The Irreverent Widow » Uncategorized

The “Date-Us-Hate-Us.”

Sandi — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 17:52:31 +0000

A few months ago, I realized how much of my life force was being sucked out of me by dating the wrong men. And, sometimes, dating the SAME wrong men more than once! Shocking, I know, in light of my “Wash, Rinse, Repeat” dating story… but yes, dear reader, even I make errors in judgment. This realization led me to go on a “Dating Hiatus”….something I’ve done before, but have never really done wholeheartedly…and for the right reasons. Before, I’d say something like, “I should really stop dating and concentrate on my work and my children.” Of course, after 3 weeks of no dinners out (and, even more distressing, no kissing and/or sex)…I would always cave. Probably because I didn’t REALLY mean it when I said I should stop dating. In reality, I still had my heart set on finding the right man. Finding someone to fill the void left when I lost Drew. I still felt that the rest of my life wouldn’t make sense without that puzzle piece being replaced.

Read more on The “Date-Us-Hate-Us.”…

AARP(eeps).

Sandi — Fri, 28 May 2010 15:43:26 +0000

Earlier this week, I received a piece of mail that once again left me wondering about the state of our so called technologically advanced civilization. I walked into my kitchen and casually leafed through the unwanted pile of envelopes and useless flyers from a variety of stores I never shop in. And there I saw it….lurking beneath a circular. Four sinister letters, emblazoned upon the corner of an otherwise un-noteworthy white business envelope: AARP. The American Association of Retired Persons. Or People. Or Peeps. For those of you actually of retirement age, peeps is slang for “people”…I’m not making reference to those yellow marshmallow chicks served up at Easter. Although I think an assisted living development filled with marshmallow chicks playing Mahjong would be something to really look forward to in my later years.

WANTED: Soul mate…with throw-up bowl.

Sandi — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 13:16:01 +0000

There are two sounds that can simultaneously awaken me from a deep sleep…and strike fear into my heart. The first is the sound of a gargantuan pine tree falling onto my house (see my “Oh Tannenbaum” blog post from the end of February). The second is the sound of a child. Vomiting. IN MY BED.

Love, Marriage. Horse, Carriage.

Sandi — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 16:06:02 +0000

(I may have written this story a few years ago…but it continues to ring true, dear readers!)

After being involved in a variety of dating situations with a variety of men…and after experiencing a variety of levels of frustration…I eventually realized something that was rather disturbing. And very, very sad. Many men have been married…many men have ended up divorced…yet, many of these men have never really been in love. They got married, but they weren’t head-over-heels, madly and passionately in love. Never. Not even on their wedding day. This was shocking to me. Truly. I suppose I just always imagined that all people felt the way that Drew and I felt about one another when we tied the proverbial knot.

The sausage incident…revisited.

Sandi — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 14:22:52 +0000

Ok, so I wrote this story in the early summer of 2008. And I just had a repeat of the same incident. Except all three of my children were in attendance. I was still annoyed…but I didn’t end up throwing myself onto my bed and weeping. So I guess I’m making progress in the grieving/healing department. Phew!

Happy Birthday, sweetie.

Sandi — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 14:07:08 +0000

Today would have been Drew’s birthday. His 50th. Yikes. I always know I’ve come a long way in my grieving process when I’m awake for an hour or two before it dawns on me, “Today would have been _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .” (fill in the special occasion of your choice). In the early days, months and years….I’d live in dread of the upcoming holiday/ anniversary/birthday, etc. Eventually, I didn’t live in dread, but what would happen was almost worse. Because I’d be going along, living my life…aware that one of these special days was approaching, but not really focusing on it. Then…BAM! ZOWIE! it would suddenly be before me and I’d just fall apart.

Read more on Happy Birthday, sweetie….

Oh Tannenbaum.

Sandi — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 02:47:41 +0000

Dearest, most patient and forgiving reader: It feels like an eternity since I’ve penned my last blog post. Last night, however, brought an event so traumatic…so life-altering….so memorable… that I could barely keep my fingertips off of my keyboard when I finally got the chance to reflect upon it this evening.

Aunt Edna’s Naughty Salt & Pepper shakers.

Sandi — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 15:46:52 +0000

Ahhh…I remember when my friend’s Aunt Edna used to have these out on her holiday table….next to the tiny reindeer that were hand-carved in Germany… and the sterling silver bowl filled with her festive Christmas balls. Poor Aunt Edna is no longer here, but luckily for us, her naughty salt and pepper shakers live on. And remember, please don’t save these for the holiday table…life is too short not to enjoy them all year long! *

Sheet Music: Dating Entertainment for Women

Sandi — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 02:12:45 +0000

Do not settle for crumbs, ladies!! What we can learn from vintage sheet music.

Younger Men Pay Less for Life Insurance.

Sandi — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 02:11:31 +0000

Practical thoughts on dating after widowhood.

God Save the Queen.

Sandi — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 03:40:17 +0000

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.

What is Sacred?

Sandi — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 22:49:28 +0000

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.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

Sandi — Fri, 15 May 2009 11:27:45 +0000

DEAREST (and most patient) READER:

It has been a busy month for me. The world of widowhood, dating and single parenting has, as usual, caused me to lose track of time. A month since my last posting? Goodness! But all has not been for naught…as I have come back rejuvenated and filled to the brim with deep thoughts and brilliantly helpful tips!

Younger men pay less for life insurance.

Sandi — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 17:11:44 +0000

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.

Seasonal Affect Dating Disorder.

Sandi — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 22:29:30 +0000

Known to many of us winter daters as: S.A.D.D.

So, here I am. Spring. A new season. A new beginning. As a widow, it also often makes me a bit melancholy. I remember the first spring after Drew died. Six springs ago…but it feels like far fewer. I saw the daffodils peeking up through the soil, and it hit me all at once and without warning: ”It’s spring. And he’s not here.” ”How could he not be here?” I thought, as tears trickled down my cheeks. Well, that’s a different topic, for a different day. Today’s topic is a bit lighter. I want to talk about men. Seasonal men, in particular. And disorders.

WHAT??!

Sandi — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 06:25:15 +0000

Happy second day of March, 2009. It is snow day #4. I know this, because I opened my laptop early this morning to find cheerful emails from all manner of school administrators making me aware of this fact. It is Monday. I just spent 2.5 days with my beloved children… and now we are given even more time to bond. This wouldn’t be so terrible, but for the fact that this *surprise!* three day weekend comes a mere 7 days after a February school vacation that turned into an extended funfest due to an additional day of lifelong learning lost to snow. Nine days of vacation…only to be capped off by a snow day last Monday.

Burn Baby, Burn.

Sandi — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 00:24:59 +0000

There’s an old adage….”Don’t burn your bridges.”

I’ve been thinking about that old adage a lot as of late…and about burning things… as the kids beg me to let them start a fire in our vintage fireplace nearly every night. The one that looks charming but sucks the heat out of our poorly insulated vintage house. And, I’ve also been thinking about bridges. And the whole concept. And, btw, I know that I’m not supposed to begin sentences with “and”…but, I don’t really care. I like to start sentences with “and” so please don’t write to me about it. Ooooh…that sounded a bit defensive!

My Widowhood Thesis: How writing my web site content earned me my Ph.D.

Sandi — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 17:06:29 +0000

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!