What Would Dear Abby Do?

I haven't been out on a date in over a year and a half. I think I'm psychologically ready to go on one. I've heard the little voices in my head say just do it, go on a date already. So now that I'm gettin' in the groove, where do I find a date?

According to Dear Abby, I should join a club, volunteer, go to church or take a class. Well, I don't know what kind of club I would join, I don't really have time to volunteer although I was a big volunteerer when I was a kid, I never go to church and I'm not really in the mood to go to class where the students will be the ripe old age of 18. Besides what kind of class would I take? I like to study ancient languages - and have. My degree is in Latin American History. I studied Russian history and language in grad school. So I don't know what class I would take. Although I'd love to study the indigenous Queche language native to Guatemala. Somehow I don't really think that's what Abby had in mind.

So I thought to myself, where might I find like minded people? The library I suppose since I read a lot. Whole Foods? Maybe the movie theater since I go to movies about 3 times a week. I actually kind of found a "strangling" there. He started to talk to me even though clearly I was talking to the cashier (and not him) about 10 feet away from where he was buttering his popcorn. I'm not even sure how he heard my talking unless he was eavesdropping all stalker-like. Turns out he was going to the same movie I was - Forgetting Sarah Marshall - fantastic. I like to sit in the 5th row or so so I don't miss any of the movie action and I'm essentially all alone since no one sits in the front unless there aren't any seats left. Well, this dude sat right behind me. Every time I laughed, he laughed - but usually just after I laughed. He kind of freaked me out so as soon as the movie was over I walked really fast and hightailed it out of theater. I guess running away is exactly how you get a date.

But then I got to thinking - really thinking. Do I, honest to God, really want to go on a date? The truth of the matter is, if I really wanted to go on a date, I would have done it long, long before now. I would have put myself right out there and gone out with someone had they asked. Clearly someone would have asked, had I put myself out there. But honestly, I know exactly what I want and I will not settle until I find the whole package. That is my promise to myself.

But then, someone gave me something that really summed up all of the "issues" I've been pondering. It was a prophecy so to speak. Inside my fortune cookie came this message "knowledge of current events will help you." Apparently I've been looking in all the wrong places. Instead of figuring out classes and looking in stores, I should've been reading the newspaper. Who knew?

When Your Friend Lies Dying

**update** My Thor passed away sometime during the night of 6-10. I hope wherever he is, he has lots of things to pee on and lots of cats to chase, because those were his favorite things to do.

**UPDATE on bottom**

About two years ago I met a nice older gentleman about 60 years my senior. He was rather dark haired for his age, but had the telltale graying going on around his face. His hearing wasn't too good and he was completely blind. I spent just a half an hour with him but knew that I really liked him. The next week, I invited him to live with me. He also had a friend that he really liked and I didn't want to leave her alone without her friend, so I invited her to stay with us as well. They both took me up on the idea.

The two of them, Thor and Freckles took to their new surroundings quickly. They made themselves at home and became a part of the family. Now, Thor isn't the best behaved and has to be condemned to the kitchen. I'm not sure if it's his age or just poor training on his previous owners part. But it is what it is. He puts a smile on my face.

One of the things that really enamored me to this crumungeon, is the first time I knelt down to take a look at him, he got all crazy and rubbed his head all over me and began rolling around. He actually has facial expressions unlike his friend Freckles who has a perpetual Droopy Dog look.

I figure he's about 15-17 years old by now. Probably born during the time of the Roman Empire. And I fear his time is about running out. During the last few weeks he has been rapidly degrading. He didn't want to take a walk and is having a really hard time getting around. This humid weather has not been good to him. You are probably wondering why I don't just put him down. Well, I don't believe in it -- unless the animal is truly suffering. Just because an animal is old, doesn't automatically condemn him to the vet's needle. A little tylenol goes a long way when the legs are a little stiff. We are such a disposable society when it comes to our pets. He's old = kill him.

So here he lies in my kitchen on a big dog bed, breathing short rapid breaths. That's usually a sign that life will be leaving him within the next 24 hours or so. I've adopted many old dogs and know the signs. Although he did that last week too and I didn't expect him to last the night. But he did manage to live another day and pee on the floor. But today is a bit different. I offered him some turkey and he didn't want any. It didn't stop Freckles, she ate it right up.

So I'm going to sit with him for a while, pet his head, give him some water if he wants some, take his collar off (you never know if it's irritating at this point) and then I'll just leave him alone and let him go. When you let your friend die naturally at home, the last gift your pet gives you, is that they don't let you see them die.

UPDATE - Well, Thor never ceases to amaze me. His body might be weak, but his spirit is strong. He's gotten up and is standing. I guess he feels his work here is not done - yet.

