Are You Lucky In Love?

I am not lucky in love.  Yes, I am a cupid skeptic, I have heard about all these wonderful love stories, but it is just not in the cards for me.  After two failed marriages, there aren't many who would disagree.

I accept full responsibility.  I am too selfish to be in a relationship.  When I am 'involved,' I pick the wrong partners. I don't cooperate.  I was meant to be single.  It took me a lifetime to figure it out.

I went through the stages of looking for love in all the wrong places- on-line, at clubs, through friends.  Ugh, what a drain.  I just hated putting all that effort into meeting someone special.  I am so picky.  No, I am not a goddess, but the kind of man I want is already taken.

 The good one's always are.

I've met scores of men, alcoholics, love addicts, men with emotional and mental issues.  Whew, the list goes on and on.

It is okay not to have a significant other,  I feel like if I have to try that hard to meet someone special- and not 'settle' - love is just not in the cards for me.

I guess you could say the romantic side of life just isn't a possibility   As far back as I can remember, the men I adored could not reciprocate feelings for one reason or another.

I married for all the wrong reasons.  I settled.  Party number one: He was a professional and it seemed the right time to settle down and have a family.  I told myself that my dreams were unrealistic, and that I had unrealistic expectations for myself.  How could I not want to marry a successful CPA?  He was attentive, intelligent, reasonably attractive.  The spark was never there,  I am talking the kind of spark that is a true soul connection.

Funny thing is, the men I am most attracted to are not necessarily successful, but there has to be chemistry.  Chemistry is what complicates relationships.  It gets in the way of assessing a relationships true value.Very few men have the whole package, chemistry, stability and other qualities that make them lifetime partner material.

This Valentine's Day I am having a little picnic with butter cream iced cookies, cakes, and meatball sandwiches.  I am celebrating the day with co-workers at the office.

I got a mushy card from husband number two, which expressed his undying love for me.  Funny thing is, in the years we were married he never uttered a word about his feelings for me. In addition, I received  two texts wishing me a Happy Valentines Day,one of which sent to me in 'error' but the party left me the following message:

 "Happy Valentines Day to you, whoever you are."  Exactly, that's what I am still trying to figure out.

Chasing Paul

ean-Marie Périer—Polaris

Paul McCartney, London, England, 1966.

My biggest celebrity crush started when I was a wee bit of a girl, at twelve.  America was all about Elvis, Paul Anka, Dion, Smokey Robinson.  I, on the other hand, was ready for something new. I have always loved music, the very first song I can remember was "Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White."

How's that for dating myself?

 I was also in love with horses, so it is not surprising I spent my weekends riding at Greynolds Park  in Miami, Florida.  All my attention and desire were directed to horses in those days. That was the weekend drill, finish my school work, and make a mad dash to the stables to ride.

 I was soon to be bitten by a new love.

 I was not prepared for how big this love would be when the Beatles were introduced to American radio.  The feeling was indescribable.  It impacted everything in my life from that point on.

I remember everything, the group arriving at the Deauville Hotel, in Miami Beach in the early 1960's.  Their introduction to America on the Ed Sullivan Show.  I could hardly walk for weeks after I made it up to the floor on which Paul was staying.  I found a closet next to their room to hide in, only to be literally kicked out of it by two girls protecting their territory.

A group of girls and myself put together a little band, because we loved them so much. We were called "The Beatle Birds.."

We even got a gig at a local restaurant, "The Place for Steak," complete with press coverage for the night we were going to perform.  While my friends and I were preparing for our stage debut ( I was Paul McCartney of course), it never phased us that we had a major handicap, we played "air guitar."  Of course it was more than a joke, but go tell a twelve year old that is ga-ga over the Beatles that doesn't count.

I was so crazy about Paul McCartney that I used to sleep with a pillow, I called "Paul."  The feeling was so intense that I felt the world cave in around me.  Nothing else ever mattered.  I took on every task with the thought of "what would Paul think of this?"  When other girls were tied to the football player of their dreams, I was tied to my imaginary love, Paul McCartney.

I saw every Beatle film at least 20 times, and still never tire of "A Hard Day's Night."

I have seen every picture of Paul McCartney, from the time I was 12, and have loved everything London ever since.  Because of my devotion to him, I chose to forgo the football players for the long-haired garage band musicians that had won the hearts of the local girls in the 60's growing up in Miami, Florida.

My sister was a flight attendant for National airlines during the 60's.  I found out she was working a charter for a local radio station that was flying a group of Beatle fans to Jacksonville, Florida to see their concert.

My mother, aka "Auntie Mame," was not at all daunted about contacting the station to get me to win a coveted seat on that plane.  

Guess what?  I did get to go to Jacksonville.  But not on my sister's charter plane..  You see, my mother's relentless efforts-knowing no bounds- contacted the competing station.  Never mind, I was going to see the Beatles!

I screamed my guts out when I saw Paul, in fact, I sat next to a gal that had bought him a beautiful ID bracelet.  The Miami Herald reporter covering the story picked up on a comment I made "Linda, he's looking at you," and my comment that she needed to get up to stage and give it to him.  I swallowed my jealously for her affection for my true love.  After all, we both got to fly up to see him, and we were seeing him up close and personal!

A cherished victory at 12.

I have kept a close watch on my celebrity crush, following him through his first love, Jane Asher and onto to his life time love, Linda Eastman. His struggle with her death.  His rebound relationship with Heather Mills, the birth of their child, and the look of loneliness in his face.  I was mesmerized by his love for his family, his beautiful sheepdog Martha; and reveled in the thought, "there by the grace of God go I."  

While I never did meet Paul, like everyone else of the era, we felt we knew him and the rest of the Beatles.

I remember looking at a rendering of them as what they would look like in the 60's and 70's.  I thought to myself, this will never be Paul  He can't age.

And so he has aged, and aged.  But the magic is still there.

Can you believe I still dream about Paul McCartney in different situations in the most imaginative way.  I am talking at least ten dreams a year!

While the crush has waned, I am still amazed that my sub-conscious mind will never let him go.

Perhaps I do have a soul connection with my life time crush, Paul McCartney after all.

