First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage, Then Comes…

We just returned home from a weekend spent hanging with my best friend from grammar-school whose son got married at a quaint little Inn in Novato, CA. We got to catch up with my girlfriend’s family and friends, get away from our routine and ‘party’.

The timing was perfect. A big wedding week-end to get us in that wedding  frame of mind (OK, probably just me, and not hubby), before we head off Friday night to Mexico. We will be celebrating 25-years of married bliss at a couples-only resort in Cancun.

I’m excited about this trip. And nervous. I never stayed in Mexico before, but I’ve heard wonderful things about the resorts there. It’s just that hubby and I often have ‘adventures’ when we travel. You know, the kind that are annoying at first, then you are laughing about them later? Sometimes much later? That sort of thing happens to us all the time. It’s spooky.

The point of post (finally!) is that this week on Not Pretending (to be sane), in honor of my 25th wedding anniversary next week I will be posting about love, dating, weddings, marriage, romance and all that mushy stuff.  UnknownCouple

Since I already know my stories, I would love for you, dearest readers, to send me one of your humorous stories or anecdotes, about your experience with love and romance, etc. The ones I like the most I will publish as “guest posts” while I am away.

Sound like fun?  I will even make it super easy for you to send me one…

Thanks to all of you,




photo credit: Funky64 ( via photopin cc

After 25-Years of Marriage He’s Still a Mystery

Question-8-ball  Hubby and I really do communicate. Not that you would notice. After chatting with his sister on the phone for half an hour, he neglects to tell me about her plans for a reunion, or the latest earth-shattering news. He swears that yes, he told me – I just forgot.

His family must believe my mind is a constantly leaking sieve.

Like he remembers anything, Ha!  If it has to do with firearms, power tools, or nakedidity – the man can remember it. He draws a blank if there is a calendar involved. Take Valentines Day as an example. The man didn’t know that it fell on February 14th – EVERY YEAR. Or, if he did know, he rather pretend he’s a moron than get me a present. Either way, I do not get a present.

But we won’t go there today…

We have this huge calendar that hangs on the refrigerator door. Our entire life is on there – doctor appointments, birthdays, events we plan to attend, guests arrival dates, parties, 49er football games – I mean everything.  All he has to do is look at it. I cross out the days that have already passed even, so not to confuse him.  Giant Calendar

The man still does not know what week it is, let alone the day. He has a Jeff Foxworthy daily calendar on his dresser. He doesn’t tear off the past days redneck jokes, so even that calendar can’t help him. I can’t blame this on retirement because it all started years ago. Around the time we got married.

Why should he pay attention to all that? He has his very own personal day-timer – Moi. All he needs to do is ask ‘what day is it?’, ‘when are the kids coming up?’, ‘don’t you have somewhere to go today?’. Now this has spilled over to television. ‘What channel is blah-blah on?’ ‘What day/time is whatchamacallit on?’, ad-nausea.

I find it odd that he expects me to just know all this stuff for him, off the top of my head. As if this was in the vows I took at our wedding. Maybe it was.

My mind leaks like a sieve, you know.


Diary of a Nicotine Addict: Dancing

May 20th marked one year without a cigarette.  Whoopee.

I wanted to celebrate by having a couple – so my battle is not even close to being won.  Maybe battling with the Bitch is a mistake. She has proven to be the strongest and meanest one of us, many times over.

I came across this quote last week while preparing my sister’s eulogy:

Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.  – Psalms 30:11.

I have dealt with my addiction (a.k.a. The Bitch) all wrong.

I translated the verse (into jodi-speak) in my head: Thou hast turned for me my mourning (stopped dwelling on the NOT having), into dancing (expressing and celebrating life): thou hast put off my sackcloth (kicked me off the pity pot), and girded me with gladness (surrounded me with gratitude).

Girl Wearing Boxing Glove
photo credit: kk+ via photo pin cc

I need to DANCE with the Bitch, not fight her.
Train for strength, watch the enemy, and protect myself. The Mohammad Ali kind of dancing.