Online Dating ... the New Mailorder Brides?

I don't do the online dating thing. I tried it once, twice actually, and I was profoundly disappointed both times. The first guy looked nothing like his picture - at least in this century. The guy in the picture was quite handsome. The guy that showed up for the date - not so much. The second guy showed up completely drunk and reeked of alcohol. He even wizzed on the side of the road while talking to me. So gross. It was a shame too because we had a ton in common and he totally cracked me up. If he lived in the area, I could see us being buds. Clearly, however, there was no "love connection" for me nor would there ever be. Very, very bad first impression.

I have, however, heard of the occasional success story and actually know of one. One out of who knows how many? But I do know of one. In fact, this online couple actually got married and are expecting their first baby. It still amazes me to this day.

But here's the real problem I have with online dating. This computer dating, through companies like Match.com and e-harmony, etc. is the 21st century's answer to the old mail order brides/husbands. Back in the day, there was an actual printed catalog of women and at times men, who were looking for spouses. Usually, the "lookers" (of husbands) were from a less industrialized country than the "lookees" (for wives). Since the fall of the Soviet Union, there is also a large influx of women from eastern European nations seeking marriage to escape from their countries.

So now, the lookee has gotten his catalog and flips through it looking for someone that catches his eye. He might find a few, but you're always turning the page hoping there's something better on the next page. If he sees something he likes, he contacts his prospective wife and they make the appropriate arrangements.

And this just seems exactly like online dating to me - except in paper form (although mail order brides have also kept up with the times and are online as well). You simply search for what you "want" and keep hitting "next" looking for that next person that catches your eye. It's just so synthetic. It's like looking through a catalog for shoes but instead they're real people. Real live people, with feelings and emotions.

When I do occasionally look around on Match to see if I know anyone on there, I still see the same faces that were on there two years ago. Clearly, it's not working for long-term commitment although judging by the fact that so many people have been "active within 24 hours" it's working quite well in the short-term. With all the people signed up for online dating services, I wonder how many of them think, "maybe the next profile will be better" and can't commit because you just don't know if you'll find "the one" the next time you log on. It's like a candy shop for the serial dater. In fact, I busted a guy whom I met at a neighborhood festival (and nothing at all to do with online dating), and faux-dated, with a profile on match.com. I recognized some of his pictures as ones that he'd showed me while I was at his house (ouch! - double ouch!). I guess he was still flipping through his catalog when he met me. I however, prefer to write "return to sender" on all my catalogs and meet people the old fashioned way - at bars. (just kidding)

Whose Rules Are We Playing By Anyway?

Back in the olden days, after your date bought you dinner and perhaps a movie, the "least" you could do was sleep with this said date. Fast forward a generation or two. The year is 2008. We are no longer "obligated" to throw our date a "thank you fest" on the first date, courtesy of our pride and self respect, simply because he bought us dinner. Things sure have changed since then. Or have they?

Somewhere in the last 20 to 40 years, our fore-mothers have duked it out with the masses to win us equal rights and in doing so also won us ... two extra dates. Instead of having to "give it up" on the first date in exchange for food and possibly some viewing pleasure, we're supposed to let it all hang out on the third date. Whatever. I don't think so.

So my question is, who the hell made up these ridiculous rules and how did they achieve such mass sex appeal? One of my favorite lines is from the movie Clueless. "I spend more time picking out shoes, and those just go on my feet." So why do so many women still feel obligated to reward a man with their bodies after only three dates? Why three dates and not ten? Or why three and not, I don't know, after you've gotten to know the person at bit. My non-scientific hypothesis is that there is a whole lot of buyers remorse out there. Is there anyone on this planet that has actually regretted not sleeping with someone? I don't know of any.

When are we as a collective group going to realize that our self respect is worth way more than that medium rare steak that we ate for dinner even if it did come with garlic mashed potatoes? And I'm talking both ways here. I don't have much respect for guys who are trying to cop feels on women they don't even know. Where is their self respect? Are they equating their self worth with a dinner as well? Or do they simply think they're entitled to human dessert afterwards? Uh, hello, do I look like a chocolate mousse? Frankly, I think I'm entitled to living by my own rules and if you don't like them, well, thanks for the dinner but you'll have to get your dessert from Whole Foods.

photos were random pics off the internet.

Will a Heart Ever Truly Heal?

When your heart breaks
Who is there to put it back together?
When your heart dies
Who is there to resuscitate it?
When your soul begins to leave (you)
Who is there to chase it back in?
When you close your eyes

And all you feel is pain

Who is there to help you open your eyes?