Just Say No

You'd think I would be past it, and have taken some ownership by now.  But, I am always stuck for an answer when I am backed into a corner with something I don't want to do-but think I should.

Why can't I just say no?

I have spent the last ten years of my life reinventing myself, doing some personal house cleaning and getting rid of old personal inventory.  However, I still have trouble with those two little words.

Last week, I invited a friend to a family dinner party. We had not spoken in two years, and had recently mended the bridge in our relationship.  My friend was very enthusiastic about coming.  We discussed the menu, the fact she wanted to bring wine and were generally excited about getting together.  When I entertain, I get all worked up in planning the evening.  I want everything to be just perfect.

I received a call late Thursday evening from my friend.  She asked if I would pick her up.  Ugh...I thought, she drives, I am entertaining, why is she asking me to do this?  I felt put out.  So, instead of being honest, I hesitated and said yes.  She went on to explain that she would ask my sister to take her home following the dinner.  When my sister and I talked following the conversation, she told me there would be no room in her car to take my guest home.

I got myself in a pickle, it was overload.

I would be drinking and having to drive my friend back to her house.  So I called her back and made up a story about the fact that the dinner was canceled and could we make it another evening.

 Shame, shame, shame on me!

I am not a liar.  Honestly, but this didn't sit well with me.  What am I?  sixteen again?  Why couldn't I just tell the truth in the first place?  Now, I feel like a ground feeder because I have stooped to the lowest level imaginable, lying about something so trivial.

I have always had trouble with this; at work, with friendships, and then I whimper about unhappy I am having to do something I don't want to do, or something I think was an unfair request.

It has happened throughout my career, when I feel I am slighted or not respected professionally.  Instead of speaking up and saying "this is not okay,' I'd smile and swallow the indiscretion.  I still haven't learned that people respect people that tell it like it is.  Being a people pleaser gets you absolutely no kudos either at work or in personal relationships.

So, as I take a look at that personal inventory, there is still some house cleaning I need to do.
I am going to make a conscious effort to get comfortable with a two-year-olds favorite response:
'no.'

The Unpleasant Truth About Your Finances

Finally, I came across an article that tells the hard truth about saving money.

 For years we've heard, "put 10 percent of your paycheck away, and this will ensure a comfortable retirement." We've read scores of books, everything from Suzy Orman to "Rich Man Poor Man."  We had set our course for financial success, and looked forward to a comfy retirement.

While browsing one of my favorite sites at salary.com:  Why Everything You Know About Saving Money Is Wrong.  I read this realistic piece about what one can really expect when living from paycheck- to- paycheck.  Moreover, it addressed the fact that when people live from paycheck- to- paycheck how can they reasonably save anything?

For years I have always felt like I am less a person because I could not put money away.  I knew all the reasons why it is a challenge; starting with the economy, health care and living expenses in general.  I beat myself up mercilessly because of this.  I swore up and down that there had to be another reason (apart from self-control and conservatism) as to why I couldn't save.

Okay, truth is, I suppose I could give up going out once a week for a meal, or to a movie.
 Really?  Do I want to stop living completely? If this is what I have to do to save, then forget it.

As it is, I have given up Nordstrom for Target and starting doing my nails myself.  I am still unable to put any money away.

I even thought about the socialist governments around the world.  For example, I have a good friend with 5 children who went back to live in her native Amsterdam, because "the government would provide a home for  me and the children."  My friend does not have to pay for this comfortable home, it is all part of what she is entitled to as a single mother.  Sounds good on one level.  However, after much thought, I decided our government provides choice giving us the opportunity to succeed.

I wouldn't trade freedom for a socialist government, no matter how seemingly attractive.   I quickly abandoned the socialist route.

So what other options do I have?  Look for a better paying job?

Easier said than done, with scores of graduates out pounding the pavement, looking for the very same job for which I applying.

Shame on me, I have turned down good jobs recently, because jumping ship and starting a new job would upset the balance in my life.

Then there is the take a second job idea.  No, I am not up for a second job at this point of my life.

Investing, oh yes, I have my favorite little vignette about that.  I had invested a little bit of money in the stock market in the 80's.  This was the famous era of the stock market crash.  I lost every bit of my investment.  Following all the sages' advise not to touch my investment, and wait it out.  I waited it out to the bitter end.  There was absolutely nothing left.  There are risks to investing, didn't anyone tell me that?

The point is, not everyone can save, and not every baby-boomer can look forward to a comfy retirement.

There are more than a few of us that have to prepare for working into our seventies and perhaps beyond.

I have a sour taste in my mouth.  However, it is the truth, even though it doesn't exactly 'set me free.'

The up side is this:  I have a good reason for not saving.

Is This The Place I'm Supposed to Be?

Imagine you have a dream.  It is the goal you've sought for years,  and it finally comes true.  Then, in an instant, you realize it is not what you want.

This has been the course I have been on for the past 6 months.  I feel I am stuck, but shouldn't move forward.  I have not been able to complete my endeavors, for one reason or another.

The biggest issue:  personal time.  I am finding out, as a baby boomer, I need to pick and chose very carefully.  One poor decision could alter my life dramatically.

I have a hard time sitting still, and am very impulsive.  Maybe I need to learn to really have a come to God talk with myself and find out what I think I want is really what I want.  I am at a loss for the moment.

I have had amazing opportunities come my way in the past few months.'  I have turned all of them down.

I think I want more, and when I get it, I am compelled to turn these opportunities down.

Finances certainly play a part.  However, when I had a chance to earn more, I struggled with the lack of balance I would have in my life.   I passed.  How dare I pass up a career opportunity in this market?  Am I nuts?

Then on the housing front, consider the next scenario:  I found two dream houses that I wanted.  One of which would have been perfect, but I was uncomfortable with the financial commitment and did not accept the counter offer.

How am I feeling?  Frustrated.  I am beating myself up.  What the heck am I doing? Or not doing?

Have you ever been stuck?  I found it easier to take risks in the past, but now the thought paralyzes me.  I am not so quick to follow through on life altering decisions as I have been in the past.

So, I sit, and wait, and wonder; is this the place I am supposed to be?  Is there more out there for me?  Should I just pack it in and give up?

I just can't decide.  You know what?  I hate this indecision, it is weak, and mentally compromising.

