3lastnamesblog

The Universe Has Its Own Plan January 31, 2025

Filed under: dating,Humor,love,single,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 11:14 am
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Last Sunday my plan was to have a lazy day of hibernation which meant lighting a fire, binge watching TV, and reading a book. But before I hunkered down I wanted to go for my daily walk and to the car wash to get the filth off from the recent snow. I didn’t plan on leaving any specific time- whenever I finished my coffee and crossword puzzle.

This particular morning I didn’t put on any make-up before leaving. And when I say no make-up, I mean NOTHING- not even tinted moisturizer. Now this is quite unusual for me considering I put on lipstick to get the mail. In addition, I didn’t even bother to change out of the sweat pants I slept in- I was only going to get right back in them when I got home. I put my unwashed hair into a frizzy ponytail, and out the door I went. Let me make this very clear. I’ve had the flu and looked better. But, who am I going to see at the car wash or out walking when it’s 30 degrees?

I set off for the Seaford Carwash and when I got there the line was wrapped around the block. It wasn’t worth waiting an hour when I could go tomorrow on a weekday. So I decided to skip it and just go for my walk. I was already in Seaford, so I figured I’d take my walk at Wantagh Park which was only one traffic light ahead on Merrick Road. (I usually walk in Burns Park closer to my house.)

I parked, began my walk, and in the distance I saw someone running slowly in my direction. I was relieved to know I wasn’t the only one in the park. Then as the runner got closer there was something familiar about him. He was bundled up so I couldn’t see his hair, but wait, was that….

“O ????”, I questioned out loud. (I’m using only his initial to protect the innocent- me!) Now for those of you who don’t know, O and I broke up a year and half ago after 3 years of dating. That’s the last time we spoke- no calls, text, or emails since then. The last thing I said to him was “Fuck You!”

Now, I ask you, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES??? He’s a runner but he usually runs on the Long Beach boardwalk. Actually, our paths had randomly crossed a few times this Summer in Long Beach, but he didn’t see me and I didn’t see any reason to approach him.

But I guess the Universe wasn’t taking no for an answer.

O heard his name, looked over and stopped running. I think we both were in shock. My first thought was, “Dammit, I look like SHIT!” We began to chat with the obligatory pleasantries- how are the kids, etc… He seemed indifferent, distant and was ICY COLD toward me. Quite frankly, this was pissing me off. Did he not get the script??? He’s supposed to be on his knees begging my forgiveness, lamenting how he let the best thing that ever happened to him get away. And I’m supposed to say, “Too bad for you, that ship has sailed…”

But instead, this came out of my mouth- “You know, I may have pulled the trigger on this relationship but you locked and loaded the gun!”

This of course started a very unproductive and unnecessary discussion about our relationship. Believe me, I could have eviscerated him with my words and won this war, but why? I already had closure. And after this, if there was ever a scintilla of regret or doubt in my mind about ending the relationship, it was gone. He was never Mr. Right. He was Mr. Right Now. Thank you, Universe, for giving me the clarity I didn’t even know I needed.

O’s last words to me as he walked away was a very sarcastic “Well, see ya ‘round”.

This time I didn’t say a word. I didn’t say “Fuck You” but you can be sure my bruised ego wanted to.

Now, if this was a rom-com I’d continue on my walk and Barbra Streisand would be singing “Someone I used to Love” in the background. But it’s not a movie, it’s my real life. So instead my sister called me to tell me her refrigerator broke.

At least the encounter with O stopped me from thinking about all the other crap going on in my life, for a little while anyway. The next morning in full make-up (I learn from my mistakes) I went to get my car washed. There was a raggedy old man behind the register. He told me the price and when I handed him my credit card he looked at me and gently said, “Things will get better, don’t look so sad”. And there it was. Through this homeless looking man dressed in a flannel plaid shirt the Universe had spoken. And I listened.

Click on link to hear “Someone I Used to Love”

Wantagh Park
 

MLS is the Match.com for Real Estate January 8, 2016

Filed under: dating,love,Real Estate,single,Uncategorized,Women's Humor — 3lastnamesblog @ 11:07 pm
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Over the years I’ve come up with some interesting parables. I particularly like my “finding a mate is like shopping for shoes” and “August feels like one long Sunday”. But while selling my house, a new comparison dawned on me- Multiple Listing Services (MLS) is the Match.com for Real Estate. This goes for any of the real estate websites- Trulia, Zillow, etc.… It’s so obvious, I’m surprised no one has ever thought of it before.

To begin, you create a profile. You need to put up lots of pretty pictures that make your house look its best, highlighting the selling points. Next you add some narrative such as the neighborhood, convenience to stores or railroad, and who you think would be the ideal buyer for your home. Then, its time to talk money. But instead of your salary range like on dating websites, you give the listing price. One thing is for sure, only serious buyers need inquire.

