Explore, dream, discover…..

Well, the upcoming road trip is beginning to feel a bit more real. The fifth wheel is parked in Richard’s driveway, and the process of getting it road worthy has begun. This certainly will not be my longest time on the road, but it will definitely be the longest time in many, many years, and I am thoroughly looking forward to the experience. Getting out on the road with a loosely followed agenda, is my favorite way to travel. I have friends who really enjoy cruising, others who prefer tours with set agendas, but for me it’s driving along the highway without having to be one place or another on any given day that puts a smile on my face.

Cruising, as a travel plan, really does not appeal to me. I’ve been on two in my time. The second one really served to satisfy both the end of my curiosity about the whole process, as well as quenching my desire to most likely want to do it again. Not that I would vow never to step foot on another cruise ship, mind you. Never, say never. Each experience brings you something to tuck in your memory bag. I’m always open to trying out the three’s the charm theory should something tantalizing come along. My birthday’s coming up here in November. If you were thinking of gifting me a cruise to Greece or Italy, please don’t be shy. A cruise ship just would not be my first choice of a vacation package.

The first cruise I set off on was a brief one, three days in total. I was in my thirties, single at the time. A girlfriend of mine, also unattached, was excited about exploring cruising, and asked me to go along to accompany her. This cruise was geared towards, or so it appeared from the literature provided to, me, getting singles to mingle. I don’t know how inclined I was mingle at that time in my life, things were a bit complicated in my world, but three days with no phones or distractions was enough encouragement for me. We boarded the massive ship at the San Pedro pier, in Southern California. From there, we cruised south down the Baja Peninsula to Ensenada. I remember Ensenada as being a town with a lot of rough edges, which were smoothed out by being bordered by some really spectacular coastline. Now that was then, and this memory is shared to you by someone who barely remembers what she ate for breakfast. We never explored much beyond the area surrounding the docks, so most likely my view of the city is colored by that limitations. Can’t say what it looks like now. It may be spectacular. I’m saying all this in case someone from Ensenada is shaking their heads going, What??? When I was there, all as I recall the area where we frequented consisted of a lot of faded brightly colored buildings liberally covered with graffiti. Meeting up with a group of twenty or so other people interested in going on shore, we spent one crazy night at a local nightclub. It was three tiers of frenzied activity and packed to capacity. The customers were were mainly locals, peppered with groups, obviously tourists, interested in soaking up some local color. The band was playing all the current U.S. hits with the lyrics delivered in Spanish. Ole. Our evening consisted of dancing and margaritas, then margaritas and dancing. Also, I have to add, a lot annoying cheek pinching by the local hombres. There was nowhere to sit, so when a female dared to turn her back on a bank of men standing all around they seemed to view this as an open invitation. At one point, I turned around and told them in my best high school Spanish to CUT IT OUT! This only served to get them all smiling, and then cheering. I thought pinching to be more an Italian or French quirk, but apparently it is universal. At dawn, our motley crew, shaken but not stirred, reboarded our ship once more to begin the voyage home. This night of indulgence, as entertaining as it was at the time, was far less rewarding once we got out in the open sea. The waters were rough that day, and when you are in a large vessel the up and down movements can be slow and agonizing when you are nursing a bit of a head. Writing this, I can recall thinking I might die at one point, just before a bout of nausea rudely interrupted the headache beating a drum above my hairline, having me wishing I would. That last evening on board ship was to be the Captain’s Dinner. I had been looking forward to it with much enthusiasm. A new dress was hanging in the closet purchased for the occasion, and I knew lobster and filet mignon were on the menu, followed by baked Alaska for dessert. I’m sure it was delicious. While the baked Alaska was being plated, the twenty souls who had partied the night away, were lined up like dominos along the upper deck, stretched out under blankets in deck chairs, green faces pointed toward the horizon to prevent our heads from spinning off their axis. Ugh. Sometimes life’s little lessons can prove intensely painful.

The second cruise I embarked on, would be some ten years later. I was older and wiser then, no margaritas for me. What cocktails I left on the table, the college kids pouring onto the deck of the ship ready to party, made up for in spades. I assure you the bar tab wasn’t effected in the slightest by my not drinking their tequila. This ships origin port was Miami, Florida. The gentleman de jour, was a man I had been dating for about a year named Ron. Ron’s parents had a lovely retirement home in Ft. Lauderdale. Flying in several days early, we enjoyed his parents hospitality, and his mother’s amazing baked zitti, yum and double yum, before getting on board ship. The Florida beaches in the spring time are truly lovely. The humidity, though still detectable in the air, has not yet reached the uncomfortable stage, and the bugs are still somewhat doable. I do not know what they feed the insects in that area, but they appear larger than life. I saw a cockroach that looked as if it could be entered in a rodeo, and good news, they fly.

Let me preface this writing by saying, do not book a stateroom on a cruise ship departing from Miami Beach during spring break. OMG. Like ants on a sugar cube, the twenty somethings swarmed across every deck, clogged up every pool, occupied all the available space on the dance floors, and generally commandeered the ship. At four a.m. I would wake up to hear yet another reveler relieving themselves in the potted plants lining the hallways. Don’t misunderstand me, I love young people. They are open and free, and harboring the illusion they are invincible and will never grow old. I know, I was one once. However, en masse, ready to get wild, and armed with their parents American Express cards, they are a lot of unharnessed energy.

The over thirty group would show up early to lay claim to a deck chair before there weren’t any to lay claim to. Nublile girls in just enough cloth to cover what mother told you to cover, lay sprawled all along the decks. Young men, stood at the railing like hawks watching a family of fat rabbits crossing a field. In a way it was entertaining but the entertainment didn’t last very long.

This cruise was for a full seven days. Our first stop was Key West. I would have happily stayed there and waited for them to pick me up on their return trip, but apparently that wasn’t an option included in the tour package. What a lovely place to find yourself. The town is quaint, and oozing with tropical charm. The vibe is “laid back” and the beaches glorious. I would love to go again, should the opportunity arise. I can see why Hemingway chose to write and end his days in that little bit of paradise. It is not for the average wage earner, however, I don’t believe. Even the modest homes for sale command a price of well over a million dollars. I probably won’t be hiring a U-Haul and heading south to Margaritaville any time soon, but one can dream.

Once we hit the open sea, our destination Cozumel, it was a free for all. I was ready to grab one of the life rafts hanging all along the decks and abandon ship. Cozumel, was another scruffy little town, saved from mediocrity by the glistening azure waters skirting it’s edges. The contrast between the massive resorts built up in these remote locations, and the living style of the people inhabiting the area, is always startling to me. If there is a golden beach and money to made, someone is going to erect a hotel on it.

One of the main attractions in Cozumel, beyond snorkeling and other water related activities, were tours to the Mayan ruins. I would love to describe visiting them to you in vivid detail, but I never made it there. Ron, still holding on to the first nickel he earned from his third grade paper route, wasn’t one to spend any extra money on tours. The me now, would have gone ahead without him, but the me then, felt bad to abandon him to shopping in town by himself. I missed an opportunity that probably will not be on the playbill again in the near future, if ever. Instead I ended up going shopping, which I could have done in California. Ah well, live and learn, hopefully. lol.

