier to believe I’m bat shit bonkers than that aliens have quietly invaded us. What do we do?

I mean, if they’re in a position of absolute power and they don’t like us, we’re screwed. We need to know who we’re dealing with before we don’t like the terms of engagement.

We should have evolved beyond oppressed masses and pagan parties at the top. Greed beyond the boundaries of satisfaction is not healthy or normal, like schoolboys running through a store grabbing. That’s the same shit that got us in trouble around 2008; we’re falling for it again. Doesn’t that seem too stupid to be real?

When times are good as they are now for the rich, people have fun, maybe, do something good for the community; who continues to plunder with full coffers? I’m not saying all greedy bastards are aliens, but something’s not right.

    

Happy Birthday

Released from a life of regular beatings at eighteen, I wanted the pain to stop. Welcome to adulthood, you’re out of the house. With other teens, I celebrated by drinking and drugging.

Nobody will ever hit me again, my fiery resolve reverberated in every cell; I still feel the resolve, but minus fire. The law was finally on my side, I had recourse if my father hit me again.

That should have felt better, but it didn’t because every hit on my baby body stored a rotten energy ready to rebound in fury. I could have been beaten into submission, but I drew a defiant resolve to survive.

The hurt and betrayal a child feels at the hands of parents tilts how you feel about the world. I believed everyone would hurt me sooner or later. Of course, that’s true, but there are limits and we can all be assholes at one time or another, but pretty much we can forgive and move on in different directions or make up.

Lucky for me, I met a man who loved me truly, held on tight and never let go. I wish life would have been simple; no, actually dealing with childhood issues became the foundation of my adult dysfunctions. S.N.A.F.U.

I’d pedal upstream like crazy, trying to bring positive things into my life only to be pulled under. I developed a hyper-spastic duodenum; that’s part of my small intestine. Life swung back and forth between good and horseshit. Did I get better?

Oh, hell no, by twenty-five, I had what they called a nervous breakdown. The out of control feeling that goes with falling apart made me think I was losing my mind. Thinking about going insane really made me crazy if you know what I mean.

In a nervous breakdown, days end by crying yourself to an exhausted sleep only to awaken to more crying. Pull it together to go to work, cry on the drive to the office, check face in the mirror before exiting the vehicle, and life goes on like normal. I remember how miserable I felt and only knew worse the day my husband died.

He told me straight out that he didn’t understand people who treated their children like that, but he held me through many tears. With him, I learned to appreciate the beauty in even a bad day.

Life punches and jabs, but then there are the moments with your head in someone’s lap and they’re stroking your face. To appreciate the strokes, I’ve had to give up focusing on the jabs. Do you have any idea how long that takes? I’ll let you know when I arrive.

Joy inhabits a day focused on even the smallest positive details; eventually, it overrides the pain. That may be one of the biggest lessons of my life; it’s a favorite. I like healing a lot.

Today, San Juan here I come with plans to go to a dog show. It’s funny but, when I told a friend at the gym, she rolled her eyes to say, “Who would want to do that?”

I would to celebrate my birthday. For years I didn’t celebrate; how sad is it when your birthday doesn’t make you happy? I hear it from others all the time, so it’s not just me.

During his life, I treated my husband to dinner or parties and gave the best gifts, including our first Rottweiler; or we went to a resort. Good God, I love that man.

Since his passing, my goal is to love myself as well as I loved him.

A lifetime of repairing self-worth follows a shamed child. What I’ve done in my lifetime says who I am; wow, who’d have thought it? I’m proud of me. Happy birthday.

Act Three

I am a Plebeian woman in many a marketplace examining the wares. Being of humble means I look much and purchase little. As I go I look into eyes and see the world; many souls look back, sharing their truths in a passing moment. I see hurt, love, and humanity, as well as, shame inflicted, but mostly not deserved.

I am proud of my cast, commonplace people, the salt on our table. During my productive age, I seldom looked directly into eyes; I didn’t trust, nor wanted to learn their secrets, or them to see my shame.

