what I want

Besides good health and safety for my loved ones, world peace, an end to hunger and to see the Wings win the Stanley Cup this year I want someone to lie next to and to be held. Someone besides Olive, though she is good company.

I had this epiphany last night, after getting comfortable and lying there willing myself to fall asleep. My hormones make their needs known, loudly and with frequency but even they acknowledge this need is greater. I miss the feel of Jerry next to me, to feel the warmth of his body
and to hear his breathing. I miss the good way it felt to hold onto him, pressing myself into him and to feel his arm around me holding me tight and secure. Even when
his health wasn’t good and he didn’t have the strength he could still slide his arm around my shoulder. The pressure and weight of him lasted until he had to shift himself to breathe. He would lie on his left then
his right but would lie flat long as possible. That’s when he would hold me or I could wrap myself around him. It didn’t lead to more, not in the later years but was often enough on its own. I am embarrassed to admit I was sometimes
frustrated and felt like I was settling for nothing. Too late I realize it was more intimate than sex and in some ways more satisfying. Some ways but not all. I miss

I don’t want to resurrect him just for this, for a few moments of comfort. I am selfish but not that selfish and I doubt he’d be thrilled either. I just had a moment of weakness, one that I hadn’t expected to have. It is another part of getting on with my life, being alone. I know I’ll adjust, I’ll be all right. I still have Olive after all.


Sometimes You Gotta Run

I’ve been lazy about exercise lately, more than usual. I went to yoga only once last week and the only walking I’ve done is taking the stairs at work.

Yesterday I had an hour to kill before picking up Bear from work and instead of going to the library like I planned I walked instead. I stopped at a park and just went. I was wearing jeans and my everyday walking shoes, and only one pair of socks. But I had my phone, earbuds and cheap Yoko Ono sunglasses. I made a quick pit stop at the ladies and looked at the time, figuring I’d go 30 minutes then turn around wherever I was and come back.

I put on the Rx race playlist and followed the path. It was a nice day, windy but not bad and there weren’t many people. I walked but on the third song I couldn’t help it and ran. For about a minute and half. The break in “Sky’s the Limit” is irresistible and gets me fired up. It was a perfect moment, there was no one to see me trotting and wheezing, the wind was mild enough and it felt good. Mostly because it felt good.

I walked after that, breathing a little harder but not to exhaustion. I didn’t even have a stitch. I walked at my usual pace until another motivational break made me say heck with it, old shoes, out of shape, sometimes you gotta run. So you do.

I remember last year at the Memorial race I saw 2 women in t-shirts that read “Someday I won’t be able to do this. This is not that day.” I love that. Even though I’m not in condition to run a 5K I can still run a little. So I did.

I wasn’t at this particular park by accident; it’s the site of a 5K I’ve done 3 years previously. I walked part of the race route so it wouldn’t feel unfamiliar. I’ve been thinking about whether to do it this year. I’m not in condition, I haven’t been walking and my endurance is not where it should be. I could do the race,walking slowly and finish sometime before they all went home. I could do it but I would go into it knowing I could do better.

I may go ahead and register. I will get another tech shirt and there’s a Sonic across the street so I can get a diet cherry limeade after. Both are good motivators but recalling how good it feels to run even a short distance is even more encouraging.

conflict of interest

The main problem being the Girl Who Gives Zero F*cks is that it’s a lonely business.  Honest, and self-protection is a premium but also a big downer. It’s in conflict with Patanjali, the sutra that states “Undisturbed calmness of mind is attained by cultivating friendliness toward the happy,  compassion for the unhappy,  delight in the virtuous,  and indifference toward the wicked.”

I am blowing the first part. The others I can do from a distance but cultivating friendliness is tough going. The happy seem okay without my company and it’s hard to find a way in , something that lasts beyond “hi.”The trouble being the one who gives zero f*cks is people get used to it and forget about you. So I should probably just accept it as a side effect.

It’s probably too late for me to change my situation. This is more of a warning to anyone who decides to go down the Zero F*cks path.

. It’s a lonely one. Granted you will have some peace of mind and be known for your honesty but you’ll be  eating lunch alone.

the girl who gives zero f*cks

I have a goal, that is to give zero f*cks about things that do not matter, that I can’t change and how to recognize those things for what they are then to give zero f*cks and move on.

I apologize if anyone is offended by the word with the asterisk in the middle.  Honestly I’m not really comfortable with the word myself.  The idea is a wonderful one though.