At any rate, the trip was memorable in that it was a hot mess. Ron and I discovered on our return we really didn’t need to move forward together beyond that trip. We really weren’t well paired. There is nothing like being cooped up alone for an extended period of time to make this crystal clear. Like many things in life, though it felt bad for the moment, in the end turned out to be a good thing. One door shuts, and another opens. The story, my friends, of my life in brief.

So, I look forward to making a memory in September with Richard. Thirty days in a fifth wheel will be a telling experience as well I am sure. I do hope this story has a happy ending to report to you. If it doesn’t go well, and you see a little blonde by the side of the road with her thumb up, carrying a sign reading “Sacramento or Bust” please stop and give her a lift.

Have an adventure this summer. There is no day like to day to write a new chapter.

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Someday my prince will come…..

Thursday was hair day for me. I drove up to Grass Valley, my old stomping grounds, where my hairdresser is located. As a barber shop provides sanctuary for men, a beauty salon offers the same respite for women. Much is discussed under a salon roof during the couple of hours we ladies spend there. After my color was applied, I was seated in a room with four other customers, all in various stages of “cooking” their roots. The woman directly across from me, had enough tin foil in her hair to provide rib coverage for a hometown Texas barbecue. As women will, whether acquainted or not, we began to speak amongst ourselves. The young woman to my left, I’d say in her late twenties, told us she was on a dating site. The week before she had gone on her 46th “first date”. The 46th man standing, had asked her to a movie. Personally, if trying to find out if I like someone, a movie would be my last choice if venue. Unless you are one of those annoying people who talks during the entire show, how are you going to learn anything about the person seated next to you? At any rate, plans were made for them to meet at a shopping center then drive together to a local theater. Five minutes before the date was to begin, she got a text from him asking if she would mind if several of his family members joined them. Already in the parking lot where they were to meet, she replied, “I guess that’s fine”. As it turned out, half his immediate family and some of his extended family were included in the invitation. His mother, several cousins, a young nephew, a younger sister, and a brother and his date were all waiting in front of the theater for them when they got there. In the middle of the movie, a text arrived on her date’s phone ostensibly from his maternal grandfather. The text, so it seemed, was to advise him his grandmother was having palpitations and had been rushed to a local ER. Whispering all this in her ear, he added his grandpa was ninety and couldn’t manage this by himself, so he had to go to the hospital to help. Before leaving, he asked his brother to get her back to her car. Really? Several questions come to mind here. One, why is his mother still eating her popcorn while her mother is in dire straits at the ER, and secondly, how amazing is it his 90 year old grandfather knew how to text? Just saying. To my mind, Mom might have been the one to leave, since her son was on a DATE. Seemed a bit dicey to me, but then I’m older and have more battle scars to my credit. Feeling totally like the fifth wheel, this poor girl had to wait til the movie was over, and then be driven back to her car by strangers. Wow. I would have called Uber. According to her, this wasn’t even her worst date. That being true, I might just get a puppy and leave it at that. She went on to say, she also had a stalker in the mix, someone she called “the groper”, several scammers and three different guys who had simply portrayed themselves as other than what they were. Check please.

This got me to thinking about the men I’ve met so far. The first man is a lovely man I like to call, “the thinker”. Very deep well this human being. I find him intellectually stimulating and have learned a great deal communicating with him mainly via text. I’ve met him only once for a cup of coffee, but we have formed a friendship through texts which I find I’ve come to look forward to every day. He is coming to dinner soon, so we will see what lies hidden behind that door. Whether or not I form a lasting bond with him remains in the air, but as I say often, you take something away from every encounter you have. Each person, like seasoning in a savory stew, adds a little flavor to the pot. Sometimes it’s too much salt, and other times it enhances the taste. Even a woman at the check out counter at the market who shares a recipe with you while paying for her groceries, or gives you the name of an odor free cat litter, leaves you with new information to take along with you on your journey.

After the thinker, came “the tinker”. A lovely man, definitely old school. He spends much time refurbishing and reselling items he picks up at yard sales and local auctions. I find him kind, thoughtful, entertaining, and very resourceful. Not a person to sit at home waiting for life to happen to him. I’m not sure he’s a love match, if you will, but he is an extremely nice person to spend the day with. Sometimes that is enough, for that day at least.

Then “the head shrinker” appeared on the horizon. A psychologist, by trade, he possibly needed one to talk to one as well. This man didn’t seem to know from one minute to next what his right foot or his left foot were doing. We met twice. The first time was over a cup of coffee when he mentioned he liked the freedom to throw his clothes all over the floor and live with wild abandon now he was living alone. After that revelation, he went to say living alone provided him the space to be himself. Another potential partner who made me question why, if they are so happy living unencumbered, they take the time to sign up to on a dating site to meet someone to burden themselves with? So curious. On our second date, which was dinner, over dessert he said he had been dating someone for nearly a year who professed to be in love with him. Assuring me the feelings were not reciprocal, he went on to say didn’t want to hurt her so didn’t want to break up with her. First, I don’t want to be the one who caused another woman pain. Second, what? Again, check please. Oh my.

The gentleman in who’s company I spent the most time, would be “the stinker”. The stinker and I actually shared a definite connection. Unfortunately, however, our political and ideological leanings were polar opposites of each other. As much as I hoped we could simply agree to disagree, after a while it leaned far heavier towards disagreeing. Fighting my way through my remaining years would not be something I would look forward to. Too bad, because like myself, he liked to spend time in the kitchen, and we both shared a slightly offbeat and quirky way of looking at life. Those definite core differences, however, would not be overlooked. Eventually, it became clear we would have significant trouble blending our worlds. Our families, and many of our friends, share our way of thinking. In the end, it was better to finish before we started. I’m not viewing this as a regret in any way, because I have taken from that relationship the happy knowledge romance is still possible for me. Also, lesson learned here, find out which side a potential man’s allegiances lie and how deeply they influence him before accepting his invitation to dinner. In today’s volatile political arena, it can make a difference.

Then there was “the winker”. This guy never met a lady he didn’t appreciate. Kept calling me “baby” or “sugar babe”. Uh-uh. Only my mother was entitled to use baby as an endearment, and not even the Queen is entitled to call me sugar babe. I have been sweetie, honey, babe and honey bun over the years. You have to draw a line in the sand somewhere. Also, I was married to a winker back in the 80’s. The only person happy in that relationship, is the winker himself. Next.

Lastly, I met “the drinker” for a cocktail this past week. I should have taken note he owned three bars when he was in the Bay Area. Though a very nice man in many ways, and easy to talk to, I could see by the third cocktail arriving at our table in an hour and a half, drinking was something very much a part of his fabric. This, and smoking, are deal breakers for me. I have watched alcohol destroy people I loved and two men die of lung cancer. Just not on my acceptable habits list. Social drinking is fine. I enjoy an adult beverage here and there myself, but not habitual drinking.

So, all I need now is a tattoo artist who I could call “the inker”, or a well digger who I could call “the sinker” and I’d be almost through the ink words.