When you begin with little or nothing you have a plan and stay focused to get something. I believed in business old school, which meant doing my best each day, having integrity. I worked hard and managed to live a life that pleased me. I was blessed by opportunity.

Most of us don’t want to rule the world, just let me do something I can be proud of at the end of the day; it doesn’t matter what. My husband was proud to be a truck driver. He held respect within his company and his boss trusted him. As a Teamster in 705, he played his part in life, as I did as his wife.

The curtain rises on my third act: old age alone. Compliments of unscrupulous bankers, one of my least favorite presidents, and bad timing I have nothing, but thanks to Social Security am able to survive.

Ever wonder if walking off into the sunset means we die together? It didn’t; here I am. Does it matter? Why am I still here?

Act three, old and alone, who wants to see that? But wait a minute, each day holds promise, maybe not like my younger years, none the less, I see a beautiful sunrise and feel the arms of God under stars.

On the internet, I read inspired words from poets responding to their call and see what talented artists produce. I live on a tropical island, driving roads canopied with orange, purple, and white flowers in trees with trunks so wide I can but wonder what changes they’ve seen.

Enjoy the day, each day, one day in the not too distant future will be my last; this much I know. Those I loved, the comfort I strove for is gone, but there is so much value in the humble. I’m blessed when the bones don’t ache.

Travel alone I never thought I could, but adventure need not include tachycardia. Planning, budgeting, and learning about a destination give as much pleasure as the trip, well almost. So often I hit the financial wall with no way written all over it; my challenge to take a break, do something else, and come back with fresh eyes relishes the moment when doable pops into view.

Europe in 2018 what a dream I have for my third act; what do you think, a little Spain and, of course, some Italy?

My Angel

Dearest Sister,

Very happy you’re better. Please, be healthy! I need you in my life. We cling to each other as girls in a raft.

To be with you again soaking up your loving care, I can’t wait. Last I saw you was during the worse time of my life. I never could look at life without my husband; you made me feel safe and not alone. It felt like the first growth of life after devastation.

How many times in a lifetime do you recognize a soul mate across a room crowded or otherwise? And, yet, there we were.

Can we doubt God has a plan? You were the angel whose caring reminded me that God cares. Your presence united us; being mad with God doesn’t feel nice.

I miss our conversations and am eager to get to know your country better. Who am I kidding? I can’t wait to hear the jazz, while I hear music I visit my happy place.

Two lifelong dog lovers attending an international FCI dog show; I shiver with delight; can’t wait. To stay with you until the book expo in January would be unfair, so we’ll limit my stay; you say how long. Between now and then I’ll be budgeting.

An unscrupulous company has been burrowing into my checking account, almost caused a huge problem when I was in New Orleans. I bought something on the internet, a cosmetic company began sending and charging for cosmetics that went to my post office box. The purchase as understood by me was a one time deal and I’ll let you know if I want more.

On my trip to New Orleans I encountered difficulty, of course, I budget for some but stood at the counter with not enough in my account to work already done. By the grace of God, I had just enough cash on me to cover. I don’t normally carry more than a twenty or two. My heart beat crazy counting.

I’m too old for this stress. I’m going to the bank to find out how to stop this. Nothing I saw on the cosmetics company website lead me to believe we had an ongoing relationship. I’ll bet this happens frequently. This seems like a sharp business practice, huh!

I could have been so screwed because big business didn’t play fair again. I’ve had a hard time since my return home; health comes with nourishment and exercise. As long as my government doesn’t default on me, I can handle my life.

When you’re up for it please send the correct name of the dog show and dates, town, etc. And the same for the jazz fest. Costs.

Let’s pray we’re not too old for fun; huh, Sister! 

Crazy Run Rampant

Batshit crazy evil happening right now; how can we not see that we’re being manipulated? We’re better than this, this is not us. 

An old lady, just my age, hobbled into her neighbor’s party shortly after hip surgery. She asked him to turn down the music and he responded by knocking her down.

That’s bad, but not batshit bad; that’s coming. I mean this sixteen-year-old boy grabbed her by her poor, old arthritic leg, drug her, and threw her in a pool, oh, and her dog, in front of guests. Blood tests and toxicology should be done on him and not just for drugs;  this isn’t normal.

