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The Dreaded Tip-Toe of Shame

the tip toe of shame the morning after

Shame on you.   You talked a little too much or a little too loud or in front of the wrong person.   You laughed a little too hard or a little too long or about the wrong person.   You drank a little too much or ate a lot too much because of the wrong person.   But other than a stain on your sleeve, the day ended with no damage.   Whatever you over-did is over-blown in your mind.   You went out by yourself.   Which, my friend, is not a crime. Or a sin. Or even noteworthy to anyone but you.   Everybody woke up where they were supposed to, in the appropriate attire, in the correct order.   You didn’t slink down the street after dawn or become a feast for gossip-hungry nosy-bodies.   You said...

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29 Things I Did Not Do Last Weekend

Feet up relaxing

Screw the To Do List.

 

That’s my motto, or it would be if I made To Do Lists. Because guess what:

 

To Do Lists are not legally binding.

 

However, they are enforceable.

 

Just ask any woman who has another adult living under her roof. Especially a life partner. Non-performance may result in evil stares, passive aggressive grunts or under-the-breath invective spewing.

 

Should her other head-of-household remain out of compliance with To Do obligations- obligations which are literally spelled out in black and white –his or her personal property is at risk of destruction, and divorce becomes a distinct possibility.

 

That my friends, is why living alone is the best.

 

The B.E.S.T best.

Millie and Me

Today is Millie’s birthday. She’s two years old. Yesterday was my birthday. Ha! As if I was going to tell how old I am. Besides, nobody is interested my birthday. Not even me.

 

Millie gets top billing today and every day. She’s a dog, after all, and dogs are better than people. They are easier to love, and they always love you back. At least eight or 10 humans didn’t love me back. But that’s a story for another day.

 

This is a dog tale. Like all canine chronicles, it is a story of a hero’s journey. But remember, it’s the journey that counts, not the destination.

 

Some dogs are born heroes. Lassie. Rin Tin Tin.

 

Some dogs have heroics thrust upon them. Lady. Tramp.

 

Some dogs have heroism buried deep within. Marley. Millie.

 

Marley?

Father Knows Best? My 2 1/2 Dads Think I Should be Single

Happy Fathers Day

 

 

My 2½ Dads think I should be single.

 

 

Big Daddy, the Big Big Daddy and Father Bob apparently all agree.

 

 

Big Daddy’s Big Idea

 

 

Big Daddy arrived on scene about four days after what would turn out to be my final, soul-crushing, head-exploding, life-shattering break-up.

 

 

When you are 40, not one syllable of those words exaggerates the impact of a broken heart.

 

 

You are terrified that he was your last shot, that no one will ever love you again and that you will die alone and be post-mortem pet food before any notices you are missing.

 

 

You dissect yourself in front of friends and family (again) maybe you did this when you should have done that, or said this instead of that, or were too picky or too bitchy or too independent or too dependent or or or or….

 

 

They respond with what is the 100%, absolute, swear on the bible truth: it was not you.

The Single Suckiest Part About Being Single

Being single sucks

 

If you have been single since you were born, or divorced for about 15 minutes, you know a thing or two about the lifestyle, like:

 

 

Being Single Doesn’t Suck.

 

 

But parts of it do.

 

 

Because parts of everything suck; clearly, parts of being coupled suck. Dealing with another person day in and day out, year in and year out, with only the promise of death part can be mighty sucky.

If You Want Something Done Right, Make A TV Show

Girl with a gun

“Life doesn't imitate art, it imitates bad television.” ― Woody Allen   Last summer, on a medical drama whose own death was premature but predictable, a 20-something woman was admitted to the hospital, bewildering doctors with her mysterious symptoms. Not me.     What took a team of neurologists and psychiatrists an hour-  a week in TV time – to diagnose, I nailed within five minutes.     “She has narcolepsy!”     This was one of the rare times something from my real life appeared on television.  My father is a narcoleptic. When I was a kid, the character’s strange behavior-- hallucinating and passing out a dozen times a day-- was normal in my house, even boring.     Note that this flash of my life before my eyes had nothing to do with me...

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