I blog ... a lot. I blog because I can and because my heart has been broken. Broken isn't really the word. I'm not sure we actually have a word in the English language strong enough to describe the catastrophe that claimed my heart. It's often unbearable. So I blog. And plus, it keeps me from starting small fires and becoming a stalker (joking!). I am the proverbial Humpty Dumpty although I didn't sit on a wall. My sin was to open a kitchen cabinet door and find something that obviously wasn't meant for me to find.

It's been about a year and a half since, we'll just call him Bob, since Bob broke up with me. Actually, it really wasn't even a break-up. I busted him with drugs and he dumped me. That's about the gist of it. He said he didn't want to "hang" with me anymore. There were never any arguments. Nothing. We got along well. I've known him forever. No issues. Except for that one small important detail. He's a profound drug addict who can really keep a secret and lie to you while looking into your eyes. I've never felt such heart ache in my adult life - ever.

Your fear trickles down your brow
leaving its telltale mark as it burns your flesh
permeating the air with the putrid smell of burning skin
It slithers like the venomous serpent into your eyes
Injecting you with its poison, infecting you
Blinding you to what’s in front of you
The disturbing blank stare that hints to the death of your essence
The dread hovers over you like a deadly aspiration
Waiting to reap what’s left of your tortured soul
It comes slicing its way into your body
Searching for some form of conscience
It finds nothing but a pit of darkness

I spent a year or so crying. I cried almost every day. No actually I did cry every day. All day, at work, at home, in the car, in the store, at commercials, because of songs. I looked like crap. I was tired. It was hard for me to work and I called in a lot. I was melting.

The army of flies storms its way through the front gates
Their evil masked by the beauty of their metallic blue uniforms
They surround the enemy, screaming their battle cry
Wings furiously flapping as they aim their lethal weapons
Depositing their hopes for a new generation
Demise
The new warriors emerge, stalking, ready to destroy
Resuming the attack of their ancestors
Biting, chewing, gorging themselves on the corpse
Writhing, twisting, contorting
The brazen warriors consume the necrotic flesh
Leaving behind the skeleton that was once my heart.

I also wrote a lot. I kept a journal of all the weird things that happened right before and immediately after "the break-up" but haven't been able to read it. I just can't. And maybe I won't ever because I think it'll really open up some old wounds that I really just don't want to revisit. I realize that there are therapists out there who will argue with me when I say this, but sometimes, it's ok to not look back. You don't have to "solve" every problem in your life. Some are more important that others and this one - well this one is just too big for me to tackle and I'd prefer to just leave it under the same rock my ex crawled out from under. Which leads me to the big question ...

When will this hurt go away? When will I stop being shocked at being broken up with over drugs - drugs that I didn't even realize existed? When will all the king's horses and all the king's men put this Humpty Dumpty together again? I often wonder if a heart every truly completly heals. Or are we always a little bit more jaded with each passing experience? Does time really heal all wounds or is that just some stupid cliche? I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Love Letters - Have They Gone the Way of the Dinosaur?

I remember when I got my first love letter from my now ex-fiance. He was a guy I met my freshman year in high school and was my "dream date." We eventually ended up dating in our early twenties and then became engaged. I'm not really sure what happened after that. Although technically I think we're still engaged since I don't remember the engagement actually ever being called off. The letter was written in long hand -cursive I think. It was on a piece of notebook paper, torn out of the notebook left with the ragged edge. It was so exciting. I kept it for a long time. I don't know what ever happened to it. But I do still keep it in my mind as my heart moved on a long time ago. Then I thought ...

When was the last time I got a love letter? I fear that that love letter, was the last time I got a love letter. But what about now. In our age of technology? Do emails really count as "love letters?" (haven't gotten one of those either, but that's ok) What about text messages? lol, omg, brb, ttyl. Do "love letters" that have to be translated into English really count? Do they have the same affect as the handwritten letter? Do we print the email and put it in out special box of boyfriend momentos? Is there the same emotion attached to an email - a lovemail if you will (what do you even call them?)- when it has smiley emoticons on there to tell you how you feel about someone as opposed to someone actually expressing through the written word, how they feel about you? When future generations find these emails, will they get excited about them? Or will they just feel benign and generic? Well, guess what I found ... ?