While in the beauty parlor, and on the subject of dating sites, the pictures the men were posting became a lively topic of conversation. Seriously, gentlemen, in the kindest way, you need to step it up just a tad. Some of the profile photos look like recent D.U.I. shots fresh off the police blotter. In others you see a guy wearing the old plaid shirt with the mustard stain his wife told him to put in the donate bin, or half his face might be missing. Others are are so pixelated, you can’t see the image at all, making you wonder if that is the point. If you want the fish to bite, you have to put out more tantalizing bait. I’m just saying.

So that’s my dating log for today. My belief if is “if you don’t try, you don’t get”. I would prefer to put myself out in the world to see if my prince awaits and have a misstep or two, than to have never made the effort. These men are to a man very nice people in their own right. I like to think I am a nice person in mine. Because we are nice people, does not make us a romantic fit for one another. Finding a soul or love connection that is real and lasting is a big endeavor. Some people never find it. My pheromones are in the wind. The quest continues. Wish me luck.

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Your call is important to us…..

The holiday weekend is upon us. I wonder so many people I know are going on road trips with the price of gas being what it is. Literally, my gas tank is siphoning my bank account dry. The good news is apparently prices are headed up, not down. Boo, the Queen of Cats, may have to seek employment if she wishes to continue indulging in her special salmon/chicken treats that cost me an arm and a leg every week at the pet store.

The past week, I have been sifting through open jobs online. I sent out three applications from one site before noticing the email associated with my profile was an old one I deactivated some time ago. Thinking this to be an easy fix, I went in to change it. After a half an hour of expletives and repeating the same task over and over again with no positive result, I had to throw up the white flag and admit I was stumped. Hate that. I decided to see if I could locate a customer service number on the site. Naturally, there wasn’t one to be found. They never include these numbers, I’ve noticed lately, so you have to muck about on your own until you either give up or drink the Kool-Aid. Jesh. Doing a Google search, I came up with an actual phone contact number. Yay. Dialing it, I was dropped into the usual endless loop of questions about why I had called in the first place. I have come to believe companies do this so they will wear you down and you will simply hang up and slink back under your rock. The first question in the next loop said, “If you are a job seeker, press 1”. Dutifully, I pushed 1 on my phone. The message once 1 had been pushed said, “Thank you for choosing our company for your job search. Please go to our website located at …….. for assistance. Good luck with finding a job you love”. Since there was no other option available but to hang up, I did, but then called right back. Turns out, when listening to the message again, there was also an option 2 available. Option 2, it appeared, was for companies looking for employees. Hmmmmm, says I, and pushed 2. Sure enough, a human voice appeared on the other end of the phone. I explained to the woman what the problem was, and she assured me she could rectify the situation on her end. SUCCESS!! She asked me all the questions used to identify the caller as the actual owner of the account. Then, she asked the name of my company. Ummmm? So, I did something I actually have perfected, I acted dumb. “Company”, says I? She went on to explain this line was for company inquiries. “Oh, huh, who knew”? At any rate, after putting me on hold, she came back on and fixed the problem for me. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I say.

Good news is I already have an interview set up for this coming week. The jobs I chose to apply for were definitely a lot below my skill level. I have had high impact, stressful jobs most of my life. This time around I want twenty hours a week, a small supplementary paycheck, and zero – spell that z-e-r-o stress. The past eight years have had enough stress packed into them to satisfy my stress quotient for the next twenty years, so I feel at this point I am good to go.

Today I am going out to lunch with the new man in my life. Cheeseburgers are what the restaurant we are going to are known for. This offers up a direct line to my heart, as a good cheeseburger is my favorite meal. With fries, naturally. We are just beginning the arduous process of getting to know one another. When you are in your twenties, you haven’t had enough life experience to really have a lot of wrinkles to iron out. Now that is not true of everyone, of course. People like Charles Manson covered a lot of ground by their mid twenties, but generally people of that age are at the beginning of their learning curve. By the time you’ve hit fifty, you’ve pretty much crested the hill, and have most likely added a lot of notches to your belt. At the mid point of our lives, there are usually marriages, or at least serious relationships behind us, children, grandchildren even, and a whole bag full of life to share with a new partner. Some of the contents of the bag, one would certainly hope, will prove productive. There will be learned lessons tucked away in the bag, along with uncovered talents, achieved goals, hopes and dreams, all mixed in with heartaches, losses, unfulfilled desires and failures. The trick is to not take the memories or unfortunate events associated with old relationships that did not work, or memories with hard edges and drag them into the empty bag waiting to be filled up by a new relationship. I speak from some experience, this is not always an easy task and one I struggle with.

Outside my window the tops of the trees are bent in the wind. We seem to have an awful lot of windy days this year. According to the weather station this can be attributed to climate change. Wind always makes me a bit edgy. My friend, up on such things, says it has something to do with ions which effect your mood. My mood has been a bit off for a couple of days. I need to move it up the happy scale a bit before I meet my new guy for our burger. As I’ve said I’m usually fairly sunny as a personality but for some reason, could be all the sad news this week about shootings and mayhem my smile is beginning to droop. I’ve noticed I’m not alone in this. The phone has been ringing even more than it’s usual craziness and often the person on the other end has wanted to discuss a problem or was simply feeling somehow down and without energy. I keep pumping up my tire, and someone keeps coming by to stick a nail in it. It is hard not to absorb the collective energy swirling all around us right now. For me, when effected in such a way, I have to chain myself to my chair to keep from heading out for a little retail therapy. I am trying to generate new income right now, not deplete what financial security I do have. I heard a startling statistic this morning, 25% of Americans have no savings whatsoever to lean back on. That really did surprise me. I wouldn’t have any either if it wasn’t I have recently sold a house. Just heard that since I sold my home three years ago the value of it has increased by $100,000. Whew. Up, up, up and away here in California with the price of either owning or renting a place to hang your hat accelerating at a fevered pace.

At any rate before I go completely down the rabbit hole here, that is what I know for today. I need to go in and readjust my smile and prepare for my date. Have a good and safe holiday weekend. Keep your smile in place and hope for the best outcome no matter what.

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Check please…..

Here I am seated at my keyboard at 3 a.m. again. Sigh and double sigh. Methinks I may never get another complete night’s sleep again. I do long for those days when I would hit the snooze alarm three times before dragging my tired self out of a warm bed to get ready for work. Sleepy eyed and wishing for one more hour of shut eye before facing my day, I would pad into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I ask you, where oh where has that eight hour a day sleepy girl gone?

Guess lack of sleep is part of the aging process. It’s not my favorite part. There are many things about getting older, however, I totally embrace. For instance, I do not miss knowing I have to go into work every single day of the week and remain there for eight hours or more. I do not miss this. I do have to say, of late, I have begun to wonder how on earth I fit eight hours of work in my day. I can’t even seem to find free time to have lunch with a friend on my calendar. Life has gotten very busy since the pandemic released it’s grasp on our lives.