Of course, crazy happens in the best of families, but don’t you think crazy runs a little rampant lately?

On the same day a young woman, a nineteen-year-old wakes up, dresses for the funeral of her boyfriend’s mom. This young woman and her mother walk with the boyfriend towards his mom’s funeral, but before they get there she shoots her own mother; are we desensitized to the bizarre? Is it really just another day in America?

Scientists preach evolution, but the war on mankind today seems little different than the war that introduced us to the dark ages. Shouldn’t we have evolved beyond spontaneous outbursts of hate and anger? We have our assholes but come on, we’re better than this.

I hate to be the nut job telling you that aliens hide among us and manipulate the shit out of us, but there it is folks.

We don’t handle aliens, people from elsewhere, people from our own planet moving in our neighborhood, changing how things are done where we live; imagine advanced beings, the ones depicted in ancient hieroglyphs still watching and influencing life on Earth.

If extraterrestrials wanted to prevent us from exploring outer space, wouldn’t the best way be to keep us busy with bullshit here?

Everybody understands the competitive nature of evolution; don’t we all want to be at the top of the food chain? Living in the closed environment of Earth doesn’t God demand we learn to get along or love one another? Either way, we examine it; we’re better than what’s happening now. Aren’t we?

Why do we rush to mutually assured destruction?  That’s too bat shit crazy for me to believe we’d do without manipulation. Does this make any sense?  

It's a Mystery

These last years, I thought I’d be sipping iced drinks with friends or lounging on a porch; my life’s been interesting, challenging, and fun, but never much of a mystery, so why now?
        Google is gone from my computer; the only way to get back on is through MSN, which won’t let me enter my email account unless I allow them to organize my life. Why do I feel as if someone were trying to control me?
          For a person who took things at face value, I’m suddenly seeing conspiracies and alternate motives. Did I awake from a dream where life was hard but fair into a world where no one can be trusted?

Do I sound paranoid; I feel a tad paranoid today. Yesterday, on the way home from the gym a tree blocked the road forcing me to detour on a new road with colorful flowers gracing the yards of lovely homes, so I was enjoying myself without a worry.

Between the mogotes (steep hills) roads twist and turn so frequently I’m not sure of which way to go with lesser roads seldom marked it’s a crap shoot because signals don’t enter steep ravines, so you’re on your own. Suddenly I’ve gone from la-la-la-la to oh, hell, where am I?  Rock walls so steep I can no longer see the light of day depress me; I don’t want to be here. The road I came in on is blocked by a tree and now I haven’t a clue of where I’ll end up.

Some of the houses on this road are jaw dropping beautiful, so I calm down a bit to look. Flower beds and landscaping I admire so I’m starting to think of this as a happy little island adventure and I’m confident I’ll work my way home before long. A house with a pool and cabana in the yard of my dreams gets a full stop and gawk; I couldn’t help myself, but I see movement in the house and don’t wish to be rude, so I move along.

The setting sun darkens the chasm; I notice to my right a ten-foot chain link fence with razor wire on the top on a road that suddenly feels like it's going nowhere. Times like this I don’t do myself any favors; this fence with razor wire has me thinking about the book set on an island where scientists splice humans and animals together.

Calm down you’re freaking yourself out; take some deep breaths. This f’ing fence seems like it’s going on forever just like the ravine. I know I’m letting my imagination run wild and laugh at myself. I see nothing but vegetation behind the fence; why are my palms sweaty? I poke around for something to eat; maybe, my blood sugar is low.

There’s a clearing on the right; oh, wow, I’ll get to see why the expensive fence in the middle of the last place on earth. I catch a glimpse of a road going through a clearing and then I’m blinded by an unforgiving light. Holy shit, I shield my eyes with my hand and speed up; the intense light disorients me. I almost drive into a ditch, but manage to continue. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here; walls of green on either side of the narrow road turn to black. Good heaven how much farther can it be; I should be getting to the road going out the other side, where I can GPS and route my way home. What in hell was that place with those blinding lights; that’s crazy?