This is something that’s been taking form in my head for a little while.  It took on definition today when I was texting with a friend. She was upset because someone unfriended her on Facebook.  There was more to it than that but it occurred to me this was exactly what I thought about,  the zero f*cks.  It was something she couldn’t change,  it mattered very little in the grand scheme of things and wasn’t worth grieving about. She took it to heart, being a gentle and loving person.  I looked at it as less worry and drama in her life, easy to decide from a distance,  when it is not my life or my feelings being hurt.

There are those little pain pricks, slights and rejections that I have taken harder than I should.  They are worth zero f*cks and I want to give them what they deserve,  squat, zero f*cks.  It hurts the ego, my feelings can be raw and rubbed til the nerves flinch from even the lightest touch. I know I can’t change it,  all I can do is change how I respond to it. It’s a spiritual answer,  both Christian and Buddhist.

I want to accept and make my peace with those things, situations and people that don’t like or agree with me.  Not to give into anger or be defensive but to shrug and give zero f*cks.  Then move on, not dwelling or fretting about it, about what’s wrong with me or what I could have done differently.  This is going to be a long term project, I can tell.

There are people,  one in particular who doesn’t care for me. It’s a guy I tried to be friendly with and got nothing back. It bugs me more than it should, I don’t reach out to people that much and getting smacked down was a bigger blow to me than someone who is more open and extroverted. It’s kept me from trying to talk to people.  Unless they speak to me first I am not willing. I’m trying to give zero f*cks about this and move on.

I’m trying to give zero f*cks about what is expected of me. I don’t fit the mold,  that’s for sure and frankly I never have.  I’ve always messed with the demographic. But as I get older I am expected to be milder, to be awaiting the arrival of grandchildren and have short well maintained hair a shade found in nature. I’m not,  either one. I’m also expected to “get out there” and be social. I never was, not really. A couple of friends have said they expect I’ll re-marry. Again,  not really and not interested.  I admit I thought about it and took a quick look around me and that was horrifying and sad at the same time. I admit I dread the possibility that some old geezer might ask me out but so far I’m safe. Bear has given a couple of old goats the fish-eye and he’s quite intimidating. But he’s planning to go back to Asia in a couple of months. I am more concerned about his plans and that he might not return for some time. He also gives zero f*cks about what people think and I admire his bravery.

So I will pretend I give zero f*cks, until I really do. Maybe I will learn from my son how to live with my own expectations and not those of other people. I will continue to like,  listen to and do what I like,  what makes me happy. As long as it is positive,  harms no one or breaks any laws.

thrift scores

I went to the Goodwill as-is, the pay by the pound warehouse that’s a thrifter’s dream or nightmare depending on the thrifter. It is a large room full of bins of whatever–mostly clothes but bedding, shoes and other things find their way into the mix. I spent two hours digging into the bins and didn’t get through them all. This is what I got for my efforts, total was $23, the going rate is $1.49 a pound. My only disappointment was finding two Chucks hi-tops in my size, both were left shoes and their mates could not be found. I was consoled by my finds, besides these I found some workout pants, rain jacket, red fuzzy sweater, dress shirt for Bear and a Kliban cat sheet. I went back today and found a down comforter dropping feathers and huzzah–a pair of blue low-top Chucks. The thrift-gods may take away but they also give. Thrifting was one of the things Jerry and I did, it was cheap and for years it was how we dressed ourselves and furnished our home. I like to think he’d like this place.

Black London Fog trench, looks gray but is really black. Honest.

See? Black, but I am lousy taking selfies.

Drop earrings I found at the bottom of the bin, amazingly still on the card, like new. I like pretty shiny things and am easily distracted.

Nearly swooned when I found this and that it actually fit. London Fog trench.

Another awkward selfie. I really need to clean that mirror. Also my bathroom is too cluttered

Thrifted shoe bag, sock monkey approved.


Last night I bought 3 bras. It wasn’t a just for fun splurge, I had to do it. Another cheap bra fell apart on me, the underwire poked through and I chucked it. There was another cheap bra in the trash; I had tried to keep it a little longer by stuffing the underwire back in and sewing up the hole. It worked, for 2 more wearings then the wire broke free again.  So I tossed that thing.

The two cheap bras lasted about 2 months.  I bought them for the obvious reasons,  to save some money and avoid going to the mall at Christmas. I was already at Target and they were only 15.00 each so I convinced myself this was a good deal.

It’s a cliche to say you get what you pay for but when it comes to bras it’s true.  To an extent, I tried on a Wacoal bra but saved myself $80 because it didn’t fit well

I went to Dillard’s, one of the few stores that carry 40Cs and bought mid-priced store brand brad that cost 42.00 each. To some women that’s typical,, to some women that’s chump change but to my thrift store sensibilities that’s a lot. Most of clothes in my closet didn’t cost that much and I could fill a cart with the amount I spent last night. Yet these bras are a better deal than my cheap ones. Ibought a Dillard’s bra last year and it still looks good and works. It’s held up, pardon the pun, to a lot of punishment.  It’s outlasted 4 cheap bras.