I found my grandpa's love letters to my grandma about 15 years ago. I still have them. There were about 10 of them although I'm sure there were more. Every Valentine's Day, every wedding annivesary and sometimes just because, he would write a poem, in a card, professing his love for my gram. They'd been together since before WWII and I've got some letters dated into the 1970's. Do the math. There were many, many years of love between them. Often the letters started out, My Dearest Josephine and were signed by Your loving Bernie. The words in between were always beautiful. But that's what a love letter is all about. It's about professing your feelings and I'm just not sure an email is what it's all about. I could be wrong, because I've never gotten a love email or a love text. But somehow, to me, knowing that the man took some time to think about what he was going to say, as opposed to being able to do a quick spell check on the computer, is just a little bit more romantic. I wonder then, has the age of technology also made us less romantic? But lucky for me, I've got the "old school" love letters as proof of a generation of people who really knew how to love.

To Delete or Not to Delete - That IS the Question

I decided to go to the movies the another day. Ya, that's quite the shocker. I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall - again. I know, another shocker. There's a funny scene where Peter is deleting all of his pictures of Sarah and him off his computer. His stepbrother tells him that he wasn't doing a permanent delete. Peter says that he knows but he wants to have a copy, you know, just in case they get back together. His stepbrother sidesteps him and does that permanent delete thing and Peter screams -noooooo. I felt his pain. I know how he feels. I've been there.

About 6 months ago I did a purge of all of my pictures of my deficient ex-boyfriend. I had saved all the text messages, the emails, the sms messages and the pictures - just in case. In case of what? Emergency? The first picture that I deleted was really hard. It was such a symbol of the end. As if I didn't know it already ended. He dumped me right on my ass. There was absolutely no misunderstanding there. One day I decided that I just couldn't cry any more. I think that the breakup aged me and I didn't like what I was seeing in the mirror. I was tired all the time and I'd just had enough. No matter how difficult it was going to be, I had to move on. Clearly, bonehead had so why wasn't I? So one day, I just did it. I deleted and deleted and deleted some more. Any event, anything that brought memories. Gone.

I felt really good about getting rid of all of those ghosts until ... I realized that I hadn't done a permanent delete and kept finding the pictures in other areas of my computer. How many times had I loaded the same pictures onto my home and work computer? Apparently many, many times. They were everywhere, like the proverbial skeletons in the closet. They kept popping up at inopportune times. I had to delete again and again. And frankly, it wasn't easier the second or third time around. There was that little (ok, maybe medium sized) part of me that still wanted those pictures - just in case.

The real beauty of it all, is truthfully, by deleting those pictures, I've progressed to the next step towards the goal of complete annihilation of him from my mind. Sometimes I wonder if he's deleted the pictures of me from his computer. Frankly, I don't think he's really given it much thought. Plus, I think he actually only had one picture anyway. Luckily I looked really good in it. Then again, maybe he didn't delete it, just in case...

When Somebody Loves You ...

According to TMZ.com, my resource for current eventful events, the "Mommy" of the Family Circus, Thelma Keane has died from that blasted Alzheimer's disease. She was 82. Her husband created Family Circus and used her as the model for the Mommy character. And then I thought ...

It's amazing the many different ways people honor their loved ones. Her husband, Bill Keane, said that when she was younger, she looked just like Mommy and people would stop her in the stores to inquire if she was the Mommy. Imagine someone so enamored with you, that they create, essentially a work of art, with you as the character. With gave me another thought ...

Toward the end of my marriage I had gotten very sick and almost admitted to the hospital. I was in excruciating pain - this coming from a woman who can do natural childbirth. The doctor was afraid I was dehydrating and told me no matter how much it hurt, I had to drink. I asked my lovely, indispensable husband to please run to the Jewel and get me a gallon of water. He said, "No, the pain is all in your head." So, I went to the Jewel, got a gallon of water and a bag of dog food. I knew at that point, my marriage wasn't salvageable. That final act of "kindness," put the last nail in the coffin and sealed it shut.

But here is a man, who for I don't know how many years, wrote a comic strip that essentially professed kindness, love and respect for the woman he married. Now this is a couple from a whole different era. Somewhere along the way, my generation, for sure, has lost that little bit of something that keeps a marriage alive. That little something that just shows each other how much they love each other. Everyone is so busy that there's no time. No time to love, no time to be loved and certainly no time for rest. And thinking about how Bill Keane honored his wife, when's the last time you saw another artist depict his or her spouse in their art in a loving manner? I can't really think of anything. You're so Vain? by Carly Simon? Not a positive one. And let's leave the babbling, foolish, pain in the butt divorcee on You Tube outta this. She's a lunatic. And she wonders why she's getting a divorce? Anyone?

picture from TMZ.com, my source for all things awesome

Motion in the Ocean

I really love the outdoors. If I'm not riding my bike, I'm usually walking. When I lived in my old house, my cats, Jack, Ona (Lithuania's version of Anne) and Darwin, my terminally ill and blind dog Lucky and I all use to go out for an evening walk. The five of us would walk down the block together and walk back home. It was really a nice time. Since then, my beloved Lucky has died and so has Jack. I live on a busy street now and can't take these awesome walks with my remaining friends. So I have to do them alone and it stinks.

