Almost Two Years, A Personal Reflection On Life

Next month it will be two years that I have been a widow. Because I have been working on my book, I've lost track of time.  I still saw the words, widowed before my sixith birthday as I wrote, then edited my book.  Now I realize I am older. Shocking. As shocking as it is that time has passed. I've been writing for almost as long. At first late at night to clear my head and deal with life and the quiet of my house. Then writing for the pleasure it gave me. Telling my story and living my story as I wrote it. My writing bringing me to the present. From widow to woman (or girl as I still like to be called). My old life as an antique dealer for the most part gone too. I still love a good treasure hunt, but for my house. My tiny booth is for recycling things that I am replacing. I am now a writer. Yes, I am self publishing my book, but that is not what makes me a writer. If I am lucky my book will bring warmth to those who read it. Like chatting with your best friend, telling your secrets, opening your heart. But writing has become a way of life for me now. I can't imagine not writing every day. When I took my screen play writing course, my teacher asked the class. Do you feel you have to write, that you can't escape it, that it is possessing you?  I shook my head and thought, not really. I am writing to heal myself and keep myself busy. Then somewhere it clicked. I must  write. I love to write. I live to write. So that is what makes me a writer. I love to write on this blog, my garden blog and I am writing on The Red Room, Where The Writers Are. My brain is spinning with things I want to put down on paper. I am a happy writer. I may make you cry with me on the way, but you will end up smiling after our visit. I dwell on the positive and want to share that.
Yes, I started dating shortly after my husband died. The Unfaithful Widow. But the reality of everything is that I like people, I like men (and that is sometimes hard with the dates I've met! You'll read about those). But finding my life, my place without my spouse was my answer. Not a replacement beau or husband. Maybe later. I had to do something extraordinary to deal with his death and the change in my life. So my book is that bridge for me. Writing my prince charming.
I write every night and send my heart out into the universe, hoping someone will be touched, someone will hear me. Maybe someone will laugh. Maybe cry. Maybe someone will realize they are not alone when reading my words.
I look at my widow blog and have to laugh. It should be my dog blog. How silly is that? But the inspiration and love I find with dogs is right up there with my writing. Both have rescued me.
Oh my, in August I'll be 62. I've had my broken heart, but I was lucky to have had so much time with my husband. I am lucky again that I have found myself through creativity and the love of dogs. My future, I plan to be surprised. But I am writing every day and there is a new book in the works.
I have a wooden plaque I found at the thrift store. Someone hand painted it. It hangs in my kitchen as a reminder that each day we have is a gift to be treasured.

Yesterday Is History,

Tomorrow Is A Mystery,

Today Is A Gift,

That's Why We Call It the Present.

Enjoy your present that is today. Send enough energy into the universe and let it bring you what you need. Smile and say thanks for this moment.

Those are the thoughts that keep me happy, that and six dogs who make every second a party at this house.