Another thing I like about getting older, is I seem to have learned quite a bit along the way. Between simply trying things on and seeing how they work for me, doing incredibly stupid things and finding out they don’t work for me at all, and generally soaking up all the information from the lessons presented to me during my lifetime, I seem to have gathered some wisdom along the way. Amen to that. It used to be I jumped into a situation with both feet and then figured out how to back out of it somewhere later down the road. Now, I sort of circle the wagons and take a long, slow look at what I’m doing before simply diving into the pot. Like that. Like that a lot.

As I said a while back, I have begun to explore dating once again. I have never dated at this age before, largely because today I am as old as I have ever been. If you get my drift. Most people who have reached this point in their lives are pretty much settled into who they are going to be. I know this is true of me. Was I to describe myself, I might use the adjective my friends seem to like to choose for me, “hummingbird”. I am a flitterer for sure. My metabolism, thanks Mom, keeps me moving. Fast seems to be the only speed on my dial and this remains true even though my body doesn’t always cooperate the way it used to anymore when asked to keep up the pace. Artistic might be another adjective I would apply when speaking to who I am. Certainly I am neat, and for the most part I like to show up on time and prefer others to do the same. Most of all I would say, I love to laugh and have fun. Now, there are lots of checks on the negative side as well, of course. I’m not saying I’m by any stretch of the imagination I am a perfect being. I am totally stubborn at times. Rick used to say I was the most hard headed female he ever knew. Most likely that will be written on my tombstone. “Here lies one hard headed woman”. I like to communicate, and am a pretty good talker but also enjoy my quiet solitary times and can, when in that mood, prefer to be left totally alone with my thoughts. I am not high maintenance as far as material things, or I like to believe that to be true, but I do love to be adored and like lots of attention. I am, after all, an only child and a scorpio one at that. There you are, Susie, the pluses and minuses, in a nutshell. Not looking for perfection in the person I’m dating either, just mutual respect and some line items in common to bring us together.

The first man I attempted to get to know, we’ll call him Paul, was also a talker. At our first and only meeting, Paul shared with me right out of the gate, he was the father of ten children. I might have saved that piece of information at least until after the coffee was poured. Whew. It’s not that I mind he has such a brood, I love children, but his children have children. When he showed me a family picture it was taken in a panoramic format so as to include everyone in the frame. My mind immediately went to meeting all ten of his offspring. It has been my experience having one or two adult children check you out when dating their dad can be a grueling process. All those unstated questions hanging in the air. “Are you trying to replace my mother”, “are you after dad’s money”? Imagine twenty inquisitive eyes dissecting you like a frog in biology class! After I’d digested that big bite, he went on to tell me he had recently made a trip to Ecuador to explore the spiritual side of his nature. That he was exploring the spiritual part of him, I found exciting. I said that sounded like an interesting trip, and asked him to tell me more. Turned out trip was the optimum word here. While there, he continued, he had ingested some kind of magic mushrooms which took him to places in his mind where he had never been before. At that point my mind was taking me places as well, such as looking for the exit doors in the restaurant. Thanking him for a lovely cup of coffee and the scone, I exited stage left. When I got home he sent me a text stating he had a questionnaire he would like me answer. He went on to say, he would do the same on his side, to see if we should proceed from there. Next!

After Paul, I waited a bit to test the waters again. Next came Dan. Dan was a lovely man really. He was an engineer and had a beautiful home high in the foothills above where I live. Dan had been widowed for six years and was very attractive and well spoken. After we met through a mutual friend, Dan asked me to have lunch with him, and I accepted. Have to admit there were a few butterflies fluttering around in my stomach as the time approached for Dan to pick me up for our lunch date. When he arrived, and I invited him in to see my house, his first words were “wow, you are so neat and clean”. I took this as a compliment, but thinking back it came as sort of a nervous response. Hmmmm. We had chosen a fun place to eat locally for our first meal together. Over burgers and fries we scratched the surface of who we are as people. The usual questions came up about children, activities we enjoyed, types of food we like to eat, etcetera, etcetera. I swear I’m going to write a book and simply hand it out at the first date. If they get past chapter four and wish to proceed, we can go from there. Dan has two children, boys, living in the Bay Area. He likes to hike, which I do as well, was involved in remodeling his home, and was looking for someone to spend time with and perhaps have a relationship with if that worked out. Check and check. A beginning.

After lunch, which went well, we made plans to get together the following week for dinner. During the week we texted back and forth a few times discussing what was going on in our respective lives and just generally keeping up with one another. Once we made it to the day of our second meeting, and arrived at the restaurant where we were to have dinner, we were getting along great. The meal was delicious, the conversation flowed, all was moving along swimmingly. Well, almost. When dessert was served Dan brought up that he enjoyed being single and living alone. The reason he does, he went on, is that he likes the freedom to throw everything and anything everywhere and anywhere it landed. He told me though he was dressed nicely for our date, at home he was a complete slob and enjoyed living that way. Now, I’m all for personal freedom. You should live whatever way that works for you. Seriously, I’m all about that. If throwing corn cobs on the floor or never making your bed works for you then God bless you, really. However, that is not how I choose to exist. Mess and chaos make me messy and chaotic. I was processing this information when he told me there was another woman he had been dating for five months. She, according to him, was in love with him, but this feeling was not reciprocated on his part. Uh-huh. Check please. Sigh. Why, I wanted to ask, are we here eating Tirimasu if you, a) like being single and want to live alone and throw your clothes all about, and b) already have a relationship? Perhaps I should do a questionnaire myself?

So, it is back to the drawing board for me. I’m just not sure where I want to proceed from here, or even if. I do have sort of an eternal optimism about love. I believe there is one more true romance out there in my story, and I am willing to do the research to see if I can find him. Perhaps we are back to the old adage, “you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince”.

That’s it for today. Hot, hot, hot here in Northern California. Got the air cranking and the blinds half open. Have a great day!!

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Getting your ducks in a row…..

A friend of mine recently started dating for the first time since going through a messy divorce about five years ago. Her children are grown, so that is one issue she won’t have to deal with. Still, dipping your toe in the dating pool again is a slippery slope when you first put yourself back out there. On this specific subject, I can speak with some authority having been married four times. Now, having been married four times certainly does not qualify me as an expert. Let’s be real, betting on four horses who never crossed the finish line is not exactly to be considered a stellar track record. However, those unions and others have left me with a sizable bank of experience on the topic of relationships at this stage of the game. For the most part, I have already fallen in most of the potholes encountered while looking love, and climbed back out of them more times than I care to mention. Hopefully, I have gathered a little knowledge to take with me each time I made it back to the surface.