So, here I am, walking around at 10:00 o'clock at night minding my own business, just taking in all of the obnoxious noises and poluuted scents that the town has to offer, and I unknowingly walk between an unoccupied car and a very occupied car. I don't know who scared who more - them scaring me, or me scaring the two kids making out in the car. Needless to say, I kept walking, quickly (mostly because it was too dark and I couldn't really get a good look.) They drove away.

As I continued my walk, I began to think about the car scenario. Which of course then made me think about when any adult even has the time to actually make out in a car. Of course the thought then progressed to when was the last time I made out with anyone in a car? I had to really think about that question. I calculated that it was sometime between 1990 and 1991 when my ex-husband and I were dating. He was 18, I was 24 and I guess that's what you do when you're that age.

Wait. Stop right there. How long ago was that? 17 years ago? More than a decade and a half? Almost two decades ago? Wow. That's some time ago. How is it, that in relationships, we don't make time for the silly stuff? More importantly, why don't we? We can figure out how to work 70 hours a week, clean the house, do laundry, get some sleep here and there, but we can't figure out how to squeeze in a half an hour or maybe and hour a week of goofiness with our mates? I'm not even talking "car action." I'm talking about straight out fun. A board game, a movie, a ridiculous game of tag. We don't seem to do anything any more except worry about how we'll be able to hand over our paychecks to the gas companies while still managing to eat.

Remember the saying, "the couple who plays together, stay together?" We don't have time to play anymore. Granted these two kids in the car probably don't have children of their own and they don't have a boss that expects you to carry your blackberry into the bathroom with you, but they still manage to connect. How do we, as over-scheduled adults, reconnect? As one buddy of mine said, you just don't take that blackberry into the bathroom with you. If we use his idea, then we would be in the bathroom all day long - hiding out from "the man." I think our homework this week should be to put as much in our relationships as we do into our jobs. In the long run, we are disposable in the work force. If the boss needs to cut corners, they don't really care if they fire us, as long as it improves the bottom line. But our families, they're the ones that have to pick the pieces up. We should really be caring about inproving the bottom line in our own households. And if that means getting our tired behinds outside in this amazing weather we're having today, then get up, get dressed, brush your teeth and go outside. Hop on your bikes and go for a ride, because our families are the ones that count in the long run.

Why I Can't Wait to Have Sex in the City

My husband moved out in 1998, a year before we got divorced. That's the same year Sex and the City came out. I didn't have HBO at the time (I don't even have cable now). But I did somehow manage to see the show here and there. I loved it but wasn't ready to commit to HBO.

When I got divorced a year later in 1999 I went through what I call "post divorce psychosis." I was finally, or at least I thought I was, a free woman. Every other weekend, when I didn't have my kids, I would go dancing with my friend at National 27. What a blast we had. I went on a ton of dates. Good times we definately had by all. But those crazy times weren't meant to last. My friend met his now wife and had to abide by more of the "I've got a girlfriend" rules.

Thank God for Sex and the City. I finally subscribed to HBO. It made my weekends without my kids and my friend a little more manageable. Every Friday night, I had a date with the t.v. It was always me, a can of pineapple, baked beans, and my 4 imaginary girlfriends. I don't know why the pineapple and baked beans, but somehow, it worked. I swear this show helped me get through the rough times of re-settling into a life that I never expecting to have. That of a single mom and a single woman. I really never expected to not be with my husband. I'm not exactly sure what I expected, but I did know spending so much of my time alone was not it.

The best part of this show, was that it had so many true to life scenarios. And having been through my divorce and being all alone, and sometimes lonely, I really identified with these four women. When they went out on a date, I got to go out on a date. When they had drinks, so did I. It was really exciting for me to watch it. Plus, back in the day, it was on Friday nights at 11 pm and again on Sunday. I could watch it twice a week if I need a little extra Sex in the City therapy.

But then the ball dropped. Sex and the City was coming to an end and with it my faux friends. But thanks to that show I was able to get out of my "dark place" alive. I've watched reruns, I've watched the dvd's. I just love this show. So am I excited about the movie coming out. Oh hell ya. Like the mid days of the show, I haven't been out in quite some while, but when this show comes out, I'll be able to go out again. I really lived vicariously through this show and I'm really glad it's back - if even just for a few weeks.

Extra, Extra, Read All About It. Oprah Gives Up Meat!!

