Julie and I went out to dinner last night. We hadn’t seen each other since before I went on my trip to promote world peace so we both had lots to discuss.
One of the things I brought up was that Lisa, my agent (I will never say her name without that addition) asked if I was ready to date. She even suggested J Date.
I used to joke that if dave and I ever got divorced (at the time I thought that possibility was ridiculous) that my next husband would be a fat guy who would sit on the couch and say “See what’s on 4”.
That really doesn’t sound that bad to me but now that the reality has set in, he’d also have to love dogs as much as I do, go to the beach with me and actually go in the water, take me on vacations that we both wanted to go on, not feel that as long as I went he didn’t care if I wanted to be there, and not take advantage of my serious need to please.
Oh yeah and he’d have to really love me and not date.
But I’m nowhere ready for even that yet.
Even if I was I don’t know who I could get.
Sometimes I walk down the street and say to myself, “Could I get him, or him?”
Men my own age or even older would want someone younger. And even they aren’t so great. It’s one thing being with someone and watching them grow old slowly. You don’t even notice it. But to get turned on by an old guy in the beginning? I don’t know about that.
Then I remembered that dave’s japanese flower found him attractive enough according to the email she sent him about licking parts of him that I didn’t even know he had but he’s a star in Japan and that makes up for quite a bit.
That’s when I remembered that Lisa, my agent, may make me famous so that would increase my choices. I might even get a younger man or as Julie suggested in the title of this post there are even more possibilities.
About a month ago a young woman named Lisa Leshne that Julie knew from Violet’s school reacted to a post of mine that Julie had put on facebook.
She’s a successful agent who has done a lot for new writers and bloggers.
Julie suggested that she read the rest of my blog and after she did she said she wanted to meet with me.
I was really scared and didn’t want to see her without Julie. Julie was too busy finishing her new book so we put it off until yesterday.
At the last minute Julie (am I saying her name too much?) had some emergency rewrites and had to back out.
She suggested we postpone it but since I had already polished my nails I decided to go it alone.
As I’m writing this I realize that if the meeting had been for dave I would have met with her when she first showed interest.
I walked into the restaurant and there she was. She was beautiful and warm and welcoming. I wondered what I had been afraid of.
We sat down and since my hands were still shaking ( you could barely notice my flawless nails polished with # 626, “Eternal Optimist”) I ordered a glass of wine.
Lisa was so easy to be with that I only drank half of it.
After a bit of small talk she asked me if I ever thought about writing a book.
While we were sitting there discussing the possibilities Lisa kept coming back to what I had considered a throwaway line in my blog where I mentioned that my trying to take care of my rapist was pretty much how I handled my divorce.
Only lying in bed later, having woken up because my sleeping machine tried to drown me again, did I realize how lucky I was to be involved with someone that perceptive.
I know I’ve learned a bit about myself writing this but a whole lot of it doesn’t resonate with me until I get a comment from a reader or in this case, my agent.
Well I’m back.
The truth is I could have been anywhere and it would have been just as good.
Whenever I’m with my sister it’s usually with the rest of the family or for a short period of time.
For two weeks we were together for 24 hours a day. We had time to sit silently and read. We didn’t feel that we had to entertain each other or squeeze every thought into our brief visit.
There was not one moment that wasn’t absolutely perfect. We felt no need to do something we didn’t want to do to make someone else happy. (I’ve chosen to ignore those fish faces for this post)
We were totally in sync.
We were hungry at the same time and tired at the same time.
I love her so much and I have since I was a little girl.
On a less pleasant subject. I truly could do without flying.
Luckily I am always alert and everyone on that plane should have given me a hearty thank you upon landing.
At the airport I noticed a man with a Qatar Foundation tee shirt (some kind of terrorist organization if I’ve ever seen one)getting on first class, then another swarthy man with the same shirt getting on coach.
My antennae were up.
While the rest of the plane slept in their stupid ignorance I kept a good watch on those two guys.
There was a young girl in the window seat next to me who was sound asleep with two pillows, one stolen (mine).
At about 2 hours before landing, sleeping beauty woke up. That’s when I noticed that she too was wearing that shirt. She looked up and her eyes met with man number 2 who was standing in the aisle.
I was just about to wake Marcia to alert her.
Only when the girl stretched did I see the back of the shirt. It said UNICEF.
Well it could have said “Death To America” and I would have been prepared
Europeans will eat anything.
They are not put off by seeing faces in their food. OR FEET!
I don’t take any chances. I almost always order chicken but my sister, who if you don’t mind my saying so is not an adventurous eater, keeps ordering fish.
