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May 16, 2012



heavens you are good! I hope you are planning on a book. so happy to hear the world is picking up. we all just keep plugging away dont we?


How lovely to read and hear.

And it also allows me to be more optimistic on behalf of a friend who right now cannot muster any hope of his own, as he has just been left in a very similar way by his wife, another (close) friend (something that haunts me quite a lot right now). That there will be a more relaxed air of unconcern, and a new quality of laughter with his two kids, and some fluttering stomaches in his own future eventually, too.

Neighbor Lady

Glad things are moving forward. But please remember, you ARE awesome enough. If he doesn't see it, that's his issue not yours.
Here's hoping for those good butterflies for you...


Good luck with everything. Glad to hear you are trying to date and keep a sense of humor about this experience. I hope you can relax, have fun and enjoy the moment without worrying about relationships on the first date or talking about them with someone who is likely to be equally potentially terrified :-)
As for relaxed air of unconcern, or any other airs, maybe fake it til you make it?

kathy a.

oh, i'm late again. but what neighbor lady said, exactly. xoxo

Josette Plank

Ahhhh...I've been away from you for quite a while. So much in the in-between time, but glad to see photos of you and the girls smiling.

This: "After all, how many of us are actually awesome enough to fall in love with?"

You're pretty awesome. Seriously. Your words have always been genius and nothing has changed.


We're all awesome enough to fall in love with. Even though I will admit that sometimes I can't see it in the people I'm dating and I'm sure they sometimes can't see it in me--it's still true, I think.

You are a catch, though. I know that. Good luck and let me know if you need an ear ever for online dating venting. It is definitely ... different.


Hi! What's your opinion on what is your common reading audience?


The problem with midlife dating: it's full of man-boys. Which is fine when you're 22, because you don't know any better. But when you're 42 and have spent the last decade saving someone's life while simultaneously having and taking care of someone else, plus another guy, you know better.

I always do exactly what the dating coaches tell you not to do: get serious immediately. Because I am a grown up single-mom lady without months to waste on someone who's going to do nothing but make me miserable. So I ask what happened to the marriage, or the girlfriend, or why there never was a marriage, and whether he's still friends with his exes and how close they are (friends = good, still sleeping with = bad, hates them = run away), and who owns what and what the deal with the kids is, and I check out everything they tell me for the first few months.

Do you still settle, in the end? Sure. But if you're lucky you settle for someone who knows *exactly* how awesome you are, without being told, and isn't a complete disaster.

Be very careful in the meantime, please. And check your HSV status while you're getting tested for everything else -- the only test available is a blood test, unfortunately. But what sucks immensely (I hear) is to find that your beau was unwittingly shedding HSV-1 orally, and has accidentally given you a nifty case of genital herpes, thanks to the fact that you hadn't been exposed before and hadn't the necessary antibodies.

Also, Dr. Ruth has some excellent advice on sex toys for solo pleasure. Which is often less trouble and more satisfying.

Birthday Hampers

When material objects are given as gifts, in many cultures they are traditionally packaged in some manner. For example, in Western culture, gifts are often wrapped in wrapping paper and accompanied by a gift note which may note the occasion, the recipient's name, and the giver's name.

Gift Basket

Glad to hear you have finally moved on. Feel free to date other man, you're still young after all.

God bless you and your daughters. :)

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Falling Down, November 2004

  • Balloon in hand, my 4-year-old
    twirled across the kitchen floor,
    singing nonsense words
    in her own key.
    "It's my gift!" she declared
    to the world at large, which
    was really only me,
    sitting at the table. Enough
    twirling, and she lost
    her balance, tumbling
    to the floor in a theatrical
    slapstick of elbows and knees.

    She lay on her back
    for a few seconds,
    at the textured ceiling
    with the mysterious
    spaghetti sauce stain.
    Suddenly she
    flapping her arms and legs
    there on the floor, as if to swish
    the imaginary snow
    into a snow angel.

    "Falling down is also a gift!" says she.

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