I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings about being stuck.  On the the flip side, maybe it is a time of renewal, and this do nothing feeling is helping me evaluate my life's path.

I just know I want to get out of neutral soon.

Queen of Blues Would Have Been 70 Today

Elliott Landy—Magnum Janis Joplin backstage at the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, 1968.

It is hard to imagine the queen of blues would have been 70 today.  It is even harder to believe that her life ended at only 27.  This picture captures her pain, and a side of her we never saw.  She was said to have loved books, and for all her on-stage crass and flash, she was a humble, and creative soul, evident in her music.

When I look at this picture I can feel her pain.  I'm certain that you can too.

 I saw a documentary on her, tracing her career from her home in Port Arthur, Texas to the streets of Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco.  She was not popular in school, had acne, and was always chided being the brunt of her classmates jokes.

In the documentary, she gleefully remarked that, she was going as "Pearl" to her high school reunion.  She was elated about finishing her most successful album, and had adopted "Pearl' as her nickname.

Janis made a grand entrance - with feathered hat and satin dress.  She was proud she was now "someone."

However, when "Pearl" arrived at the reunion, no one made a fuss.  I am sure this was a big let-down for Janis.  She looked forward to coming back to school, as the blues star who made it.  To her surprise, no one seemed to care.  The film captures her just partying with her own entourage, having a good time despite her disappointment.

Janis wasn't at all attractive, but audiences loved her.  She was real, gritty and sung from the depths of her troubled heart.  We all felt her pain when she belted out the blues songs she grew to love while frequenting back street bars growing up.  This is where she adapted her unique style and gutsy presence.

I never saw her in concert, but I grew up with the generation that adored her.  Even if you weren't a fan of Janis Joplin, you just had to watch her croon.  It was spectacular to say the least.  I often wondered where that hurricane of a voice came from.

So, on her 70th birthday, I am singing happy birthday in my heart to the forever-young Janis.  The girl whose tears you saw behind her smile.

 It is sad that she never lived to enjoy her retirement.  But blues singers never really die, they don't even fade away.

It seems fitting that she sang the Dale Evans classic to John Lennon on his 30th birthday; "Happy Trails, Until We Meet Again..."

What do you bring to the table?

Fotoseach.com

I had a wonderful weekend.  Something very nice happened to me this weekend, I was invited to a lovely dinner at a neighbor's house.  Because I had made plans, prior to accepting this invitation with a friend, I was going to bow out of attending this fun, Tex-Mex dinner.

My neighbor encouraged me to invite my friend, and so, I extended the invitation to him on behalf of my neighbor.

The dinner was a feast, there were casseroles, guacamole, taco shells, soft taco's ground beef - hot salsas of every color and variety.  I was drowning myself in queso and loving all the hot, spicy flavors at this festive dinner.

It was to be a combined birthday dinner party for another neighbor, who apparently was ill and could not attend.  Never mind, the red-velvet cupcakes were made - and enjoyed,- I had a ball downing three of them!

I brought a big pitcher of sangria which was graciously accepted by the hostess.  My friend arrived and explained he had just come from work.  I was a bit miffed that he arrived empty handed.

Okay folks, how many times has this happened to you?  You prepare a lovely dinner, and guests arrive without so much as a "can I bring something along" for you.

Sorry, but being from the old school, I think it is cheap and distasteful- not to mention thoughtless at the lowest level.

 I always said, I wouldn't date a man that was so self-absorbed that he would have the nerve to show up empty handed at a dinner party.

They are out there, for sure!  The fact that the women in their lives have always done this duty is not an excuse.

I have an  real estate client who attached himself to my family.  just like clock work, he attends every holiday dinner.

In eight years, he is just now asking if he can bring something;  I got so disgusted that I finally assigned him something to bring.  And, even when asked,, he makes it a point to get the cheapest, least expensive wine on the market.

Perhaps I am out of line, you think.

Guests shouldn't have to bring anything.  I agree, they don't have to bring a thing to the table.

 But shame on them when they don't.

How much trouble is it to stop at a grocery store, and bring just one rose? or some wild flowers that you picked in your own garden?

A thought and gesture of appreciation.

If you think this thoughtless behavior is limited to the uneducated, think again.  Although, I must admit, I see it happening mostly with men.  It seems women have always taken care of this for them.  I don't think it is a good excuse, regardless.

What do you think?  Am I out of line? Do you share my attitude that these folks are free-loading cads?

I  bet you won't show at your next dinner party empty-handed.  I know you at the very least query your hostess, about what you can bring.

And when she says, not a thing,

 do her one better and bring her a little something to show your appreciation for going to the trouble and expense of sharing a lovely meal with you.

The Road Less Travel

The holidays went by with a blink of an eye.  I didn't particularly enjoy this holiday season, as I was ensconced with a job offer I had received and accepted- but did not start.  The job was a wonderful opportunity for me.  Or at least so I thought at the moment.

So, why is it I didn't take this job?  It was a step forward on the career ladder.  It promised a better salary, and potential to earn much more.  I was lost in the excitement of accepting the offer, but I didn't do enough research on the job itself.

It involved a considerable commute, and out of town training.  Hmmmm.  travel, you know that old expression "to thine own self be true." 

 I have a hard time being honest with myself.  If I were, I would have realized that I don't travel well.

 I have issues with this.  I don't handle change exceptionally well either.  I could blame it on age, but the truth is I have always been this way.

I am highly creative, sensitive, productive .  Unfortunately, the flip side of me is not so appealing.  I have always had to attend corporate conventions throughout my career.  However,  I \ had a spouse or travel companion to take along, so home was always with me on an unconventional level.

 At this juncture of my life, I live alone and have responsibilities I did not have before.

 I have an older dog, that I adore.  He is not doing very well, and it would mean leaving him for time without me that he has earned as my loyal companion.  I also have a loud, obnoxious parrot, that does not cotton to strangers caring for him in my absence.

I wish I could just shrug this off, but I can't these guys are 'family' to me.  

So back to the job offer; it would mean my working occasional evenings, getting home at no earlier than 7 pm, and little time to balance my home life.

  Shame on me for not evaluating all these issues initially.

