Secrets!

Today, I was referred to as "my secret lady friend".  Damn!  I love that.  My gentleman friend went on to say, "For obvious reasons, I will show no photos."

I love intrigue!  I love romance and a hint of danger and misbehavior. 

It's no secret that my husband travels all the damn time.  He's away this week, and I decided to invite a neighbor man (Phil) to dinner.  Phil is really a great looking, smart, and fun single man.

On Monday night, I decided to serve dinner in the kitchen rather than the dining room.  It was cozy and intimate.  I prepared cold artichokes and a spicy mustard dip, New York cuts, and Israeli couscous with sauteed mushrooms and onions topped with fresh parsley and tomatoes from the garden.  It was a delightful dinner.  Because we are having extreme heat, sparkling water was our beverage of choice.  Phil went home at a respectable hour but we had decided to have lunch the next day.

We went to a restaurant that Alex and I frequent, and our busboy asked where my husband was.  Phil answered for me saying "Alex is out of town this week and Linda gets lonely".  The busboy looked somewhat chagrined but I just smiled at him and nodded in agreement.

The owner of the restaurant dropped by, and kissed me on the cheek.  I introduced him to Phil, and he showed no reaction at all except a slight quiver in his pupil.  He made a few minutes of small talk with us about our meal and then excused himself.

When we got back home, Phil walked me up to the house and gave me a hug and kiss on the front porch.  Two of my neighbors were watching intently from their windows.

Is it bad that I don't mind having a bad reputation?

The Good, The Better, The Best!

I've been trying to concentrate on the positive and ignore the negative in the last week or so.  I think it's working!

Last week started off rather ho hum.  Alex was sent up to Beale Air Force Base to solve some technical problems.  I was a bit bummed about being alone, again.  Now, I know I've bitched and moaned for years about how much Alex travels.  I hate being left to my own devices.  Okay, I don't trust me with my own devices.  I've been known to do some reckless, foolish and occasionally dangerous things when I get bored.  Inviting the Kirby vacuum cleaner guy in for tea might be an example of one of my stupid moves, but on occasion it has been worse.  Much worse.  I won't elaborate on that.

Yes, I could go on and describe depravity, insanity, and that one trip to the City Jail (not being in custody though), but I won't.  Sometimes I can be discreet.

Anyway, the positive started when Alex called on Wednesday late afternoon and said he was coming home early.  Happy Happy Joy Joy!  I pulled some lamb chops out of the freezer to defrost, changed the sheets, and bought some flowers!  I also ran to the market for some fresh organic vegetables!  I bathed and primped until I looked like a sparkly eyed minx, or an overly made up hussy. (Alex likes me either way.)

When Alex got home I opened a bottle of "Prisoner", (a wonderful Zin), and spent about an hour listening to him emote about the challenges of his trip.  I shook my head and clicked my tongue at appropriate intervals while I prepared dinner.  Finally, Alex started talking about something that interested me more than his technical issues.  He mentioned the Kentucky Derby!

I have long been a fan (sometimes way too fanatically) of horse-racing.  I try to watch the Derby most years because of the color, the scenery,the hats, and the magnificent horses.  Alex was telling me about a Yuba City horse named "California Chrome" who was going to be running in the Kentucky Derby this year.   (Yuba City is adjacent to Beale Air Force Base and apparently California Chrome had been talked about constantly while he was on site in the area.)

The horse is something of a mongrel.  His sire was not of royal lineage, nor was his mare.  Chrome was the equivalent of getting a "mixed breed" from the shelter up against all the horses with royal pedigrees.  None the less, California Chrome was looking like the favorite to win the Derby.

We have a local cafe where the owner, an Irish woman named Noreen, is an avid fan of horse racing.  Noreen actually owns a couple of horses and races them.  She and Alex were discussing the Derby when we were having lunch at her cafe.  Noreen was sending her husband to the race track the next day to place her bet for the Kentucky Derby.  Alex asked Noreen if she would mind having her husband place a bet for him as well and she said "sure".

Alex gave Noreen $100 and asked for it to be placed on California Chrome to win.  She took his money and said she would take care of it.  (I was somewhat surprised because we really have never bet on horses in the 25 years we've been married - and $100 to win is a fairly serious 'bet" to my way of thinking.) 

We were invited to a "Kentucky Derby" party at Pican Restaurant in Oakland on Saturday.  Pican is a gorgeous restaurant with a truly Southern feel, and dressing up worthy of the Kentucky Derby to sip mint juleps and watch the race sounded pretty fun to us both.  We spent a couple of hours sipping fine bourbons and nibbling on Southern delicacies waiting for that heart pounding two minutes of the race. 

By the time the race was 2/3rds over, it was obvious that California Chrome was indeed the winner!  Wow!  Our horse came in!  That in itself made it a great day.  But wait!  The odds had been 2-1 on Friday when we placed the bet.  I figured that we would get back our $100 and get $50 on top of that.  Okay, I'm thrilled with getting $25 (community property, you know), and we came home happy.

On Sunday, Alex went by Noreen's cafe and she had his "pay off".  She counted out $350.00 and handed it to him.  Alex was shocked!  When he came home and gave me "my" half of the winnings, my mouth flew open in surprise!  We both did the "money dance" for about two hours!

Why it's so much more fun to win money than to earn it, I have no idea!  But it is!!!

Some Quarters You Just Don't Want To Get Out of Bed

I haven't written much in the last 4 months, but I did try to participate in the 30 days of writing minus 2 days challenge put on by "We Work For Cheese" in February.  So that leaves a quarter of the year I've written nothing, nada, zilch.