I was thinking about Rick and our first date. He took me to a hockey game in San Jose. The Sharks were playing the Canucks. At the time, we were still at the stage where we were gathering information about one another. The fact I am Canadian by birth hadn’t been a topic we’d discussed at any length. Seated in his excellently positioned season ticket seats, we had a great view of the ice. Naturally, being in the Shark’s home stadium, the stands were packed with ardent Sharks fans wearing all manner of team shirts and waving Sharks paraphernalia. A man two seats over from me had his head completely obscured by a full size shark head with a hole in front where he could watch the game between the teeth. When the Canucks took the ice something deep in my roots pushed my nationalism button and I began whooo-hooing vigorously for the Canadian players. Rick turned to stare at me with his mouth fully agape. Aside from the fact he was a die hard Sharks fan, this was not recommended behavior when seated smack in the middle of a huge pool of fans rooting for the other side.The man who’s face appeared in the middle of the sharks teeth turned and actually stuck his tongue out at me. Really? In spite of a bit of a rocky start to the evening, people forgot my indiscretion in the heat of the game, and we had so much fun. Talking came easily between us. After the game was over, and my Canucks had plummeted down like a maple leaf swirling in a stiff breeze, we decided to go to a local hot spot where there were video games lining the aisles of every type and description. Sitting side by side on motorcycles connected to a screen in front of us, we leaned left and then right. Manipulating the controls on the handlebars, an animated screen simulated our movements as if we were actually careening along the highway faced with obstacles along our way. That, I have to say, was the highlight of the night for me. By the time we said our goodbyes, we’d sewn the first seeds in what was to be a nearly twenty year relationship.

I have had some really memorable dates over the years, both good and bad. Just because you remember an evening, doesn’t always mean you recall the details for the right reasons. Getting married the first time at the ripe old age of nineteen, I never dated as a legal adult until I was single again at twenty-seven. Though unattached, as far as relationship status on my Income Tax papers, I did not consider myself unattached. There were two children in the picture. This puts dating on a very different level. Being a single mother is very rewarding but it isn’t a walk in the park. All the parenting falls to you, and the decisions you make whether the right ones or the wrong ones, lead back to your door as well. Essentially, though there were stepfathers in the picture, my biological father died when I was one year old, so I consider myself raised by a single mother as well. After my father passed away, my mother didn’t start dating again until I was around four. I was her point man. As she likes to tell it, if a date came to pick her up at the front door, I would look up at the man she was going out with and say, “are you going to be my daddy”? There it was, I was a buzz kill at four. As you can imagine that cooled off a lot of engines before the first rush of gas even made it to the carburetor. Looking back, I think I was interviewing for the job. My mom was a beautiful young woman, so there were a lot of eligible men interested in getting her attention, who I perceived as potential fathers. About two years into the program, I had made my choice from the selection I’d been given of the gentlemen in her social circle. Admiral Fox, was his name, Foxy to his friends. The first time I saw the admiral, he arrived to pick up my mother to take her to a dinner dance. As my grandmother was to describe him, the admiral was a “tall drink of water”. When he entered the house from the foyer and stepped into the downstairs hall, he had to remove his hat to keep from knocking it off as he walked through the door. An impressive man by any standards, to me he looked like a prince standing before us. Bending down to shake my hand, I thought him resplendent in his naval uniform adorned with all manner of medals detailing the history of his military achievements. Interested in winning over my mother, and understanding the chain of command standing between him and that goal being my grandmother and then myself, he wisely brought my grandmother flowers and for me a sailor’s hat plus an armload of comic books. He had my vote tucked in his well decorated pocket before he left on my mother’s arm for the evening. Unfortunately, though he was my choice for hero, he was not to be my mother’s. The heart wants, what the heart, wants, and in the end Foxy was not what my mother’s heart wanted. That being said, after a lovely lunch on the aircraft carrier Admiral Fox commanded and several dinners and outings following, I bid a regretful “ships ahoy” to the admiral and the search for a dad continued. Note to reader here, I am still on that mission.

I was allowed to begin dating, other then in coed groups, when I was fifteen. The one place I was forbidden to go whether as a couple or with other couples, was the drive-in. My parents viewed drive-ins as hot beds of raging hormones populated by steamed up windows and overheated teenagers. Which, of course, is exactly what they were. Mother was a bit of a helicopter parent, before the phrase had ever been coined. I can remember when I was in high school she would send my dog in the den with us if I had invited a boy over. To preface, my dog, a tiny Pomeranian named Mandy, didn’t like men. This, largely due to the fact my stepfather didn’t like dogs. It was a Mexican standoff between the two of them and there were to be no winners. He would make his distaste evident by leaving her in the back yard when she wanted to come in or yelling loudly when she barked. She, would exact revenge by urinating in his slippers or lying in wait for him as he was headed to the kitchen for coffee, and nipping at the back of his ankles. Even more than the dog’s dislike for men, she resented anyone sharing my affections. If she detected someone else was getting more attention than she was, she would give it her best effort to level the playing field. Positioning herself between my date and I on the couch. If I put her down, she’d jump back up. If I removed her from the room entirely, she would sit outside the door and howl until let back in again. If put outside she would scratch at the screen until my mother let her in. What she lacked in menacing stature, the dog made up for in dogged (pardon the pun) tenacity. I believe she was in fact a well trained agent in my mother’s network of spies. If the boy as much as lifted his arm to scratch his nose, Mandy would curl back one lip and growl menacingly. Should he try to place that arm around my neck, my diminutive guardian might attempt a coup and snap her teeth together in his direction. In her defense, though she could appear menacing, she never bit anybody. That being said, she could be a fierce little defender when the spirit moved her.

The trouble, beyond the obvious, with ending a relationship with one person, is eventually you most probably will have to begin a new one with someone else. This means starting at Ground 0 once again, answering all the familiar questions and establishing new bonds with yet another potential mate. The song “Getting To Know You” is now freely streaming in my head. Sometimes I think I’d rather get a puppy or a bird and just leave it at that. Other things to think about might be if the new man or woman in your life has children. If they do, it will mean meeting them. Just because you are enamored with one of their parents, does not offer any guarantee you will feel the same way about his or her offspring, nor them about you. Friends too can be a problem, especially best friends, if there isn’t a connection to be found there. The more I write about this the more attractive adopting a little Corgi puppy is beginning to sound.

Thankfully, Dale and I haven’t had any problems over the last couple of years. He is a likeable being who attracts likeable beings to him making the whole process so much easier. He, in turn, likes my friends, an eclectic bunch, but very lovable. I like them just that way, and wouldn’t change a hair on their pointy little heads. Always I have chosen to associate myself with interesting, somewhat complicated, fun human beings. People who can see more than one side of the coin, and have something interesting to contribute when sitting across the table from you. I also like people who are willing to get a bit silly at times, dance in the moonlight, or sing karaoke even if totally off tune like myself. People, I guess you might say, not afraid to color outside the lines on occasion, wear white after Labor Day, or live their lives without having to always do the “right thing” at the “right time”.

Many times I have gone on dates where I knew in the first ten minutes of the evening would last for only that one encounter. Chemistry, I believe, is not something that can be created. It is either there, or it is not. For whatever reason like little fireflies blinking in the dark, some people’s lights shine brighter for us than others, and that is a fact of life. I have met people I instantly felt a connection with, both friends and love interests. People who I could talk to right out of the gate, and share a commonality with that would endure over the years. Other people, and I’m sure you’ve had similar experiences, I could be locked in a vault with for thirty days and a single spark would never ignite between us.