Remember, I was was caught up in finally finding professional work, and said 'yes' before I looked at the fine print.

So, doing the unthinkable, I said no before I was to leave for corporate training.  This does not get you on the corporate hit list, for sure.

I don't have an answer, but I suppose I need to own up to the fact that at this point of my life, I want to work close to home.  Because, despite all the glitz and glamour of the corporate world, I realize what is really important to me.  Instead of criticizing what I can't do, I prefer to focus on what I can do.

And so, as I turn another page of my life, I am continually discovering and uncovering the 'real' me.  

Sometimes distasteful, but always the truth.  I don't know how many other wonderful career opportunities I will have.

I always entertain the idea that I can make them happen myself.

I Really Like Me

I haven't been able to write a thing for the longest time.  I feel I have let myself down, because I do so enjoy sharing my thoughts about life, love, happiness and sadness.  However, it is fitting that during the holiday season, I have learned something new; how to be my own best friend.

Yes, corny as it is, as 70's as it is, it has happened and to me!  I have never learned to enjoy my own company- until very recently.  There was always a child, husband, or relative around to absorb my time.  I never really had to get to "know" myself.  And secretly, I was afraid I wouldn't like myself.  I thought I always had to have the "company" of others to keep me from dealing with this Pandora box.

So, after my son left to take a job in Florida in January, 2010; I was faced with yes, being alone, ( if you don't count the Great Pyrenees and Goffen Cockatoo I have in tow).  The first few months' were the most difficult.  I was transitioning to having constant stimulation to being alone with just the animals.  My new, little apartment proved to be a safe haven to begin this journey.

I felt the rush of panic come over me, not unlike the feeling I had when I had to TRAVEL alone for business.  I know it sounds just nuts, but I have this ANXIETY thing going on, causing me to even go into COLD SWEATS when I let my mind have free range.

Know what?  I learned that the old expression, "it's all in your mind" became more than a reality for me, living on my own.  I suppose I just like to make things more difficult.  So the question is, why am I beating myself up and not letting myself enjoy the moment?

Truth is, there have been many, beautiful defining moments living on my own.  I can now slow down, and really reflect on my life, and wonders of all wonder; I actually ENJOY my own company.

With Christmas around the corner, and no kids coming home for the holidays, I will nonetheless host a party of 12 in my 640 square foot refuge.

I don't have Christmas eve off, so after attending church, and making last minute preparations for the barrage of guests set to arrive at 4 PM, my life will move into the fast lane for 48 hours.

And, after I finish dishes for 12 it will probably be close to midnight.

This Christmas party will remind me how ridiculous it is to have once been afraid to be alone. Once the last guest leaves, I will sigh a sound of relief, because I am 'alone' at last!

The Surprise Gift

The greatest joys for me have always come from the most unexpected places.  Last night, while out walking my dog, I struck up a conversation with a  neighbor in my complex.  This neighbor has obvious disabilities, yet his smile and easy manner would warm your heart.

 We conversed about Section 8 housing and how he got into the program. My building is certified for Section 8 housing, and there is a bevy of challenged people that have made it their home. After I collected my mail, "Tim" asked if he could walk along with me and my dog, Pepe.

"Of course," I replied.  I was welcoming conversation after a long day in front of a computer.

 We discussed where "Tim" was born, he shared with me that throughout his life,  people have made fun of him and his disabilities.  I was so hurt and angry to hear this from such a kind soul.

 I had talked to this young man less than ten minutes, and already I was perked up and happier than I had been in a long time.  Yet, I thought- people actually have made fun of him?  It is obvious that Tim has disabilities, he speaks about two octaves louder than most; but his easy smile and soulful eyes are honest, transparent and engaging.

I began to tell him about Pepe, my Great Pyrenees.  How he has suddenly lost the strength in his back legs.  I told him that Pepe has been my closest and best friend  for almost 10 years.  I shared the thought of losing him is painful.  I told him I didn't know how to handle this unavoidable event.

"Tim" knelt down and put his arm around Pepe's head and whispered,   "You're going to be alright Pepe, remember your Mama needs you, you have to get well for her," he said.  Tears welled up in my eyes.  The intuition this young man has amazed me .  After Tim had his little discussion with Pepe, he straightened up and continued to walk with me.

"I had a Golden-Retriever wolf mix," he said.  "I loved that dog.  My mom and I found him on an Indian reservation outside of San Diego.  I remember how I took him to work with me every day. Then, when he got sick we were going to move.  I prayed that he would live until we made that move."

I felt like I was talking to someone I have known all my life.  When was the last time you had a meaningful conversation.  A heart-to-heart like this?

Gifts come in different packages and types.  "Tim" told me that few people engage him in conversation because they just assume he isn't intelligent enough to take the time to speak with him.

What a travesty for those that have passed on a good conversation with Tim!

They have missed out on the special joys that he shares openly with those that will take the time to look beyond the obvious.

The rare unique pleasure of having a meaningful conversation.   I have always hated small-talk  For me, Finding someone to open up to is like trying to look for a needle in a haystack.

There are so many treasures to explore in the most unlikely places.  I often look outside myself for happiness; I think I'll find  in buying clothes, a house or other material possessions.

How would I know that the key to happiness could be found at my mailbox?

Finding happiness for me, after all was less complicated than I had imagined.

I challenge you to try it sometime by speaking to someone you would normally just pass on the street, at the car wash or on your day-to-day activities.

 It energized and renewed me.  I know it will bring you special joys as well.  I was reminded why I am here, and what it takes to really be happy.

My Real Estate Horror Story

123rmficom

I bought a house, then I didn't buy a house.  It all went by that fast.  Having been a Realtor for 6 years I never imagined what my buyers' went through when buying a home.

The waiting, the excitement, the loan approval, the inspection -tons of paper work-  documentation, social security numbers; you name it - everything is required except your pantie size.

Not to mention school.  That's right, homeowners class.

 You see, I was approved for state funding for my down payment, so I went to a TERRIFIC class on the do's and don'ts of home buying.  I would advise EVERY buyer to take this class.  It is offered in every locality by the City in which you reside.  It is a wonderful resource at least, and at best; it provides for a down payment assistance that can be inexpensively paid back and is folded into your mortgage payment.

