(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.

Read more on Love, Marriage. Horse, Carriage….

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!

Read more on The sausage incident…revisited….

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….

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.

Read more on Oh Tannenbaum….

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….

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.

Read more on Seasonal Affect Dating Disorder….

I never thought of myself as having a great behind. I mean, I always knew I had a nice body…but, as a woman who recalls having once layered 8 pair of cotton underwear under her jeans (at age 13) before going to dinner at some friend of the family’s house because they had a cute son her age and she wanted her derriere to appear, more, well…prevalent…let’s just say that I never thought of my ass as my greatest asset.

Read more on My Great Ass….

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….

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!

Read more on Burn Baby, Burn….

As I stood atop the rickety wooden ladder yesterday afternoon, installing the enormous storm windows that help keep the heat from escaping through the single paned glass of my old 1920’s porch, the thoughts running through my head varied.  Thought #1:  I am going to fall off this ancient ladder and suffer life-threatening injuries while my 12 & 15 year old offspring yammer around instead of paying attention and hold the ladder steady.  Thought #2:  If I had a man in my life who was house-maintenance enabled…I wouldn’t be up here on this ladder, worrying about imminent injury.  Thought #3:  I don’t need a man in my life to do this sort of stuff…because, I can do it myself!!  Wonder Woman didn’t have a male sidekick doing her home maintenance chores, did she?  Thought #4:  Damn you, Drew, for dying on me…and taking all of your handyman skills to the afterlife, with you.  I’m sure they’re all kinds of thrilled “over there” that they have snagged one more guy who is not only capable of fixing stuff…but who actually loves to do it. But, I am suffering down here.  Thought #5:  I am SO tired of doing everything by myself…or, worse yet, remaining at the mercy of handymen who show up to put the storm windows up in, say, January. Or turn on the outside water in, say, September.  Thanks so much Mr. Handyman.  You’re nice.  And witty. But I’ll just do it MYSELF – before I lose another hundred dollars worth of heat!!! I thought we were in an economic downturn, for God’s sake. Doesn’t the lure of cold, hard cash mean anything anymore??

Read more on It’s Raining Men….

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….