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?