I have gone through this before - over 5 years ago.  I don't remember it being as stressful.  Oh, I have had multiple homes before which I shared with husbands.  However, I have never bought just for me and Pepe, my Great Pyrenees; and Coco, my Goffen Cockatoo.

After the running, the excitement, the shelling out of money for the inspection and appraisal, and earnest money - the transaction fell.

Not because I didn't qualify, not because I didn't want the house, but because the repairs agreed upon were not done to my satisfaction.

The seller did agree to correct the issues, but after I had already documented what I wanted repaired  and I found these during the walk-through- I was less than willing to be let down a second time.

I had to ask myself the hard question.  Can I afford to take on the financial responsibility of this house? Can I play roulette risking that the structure was sound? Can I afford to make these costly repairs if not?

Interestingly, there is no remedy for this in the real estate contract. It would require mediation, and of course, the seller gave me the opportunity to let him repair the items for the second time (which he didn't do correctly the first time).

Moreover, with just 5 days before closing, and having given my notice to vacate my apartment (which was already RENTED by the way), it took more than logic to terminate the transaction.

Shame on me.  And this happened twice. How could I make this mistake twice?  Me, the real estate professional.  I had always been so protective of my clients; how could I let myself down?

 There is so much to share I don't know where to begin.  I'll try to get this right for you:

1).  NEVER EVER fall in love with the exterior cosmetics of a house until you know what is behind the smoke screen. Having done this twice, shame on me.

2)  When you find your dream home, don't put anything on paper UNTIL your own  professional checks it out.  I don't mean inspector.  My inspector, as most will do;  pointed out the most critical things on the report.  My personal representative (a construction worker friend of the family) pointed out a ceiling so full of insulation that it buckled when he put his hand on it.

 I should have known.

3) Measure your bedroom IMMEDIATELY.  I was so ga ga  about this little doll house I didn't bother to  measure the rooms to see if my bedroom furniture would fit.   I found out after I went into contract  I would  have to break up my furniture set because it would not fit in any of the bedrooms.  Take that tape measure the first time you step into a home!

4) Talk to neighbors, get the skinny on the neighborhood and the history of the house...this was pointed out over and over again when I researched my transaction and at homeowners class as well.

The GOOD News?  by the grace of God I was able to get my complex  to get the new tenant to transfer to another apartment (which magically became available the day the transaction fell!).

My furniture all fits in my bedroom, and I won't have to give up my heavy duty washer and dryer that would not fit into the bungalow I was going to purchase. And, I won't have to wait to buy a dishwasher and air conditioner because I already have one in my humble abode.

The BAD News?  I had to tell  Pepe' that he was not getting his yard....not quite yet anyway.

"And now ladies and gentlemen..."

IMDb.com- Alfred Hitchcock

It is easy to count the reasons I love and miss Alfred Hitchcock.  I doubt there will ever be a director that  parallels his talent.

I am lost in watching a slew of his gems this week:  Frenzy, Topaz, for a sampling. Glued to my flat screen television - I remotely remember watching all his films' - but it has been so long since that I have seen them the thrill is the same as watching for the first time.

Can anyone top the edgy scene in Frenzy when Hitch zeros in on the English psychopath in the victim's office?  The scene starts out so benign, just a 'wacko' client that isn't satisfied with the agency's attempts to "match" him up with a prospective partner.

I am dazzled by way the camera pans the expression on the killer's face, mountains of orange wild hair, the watery eyes of the victim as she realizes she is trapped.    The gruesome rape scene, the victim reciting a measured prayer; as the killer's voice grows deeper and deeper as he lapses into a rage-  stealing more than her body - during the savage attack.

I especially like the type of characters Hitch selects for his films.  Undoubtedly, the  most eccentric bunch  of people I have seen on screen.  Woody Allen has the same ability to pick perverse characters.

Brian De Palma has a bit of the Hitchcock twist and turns in his films, but still; they are a far cry from the class of this English master director.

How about the fun in watching for his cameo's?

I am always afraid I will miss his split-second appearances when I race to the restroom or kitchen.  It is always a challenge to find his bulbous face in a crowd, or some other obscure place within the frame.

There are so many Hitchcock films  I love, especially his first films at the beginning of his career.  As his films' evolved  the zaniness just got better. Characters took on a more morbid, yet eccentric element as he began to flourish.

Something that never changes is the thrill watching an Alfred Hitchcock film.  Moreover, one never knows what to expect next.  It is hard to predict what will happen in the end, as in far less brilliant films.  He was the master of dark disguise, and his character direction brought out the dark side in every one of his characters.

What's you favorite Alfred Hitchcock film?  Why did you pick that one as your favorite?

Today, there is so much memorabilia that can be bought from his estate.

Including, get this, a phone voice over of him advising your callers "you are out for the moment, but should return soon."

Just one of my personal favorites....

Managing Career Disappointment

Have you ever wanted something more than anything in world, but had to turn it down when you got it?

It could be a job, a new beau, a home.  Something you have been dreaming about, visualizing, wishing and hoping about so much it hurts.

Then, you find out your perfect dream is a smoke screen.  There is a piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit.  Very often, this dream come true requires a risk, and you have to take it or pass on it.

I had what I have been working for, within reach and offered to me.

But there were issues about owning my dream.  Serious issues.  I wanted to bury my concerns, and just go for it.  However, after conferring with friends, I knew that I couldn't follow my gut this time.  I couldn't ignore elements of this opportunity that would clearly impact me if I said yes and took the risk.

Sometimes, life sucks.

I am feeling very angry about loosing something so important- so precious.  Particularly because I don't have a lot of time left on this earth to obtain that goal.

The objections were serious enough that I just couldn't ignore them.  Oh, I want to just do it anyway.  This would be a fatal move.  In my case, it is a job...I job that I covet, that I want so badly.

I have made some serious mistakes in the past, and even though I had an offer I found hard to refuse, I couldn't take it not because of fear of failure, I know I am the best person for this position- but the players would have affected my success.  The fit wasn't there.

Moreover, I have taken positions in the past ignoring my gut, and I was out the door within 3 months.  I am a very special personality,  People either love me or hate me.  There is nothing lukewarm regarding how co-workers and bosses evaluate me.