I wonder how many people are going to forego meat this week because Oprah said so. According to PETA, TMZ (my favorite source for info.) and many other sources, she's decided to do a strict cleanse and will also be giving up sugar, wheat, caffeine and alchohol. So what does that leave? Saw Dust? Dirt?

I am a meat eater. I will admit it. I love it. But I do wage an ethical battle with myself every time I eat meat. I only eat beef, bison and occasionally venison harvested through the hunting season. I don't like pork so the pigs got off easy with me. I can live without chicken on my dinner plate although they do make utterly fantastic pets. I don't like fish, so they're safe too. I've tried being a vegetarian off and on since I was about 10 years old. I still haven't been able to find the right combination of foods that doesn't immediately lead to anemia - even when I take an iron pill. But every time I eat meat, I have "meat-eater's guilt." I try to eat every piece that I've prepared because if you throw it away, then that animal involuntarily gave up its life for nothing.

But I do have the highest respect for those who can live this lifestyle successfully. But since I can't, I do believe it's very important to buy your meat from farmers who believe in treating their cattle as if they were their friends. But where do you really find these farmers? After the latest recall of beef due to inhuman treatment of the cows, someone I know and respect, and grew up on a cattle farm, alarmingly (to me at least) found no problem with the treatment of the cows going to slaughter. He said "how do you think they got the cattle on the trucks to take them to slaughter in the first place? You have to keep at 'em with a cattle prod." This, to me is highly upsetting and frankly disgusting.

Every time I eat an egg (that my own chickens did not lay) I wonder if that chicken was well cared for? I also wonder about the milk I drink. Was the cow in fact allowed to pasture? I'm very picky about the companies I will buy from, and really like Organic Valley. But for many companies out there since I've never gotten to see their operation first hand, I'm always a bit skeptical. Especially when it comes to eggs. I've raised chickens for years. A free ranged chicken can not possibly be a vegetarian. So when you see that on an egg label, I wonder how this is can be. Chickens eat insects, insects are meat, and if they are free ranging, I mean truly free ranging, then they've picked up a few bugs along the way.

Honestly, I do think Oprah's decision to check out a non-meat alternative is pretty cool. What I really find amazing is the phenomenon of what I call "Oprah's Lemmings." There is method behind Oprah's madness. But what about her lemmings? They just do what she says. Like robots. Eat this, read this, buy this. Truly amazing. I hope some of the things she talks about to her followers also includes how to find the best locally grown foods, the best farmers markets and why you should really get to know the faces behind the labels. There are a lot of alternatives out there. But I'm afraid now that the big corporations have gotten wind of how successful the organic industry has been that they are going to taint the industry with their Simon Barsinister tactics.

Top left pic: Alexa pretending she's eating Romy our bantam hen; bottom left: my son Alex holding Enrique; right side: me and our 1/2 golden laced wyandotte 1/2 ameraucana rooster Solstice.

This, My People, Is a CRYING SHAME!

Jude Law has just been busted making out with Kimberly Stewart, Rod Stewart's son, I mean daughter. Check out where her hand is. Had enough to drink there Jude? :(

Thank you www.tmz.com for ruining many, many, a good woman's dreams.

Can We Really Be Complete Without a Man?

Oh no she di'int. Oh, yes I di'id. I asked the taboo question. Can we really be complete without a man? I realize that we've all bought into the notion that we don't need a man to feel complete. But exactly what kind of complete are we talking about? Are we talking about career satisfaction? Happiness that our thighs don't rub together? Relief that we can be financially secure and not rely on a man to provide for us? Ok fine. I can dig that. But what about romance?

Can we provide, for ourselves, by ourselves, the needed romance that so many of us crave? Is taking ourselves out to a candlelit dinner the same as sharing it with a romantic partner? Sure, there's always the person who truly is perfectly happy being single. The one that really doesn't want a man around. It reminds me of a conversation I had a few weeks ago with an 80 year old woman I met. She said, like me, that she was an only child (my brothers came about when I was an adult) and, unlike me, never married. Then she said, about five years ago, she looked back on her life and thought to herself, "my God, I never married and never had children. I missed out on that whole part of my life." She wondered what it would've been like to have and raise a family.

Myself, I'm generally happier when I'm single. I do tend to get caught up in men's chaos. (And oh yes, there are a lot of total drama kings out there.) But at times I do feel like something is ... yes, I'll admit it. Something is missing. I want someone to kiss me or hold my hand. I want someone to think I'm really hot and have no problem telling me that - over and over and over again. And if I hear one more time, but you have your kids, I'm going to scream at the top of my lungs - you suck and just don't get it. Holding hands with my kids is sooo way different than holding hands with a man (as it should be). That's like comparing apples to elephants. They're not even in the same food group.

