Happy December 26th. It’s Saturday. The day after Christmas.  Boxing Day, if you are a Britophile. Although, sadly, I recently learned that Boxing Day is apparently moved to Monday if the 26th falls on a weekend.  A pity…but we shall still pretend it’s today, for the sake of  this posting.

Read more on God Save the Queen….

Since my husband Drew’s untimely death…

(which was very inconvenient and against my direct orders, I might add) I have spent an inordinate number of hours pondering what, indeed, is truly sacred. Perhaps it was because he died at Christmas.  I mean, it is difficult to reconcile the death of your soul mate with the simultaneous celebration of the birth of a man whose press release says he is the Son of God.  Then you throw Santa Claus and mistletoe into the mix…and you can start to imagine why a woman would need to do some serious pondering in regard to life, love, death and religion. And what is deemed hallowed…and inviolate.

Read more on What is Sacred?…

In grief, as in dog walking, one must ask:  ”Is putting the poop in a plastic bag & tossing it really the wisest way to deal with it?”

During the April school break, I took my three children on one of our spontaneous, ill-planned, overnight “adventures.” This time, we headed up the coast. Along the way, we enjoyed some snooping around in antique shops, consumed the requisite fried seafood and ice cream treats…and then we did what every American family does to end the day on a happy vacation note.  We zipped into a weathered, old cemetery for a quick bit of fun.

Read more on Dealing with the POOP….

I am widowed.  Which is why I am here (see my blog title). I am also dating. Which is why I am on sites like Match.com.  Today, I was talking with a fellow (that sounds wrong) widow. We were talking about men. About dating them, mostly.  She was feeling odd about the prospect of dating someone younger than herself. I could not immediately even grasp what she was saying. I mean, I myself have never experienced that “odd” feeling in relation to dating younger men. What other kind of men are there??  Older ones, I guess.  And what exactly is the draw…?  Maturity?  Some brand of “fatherly-ness?”  I suppose that’s attractive to some women. I don’t know. What? You throw his E.D. issues in the bucket with the fact that your breasts aren’t as perky as they once were, stir…and everyone feels equal? I just don’t see it.  I mean, when I was in college and fell head-over-heels for my late husband, I thought it was kind of sweet that he was 1.5 years my senior. One and a half years seemed perfect.  But let’s get real, my friends… I was 19 when we started dating in earnest.  He was 20…and a HALF. What’s the big difference?  There is none.  Men are a bit less mature than women at that age…so it all balances out nicely. He could have been ten years older than me and it still would have seemed perfectly perfect.  WHEN I WAS 19.

Read more on Younger men pay less for life insurance….

All chipper and bright.  Maids-a-milking and chicks dancing and drummer dudes drumming.  Sounds like a real party! And that poor partridge, stuck up there in that pear tree, afraid to come down lest he be attacked by the three horny French Hens.  Or are they French horns?  No matter. And then there are the five golden rings.  Ahhh, yes. The rings.  Which make me think of wedding rings.  And weddings. And marriage.  And MY marriage.  And my husband.  And the fact that he is now my DEAD husband. And the tragedy that was his death by pancreatic cancer, on the magically beautiful snowy morning after Christmas.  Circa 2002.  Sad is a word that does that Christmas no justice.  Yes. How I have always loved Christmas.

Read more on The 6 Years of Christmas….

I see a trend in progress. I see disaster on the horizon. I see the Twitter Train of Trouble barreling toward a cute little imported sports car…that has gotten its sensitive, run-flat tires hitched on the tracks.

Read more on Death by Twitter….

Web content? Ph.D.?  Okay…so I didn’t really get to stand on a podium in a cap and gown and deliver the commencement speech…but I should have.  At least that’s the way it would be, if life were fair.  Which we all know it is not.  I needed a brand new web site. “Sandi, you need to fill in this outline with all of your content, and when you’re through, send it back to us and we will turn it into your web site.”  Poof!  Magic! Cool!

Read more on My Widowhood Thesis: How writing my
web site content earned me my Ph.D….