Tag Archives: relationships

I want a “do over”…

Posted on by
Reply

Just back from watching The Great Gatsby. It astonishes me how different all these books are from what I thought they were when I was forced to read them in high school. The whole feeling of Gatsby was so different than what I remembered (truth is I just lived for Robert Redford (still do) and dreamed of being his Daisy). I never understood the significance of the damn green light at the end of the pier.
I didn’t have the life context to even begin to understand the story. The endless striving for a dream only to find that the dream had changed while you strove, and hey, it wasn’t worth the striving anyway…you need life context for that. You need to have lost a few dreams enroute in order to understand the terrible terrible innocence of Gatsby, the horribleness of the people who used him.
If only we had the chance to redo our lives with the information we know now. Think of how much easier it would be if you knew the bumps ahead?
I was at the mall today, marvelling at the amazingly intricate strollers people were carrying their kids around in, and wincing at tired parents yelling at tired kids.
If I had it to do over, I’d be more patient. I’d enjoy my kids more. I’d force their dad to enjoy them more, too. What’s work, anyway? I’d have fought for our marriage, too, and forced him to be present in it. Even if I had to sit on him. I’d have sat on him more often, in a different way…
If I had it to do over, I’d have fought more to stay in the same place, to form lasting friendships with people. My friendships now are what sustain me. I don’t think I was always as good a friend as I could have been, and I’ve been lonely a great deal of my life. If I had it to do over, I’d work harder at being a friend, less hard at being a career success. I’d spend more time with my cousins. They’re like family bright – not as competitive as siblings, easier to just love.
I’d exercise more, if I had another chance. I’d spend lots more time enjoying the freedom of moving my body, of walking and running and flinging my muscles around while I could, before MS made every such exertion a guessing game, subject to sudden limitations. I’d tell my ballet instructor at Harriet Hoctor’s school to take her flat shoes and stuff ‘em and demand to be on point even if I was shorter than everyone else.
I’d spend more time on creative pursuits: writing, music, art. They are truly the only things of value in this cynical depressing world. Well, those and chocolate and ice cream and single malt. And full-on laughter.
I’d travel more. I’d stop spending money on stuff and spend it on seeing other places while I still could. I’d go volunteer in Africa or something, where my skills could be some use and where the kids (I’d take them with me) could see that I had value to others. They already know how privileged they are and do good things, but I have this irrational urge to make them proud of me.
Probably cos I’m so proud of them.
Yep, a do-over would be great. I might even be able to protect my kids from things that hurt them as they grew up – I’d know to be aware that some people were not to be trusted, that school was nastier than it was when I grew up, that drugs were so present.
Probably not. It’s hard to be everywhere, and I always valued my kids’ right to privacy. I still do. I just wish I could try it all over again.
Maybe do it just the teensiest bit better.
Or, at the very least, appreciate it more.

“Sex is a word count” Lilly Cain

Posted on by

Often, in a gathering of writers (what IS the proper collective noun? A scrawl of writers? A clattering of writers? A thesaurus of writers?), wisdoms shared expand to more global proportions.

Yesterday I was thrilled to attend the Romantic Writers of Atlantic Canada’s event on publishing your first novel. As with the mystery writers I hang out with more regularly, the crowd and panel were so wonderfully friendly and open and willing to help each other out. Even if I never ever publish a book, I like hanging out with these guys/gals – they are people worth knowing.

NRLLilly Cain writes erotic fiction, and was discussing how she is now writing a series of sweet romances and having trouble bringing down the steam rating. The quote above was from that discussion – she is used to having a certain number of words dedicated to hot scenes and now has to fill the space in with other words, actions, adventures.

Something about her statement resonated more deeply with me.

Sex as a word count…a space holder…a part of life, not so important, but needed in its own way. Without it, you must fill in the empty spaces with other activity, other stories. With it…well, life may be more full and rounded but you might miss out on some of the other generative activities you may use to fill up your own personal word count.

It becomes a balance, the sex, no sex, too much sex, not enough sex thing.

In writing, steaminess level (like bloodiness level) determines where your book is placed, whether a given publisher will buy it, who will be turned on or turned away. Many people write erotica under a pen name so that they can have a safe “real” identity. I know my tell all book about my post-marriage life won’t be arriving under my real name. Oh no.

In life, there are costs to pay for taking a relationship to that new, sexual, level – friendship becomes more difficult, things seem more fraught, you feel either intensely attracted or repelled, you feel shame or love or regret or joy. I used to believe it was something that people made too much fuss over, but I could have been wrong there.