So when will we stop being afraid to admit that we want a man in our life? When did wanting a boyfriend or husband become such a bad thing? When did it become such a secret? It's a primal biological need to be with someone. Save for a few nocturnal primates, we, as primates, are not solitary creatures. If we were, then solitary confinement would seem like a pretty darn good deal as opposed to it driving us insane because of no human contact.

So I'm going to free myself from our self-imposed denials and admit it. Yes, I want a man in my life. Not just any man - the right man. And I'm willing to wait for him, where ever he is. Even the early mother of feminism Gloria Steinem found love. But as I write this, I can feel the low rumblings of women everywhere, believing that I've just set the woman's movement back 20 years by saying that out loud (or worse yet in the written word). But I'm not. I'm just being honest with myself, and with those around me. It's ok to want a mate. But even more, it's ok to admit it.

Are We Restricted By Our Geography?

As it is at many colleges, science is a requirement. I chose anthropology. It was relatively interesting but there was one lecture that really struck a chord with the students. It wasn't until a few years ago that the full gravity of what the professor said really sunk in. He said we have to settle in our relationships because we are restricted by our geography. And the crowd went wild. You could feel and hear (gasp) the disbelief in the students. Actually, it was more like anger. Was he saying, that my husband settled by being with me? Or did I settle by being with him? How could he say something so ignorant? The class protested loudly. Grumble, grumble, hiss, hiss. What do you mean we settle?

According to my professor, we only have a certain geographic span in which to find a mate. Since I was married at the time, I didn't really give it much thought. I'd made my bed and I was lying in it. But now that I'm single again, I got to thinking about this 15 year old lecture. What is he really saying? What do you mean we only have a limited geographic area? We can go anywhere we want. We have cars. We're mobile. We have opposable thumbs for God's sake. But then I thought, how far am I willing to travel to find true love? 10 miles? 50 miles? 3,000 miles? I don't know. I feel like for me, Chicago is done. I've lived here my whole life and haven't found "the one" yet. And now with the price of gas, I don't really want to go any further than bike riding distance. So if geographical restriction means we're only willing and able to travel so far to find our mate and if our mate is not within that traveling span, then by deduction, I guess we're kind of screwed. Thank God I have cats.

Pic: Albert on the left and Aabagaa (almost as beautiful and gorgeous as Alexa - my daughter has a very high self esteem)

Is The Perfect Man a Myth Like the Loch Ness Monster?

I was watching Grey's Anatomy on abc.com this morning. In one scene a woman with a brain tumor appears to have found her perfect man - in her mind - in her fantasies. So it made me think. Does the perfect man exist or does he only exist in my head?

I don't think I'm asking for much when it comes to adult male/female relationships. You say you're going to call, so you call. You say we're going to go out, so we go out. Are you with me so far? Simple - you would think. Reality is, at least in my world, that when a guy says he's going to call me, he never seems to call me in this lifetime. Maybe he intended to call me - at that moment. Maybe he's just a big liar and never intended to call me at all. Personally, I'd rather have someone say, "I'm not going to call you, now, tomorrow or in the next century." Thanks, I won't be waiting by the phone.

But the "deeper" question is, the more "profound' question is, where do you find a guy who does what he says he's going to do? Picture this scenario. Ring, ring. Hello? Oh hi (he called). That whole picking up the phone thing must not be a dominant trait in the male dna. Funny, we can detect microscopic amounts of dna on a dress and try to impeach a president over it, but we can't get a guy to call. Go figure.

But perhaps you think I'm too picky. I don't think I am. I don't require a lot of things in my life - material or otherwise. I like to spend a lot of time outdoors, as much as possible in good weather. I would like someone that likes that too. I want someone that understands my desire to be surrounded by animal friends. Shouldn't be too horrible. I have kids, so must be family friendly. And last but not least, make a really good effort at being environmentally responsible. Oh and I suppose must like going to the movies and laughing. Personal hygiene is also important. And no smoking - sick. Anything else? He should probably also be straight considering I probably just described a very nice gay man.

So, like the Loch Ness Monster, or Big Foot, where is this "perfect" man? (I hear of occasional sightings but they usually are anecdotal - not sure if any photos exist in this century.) And I don't mean a man without flaws, we all have them. I mean the perfect man, for me. I suppose he's out there ... somewhere. Wandering around in the woods or sitting at the river's edge, taking in the sights and smells - probably 4000 miles away in some remote picturesque village, speaking a language I can't understand - wondering where his perfect woman is. (Hey, I'm over here!)