A Ton Of Pea Gravel And A Vintage Corvette

A perfect spring day today. The Reverend came over to help me with my new patio. I can't seem to get grass to grow and with six dogs flying across the yard chasing one another I know grass may be a thing of the past for me. I've already built a small deck to cover part of the bare ground and above ground tree roots. But the area off my huge old cement patio still looked pitiful. Then at Home Depot it came to me. Pea Gravel. Pavers. Stones. I'd make a little gravel patio right off my new deck. The dear Reverend who now looks after my yard is my gardening angel. "I'll get the gravel with my truck and be there Tuesday." Little did I know I would be his helper today. We mapped out the area and covered it with something from the back shed. Roofing paper, maybe. But it will do the trick for now. Then I ran back to Home Depot to buy some edging pavers and the Rev started to unload half a ton of gravel. I got back home and looked at the pea gravel and thought, not enough. So the Rev went back and got another half ton. While he was gone I went all about the yard finding large old stones and the left over cement chunks from the foundation work I had done in the fall.  I lugged stones and cement chunks all day. Haven't felt this well in weeks. Sun, sweat and a job well done is better than a date on Saturday night. And those words coming from these lips mean something! We stopped at five and the Rev was sweeping the excess stone off my driveway. He kept looking at my corvette under its car cover. I am so embarrassed to say I have not driven it in six months. But it needs some work, headlights need adjusting and I haven't had time to get it to the shop.
"Let's see if it cranks." The Rev was excited. It needed to be done and I was in denial. I just couldn't face it not starting. "Come on, I'll help if it won't start." He kept looking at the car cover and at me. Why not! I ran got the keys, yanked off the car cover and there it was. My beautiful '79 Corvette Stingray. The sunlight bouncing off its sleek hood blinding me with its brilliance. I opened the door and slipped into the low riding front seat. Oh my, it felt good. I put the key in and pumped the gas pedal twice. It reved up, but didn't turn over. "Try again," the Rev encouraged me. "Hit the pedal twice again, slowly, then turn the key." I held my breath and did as he said. The car roared and the sound made my heart race. I just sat in the seat and smiled. This week it goes to the shop.
I let the dogs out in the yard after the Reverend left. They ran through my new pea gravel patio like it was sand at the beach. Then they raced out into the yard, running circles around each other, joyous to be in the weather. Their barking could be heard throughout the neighborhood I am sure.
I sighed and smiled. A perfect day.
Widow Lesson Learned: Listening to dogs bark on a lovely spring day is almost as much fun as listening to the motor hum on a vintage corvette.

The Blue Door

The first of the year found me sitting on the couch wondering, what should I do? It was midnight and I was thinking of the next day. I had plenty to do, writing, house cleaning, catching up on things, but nothing appealed to me. I wanted to open my front door and walk out to a fun, exciting, new adventure.
Something different to inspire me. My butt was planted on the couch, my feet twitching, my brain thinking. I kept looking at my front door, looming ominously at me. A dark brown hollow core door that kept me trapped inside. I looked at the door and thought it was so dull how could an adventure lurk on the other side. I wanted a portal to take me to a magic place. Then it came to me. Paint the door. I was so excited at the very thought, I jumped up, ran to my studio to grab my paints and came back with a huge tube of robins egg blue acrylic paint I had gotten at the thrift store for 49 cents. Brush in hand and a little music playing to inspire me (I find Marvin Gaye gets me groovin') I whipped out my brushes and got to work. Twenty minutes later I stood back in awe. I hugged myself in glee and did a dance. Now there was a door that when opened would bring all the magic of the day to you. A door worthy of flinging open, stepping out into the day and discovering what the universe had in mind for me.
I never stop on my creative projects for the blue door needed something fun on it. So I gathered things I thought I might sell at my antique booth and started hammering away. I filled the door with fantasy. Perhaps that is me sitting on the metal gate of roses with my fairy wand. Queen of my domain. Small paintings with flowers and bugs and a metal lady greeting welcome. Not welcoming guests inside my house, but welcoming me outside to greet the day. By 2am I went to bed satisfied with my evening's work.
I love my blue door. It makes me laugh. It makes me feel silly. It makes me hopeful. No matter what troubles may befuddle my mind, one look at my door tells me all I have to do is open it and step out into a world full of wonder.
I am almost over my cold today. The sun is shining brightly. I opened my blue door and reached out to let down the top of the metal storm door. The air is brisk and I inhale it deeply. My heart expands as I drink in all the fresh air. I've fed the dogs, am sipping my coffee, but for lunch I am heading out to treat myself to the day. My blue door, open, beckoning me, delighting me with the thought an adventure is to be had.

Widow Lesson Learned: A bit of color to an old door can remind you of all the color that awaits on the other side.

Is It Me? Or Is It Them?

