Life is Your Story

Okay I get that the Bachelorette is all about young women who are in search of a husband - a wedding dress, starting a family and lots of french kissing but what about us middle aged single ladies? Here are the top 9 ways (and they are fascinating) that this middle aged, fed up, tired, bloated, tell it like it is Bachelorette would do stuff: 9 - the moment the cameras start to roll and those bright lights hit me - I am going to do one thing and one thing only - have a hot flash (and say "Oye I'm having a hot flash"). 8 - opening scene - forget the arrival by limo and i don't need 50 men - 9 for the picking will do - arrive walking your dog and when you first lay your eyes upon my mystical beauty ask "Who are you wearing?" and I will reply "Levis by Levi Strauss". 7 - settle into the mansion - and if this whole greeting process goes past 930PM then I am going to bed because I'm fed up, tired and bloated and they better have Netflix. 

Come here Let me hold you Let me tell you How much I love you How easy it is To be with you Let’s HIDE BENEATH THE COVERS Let’s take Mondays Off the calendar Let’s kiss and hug Let’s laugh LET’S TALK IT OUT AND MAKE A PACT NEVER TO GIVE UP NEVER TO LEAVE LET’S RESPECT ONE ANOTHER BE PRESENT BE LOVERS BE FRIENDS LOVE COMES IN MANY FORMS OURS HAS A SHAPE OF ITS OWN Like A snowflake Dancing WITH the wind Like a winding path Full of detours And fallen trees THAT WE NAVIGATE Hand in hand Me beside you You beside me In love In silence In time For all of those who have found love and to the brave souls who are willing to try and find it again.

This is a true story and it is fascinating.  I went to the grocery store. I was in the mood for some Beck's non alcoholic beer (is there any other kind?). I am always hesitant to walk into that "walk- in" beer fridge. I wonder who else is in that fridge?  So I go in and it’s cold because it’s a fridge. I make my way around the maze of crates and boxes and then I smell cologne and I don’t wear cologne so I know its not me.  Then this large man (anyone is large compared to me) comes around the bend and smiles and says,  “What are you looking for little lady?” and I say... “It’s a beer fridge – I’m looking for beer.” He smiles, pats me on the back – which is strange because we are face to face. I find my Beck’s beer, smile on the inside and then I turn  around and the cologne guy is right up in my face. I am suddenly afraid and then to make things worse (worse than being alone in a giant cold fridge with a stranger who is close talking me),

First of all, I am not 18 or even close. I am 50 "something" but  when i was 17 - going down south meant going to Florida and when I was 18 going down south meant.....never mind. And now? Well now it means my entire body is going down south and I am pretty sure I am slowly shrinking (which is disturbing given I am only 5'1" and I don't believe in "hemming" jeans however I do believe in taking a pair of scissors and cutting them crooked). I use to look in the mirror and the reflection was average to good. Now I look in the mirror and hear my late, great, grandma Mary saying "OYE" (which is Yiddish for "Oye"). Do you want to hear the truth? Sure you do - here it is... You look in the mirror. If you gained weight - you will look heavier. If you lost weight - you will look thinner. If you rarely sleep, you will have bags under your eyes. If you took too much sun you will have lines and freckles on your face. If you have s

We had met on a sleepy, Sunday afternoon, at an Espresso Bar in Old Montreal. It was the kind of day that you don't want to leave your place, or even get out of bed.  But the loneliness, creeps in, the day lingers on and you leave so you can find someone to bring home. I was sitting at a corner table, writing words that didn't connect, wondering where the missing piece of the puzzle, to my sunken love life had gone. He was at the table beside me, sketching birds flying across the sky in unison, in a shape that resembled a heart. He had sandy brown hair that he pulled away from his face, only for it to fall back within seconds. His eyes were blue and he had a cleft in his chin that I wanted to nibble. He felt my eyes upon him. We struck up a conversation. He showed me his art, I showed him my words. We didn't ask one another's names. Who cares about a name. We knew we would be leaving together.  He held my hand from under the table, stroking his fingers across the