I could say it's because of "writers block" or something.  Actually, I think it may be more related to the episode where I fell and smashed my face in the concrete and fractured my hand last year.  Oh I've recovered, (except for the nerve damage in the hand which really is not that big a deal), but mentally, and emotionally, that episode did something weird to me.

For the first time in my life I felt horribly, terrifyingly, absurdly, vulnerable, and overwhelmingly afraid of just about everything.  I've always been an almost "macho" woman feeling helpless and scared is just not a person I've ever lived with before.

I was afraid to go outside alone.  I was afraid to be home alone.  I didn't leave the house for weeks at a time.  I felt like I should "hold on" to furniture to keep me from toppling over.  I woke up at night gasping for air after dreaming of falling and knowing I was going to be maimed for life from the landing.  My husband said I was acting like someone with PTSD, and I guess maybe I was.  Part of the problem was that I really couldn't talk about how frightened and vulnerable I was feeling because I was embarrassed and deeply ashamed.

During this time, I trekked to all my my fellow writers blogs and read what they had written.  I was mostly unable to even leave so much as a comment on their articles.  My confidence was gone and I thought I had become old and infirm with nothing to say.

Fortunately, I think I'm better now.  I'm forcing myself to take a walk at least around the block every day, rain or shine.  I've stopped canceling appointments.  And best of all, I think I may be back on track.

I may not be able to post as often as I would like to, but I hope to continue doing so with some regularity.  You really can't keep a good (or bad) woman down!

How Did You Know?

"How did you know?", she asked.

"I always know.", I responded.  And that is the truth.

When I'm being lied to, I always know.  It is a blessing and a curse.  There may be a physical "tell" that I pick up on without even realizing it.

A boyfriend lied about who he was having lunch with.  I caught him in the act of taking a new secretary to "our" favorite restaurant.

My husband lied about where he got the new stereo.  I found the receipt.  (Why Alex thinks I would be happier with "it fell off the back of a truck" than "I bought it", I'll never know.)

There are times that people close to me have told me lies and I want to pretend even to myself that they aren't lying.  Of course, I know that they are.  In most cases, it's just silly lies, but I can always tell.
 

I think I would have made a good cop.



This is the next to last day I'm participating in the "We Work For Cheese" 28 days of writing.  I may have missed a couple of days, but I'm not sure and I'm not lying either.

Naked and Lost

I've been naked.  I've been lost.  But I've never been naked and lost.



This is my contribution to the almost last day of "We Work For Cheese" and their 28 day writing competition.  It's weak, but the other contributors have some strong essays so check them out.

And Then She Said...

And then she said, "I'd like to tell you a story."

Isn't there always that one person?  The person who you think about unbidden over the years.

I haven't seen him for over 40 years, but sometimes I wake up in the morning and feel like he just left me. 

I met him when I was young.  The first time I saw him, I knew I was in love.  Drastically, fatally, forever and ever in love. 

Of course, I know now that kind of love is more mental illness than anything else.  Still, my blood would zing through my veins when I heard his voice on the other end of the telephone.  He was handsome, witty, charming and a surgical intern at the hospital where I was undergoing a surgical procedure.  He has a slow southern accent and very gentle hands.  I knew that what I felt for him was not what he felt for me.

We somehow managed to be an item of sorts for about 3 or 4 years.  When it ended because he met someone he fell in love with, it hurt.  Over the years, I have gone over and over what I could have done differently to have made him love me.  Hah!  The truth is, there's nothing you can do or not do to make anyone else love you.  Either they do or they don't.

As a recently divorced 24 year old woman with two children and a shaky future plan, I guess I romanticized being married to this handsome young doctor.  Life would be so grand! 

The last time I saw him, he was parking his car in the neighborhood where I lived.  I had both kids with me and my heart lurched when I saw him.  I waved hello, and watched as he helped a lovely young woman out of his car.  She smiled at me too.  I kept walking.

Yes, I've looked him up on the internet.  Of course I have.  I learned that he moved to a small mountain town near the Nevada border and was a practicing surgeon there.  Maybe a couple of times I year, I would "Google" his name.  Today, I did it for the last time.

It seems he has had his license to practice medicine revoked.  He was charged with 6 counts of "gross negligence" and lost his career.  Of course, he's in his early 70's now, so I suppose that's not really a huge surprise.

Still, I can't help but feel a real sense of closure over him.  I'm glad I'm not married to that grossly negligent asshole.



If you go to "We Work For Cheese", you can see what other people talk about with a prompt of "And Then She Said".

Things That Make Me Go "Hmmm"

I know we all like figuring skating, but does it really belong in the Olympics as a sport?

The girls are all pretty.  They all skate pretty well and wear charming skimpy costumes.  But is this the same as being an Olympic athlete?

It seems to me that almost every time, somebody gets their nose out of joint over who wins a medal for figure skating.  The judging seems to be purely subjective.

If a race occurs, the one who wins is the one who crosses the finish line first.  With figure skating, it seems that their hair, their costume, their grace, and their make up application all get judged along with their triple axels.

Plus, in all of the other Olympic events, the winners win, the losers are good natured about it, and everybody seems okay with the outcomes.  Even if one of the judges was partial to a gorgeous Canadian hockey player, nobody really thinks that the Canadians Gold Medal win should be overturned and given to the USA team.

In figure skating, there is a whole lot of whining about the fairness or unfairness of the competition.  Let's just let the figure skaters do their own thing on the world stage and make it like a beauty pageant, "dancing with the stars", and "project runway" costume design combination show.

I actually forget what the prompt was for this post.  Sorry if I did it wrong.  But you can always go see "We Work For Cheese" for people better at following directions than I am.