There are certain traits I have identified over years of dating, I choose to avoid. I don’t enjoy people who still have the first dollar they ever earned. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not a high maintenance female, but also I don’t like someone who when you share a tab tells you your share is $15.92 exactly. It is important to establish from the beginning who you are and what you enjoy doing before you fully commit to getting to know someone. For example, your idea of fun is staying in binge watching “The Crown” and ordering take-out on weekends, and he is a guy who climbs Half Dome for fun on Saturdays or has a kayak rack on top of his SUV you have to wonder how that is going to work out on down the road when the fairy dust has dispersed. Picking the right partner in the sea of humanity we have to choose from is no task for the feint of heart I’m telling you. I always admire people who do so successfully in the beginning and remain in one union for sixty or so years.

So my thoughts for a Monday. Rick’s birthday was yesterday. Seems like he was sitting next to me in the car last week and it has been nearly three years since he passed away. Happy Birthday dear Ducky. Thinking of you.

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He loves me, he loves me not…..

As I mentioned several posts back I’ve embarked on a new relationship. I was neither looking for one, nor really prepared for one, when one knocked on my door. Life really does consist of the times events are actually happening, and the gaps in between when you are waiting for events to happen.

I have a single friend who said to me the other day. “You are lucky to have found someone. I have been looking for ten years without any decent nibbles. Most men our age want younger women.” She then quoted an old saying, so not true, about women over forty being less likely to get married than than being killed by terrorists. What an awful, and totally sexist, statement. It surprised me it was coming from female lips. The problem is, I think, a lot of women have swallowed that hook. It implies, in short, women have less value after a certain age. I could not disagree more, and this not because I rank among their numbers. Most of the wisdom I have gained over the years has been handed down to me from women far senior to myself. Women who have already immersed themselves in their lives, dived in and tested the waters along the way, and in many cases made the current smoother for the ladies coming up behind them. When I was twenty there is no denying my skin was pristine, my eyes shinier, my body tighter and my bones more agile but I didn’t know a donut from a hot rock when it came to living my life. I also don’t feel “lucky” to have found someone. I feel am a lady with something to offer who is deserving of sharing time with someone who treats me well. Conversely, in defense of the gentlemen, I don’t like when I hear ladies say, “all the good men are already taken” when speaking of older men in the dating pool. Like everything from picking the best apples in the barrel to deciding what house to live in or where to invest your money, you have to sort through some unsuitable choices before deciding on ones which fits your needs best.

My new partner and I share a lot of similar beliefs, including a like spiritual path and similar political leanings. Both of us also lean toward silly, which I really enjoy. Someone too serious about life would never fit in well with my personality or lifestyle. I believe the younger version of myself concentrated more on surface attraction rather than delving into common interests or goals. One thing paramount to me at this time in my life, is peaceful coexistence. I have participated in my share of contentious relationships. Looking back on these pairings, I consider them a learning curve. From each union, I took with me newly gained knowledge about what I was willing to allow in a relationship and what I was not, what fit and what didn’t. These were not lessons I always learned on the first go round, I’m nothing if not hard headed, but eventually even my hard head was able to absorb what was and what was not productive to helping me flourish.

Trust is not a strong suit of mine. People are disappointing, and the people in my life sometimes couldn’t or wouldn’t keep my trust as promised. Lessons can be both negative and positive. I have found that each negative stone I have loaded into my personal baggage was best dealt with then left by the wayside. If I continued to harbor them, the burden became too weighty to carry on with lightness in my step. By the time we have achieved a certain age, most of us have pasts to contend with. Some people, of course, are more fortunate. Couples, for example, who meet their perfect match in high school, bear and raise lovely children with them, and usher in the unknowns of old age hand in hand rank among the luckiest in my book. For many of us, this is not the story we will tell. Being open to new love means leaving old wounds behind and embracing what is happening now.

One thing I know for sure, marriage is definitely not in my future. I have already run that flag up the flagpole and now am focused more on a companion or partner without benefit of shared paperwork. I used to think I had one ceremony, one partner in my future. I was young and the world seemed wide open in front of me with all the possibilities it has to offer. When I said “I do” the first time I thought that would be the last but certainly that was not to be. Each person creates their own story line. My grandmother had one love. When my grandfather died before his time, she chose to remain alone for the next thirty-five years. Conversely, my mother remarried for the fourth time in her eighties and was blissfully happy for ten years. Our perspectives and dreams have to morph and reshape as life transpires. Three years ago I did not imagine my world without Rick, yet here it is, and here I am.

So, I embark on a new adventure. I am open to exploring how this new piece of my quilt blends in with those already sewn in place . For me it is important to avoid comparisons, for that can be both self-defeating and frustrating. This is a new chapter not a continuation of the previous one and should be given its own consideration. I look forward to seeing what lies around the next bend in the road.

Have a lovely weekend. I have my corned beef in the fridge waiting to hop in the pot with the carrots and red potatoes. I am celebrating St. Patty’s Day a bit early this year as I get my second Covid shot on Monday and don’t know what to expect as a result.

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Having perfected our disguise, we spend our lives searching for someone we don’t fool.― Robert Brault and Banana Strawberry Pain Perdu

It’s 4:00 a.m. and I’m drinking my first cup of coffee. Welcome to my insomnia. The cat and I are watching “Must Love Dogs” for the 964th time, understandably not her favorite flick. There’s something comforting about an old familiar movie. Perhaps it’s that you already know the flow of the film. If you need to use the facilities or make a snack while the movie is playing you can pick right up where you left off when you plop back into your seat. Being already aware of the beginning, middle, and end, there are no unexpected surprises. You are assured you will like the ending before it ever plays out on the screen. Nothing like life itself where each day holds its own mix of mystery laced with an unsettling dusting of the unknown. Must Love Dogs, if you’ve seen it, is about the pitfalls of reentering the dating world after a breakup and the missteps when starting a new relationship.

Dating is such a murky pond. I am glad I’m not tossing my line over the side anymore. A friend of mine asked me recently what I’d do if I found myself once again on my own. Interesting question. I’m usually the one asking her about the men in her life. Generally a short conversation. Widowed twenty years she hasn’t dated since her husband passed nor shows any interest in doing so in the near future. As to what I would do if single again, I didn’t have an immediate answer. The question did trigger a line of debate in my mind after I hung up. Would I or wouldn’t I look for love again? With Rick sleeping peacefully in the other room this seems an unlikely scenario for me. Life has a way of throwing you curves, however, so I have learned never to say never. The thought of beginning anew with another person at this juncture in my life is daunting. Truly you never replace someone you love deeply. Another person can share your heart in a different way, but they cannot fill the exact same spot held by the person left behind.

How would I find someone who would accept the quirky parts of me as seamlessly? I sing to the cat, celebrate Clean Sheet Day, raise my hands in the air and dance in place when surprised, and generally am a rather silly composite of tissue and bone. Conversely, Rick has his own oddities and nuances which I find enchanting where someone else might not. That settles it. He and I will each have to live to be 108 and die hand in hand while cliff diving in Acapulco. I’ve always wanted to try cliff diving, and if I did I’m quite sure that would be the outcome.

According to news sources millennials aren’t stepping into marriage at the same pace as their predecessors. This is not to say they don’t enter into serious or meaningful relationships by any means, rather they don’t seem to have the urge to sanctify these relationships with marriage as often as generations before them.