Calle sin salida read the sign at the end of the road. A road without exit  with the sign at the end of the road; no one needed to tell me that now, the wall at the end of the road gave me a clue. My head felt as if it would explode; this long ass road had a no exit sign at the end. F’ing great! The urge to cry quickly overcome by get the hell out of here now spurred my U-turn; how would I get past the entrance to the hidden installation I’d stumbled on to?

Headlights shining on limbs reaching over the road reminded me of a dozen horror movies I’d seen growing up. I prayed not see anyone pop out of the dark. I had to pee as it was. As I approached the entrance to the camp now on my left I covered the window with a clipboard and kept trucking.

My rapid pulse slowed when the fence ended and nice houses appeared again. Extremely nice houses on a dead end road hidden near a fresh water lake on a tropical island, I pondered that when I saw head lights behind me. I had a quarter tank of gas left, so I decided to drive as fast as I could to the most public place I could find and get gas when I ended up where the tree had been across the road. I was on my road home; the saints be praised!

The lights pulled into the gas station behind me. Calm down; it’s nothing until it’s something, I told myself. I grabbed a candy bar while in line to pay for my gas. In walked a fit, attractive older man. His face barely registered any reaction when he took his place in line behind me and I burst into laughter. The scene reminded me of some many stories I had to laugh, the nervous guffaw of one realizing this might not be a romantic comedy, but the terminator.

Quickly, I sped into the night taking the long way around the lake home until I no longer saw a light in my rear view mirror. This morning I greeted the dawn glad to be alive.

Do you see what I mean?

 

When Good Things Happen

Have you noticed the weird ways we react to things? When something extraordinarily good would happen to my mom, like the time I gave her a new car, she got a headache. The headache seemed to come regularly with good news.
My brother appeared to blow it off as nothing or just another day that could go sour at any moment. I get so excited you’d think cotton candy was just rated as a low calorie health food.
Reacting strangely to good news surprises me more than how we react to bad news. Bad news or a negative encounter feels like a heavy hand on my head; I can’t wait to shake it off. Learning some techniques on how to shake it off more effectively would help. My ritual of mentally saying, WTF and rolling my eyes to heaven works until something really gets me, and then, I could use a better plan.
I hated to find myself in full blown pissed mode because I could say some hurtful things without a thought. I hate hurting people even when in y opinion they deserve it. I hate how mean that makes me feel.
Now I hate letting myself get pissed because it raises my blood pressure; it’s not good for me.
How long will this last? How can I escape this negativity? Can we make this okay?
Have you ever had a ton of fun friend, who said demeaning things to you? Or made you feel inadequate?
I had a friend who would call me a bitch for the slightest provocation; for example, if I didn’t want to see the movie she wanted, she’d call me bitch.  At first, I ignored it thinking she was taking her frustrations out on me and would get over it. I told her I didn’t like and asked her to stop, but she didn’t.
People’s temper triggers should be respected unless the provoker really wants war because that’s what happens or the provoked wimps out. I don’t like who I can become when angry, so my answer to fun, but abusive people is always, “Goodbye.”
Some people love bickering, saying snippy things and crying to high heaven when war words are returned. Maybe all the evil that gets tossed around in sport soaks into our souls so we act all goofy when truly good things happen; what do you think?