In both, sex takes up time and thought and memory and room. How much and how it tilts your story is up to you.

For more thoughts, check out Lit Drift…or Tayari Jones (click on the cartoon to link to her blog), or Steve Almond’s article from the UTNE Reader: (I’m having trouble getting wordpress to accept another hyperlink…) http://www.utne.com/Literature/How-To-Write-A-Sex-Scene.aspx

sexscene1

Fresh Ideas in Dating and Writing

Posted on by
Image

What IS that thing?

Those of you who know me well know that I’ve been having my adventures in the over 50 dating circuit. It’s madness out there.

Seriously.

If your marriage has even a whisper of hope, and there’s no abuse going on, take it from me and do what you can to stick out the dry spells.

Totally worth it. Dating stinks and if you ask anyone they’ll tell you true. All there is out here are people with bundles of unknown neuroses, and in that I include myself. At least with my ex, the neuroses were known quantities.

I used to believe I was having a good time. I blame excessive medication. Now the shades have fallen from my eyes, and I’m cool with the chum thing. Though I know I’ll miss kissing. I like kissing. And some other things…

Not to say I haven’t had some laughs enroute – some sad sighs, some giggles, some outright guffaws (and those of you who know what I mean when I say PCE know I’m not referring to you). The other morning I woke up and started laughing out loud, all by myself, in my packed up bedroom. Took me five minutes to stop.

Image

And you say you know how this contraption works?

I have a good friend who thinks there’s a sitcom in my adventures. I’d probably title it something to do with The Wizard of Oz, me being named Dorothy and all, and the fact that most, if not all, of these men who make me laugh think they are wizards in the bedroom.

It’s so tempting.

I would have to write under a pseudonym, of course, or I’d never date again. Although at this point, that might be okay…

Or be allowed to see my kids. Hahahahahah. By them.

But it’s such a fun idea…I have met all the characters from the movie already, even the door guard in the Emerald City (and yeah, I know he was really the Wizard but that’s kindof the point, no?)

Honestly, you couldn’t make some of this stuff up. And the visuals! I’m still rinsing out my eyes after the last ones. While snickering. Seinfeld and I could relate.

And, if nothing else, if I wrote it all down I could remember it all, and regale my friends in the home with my stories. Or shock the grandkids, if I ever have any. And if I’m allowed within 50 yards of them…

So, you like a little weed?

Pulling a mate from a candy machine

Posted on by

vending_machine

Okay, I know my kids don’t want me writing about this. So they should perhaps skip this post entirely.

I just read Anne Lamott’s excellent article in Salon.com about her year on Match.com :http://www.salon.com/2013/03/31/my_year_on_match_com/

I could identify with it all. The men who are not as described, the ones who never call again, the ones who call too much. The ones who think they know more than you about everything. The ones who use up the 1728 minutes (or whatever) she describes, while you do your shopping list and think longingly of the ice cream in your refrigerator that seems oh so much more rewarding than what you are doing just then.

The “social smokers” who keep vanishing to suck back another tube, thinking you won’t notice that all of them smells and tastes like an ashtray. The political hounds who tell you about the world as if you have lived under a rock forever. The ones who are looking for a sympathy partner, to listen to all their problems with their “crazy” past partners. The ones who end every conversation with, “Shall I take the blue pill?”

My favourite was the guy who was an artist and wanted to discuss the shades of white. But found fault with my silver hair. “I’m visual” he said.

Or the other guy who texted me all the time but who had naughty pictures animate with his text so when I told him I was going skating on the Canal, it would change it to c-something else. Eww. Strangely, I felt I had to meet both of these guys. For research. In very public places, mind. Using an assumed name. Curiosity, you know.

One of my girlfriends says “What is it about over 50-year-old men? They all patronize!” Now I thought it was just me, at my height of 4’11 3/4″, that got the patronization thing.

vulpix_used_flamethrower_by_firecloak-d4u0gnrI’ve been patronized all my life and have developed a tendency to incinerate the patronizer. No mercy. Ever.

But she’s tall and gorgeous and they patronize her, too.

What IS that?

Like Anne, I think I am looking for someone to spend evenings with, not in acrobatic sex scenes involving pulleys and elaborate body positioning, but reading, watching TV, talking. Curling up in bed with. Getting up in the morning with. Lifting heavy objects with. Travelling with. Laughing with.

NOT someone who has spent too much time with online girls and expects me to shave every hair off my body and indulge in unusually strenuous activities while keeping up a potty-mouthed commentary. (Not that I’ve met any of those folks, mind – they just send me messages). Also NOT someone who tells me he is still married and looking for fun outside his marriage, because he no longer gets it together with his wife.