I want to kick up my heels, stomp my feet and scream at my frustration.

Back in the day, jobs were so plentiful that it took one no more than 4 to 6 months to get the job of your dreams.  Not today, and certainly not for a boomer like me.

Has this ever happened to you?  How did you handle disappointment?

Did you mourn your dream that slipped out of your reach?

I can't let things go.  I am tenacious and stubborn to a fault.  And, I beat myself up mercilessly.

So, as I approach the long, and winding weekend, I have yet another burr under my saddle to fester.

Life can suck when you have to make hard decisions.

So tonight, instead of going home and talking to "the hand" I am going to put my arms around my Great Pyrenees and pour my heart out.

Retirement Is a Dirty Word

Driving to work today, I thought about retirement.  It was frightening to me.  Just the word "retire" makes me think of:

• tired
• worn out
• used up
• worthless
• ready to die
• dead weight

Pretty hard to swallow, that in 10 years-  I will be looking at retiring.  I am not ready.  Notwithstanding, the economy tells me I won't be able to even afford to retire in ten years.

More frightening.

I always thought of myself as being creative, but am I resourceful?  I think one has to be very resourceful to come up with a plan "B" when you're looking into a crystal ball. Check out this chilling Daily Finance article the-notion-that-youll-spend-less-in-retirement-is-totally wrong

I look around, and see loads of resourceful people.  They are not licking their wounds, but rather; they have established clever little businesses to sustain them as they shift into first gear.

I haven't done that.  I have thought a great deal about it.  What I want to do when the time comes.

When I started blogging, I thought, hmmm; this  is a good idea, because I believed it would open doors of possibilities.

To some degree, that has been true.  But it is no secret that you cannot make a living blogging.

Baby boomers, like myself, have this dirty little secret:  we never planned for tomorrow.

 I can remember my mother's good friend telling me to "put my money away."  I also remember feeling very angry about her telling me what to do with my money.

 How dare this woman stick her nose in my business, I thought.

Of course, back in the day, money was rolling in like no tomorrow.  I had a career, making excellent money, and never thought about tomorrows.  Money was to be spent, and I bought want I wanted.

As I look back, I realize I was too foolish and stubborn to look at reality.  And, I haven't changed much since then.  I have been to the school of hard knocks, but all I do is dream about a change in my lifestyle.  I still love to dream, it quiets my restless soul.  

I can't bear to think that I will spend the rest of my life in a void of financial doom and gloom.

So, with that said, I would like to hear from other baby boomers, on ideas to keep yourself afloat, as we approach retirement.  Because, l don't want to retire in the true sense of the word.  I want to continue to provide for myself, be an active part of the community rather than shrivel up in a corner of my home.

So tell me; what are your plans for retirement?

Will you be able to retire and provide financially for yourself?

J.K. Rowling Ready to Roar

Starplus.com

I had blogged about my doubts that J.K. Rowling's new book would be a success.  I believed that she should stick with appealing to her children's audience.  Apparently, minds far more evolved disagree:  J.K. Rowling Writes 'Casual Vacancy' For Adults.

This article makes some strong points that I hadn't evaluated about the J.K. Rowling audience. Usatoday.com explains that Rowling's targeted children through  the Harry Potter series.  Those books  transitioned the once 'children'  into young adults.  Harry Potter books have made readers out of the  adolescent and preteen readership.

Usatoday.com goes on to report that those young adults are already sold on the Rowling's new mystery novel, Casual Vacancy.  Makes perfect sense to me.  It's all in the details, it is said.

So clever.  How did I miss that?

I was always from the school of thought that if you have found a niche in your market, don't change courses. Apparently, there are many ways to look at this.

On September 27,  2 million copies hit the United States bookstores.  Clever as she goes, the book will be simultaneously released in Canada, U.K. New Zealand, Australia and Germany.  The digital version will also be released on the same date.

Whew!  never under estimate genius and power of brilliant marketing campaigns.  Silly me, I should know better.

Trouble is, I have this gut thing about me.  I always rely on intuition to evaluate  people, situations, the world at large.  Well, at least usatoday.com agrees with me on one point,  that J.K Rowling is in the same league as Dickens. 

Got that call right.

And, just like the Harry Potter books-  there are no advanced copies being released.  So we all have to hold our breath right up to the end.

Are you ready?

I can't tell you have many books I have started and not finished.  I never had that problem with Harry Potter.  I hung on every word, and they don't get any less interesting when read a second or third time.

In fact, I always find something I have missed -  so good are J.K. Rowling story details.
So. with the advent of another J.K. Rowling novel.  I can hear the pitter-patter of footsteps already lining up at the book stores.

I am so ready to go on another adventurous ride. How about you?

The Real Meaning of Courage

I listened to "Teenage Wasteland" today, the "Who's" mega 60's hit about the Vietnam war.  As I listened, my mind drifted back to my first boyfriend.  He was such a cutie.  I met him at the Surfside Community Center in Miami Beach, Florida.  It was my very first dance.   I was all of 12, he; 13 or 14.

 I'll never forget the nice, starched white shirt he was wearing, and his red and black vest, black pants, and black boots.  He was just a vision for a girl of 12. His blond hair, softly framing his strong face, was the perfect accessory to his wiry, tall body.  Anything Beatle was the rage, and he definitely had the British vibe going for him.

I knew I had to meet him, or at least introduce myself.  I don't actually know how I finally did meet him.  Being rather shy about meeting boys at that time, I must have done something right because by the end of the night we were fast friends.  During the weeks that followed, he invited me to meet him at the beach, and so,  my first crush blossomed.

We'd  meet on weekends and go to the ice-skating rink at the Fountainbleau Hotel. We would delight and walk around to all the hotels of the day that lined  popular Collins Avenue.  But it was a the Deauville Hotel, that he whispered softly into my ear, "do you want to go steady?"  How excited I was to have someone so interested in me.

There were other groups of teens that frequented the Beach, some of them we called "hooples."  These were the rebel without a cause group, always looking for fights, and still sporting the greased back 50's look, rather passe' in the swinging 60's. A couple of these teens must have said something to set my beau off, because the next thing I saw was two or three of them beating him up.