Twice I had to change plates with her because the first time it was filled with faces and eyes and the second time it was slimy and had a hole in it.
Plus I had to pretend that I liked it so she wouldn’t feel bad.
That face thing didn’t have just one face, it had about nine of them.
We went to another Gaudi museum today and I saw the most beautiful necklace designed by Gaudi (a copy).
If dave weren’t dead, at least to me, he definitely would have bought it for me but since I’m poor now, instead of buying beautiful gifts for myself and the people I love, I’m collecting refrigerator magnets from each place I visit.
Thank goodness for Barcelona.
Today we went to Gaudi’s “La Pedrera”
Marcia, who cries at the drop of a hat (I once made her cry 5 times in a row by singing “Good Bye Old Girl” from “Damn Yankees”) burst into tears when she signed the guest book.
Before this we might as well have been vacationing in the Bronx.
All we did was eat, shop and lie like lumps on the boat.
We did go to the Picasso homestead but that was on the first day. After that our heads hurt from all that brain stuff.
Funny thing about my red shoes. Well not funny exactly, just more proof that I’m losing my marbles.
When it was time to pack to leave the boat I pulled out my big suitcase and opened it up only to see it empty except for one red shoe.
What made me look into my suitcase on that first day, see one red shoe and figure that I was unpacked.
Since we made so few friends on this trip, all our vacation photos are either of each of us alone or pretending to be chatting it up with one statue or another.
We couldn’t have been happier.
Every day and every evening Marcia puts on one beautiful outfit after another. Her skirts match her blouses and she looks beautiful.
During the day I wear my casual black and in the evening for a change of pace I wear my dressy black.
Since I was feeling so happy before I left I decided I wanted to bring a splash of color. Last summer Lizzie bought me red shoes.
I knew they were just what I needed to brighten up my trip and had I packed both shoes I’d certainly be wearing them.
We’re in Mallorca now.
We’re dining on tapas in an outdoor restaurant and if every person at every other table wasn’t smoking a butt it would be perfect.
Tomorrow off to Barcelona and then home to try and start my new life
Here’s what’s wrong with espana or should I say Los espanioles.
In spite of the fact that I speak to them in impeccable Spanish they answer me in incorrect English.
Por examplo, the answer to “donde la taverna?” is not “twelve”
Btw we did survive last nights near death trip. But I should say that the Capitano (I can barely speak english any more) threw up 3 times during dinner.
It put a real cramp in marcia and I finishing our surf and turf.
It’s 9 pm.
We’re on our way to Cartagena.
The boat’s being thrown around like a paper cup. There must be a million foot waves.
My sister is a tall drink of water, my mother always said she made me with leftovers since everyone in my family is over 5’9” and I’m 5’4”.
Anyway I asked her to remember to take my life jacket out of the high cupboard along with hers if it goes the way it looks like it’s gonna go.
Today was only ok.
We spent the whole day searching out phone cards for my sister to call her husband. No luck.
I got an email from David saying that Liz was going to Santa Fe so rupe would be in his clutches for a few days. If it’s possible to sound like Snidely Whiplash in an email, David accomplished it.
I only stopped flinging myself against the wall screaming when a second email came from Liz saying she was taking Rupie with her.
If we survive the night and I’m assuming we won’t by what I see out the porthole, I’ll write to youse tomorrow.
The sun finally came out.
We went shopping this morning in the narrow little streets of Cadiz.
The fact that Marcia kept referring to our jaunt as a “forced march” didn’t dim my joy at all.
I don’t like to criticize but next time I choose a traveling companion it will be one who has no problem drinking during the day.
I won’t mention names but the girl who frequently tells me that the sun must be over the yardarm somewhere would be my first choice, that is if she can find a place to leave Violet.
We got back to the ship and went into the hot tub. Trying to keep my exercise routine going I did 162 laps in the hot tub.
Now back to the lounge. Let’s see if “Miss Ice Tea” has decided to loosen up a bit.
First day on the ship is at sea.
Marcia and I did nothing but lay around and sleep. It’s been too cold to go outside and all so my golden tan will have to wait.
Even so I’m not sad. Every time Iook over and see my sister I get happy.
I’m kind of having to work on it sometimes though because the last time I was on this ship it was with dave. I don’t remember him being that much fun though.
There is one most unfortunate thing. Being married for a long time left me with some of his boringness.
When the Captain said that we were under sail at 12 knots my ears perked up.
I actually said to myself. “Wonder what the windspeed is.”
Marcia and I are determined not to let anyone speak to us. We only want to talk to each other.
Not that anyone is breaking down our door hoping for a gabfest.