Okay, I have to admit I just jumped out of bed to let the dogs out, coffee is brewing and I am am sleepy eyed. So maybe I am seeing things with a brain that is leaning to one side this morning. Worked on another round of edits for my book until the moon and sun started swaping places. But as soon as my feet hit the floor and the dogs scooted out to the yard I plopped down at the computer to see what excitement happened while I was sleeping. When you go to bed at 4am and are up at 8:30, not much exciting goes on in that window. But I am always hopeful someone was up earlier than me and I have mail.  This is my morning routine. I bring in my e-mails, check my blogs and hit facebook. You never know when someone special will touch base.  New comments for my blogs from friends faraway. Old friends saying Hi as they wake up. Messages from the writing groups I have joined. A notification from Etsy I sold a piece of steampunk botanical jewelry. And maybe a wink from a handsome man on Match.
This is my last month on Match unless I decide to try again. I seem to dabble on it and then wonder why? The online dating thing confuses me, heck, dating confuses me. But I try to keep my flirt factor up. It is hard to meet men when you are glued to your computer writing at all hours. And I am addicted to mine!
The first thing I see on facebook, an ad off to the side for Match. I see Match ads everywhere, but this one caught my eye. A handsome male face and then the words under his photo Date Men Over 50. Meet 1000's Of Senior Singles Near You. Join Now. The shock factor hit me. OMG. Seniors at age 50??? Pulease, give me a break. No wonder Match and I don't match. Even the Thrift Stores don't consider you Senior until you are 55. Me, let's not talk about my age. I may be in the grave. But such a young looking corpse.
So then, I grab my cup of coffee and look at my e-mails. Aha! My eyes blink twice as I look at my new message. Is it me or is it them?  An e-mail from an online writing magazine. The subject line reads: Lay vs. Lie (vs. Laid). I sip my coffee with excitement. I know what the difference is! If I were in class my hand would be waving to get the teacher's attention.  I lay on the couch watching TV, I lie about my age and maybe I'll get laid. My goodness, why is a writing mag 'splaining this to me? I put my coffee cup down and open the message with anticipation. Boring. Only talking about how to use the words, and, gee I got them all wrong. Phooey! But this is my world and I'll use my words as I please!
The thoughts alone those words brought to my brain perked me up and now I am ready for the day. Lunch with the gals and a class at Emory tonight. A Life Training class. I am such a puppy I may need some training. I run through the halls, roll over to get my tummy rubbed, wag my tail for dinner and love to ride with my head hangin' out the car window catching a breeze. And they dare to refer to those over 50 as seniors. You'd think we were old dogs!
Age is a state of mind, and my mind says I am still growing like a wildflower in an open field. I have so much to do, so many hats I like to wear, so many new friends waiting to be found, so much to say. I decided I needed a new business card. One just for my best of friends, those who know me well and get it. We laugh on the phone about my wild stories. I am suddenly the widow who has opinions on everything, I talk about life's big issues, I play, I work, I have dogs. Strangers ask me what do I do, and they are gone before I can finish my list. I am a storyteller. So my new title: Professional B/S Artist. I fear I am not taken seriously by those who can't smile at life. My business card gives power to my words. So, dear friends of mine on my blog, consider yourself on my list of favorite folks. I am sharing with you the card I only share with those who have won my fancy and get it.
Senior at 50, LOL. Me at my age? The candle is lit at both ends and the flame is bright!

If you need glasses to read my card, don't fret. Me too? But I love glasses. I have reading glasses in every color. And, men like them, I have found. My red ones always get a cool from the younger guys. Those senior guys over 50 borrow them to read the menu with me! From studious to sexy with the swipe of a hand and the glasses placed as needed. There are no seniors, only those who think they are old.
Widow Lesson Learned: It is better to be a viewed as a puppy wiggling your butt in excitement than to be referred to as a senior over 50.

Thanks For Coming By One World One Heart

I am already so excited! New friends are stopping by to sign up for my prizes and I just started my carpet ride today! Be sure to see my last post and add a comment by Feb. 15th with your e-mail address so you will be included in my drawing.  I love dog stories with a happy ending or a sad beginning, so if you want to share yours e-mail me. I also like to chat about most anything so if you want a new friend, you can call on me! I just took the flower test and I am a daisy. (2/21 Note: that link has been removed).