My poor guy had his hands wrapped around his head - it was obvious he wasn't a fighter - and could not protect himself.    At that time, I am ashamed to admit I thought less of him because he didn't fight back and defend himself.

I was a child at 12, at every sense of the world.  However, I was in for one of life's greatest lessons about that incident.  I would not know what the lesson would be, or that it would take 7 years to learn it. 

The Vietnam war was raging on during the 60's.  I went on to meet another young man in my late teens, who was going to be a true boyfriend, not the "puppy love" I experienced with this lad.  During this time, everyone I knew held there breath about the draft.  It was a lotto, and whoever drew the lowest numbers was called to serve.  "Ronnie" wasn't so lucky.  He was shipped off in 1968.  I prayed that my current boyfriend did not get drafted.  As it turned out, he didn't and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

So, I was shocked when, in 1969, the phone rang, and it was my good friend Linda.  She was calling to let me know that Ronnie was killed in Vietnam.  There was a viewing and she wanted me to be there, and even bring my current boyfriend, Tom.  I sighed, and said I couldn't do it.  She was relentless, reminding me that he was my first boyfriend, a friend I had for two years, prodding me even more.  Insisting that I show up- out of respect to him- and our friendship.

I asked her what happened, how did he die?  She explained that he was anxious to get home.  His troop had the option of getting home early, if they volunteered for a reconosance mission.  Ronnie volunteered and tragically stepped on a land mine.  

When I went to view his body, the poor boy was dressed in his army uniform, with a glass enclosure over his body.  A mutual friend was standing over his body, pointing out that his right arm was obviously missing, as the uniform hung flat on his right side.  Tom and I slowly kneeled over the casket, and said a prayer for Ronnie.  It was a strange and very odd feeling, being there with my current boyfriend, and honoring my first.

While it was a terrible experience, I didn't think back to the incident on the beach, at least not at first.  It was, over the years, that I most reflect back on that day.  I frequently reflect on, the joke was really on the "hooples".  Because he was the real hero.  I thought of the "toughs" and how they looked at him, full of arrogance and pride.

Could they man up to what he did?  Would they have taken on that mission?

The old adage that "youth is wasted on the young" couldn't be more potent.  It is life's lessons like this that are truly wasted on the young.  It was inspiring to first become aware, that Ronnie was a hero, and getting beat up on the beach paled in comparison to giving up his life for his country.

Life has it ironies, doesn't it?

I can't help but drift back to that day every time I hear the Who's Teenage Wasteland.  I still can't make sense of that war.  But I will never forget Ronnie and all the other men who fought for what turned out to be a senseless effort.

I will never forget Ronnie, nor will I forget the lesson I learned about courage, and what real courage is.

I wouldn't want to ever forget.

My Moments

I have had my "moments."  Those little spaces in time, etched in my mind that I will never forget.

Here are some samples:

• my first kiss
• my first boyfriend and what he wore when I met him at a teen dance
• my first boyfriend's wake after serving in Vietnam
• my wedding
• giving birth to my first child
• giving birth to my second child
• feeling old on my 30th birthday
• seeing Ireland for the first time
• my father on his death bed
• my  mother on her death bed
• the first house I owned
• the house I grew up in
• seeing the Beatles in Jacksonville

The list goes on and on...but I remember so much more, those special moments in time uniquely my own.

These memories never fade, but seem to reappear more frequently with age.  Maybe it is like dying, and going through the proverbial tunnel.  I suppose I am supposed to remember the incidents that make up a lifetime.

There are those that say life begins with today.  Many, refuse to look back, just forward- or better- just live in the moment.  I am far too traditional for that kind of thinking.  

We all have our "moments."  Everyone has them, many paint them, others' talk about them.

We are share our "moments" differently.

I am bothered by the moments I have forgotten, but delight when somebody asks "do you remember when..." and I suddenly remember something I forgot.  More troubling, when someone asks do you remember so and so and I CAN'T remember...ugh....that gets very awkward.

That is the great thing about writing, as difficult as it is - you establish your very own personal memories- lest you forget.

I am happy I could share a couple of my own with you.

Do Our Children 'Owe' Us?

What do we owe our children?  What should we expect from our children?  I have been doing battle with my daughter for some time now.  She left home at 14 during the summer, which was to be her regular summer vacation with her Dad in Pittsburgh.

Right before she was to return, I received a call from her Dad informing me that she wasn't coming home.  She had chose to live with him and go to high school in Pittsburgh.  I was devastated.  How could this happen?  Why would my daughter do this to  me?  And why would her Dad make the call, and she refuse to do it herself?

To be fair, I was married to a bi-polar man and there was a lot of arguing in the house.  She told me years later that this was the reason.  It didn't stop the pain.  I will never forget it.  A loss that went right to the heart.

I cried until there were no tears left in my body. My  neighbor, and friend came over to comfort me.  I remember every detail of the day.  I shall never forget the day.

Throughout the years, my daughter went on to graduate from college, and became a Probation Officer in Florida.  She had a relationship with a college boyfriend that lasted 9 years.  They lived together, (which I initially suggested rather than rush into marriage).  This back fired.   Four years, went onto five, and I expressed my concerns and thoughts about marriage and family.  Last year, they bought a house; got a second dog - company for the min-pin my daughter has had for 10 years.  I also expressed my concerns over my daughter purchasing a house with a man who had not committed.

I have only seen my daughter three times in the 10 year period.  I could have visited her more, but financial obligations kept me from doing so.

I missed her terribly.

Roughly two months' ago, she announced she was going to meet her cousin, whom she had come to know on-line through Facebook.

 Hmmmm...she was going to New York, and I was concerned.  I told her that my niece may not be the most reliable person in the world.  That she should confirm her willingness to put her up for the few days she would be there.

To my dismay, my daughter told me that she told my niece exactly what I said.  I was incensed.  I explained that was not for publication, but something that was for her ears only.  Her comment?

"You should not talk behind people's backs."

 I couldn't believe my ears.

At any rate, as predicted, my daughter did not stay with my niece because, as I understood; my niece's boyfriend was not in agreement.  So, she ended up staying with a friend of my niece, a  40 year old man.  My daughter is 29.  I thought it odd that my daughter's boyfriend wasn't going along.  She had always done everything with this man.