Ironically I used to look forward to buying the pretty little bras in the stores, the ones that never came in my size. That I could go anywhere and shop without worrying they wouldn’t have my big weird size. Well endowed women understand this and though I’m not exactly well endowed (mine is mostly back fat, to be honest) I did believe.

What I didn’t know was some of those pretty bras, even the more costly ones, can be crap.Some are made to be shown off and aren’t comfortable,  not something you can wear to work without scratching or shifting around. I suspect they were designed by men.

When all you can afford is the cheap bra from Target that’s what you get.But if you are able to afford better then buy it. Use some of that tax refund, it will serve you better than a trip to Vegas and will last longer. I usually wait til the bras go on sale but this was an emergency situation. Also get fitted, better stores will have someone who will measure you and see that you are wearing the right size and how to adjust the straps and hooks for the best fit. It is a little embarrassing at first but if the fitter is really good that feeling won’t last.  She’s seen worse. Really.

I wished I had known this when I went bra shopping the first time after losing weight after my surgery. The old style I wore was gone, it had been redesigned and I didn’t know what size I was now.  Even though I went back to Lane Bryant I eventually learned that it wasn’t my store anymore and had to start over again. Findng a good fitness bra was a challenge too. I never needed one before my unfortunate bra fail in yoga class. But I tried on several,  at Target and Dillard’s and was surprised the Target Champion bra fit and held better than the Nike model. Alas the Target bra finally gave up too but I knew what to look for when I went back. I also knew how long it would last. 

It may seem odd to spend more on a garment that no one else may see (unless you want them to) but it will make your outer clothes look better.  It even helps your posture,  much easier to stand straight when everything is in place.



It’s the full moon and I’m on my moon, two things that make for insanity. I’ve been a little nuts;  emotional and my small reserve of common sense has been depleted. I’ve had good dreams though.  My imagination is going to places it shouldn’t.

I had a meltdown today,  I tried but failed to not cry at work.  The only good thing about it was I don’t think anyone saw and I managed to keep myself together long enough to get to my car and then let myself just cry. No loud sobs or gulping,  just letting tears run down my face without stopping.

The main reason for losing it was that I felt alone and that nobody cares. I don’t have anyone to talk to,  to hang out with,  I don’t have anyone to even eat lunch with at work. I am alone, very much so and I don’t know what to do about it,  if it can even be fixed. The truth is I do miss Jerry.  Not in big dramatic ways, there’s no chance I’ll fling myself off a bridge or even fall down weeping hysterically.  It’s in simple ways,  like how I’d tell him about my day and lie on the bed next to him feeling reassured by his presence. Just the routine, I miss it. He was a good listener,  even if he dozed off occasionally. Simply put,  I don’t have that anymore and I’m aware that I am really and truly alone. I was numb the first few months and didn’t think about it.  I was just taking care of details,  getting on with everyday tasks and answering questions about what happened. Then for good or bad that last part ended, people forgot about my loss ( the most common phrase used). The usual daily stuff remains and I usually get through it without conscious thought.

But today that caved in and the hurt flooded through,  like water in a sewer. Although i’ve known I’m alone I hadn’t realized it,  honestly realized that I am indeed alone and it’s going to be a lifelong condition. I did and it sucked, seemed to suck something out of me too. I’ve said I’m okay being alone and in most cases it’s true. Despite my belief in self reliance I realize I need companionship from other humans. I don’t have that, not really and that was what I thought about when I sat in my car and cried.

As for my crazy imagination it’s nothing but silly boy crazy crap.  I may be full of hormones bouncing off the walls nudging me whenever a half decent looking man is around (fortunately it doesn’t happen very often) but so far I haven’t embarrassed myself by drooling. Yet. I haven’t clicked on any of those “date a geezer” websites either so there may be hope for me. As with other things that were dormant my hormones seem to be kicking back in too, with a vengeance. I will be so glad when my moon is over. Not going to think about next month,  just get through this one.

I’m also trying (and failing) to follow a sutra of Patanjali. I think most people who have done yoga are familiar with this, I’m betting it’s on a t-shirt somewhere.

Undisturbed calmness of mind is attained by cultivating friendliness towards the happy, compassion for the unhappy,  delight in the virtuous,  and indifference towards the wicked.

He also wrote “When celibacy is firmly established, attainment of strength and capacity ensues.” For some reason this is not as popular as the first one.