When we do come across the "perfect" person, will we know him (or her) when we see him (or her)? In this fast paced, anonymous world that we live in, do we really get enough time to find out who's standing next to us in line at the store? If we strike up conversation with someone, are we an annoyance or a welcomed bit of conversation? Or, are we so rushed trying to live our lives, that we are blind to what's right in front of us? Good question.

What Kind of Sounds Turn You On?? (or, omg, she soo did not just ask that!)

Sounds are everywhere. Tick tock, swish, swash, cling a ling, ding a ling (is that a sound?). We have words for the sounds and noises that are emitted 24/7. We can even buy white noise machines. I don't even know what white noise machines are or really even what white noise is for that matter. I always think of the t.v. when you don't get any reception, but who'd want to buy something annoying like that??

But be that as it may, sound gets our blood flowing. For some it's the sound of jazz; perhaps a little Joan Jett; or maybe a bit of alternative rock. For others, its the simple sound of their husband running the vacuum cleaner that makes them go wild. I don't think there is one person in our country that isn't affected by sound in one way or another. It is so much a part of our lives that I'm not sure we really even realize or acknowledge how much it affects us. When I was dumped last year, sound caused me horrible pain. My heart literally hurt. I couldn't listen to music for about a year. Every song touched me and brought about uncontrollable tears. Tell me, how the hell does any song by Air Supply make you cry??

Ok, so what kind of sounds turns me on? The sound of silence. No cars, no planes, no phones, no people yelling and certainly no destructive construction. Silence the way our Mother intended it to be. The trill of the red-winged black bird as it searches for its mate, the whistle of the wind as it caresses my face, the insect symphony in the star illuminated night sky. Those are the sounds that send chills down my spine. They make me feel and let me not be afraid to feel. Mother Nature has never made me cry, never made me feel lost. It's never given up on me or told me I can't do something. Nor has it ever left me without an explanation. When I need her, I only have to close my eyes and listen and there she is. Through this silence, I can be the quirky me that I am, unjudged but accepted.

Why "Old People" Shouldn't Have One Night Stands

Simply put. There's nothing sexy about doing the walk of shame with a bum knee, a half a head of hair, all while wearing a mu mu. No, it's not hot trying to sneek away from your trist and then jump into your mini van and take off. And then you realize when you get home that in your mad rush to get the hell outta there you put your leg through the wrong part of your underwear. Very uncool.

Why We Should Keep Playing the "Game"

May 5, 2008 officially marked my 40th year on this lovely thing called earth and since they say 40 is the new 30, well then, I'm 30. I spent my second 30th working some o.t. sifting through documents (bo000ring). So as I'm sitting there non-reading all this work, I started daydreaming about how on my birthday my only company was a pile of meaningless paper. Which of course led me to thinking about the last time I went out, which of course led to the last time I had a date (with a man, not the fruit) which ultimately led to me wallowing in self pity (Oh God, nobody loves me). It's been a full year and a half. Wow - that really sucks.

So then I thought, how is it that I've been so dateless for well over a year? I'm visually acceptable; relatively nice. But, no offers, no potentials, no lost opportunities, no wayward glances that said "you're hot, take me home baby." Nothing, nada, zip.

When I was in my early 20's, men were everywhere. I had to shoo them away. When you're younger (the kind of younger when you feel like you have the world at your fingertips) you have such an air of "wee hee I can do anything I want kind of freedom." You don't even have to remember the names of the guys you're hanging with. You can laugh and flirt and it's all just a good time. I remember my roommate and I had a contest one night while we were at a club to see who could give out our phone number the most and how many guys we could get to make us breakfast the next morning. We didn't go home with anyone, but our phone number sure did. The next morning our phone was ringing off the hook - which of course compounded the pounding and clanging going on in our hungover heads. I remember at least 20 different guys called. God, those were the good old days.

So how did the good old days become "the good old days?" How did I get from there to ... here? Sure some things have changed. I have a few wrinkles, things have gotten a bit wider, perhaps a few things a little bit lower. But when did I take myself out of the game? But the better question is, why did I take myself out of the game? And when do I plan on playing again?

So what happens now? I'm a mom. I have three kids. I can't act all "wee hee-ish." I have to behave and set a good example. How do I justify going out and leaving my kids home so I can go have a crazy adult night? Ironically, I probably need those crazy nights more now than I did when I was younger since half the time I feel like a frazzled lunatic (and probably look like one too - no seriously, I do). So I ask, are crazy good fun loving nights over until my kids are all grown up and out of the house? Or do I just bite the bullet and deal myself a new hand?