I told my daughter that it was obvious that she was angry with me and had no respect for me.  I suggested we take a break and not speak.  I heard through the grapevine, that after a month returning from her trip, she packed up her bags, went to a motel, left her 10 year-old dog and the house she owned with her boyfriend.   She was moving to Connecticut to be with the man she had met - and stayed with on her trip- for just 3 days.

Just like that.  Quit her job (without notice) and left.

I was in total shock, as was the rest of the family.  What can you do - at 29 our children are adults- we have no control of their lives.  I communicated with my daughter today, and things went from bad to worse.  I was angry, and said some things better left unsaid.

I am now officially "unfriended"  from my daughter's Facebook page.  I am certain I deserved this after my lecture.

The point is, what can we expect from our adult children?  Do we have a right to tell them we don't approve or agree with their decisions?  Should we be disposable if they don't agree with us?

I am not the greatest diplomat with these matters.  I let it all hang out, and my temper gets the best of me.  Honestly, if someone told me they weren't speaking to their children and had written them off, I would be the first to judge and think how wrong they were.

Until it happened to me.

What do you think?  Is it better to come clean with your kids and let them know they are disrespectful?  Even if it means severing the relationship because they treat you like one of their friends instead of a parent?

I know many would bite the bullet and make up with their child.  I just can't, because I feel I am not getting the respect as a parent.  The only thing I wanted was an apology.

I never got it.

Post Office Closures: More Symptoms of Decaying Economy

Wikipedia, Mail Carrier

Growing up, I always found excitement in waiting for the mail.  The mailman always greeted me with a curious wink, and asked what I was up to for the day.  It was part of life for me as a preschooler.


Now that is all going to change.


Because of of the Internet, we no longer rely on snail mail to get our letters off to friends, family and businesses.


Why should we bother? we ask, when we can send a message across continents in seconds.


What about the art and intimacy of the personal handwritten note?  The post office was once a meeting place for folks in the 30's, 40's, 60's and beyond.  Now, as more satellite offices close, we are lucky to find one tucked away at our local food spot or strip center.


This is the beginning of an epidemic.  With a crumbling economy, I see this as a domino effect to businesses internationally.


Sad part is, all we can do is stand by and watch it crumble.  Post office may be going, gone by end of the year.   Yahoo.com notes, rural counties are struggling to stay open at least through the election: Postal Service: Will keep rural post offices open.

Our customer's habits have made it clear that they no longer require a physical post office to conduct most of their postal business," Postmaster General Patrick Donahue said this summer.

Just another symptom of a failing economy, we may say.  But where does this end?  What major facility is going to close next?  Will hospitals also close because of big government intervention due to lack of use, or worse;  because of government dictates regarding what facilities will be approved to treat patients?


Personally, I don't like this helplessness.  The United States economy as we know it, is evolving in a direction that makes me uneasy.  Thousands of employee layoffs are inevitable, with the advent of more government and private industry closures.


I may not use the post office on a daily basis, I still want to know it is there for me when I need it.


It seems I will no longer enjoy that luxury.

Fascinated With The Macabre

Drew Peterson, HLNTV.com

He's  baaack!  The Drew Peterson trail is about to begin.


 I don't know why, but I am fascinated by the macabre, forensics- why people do what they do - what causes the compulsive behavior?  What circuitry enables them to carry out atrocious acts of violence?


I had just finished watching a documentary on the infamous Ted Bundy, when I learned that Drew Peterson is now up for trial.  Jury selection has begun.  As with with most serial killers, I am fascinated.


One can feel he is full of himself, his bizarre behavior puts him right up there with Bundy, Dahmer and all the other infamous butchers.  Charming, mesmerizing, sharing the belief that they are above the law.  


Many are geniuses, but choose to exercise their genius in perverse ways.


It is part of the serial killer personality, and they do it so well.  I can't understand how they can hide the dark side so effectively.  The charm, mixed in with the psychosis- very strange indeed. 


As reported by WGNtv.com, on July 31st;  Petersen had written a smitten 26 year-old woman, in  an attempt to weave another romantic web for himself.  Apparently, the woman stopped communication with him abruptly.  Patch Newspapers reports that Drew professed:

 "I have always spoiled all of my partners, and was let down by all of them." 

 Petersen went on to tell the woman she had nothing to fear, that he was all about love and protection.  Drew Peterson's Love Letters To 26 Year Old Woman Released.


Believe it or not, I can understand women's fascination with him.  


No, I wouldn't write him, and certainly wouldn't want to share my bed with him.  Make no mistake- there are a lot of women that would.  These women crave attention, for whatever reason.  They have to understand they are playing with fire, but choose to carry on anyway.  


Sadly, that is what may have happened to his spouses.  


According to the Chicago Tribune, Peterson, 58, was a former Bolingbrook, Illinois police Sargent.  He is charged with first degree murder in the death of his third wife, Kathleen Savio.  His fourth wife, Stacy, mysteriously disappeared in 2oo7.  


The serial killer dysfunctional personality is multi-dimensional.  Obsessive, narcissistic and  demented -they can compartmentalize the most heinous acts.  It blows me away that many have regular jobs and families. They share disrupted childhoods, peppered with abuse and isolation.  Many begin abusing animals, and the behavior escalates. The Personality Profile of the Serial Killer   


Critics of the Drew Peterson case maintain the case is purely circumstantial, as there has been no DNA evidence to support Peterson murdering Savio.  


Peterson's then neighbor,  Mary Pontarelli,  discovered Kathleen Savio's body in a bathroom tub in the couples home - on March 1, 2004.  According to Pontarelli, Savio had confided that she believed Peterson was going to kill her.


We have the greatest justice system in the world.  Because of that, we give everyone an opportunity to a fair trial.  I wouldn't want it any other way.


I think to myself;  here we go again.  The mass media attention-  including the additional expenses to taxpayers for the anticipated 4 week trial. 


 If I think of the victim, it makes it easier to understand why we have to have a trial for these depraved people.


I'm not alone when I say I just can't get enough.  That does not change my mind about wanted to see Drew Peterson locked up with the key thrown away.


The macabre is fascinating for sure.  This trial will be a case study.