Becoming the Old Girl

We made each other laugh and shared stories; wherever we were, we were home as long as we were together. I loved my life with him, loved being with him.
Adjusting to being single, that’s an adjustment! Without your other half life loses that cheery glow of sharing. At a time in your life when you’ve lost the people close to you, who cared about what you said or thought, you can end up depressed because nobody gives a damn. People who you can connect with remain on the planet, but you don’t know them.
Want to hear something funny? Recently people have asked if I’ve re-married, yet. It hasn’t quite been four years and casually people have said, “You married again?” The first time someone asked, I felt my eyes pop out of my head. What!!!
I suppose what amuses me the most about that question is that to other people finding a mate, someone to meld with just happens.
If the truth be told, I would enjoy a flirtation, maybe even a kiss, but by our senior years men and women have been so beat up by each other that damaged in transit is stamped on foreheads.
My journey without my husband has become about self-discovery. To do something until I say that I don’t want to do it anymore, put it down and try something else to see if it pleases will surprise you with the number of things quickly discarded.
Contrary to what I was taught as a child, you don’t have to stick with something if you don’t want to; knowing that gives me freedom.
Losing my inner circle within a few years has painfully given me the freedom to explore more life choices if I have the courage and will. As the years march, I no longer feel required to have either courage or will, but life is more interesting with I find.
Transitioning to retirement, old age feels like from toddler to child or teenager to adult; I’ve skinned my knees. Hated it, but here I am no longer a wife, a business woman, and on and on; I’m the not so little old lady wondering what I want to do. Who’s scared?
We are what we do, so I’m not too much at this stage. In the almost four years of widowhood, I’ve exercised at the gym the most. A sadness overcomes me when I think about all the wonderful food I no longer eat; utter desperation, all those poor baby things and I know I’ll break all the rules when I hit New Orleans, so hush.
Live music coaxes me out of the house and I’ve planned trips around music I wanted to hear, so I’m a live music fan, willing to travel. This is new!
Travel to me encompasses more than the new and wonderful sites; peeking at people’s lives in different places fascinates me. Sometimes I have to get a grip on my energy; I get excited like a puppy wagging its tail. It’s embarrassing to be the just too happy to be here senior lady.
I have some old friends and some new friends, so I am social, but I don’t feel needy for companionship. That’s huge for me.
Sometimes this self-discovery journey makes me feel like a kid. I’m the old girl.

Who Would Notice

Google disappeared from my screen; Facebook, blogger, my maps were just gone. One of those strange anomalies I’ve been witnessing happened to me; now, I’m worried.  In Puerto Rico we lose the internet from time to time, but Google?

We’re on the edge of the Bermuda Triangle so we make jokes about the unusual things that happen here. A modest size Caribbean island with people fleeing like rats from a sinking ship doesn’t get a second glance when it comes to small shifts. New dogs appear on my doorstep and others disappear. At this moment all of the dogs in this entire valley are howling; in twelve years I’ve never heard the whole valley howl at once. A small dog appeared in the middle of the road and my neighbor boy walked out to get it like he was in a trance.

Lucky my pit bull buddy began barking with the sound of fear in his voice, so I had to go to see. To my surprise, Lucky is barking at my neighbor boy or I should say young man of eighteen. Maybe five years ago of I found Lucky under a van in front of this boy’s house, so they know each other; something’s not right, but what.

We get tremors here, if you see ripples in your tea, we’re having a tremor. Most of the time, we’re completely unaware, but that’s the point; isn’t it?

Facts, factoids, alternate facts, as well as fun facts bombard us; so how do we really know when something’s important or not worthy?

So how do you know when an old lady is slipping some not so fun facts into her morning blog?

 

 

What Should We Do?

The cats out of the bag, aliens arrived in January, but with the new president and all, few have noticed. Indescribable beings are among us observing. We’re seldom aware that something is different, amiss, so we keep talking and ignoring the signals.

What do they want? Who can tell? Is this a collective hallucination? It could be.

Reports of earthquakes in areas with no increase in seismic activity or the feeling of your eyes being jerked back and forth were the first anyone noticed the anomaly. It still feels weird trying to tell you about it. I mean who believes old ladies? After all, everybody knows we go crazy after a certain age. For me it was thirteen, but anyway something is out of place after one of these events. The last time on my porch I saw a big yellow clay pot. Dang if that didn’t make me happy; I couldn’t believe my good fortune and then I looked again, strange stuff, right?

I feel compelled, but I’m scared to tell all I know. This was just the beginning; other things that happened make you want to scratch your head and say, “Huh?” Just as these events got my attention, well, things got spooky. Now, I’ve been known to scare myself into a rapid pulse and sweaty fingers, but this wasn’t it. I’m like in a trance observing this. No, I can’t tell you. Sorry.