There are so many things to consider when choosing a new person to share your life with. In a society where divorce is not uncommon, children can be a huge consideration. How will the new partner integrate with your offspring or you with theirs should the relationship take a turn toward serious? Being a step parent is a big responsibility. I’ve done it twice. Both parties having children adds a whole new dimension to the program. Will your kids blend well together? Then there are the exes. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Even if you haven’t any children, does the person you are dating want a family? Do you long for children where he would prefer it to remain just the two of you? This, when staring into his endlessly fascinating blue eyes, may not seem important when the relationship is newly blooming, but I guarantee as the years pass will definitely take on more importance.

There are a lot of things we don’t think of when getting to know someone. For example, Rick is a night person. I, on the other hand, shine when the sun does. This could pose a problem for some couples. In our case it happens it does not. For us, it allows both of us alone time and when we meet in the middle of the day we really enjoy each others company.

Money, is another issue which should not be ignored. Are you a lady who can’t resist a shoe sale at Nordstrom’s going with a man who still has his untouched piggy bank from grade school? This may work when you have separate bank accounts but when the monies are co-mingled this could easily become a point of contention. Are you holding on to the first penny you ever earned and into saving for retirement, while your partner is a free spirit who espouses the theory that tomorrow a truck could take you out while crossing the road? While you are pushing for saving for retirement, the free spirit may well be shopping for the best deals for a flight to Bali leaving day after tomorrow.

People get together for a myriad reasons, not always visible to those around them. Seriously don’t you ever look like an outwardly mismatched couple and wonder how on earth they ever got together. She looks like a guard for the Lakers while his nose reaches just below her breastbone, or he’s a non-stop talker where she’s a head nodder who rarely opens her mouth. In the end all the matters is how you view your life partner because living with someone 24/7 is no walk in the park if it isn’t someone you love unconditionally.

As I said dating is not for the faint of heart. Internet dating is another way to increase your odds. Problems here are obvious. Dating sites are not limited to just the nice people looking for love. For predators it is like a killer whale coming across a vast expanse of ocean inhabited by lethargic sea lions. That six-pack ab, 30 something executive you’ve been communicating with on Facebook, could well turn out to be an unemployed ex-con looking for his latest mark. I have explored this option myself, met Rick on such a site, but you do have to be cautious about where you meet and use common sense when exposing yourself to it.

So, I reiterate. I’m glad I’m not out there again. For those of you who are, I wish you good trolling.

This is a lovely upgrade from regular French toast. You can use whatever fruit you have on hand. Rick likes it with butter and syrup but that is up to a vote from your pants.

Banana Strawberry Pain Perdu

4 thick slices of slightly stale bread
1/8-1/4 cup cream cheese
1 banana, sliced
1 tsp. brown sugar
6 large strawberries, sliced (leave 4 whole for garnish)
2 large eggs
1/2 cup low-fat milk
1 tsp. brandy
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
2 Tbsp. butter
Confectioner’s sugar

Spread cream cheese on one side of each piece of bread. Top two of the four pieces with sliced banana and some of the sliced strawberries, reserving what fruit is left over. Cover with remaining bread (cream cheese side to the inside).

Whisk together eggs, milk, brandy, vanilla, and cinnamon in deep flat dish. Place each side of the bread packages in the eggs mixture for 30 seconds.

Heat butter over medium heat until frothy. Place bread in pan and cook until nicely browned (about 5 mins. per side). Just before you remove from the pan add remaining banana slices to butter and brown. Serve along with remaining fruit with toasted bread.

Serves 2

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I’d love to create a personal profile on a dating site with a headline that reads, “Great Listener Seeks Mute Woman”. – Jarod Kintz and Greek Moussaka

Dating sites are really fine tuning their viewing audiences these days. If you are a lactose intolerant, Trekkie, with a house full of cats there’s probably a site dedicated to people who are perfect matches for you. Refining your likes and dislikes narrows the playing field when it comes to dating. Preferring men with hair to those without, would make signing up at a site promoting mostly bald men a waste of time, for example. Having religious or ethnic preferences certainly would be something you’d want to make clear before entering into a first date. Children in the house a really big check mark. There are men and women who simply are not interested in dating partners who have already started their families without them. There are sites targeting certain age groups, sexual preferences, even those honing in on occupations such as farmers, or chefs seeking fellow foodies. Researching this writing I was surprised to find there were sites specifically targeting people who have like diseases, or those having a preference for a particular breed of dog. Pug lovers have a site targeting other pug enthusasts. Who knew?

Lactose intolerant? No worries. Go to Gluten Free Singles to find your soul mate. Perhaps you want a financially secure man, or are married but like to leave the barn door open? Literally, there is something for everybody. Was I in the market for a mate I believe it would be like showing a starving man the door to the all-you-can-eat buffet at the Bellagio.

Before dating sites, your choice of mates was limited to your surroundings or your capability of attracting one I would suppose. People you worked with were an option. Not always a good choice, however. Should you break up, unless you quit or work in a different building, you’re going to run into your ex every day at work. This left those potential love interests outside of the workplace doing whatever activities or lifestyle you pursued outside of work. These were pretty much the pools we laid our lines in back in the day. Nowadays the world is a dating playground. Many sites fill their photo albums with people from all walks of life hailing from all parts of the planet.

We are funny when it comes to romance. Often we do more research when purchasing a few shares of stock then we do when choosing a mate for life. I’m not one to talk. I’ve said “I do” four times. My mother suggested after the last I do laundry on Saturdays or find a suitable hobby. Pheromones, I would suppose, have a lot to do with why we jump into relationships perhaps not the best for us with both eyes wide open.

Often I look at couples and wonder what brought them together in the first place. People have said this about Rick and I, very different people. We met on a dating site. I was number 241 on his list of suitable partners. The only thing we shared in common was being on the same site. Other than that if his favorite color was blue, mine would be purple. Chinese food number one on his list, would be found on the bottom of mine. Looking back I would have had ten children if life would have worked out that way, Rick sometimes questions in decision to have two. Yet, we cohabit beautifully, having few disagreements and finding each other endlessly interesting. Perhaps it is our very differences that imbue the life into our relationship? As usual I have no answers, only questions.

Looking for love seems to continue to present challenges for us humans. Keeping it once we’ve found it, the enigma. Perhaps we should take our lead from other members of the animal kingdom who mate for life. Swans, for one, are known for their lasting bonds as couples, sometimes swimming next to one mate for life. Wolves, belying the use of their name to identify philanderers, are very family oriented creatures. Family units, or packs, usually consist of mom, dad, their offspring, and their offspring’s offspring. Bald eagles, our national symbol, are known for choosing one mate and remaining with that bird until either its death or theirs. I had a friend who had lovebirds. Aptly named, Wilbur, the male of the duo, lost Ruby, his one true love, after the birth of their first eggs. Inconsolable, the bird stopped singing, lost his feathers, and no matter how many potential mates were introduced to him following Ruby’s passing never formed an attachment again. Awwwww. Poor old Wilbur.