Fish or cut bait, fellah. Sheesh.

vending_machine-1

It makes me tired. I’d give it all up except that I still have this silly thought that I might actually meet someone interesting this way.

It’s obviously insanity. I should stop, but like the men, I suspect, the tendency to shop is too much. It’s like looking at one of those candy bar machines. Yeah, this one tastes okay, but I’d really like to try this other one…

And then it’s my cheapness. I paid for one site and I’ll be darned if I am going to take my profile off and let them have my money until I have used up every minute. I’m going to wrestle that chocolate bar out of its spiral if it kills me. At least for another few weeks, til my subscription runs out.

Besides, it’s spring. Hope springs eternal. Or is that Spring, hope eternal?

image

Losing my religion for equality…by Jimmy Carter

Posted on by

Losing my religion for equality…by Jimmy Carter.

I’ve shared this all over, but I wanted to put it in my blog so I could keep it to remember.

This man.

The amount of good he has done in his life is astonishing. And his perspective here is wonderful.

I wish I could meet him, just to say thanks. Instead, I think I’ll write him a letter…by hand. By heart.

The fine art of pissing people off

Posted on by

NTE3XzEzNDg5MjQ2ODMxNA==_o_always-pissing-people-off-archival-footage-of-a-liveleakI’m the first to admit my mouth flaps and says things I perhaps shouldn’t at times. It’s an occupational hazard of being my mother’s daughter – she, a lawyer, moderated what she said, but she had opinions and wasn’t afraid to speak them.

I lack her professional filter. My MS has eaten what little of it was left. So I share inappropriately, say shocking things, reveal too much.

And, on occasion, I get annoyed. I spend such a lot of time NOT getting angry, trying to be sweet, trying to make the world a nicer place in my Pollyanna-ish way, but sometimes even I feel the urge to snap.

Like at the woman I know who tells everyone how they should be grateful for their illness, because she is – without seeing that her life is much much better than some of the folks she is reproving for their ingratitude.
Like at the friend I’ve offered scallops cooked in Pernod, for the love of mike, who can never find time to see me.
Like at the series of twelve traffic lights that block my way between my house and the highway.
Like at people who don’t see injustice or the loss of our freedoms or the increasing stranglehold of our government on the neck of democracy.
Like at poverty and ignorance and hatred and this darn tear on the side of my fingernail that always gets stuck on things.
You know. All that stuff.

So I say something. Even just a little something. I try to make it funny, so it doesn’t feel like I’m really mad, even when I am. but I’m obviously not as,good at that as I should be. And because people, don’t expect it of me, they react as if slapped. Because I am supposed to be nice.

Eventually the spring breezes will blow and I’ll be back to singing through my road rage and laughing at people who treat me dismissively, but tonight I am cross.

You see, a little bit of politeness goes a long way. I try to keep that in mind. I contort myself sometimes trying to avoid hurting people. I try to help, I try to understand, I try to be accepting. I don’t always succeed, but I try.

But then, I get hurt, too.

And apparently it’s not okay for me to react to hurt. I am expected to soldier on, cheerfully, smiling sweetly and saying nothing.

Thank God for my wonderful friends and family who get me, and put up with me, even when I’m grumpy.1348662611790_7587709

The sweet sweet challenge of finding that perfect partner

Posted on by


I know, I’ve written about this before. Why is it that of this lineup, Weird Al is the one who appeals to me most? Obviously I have an unusual requirement list, but chiefly among those is a fine sense of the ridiculous, even in oneself.
Oh, Weird Al, where ARE you, man? Come sing a parody song in my ear and I’m yours….

And thanks, Dangerous Minds, for this post.

Non-negotiables in relationships…

Posted on by

images-2It’s almost the end of February, and I have to say I’m glad – I’ve been participating in NaBloPoMo on the theme of love and relationships and my friends, reading the posts, call me to ask if I’m okay, check in about my mood, etc. I think they think I am heartbroken – but I’m not. In fact I am happy with things the way they are now – I’m free as a bird, able to meet new folks and get to know them, eager to learn new things and new people. Yep, still doing the dating thing and the associated hair tweezing and nostril hair trimming (honestly!) and searching for the perfect undergarment to make me look lithe and tall…(instead of the spherical current appearance), but overall, content.

I’ve enjoyed looking at the concepts of love and relationships, but, frankly, I’m more interested in other things. Friendship, purpose, life, music… Love is murky enough without having to come up with things for a blog post about it.

Next month’s theme is Risk. MUCH more exciting, and yet it also involves a bit about love and relationships, too. Because, really, entering a relationship involves taking a risk. Will you be able to stand each other long-term? Will they be able to stand you? How much time should you invest in figuring this out? As a friend said to me, there aren’t that many more moments left…how many should be spent with this person?

I don’t know that answer. I remember talking to another friend who discussed the concept of non-negotiables in a relationship – not a shopping list of what you want, cos that’s not realistic. Everyone at our age comes with lumps and bumps and oddities that you balance out in looking at the whole picture.

But it IS worth figuring out your non-negotiables, cos otherwise you can waste a lot of time rationalizing your choice and still come up uncomfortable.

images-3

Here’s my list, for your amusement, and in no particular order. Maybe it will help with your adventures:

1. No addictions – no alcoholism, drug abuse, exercise addictions, over-reliance on motorcycles for manhood, no workaholism or addiction to porn.

2. No history of violence. No incarcerated time. No lawsuits pending.

3. If he has kids, he’s gotta love them, even if they don’t love him back.

4. No married folks. Preferably has respect for his ex. Understands his contribution to any failed relationships. Tidies up his own life before he tries to enter mine.

5. Capable of self-entertainment, has friends other than me, understands the concept of personal space, doesn’t need to be plastered all over me all the time.

6. Capable of plastering himself all over me sometimes.

7. Good kisser. Some say it can be taught, but if you haven’t learned by age 50, it ain’t happening, man. Sorry.

8. Financially responsible.

9. Intelligent, well-read, motivated. Curious about life.

10. Able to see the foolishness in life and laugh about it, and cherish the glory in life and laugh about it, as well.

Hmm. Seems like a long list, doesn’t it? But over the past few years, I’ve met many a person who ALMOST passes muster and I spend time with them, only to realize that if even one chunk is missing, I can feel it, like a hole in my tooth. I’ll worry at it and worry at it and never feel right.

So, fussy I shall stay, I guess. In the meantime, I’m meeting a bundle of interesting people, and that is enough.

NaBloPoMo_032013_465x287_RISK

Why not take a risk and join in?

Love and plotting

Posted on by
Image

A fantastic nightshirt from Signals catalog…

It’s a wild and stormy day out – freezing rain, winds howling, occasional smatterings of snow. It’s a perfect day for plotting a closed room mystery set in the north of Scotland or on some maritime shores.

One of the very best things about writing is how you can vent your rage at people in a totally harmless way by writing about them. I’m lucky. There’s only been about three people in my life that I’ve wanted to wreak revenge on, and chances are they are being killed or punished in various iterations in all of my stories. It’s wonderfully cathartic, and certainly safe from prosecution.

Mind you, there’s an author in the states, LIsa Gardner, who offers to work the names of people you want maimed into her stories.While I think her “Kill a Friend, Maim a Mate” sweepstakes is a worthy promotional tool, I think that may be going a bit far. I prefer to hide identities, using different names, changing characteristics, locations, hiding them in plain sight. And then putting them through hell.

It’s wonderful.

I hasten to add that I, like so many mystery writers, am a nice person. I maintain we are like rugby players – we exhaust our hostility through out sport and so therefore are totally sweet off the field.

But that doesn’t mean that my mind isn’t playing with dastardly deeds while we’re chatting…

PS: I came across Lisa Gardner’s books at a weekend for MS in Jackson, NH. She generously donated bundles of her books to the attendees.

The love of a fine scotch…

Posted on by

I’m a relative newbie at the world of single malt scotch. My mum used to like scotch but I spent years equating it with paint thinner.

Then I met single malt.

Since then, we’ve had a warm, wonderful, and comforting relationship.

We sit together on a cold evening, and scotch warms my heart and fingertips, curled as they are around him. It kisses my lips, fills my mouth with sensations I’ve never had before, causes my insides to spin about in delightful eddies.

It’s not a perfect relationship. I had a previous fling with the very sensuous Glenmorangie aged in sauterne casks. I’d met him at a conference – introduced by friends, we hit it off immediately. But then he vanished and I can’t find him anymore. Does one ever forget one’s first love?

So I’ve settled for other scotches – some short term flings, like the oaky Jura, which I still long for on a windy day begging for peat fires…some longer term, like my current affair with Macallan.
He’s smooth, soothing, but expensive to keep.

Sometimes I wonder if I should settle for a lesser drink.

But no, never settle, I tell myself. A little of a good scotch equals much more of a lesser vintage, yes?