With Hallmark gearing up for Valentine’s Day coming up next month love will be in the air. I know Valentine’s Day is around the corner because while in the drug store I noticed hearts filled with chocolate commingled with the discounted Christmas decorations on the shelves. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to find Easter bunnies commingled with the hearts before the end of the month.

Yesterday we cooked together making moussaka. One of our favorite dishes, but a bit of a production, it was fun to share the stove for the afternoon and enjoy our yummy creation in the evening.

Greek Moussaka

3 large eggplants, sliced 1/2″ thick
salt
1/3 cup olive oil (plus or minus)
1/2 lb. ground lamb
3/4 lb. ground beef
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 tsp. salt
2 onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp fines herbs
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
8 oz. tomato sauce
1/2 cup red wine
1 1/2 cups freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp. nutmeg

Bechamel

1/2 cup butter
4 cups whole milk
6 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. white pepper
Salt to taste

Preheat oven t 350 degrees.

Brown lamb and beef in large frying pan with onions and garlic over med-high heat. Drain on paper towels. Return to pan. Sprinkle wit cinnamon, fine herbes, nutmeg, and parsley. Add tomato sauce and red wine. Mix well. Simmer for 20 mins.

Remove stems from eggplant and slice in 1/2″ slices. Toss ends. Sprinkle salt over both sides and allow to sit for 1/2 hour. Rinse well under cold water. Pat dry.

Add 2 Tbsp. of oil to large frying pan. Heat over high heat. Add eggplant in batches cooking each bath until browned on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

Spray bottom of 9×13 casserole dish with cooking spray.

Layer 1/2 of cooked eggplant on bottom of pan. Top with all the meat mixture. Top with 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese. Add remaining layer of eggplant and top with 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese.

Bring milk to scalding temperature (do not boil). Melt butter in large deep frying pan. Whisk in flour. Keep whisking and cook for 3 mins. on low. Gradually pour scalded milk into flour/milk whisking continuously. Allow to cook, whisking all the time, until mixture becomes thick. Add white pepper and salt.

Pour evenly over the top of the eggplant/meat in pan. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup Parmesan and 1/4 tsp. nutmeg. Bake uncovered for 1 hour until bechamel is lovely golden brown. Allow to rest for 5 mins. before serving.

Serves 6

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When a girl says she wants to be friends with benefits, I always ask if that includes dental insurance. ― Jarod Kintz, It Occurred to Me and Mexican-Style Peas

A friend of mine has recently dived into the dating pool after ten dry years. According to him, dating at this time of life is a task more terrifying than surviving a Halloween corn maze or spending a dark night in a haunted mansion. According to his testimony it is an endeavor fraught with far more zombies and unspeakable ghouls. Let’s face it, men are at a premium as we age. Statistically they leave us earlier than women do, leaving less of them to go around.

I must admit I have always questioned the perception we women are predatory beings circling the human pond hungrily trolling for the catch of the day. It is perceived by some we should view our men as some sort of prize and ourselves as incredibly clever for being able to trick them into accepting the heavy yoke of commitment. I for one have thrown several back, and am here to say prize is not the descriptive word I would choose if asked to describe them.

Words cannot express how delighted I am not to be in his shoes. The very thought of starting at A again, leaves me shimmering with sweat. Having to meet for the first time and endure awkward conversation and uncomfortable shoes only to be left to wonder if he liked me enough to dial my number again or if who I met sitting across from me bore any resemblance to who he was when I was not in the room. Scary business that. Not to mention if you do progress forward and down the road the business of either him meeting your children or, if both parties have offspring, you meeting his comes to the table. That’s always a defining moment. I felt a bit sorry for men who came up against my two. They lost their dad when they were seven and eight and in their mind if you weren’t a super hero or didn’t own a candy factory don’t bother applying for the job. To me this is the most difficult hurdle when attempting to have a personal life as a single parent, getting that link to connect. At the time I was doing it, I never introduced anybody I was involved with to my children unless the game was in the fourth quarter and my team was up by 21 points and we were first and goal. Anything more would have been confusing for them, and certainly confusing for me. If it hadn’t been for the fact my parents insisted on spoiling my children at least one weekend a month I would have been an acceptable candidate for the sisterhood.

Over the years I’ve had some strange dating experiences. On one occasion I actually made two dates for the same evening. While getting ready to go out for the evening with one man, I opened the door to find a second one standing there with a lovely bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. Whoops. That was extremely awkward and resulted in basically ending the need for any further involvement with the gentlemen with the flowers, as he did not find the humor the situation.

In my late twenties I went to dinner with a group of friends. It was a first date with an engineer from work so I felt safer surrounded by allies. We decided on a Polynesian restaurant in Hollywood famous for their flaming drinks and excellent cuisine. Whether he was nervous or simply a totally sot, my date went through the Mai Tai’s like he’d just been told he had twenty-four hours to live. At one point he became so inebriated he slithered like a reptile down the seat and puddled under the table. After we looked under the table to ensure he wasn’t damaged, we tried to help him up. At this point he became somewhat belligerent, then curled up and went to sleep. It was unspoken but unanimously decided by the group to allow him to remain there.

Another man I dated, with the unlikely job of professional barefoot water skier, was the tighest man I ever met. By this I do not mean he had an impressive six-pack, but rather he still had the first $.50 the tooth fairy put under his pillow when he was four. He believed in sharing everything. Again, I do not mean he offered you half his burger and fries, but that he expected you to pay for yours. If the restaurant didn’t have a coupon or promotion going on, you wouldn’t find him sitting at their table. From what I understand he was quite well heeled due to all this thrift, but it was a bit too much for me. Once I invited him over to dinner. I kept the receipt for the meal and when he’d had dessert I left a bill on the table for $11.50, his half of the food cost leaving room for a tip. He did not find this amusing. Hmmmm.

I shall continue to watch my friend’s pursuit of happiness from the sidelines with a bucket of popcorn and a smile. I am proud of him for diving back in and giving it a try, and wish him much success in his efforts. A really nice man with a ready smile, I’m sure he won’t have any trouble finding what he’s looking for. No, I cannot divulge his number.

My other half does not like peas. Of all the veggies, peas simply don’t tempt him. These, however, he will ask for.

Mexican-Style Peas

1/4 cup butter
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1/3 cup thinly sliced orange bell pepper
1 onion, halved and thinly sliced
1/4 cup chopped green onion
1-2 Tbsp. jalapeno pepper, seeded and diced
2 Roma tomatoes
2 cups cooked peas (fresh, frozen, or canned)
2 Tbsp. water
Salt and pepper to taste
Chives for garnish

Cut a cross in the base of each tomato. Submerge in boiling water for 3 mins. Immediately drop in ice bath. Drain and peel. Cut into halves and remove seeds with spoon. Dice.

Melt butter in skillet until frothy. Add garlic and cook and stir until golden brown. Remove with slotted spoon.

Add onions, orange peppers, and jalapeno to pan. Cook for 6 mins. until vegetables are tender. Add tomatoes and water to pan. Lower heat to simmer and cover tightly. Cook for 10 mins.

Mix peas in with onions and peppers and season with salt and pepper. Cook for 5 mins. or until peas are heated. Garnish with chives.

Serves 4-6

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