Once you upload your profile, the waiting process begins. The profile has gotten a lot of hits, but why hasn’t any body asked to see the house? Is it not attractive enough? It looks better in person, I promise! Is it too expensive? I’m negotiable! All these doubts start sinking in. The house you once thought was move-in ready and a great value doesn’t seem so inviting anymore. Maybe I’ll paint some rooms and spiff up the curb appeal a bit.

Eventually someone appreciates the allure of your home and wants to see it. Elated and excited, you set up a time to meet; the sooner the better! When the doorbell rings you have butterflies in your stomach. Will he like me, I mean, my house? Will this be “the one”? You repeat this process many times. Some showings are longer than others. Some buyers seem more interested than others. And please, don’t get my hopes up and say you’re going to call if you have no intention of ever doing so. Occasionally you will have a second “date” and sometimes even meet their children or parents. I’ve even had contractors and engineers come, only to have the deal fall apart without any reason or warning. It’s an emotional roller coaster.

Then of course, there’s the real estate agent who plays the role of your mother. “Ya know, you’ve had your house on the market for quite a while now, maybe you should lower your price”, to which I hear, “ya know, you’re not a spring chicken anymore, maybe you should lower your standards”. Or if you get a low offer the agent will say, “Ya know, there’s a lot of competition out there”, for which I hear my mother saying “Ya know, there’s a lot of competition out there.

The neighbors like to chime in too. “Did you here the Johnsons are in contract?”, they say with pity in their eyes. The Johnsons live down the block, have the same model house as mine and have listed their house only 30 days ago for a comparable price. Their buyers never even came to see my house! Why not??? What’s wrong with me, I mean, my house?

Despair starts to set in. Where is that special someone? Where is the lid to my pot?  Maybe I should just give up my dreams and take my house off the market. NO, NO, NO! Snap out of it, girl! You know you have a beautiful, spacious home, in a prestigious neighbor. There are plenty of people that would love to live there! You must continue to be positive and move ahead with your plans!

But I am happy to say, when you least expect it, a match comes along! In my case, it wasn’t even from the website, it was from the For Sale sign on my front lawn. Love at first sight. When it’s the right one, you just know it.

And oh yeah, a match came along for me too, at yoga. Love at first sight. When it’s the right one you just know it.

 

 

 

So, here’s what happened this weekend… March 30, 2015

Filed under: family,love,middle age,Women's Humor,Women's Issues — 3lastnamesblog @ 10:14 pm
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Demos and I were heading upstate to spend a peaceful weekend at his beautiful house set on 25 secluded acres in the woods of Brown Mountain in the town of Gilboa. Before we left, Demos called a friend “up there” to make sure the roads were passable, after all, we were just coming out of one of the worst winters in history. As we were approaching his “gated community” (please do not envision some condo community, this is a metal fence between two trees) the roads were down to the pavement and there was little snow to be seen, just as his friend had said. However, his friend did not make the ascent to Demo’s property, which apparently is some country unto itself. As we were making our way up the long, winding path in the woods, the road was suddenly covered in a foot of snow. Before we could even process what we were driving in, the truck skidded off the road and we landed sideways in a ditch. Ok, looking at the pictures, we weren’t exactly sideways, but it sure felt that way from inside the truck! Despite Demos’ protests I immediately got out of the truck thinking, “If this truck is rolling over, I am not going to be in it!” So I jumped out into waist- deep snow, made my way to the trunk and immediately demanded my two Vera Bradley bags. If the truck was tipping over with Demos in it, then I needed my stuff! But the truck was stuck and so were we. We were at least a mile or more from the house with no cell service. We had no choice but to make the trek uphill in a foot of snow to the house with a landline telephone. We decided to take just the bare essentials. Demos took food and water; I took both my bags with my blow dryer, hair products, make-up, face creams, moisturizer, fuzzy robe, Ugg slippers and all my clothes. With bags in hand, I somehow made it up the mountain, sinking knee deep with every footstep. Thankfully, it was still daylight and really not that cold, but still, it was not a pretty scene. We made it to the house which had been completely closed down for the winter. Demos called a friend from the landline who arranged for someone with a tractor to come and pull his truck out of the ditch. I told Demos to just turn on the electricity and not to worry about the heat and water which had to be turned on from a crawl space under the house. We were running out of daylight and time was of the essence. He jumped on an ATV quad and started back down the mountain. The quad got stuck and he had to come back to get another one with bigger tires. That one got stuck too. Now it was dark. So with just a flashlight, Demos headed down the mountain on foot.

But, alas, woe is ME! I was alone in that house with no heat and running water! I noticed that the snow we tracked in was not even melting. The temperature in Gilboa had gone down to 14 below zero this winter and right now, the inside of the house was less than 32 degrees.  I had to think quickly and save myself. Aha, the electric space heater! I went in the bedroom, closed the door and plugged it in. And then, well, I read a magazine. For the first hour, it wasn’t so bad. Then my imagination started running away with me. What if Demos doesn’t come back? At what point do I call 911? Do I wait another hour? Two hours? You have no idea the stress and duress I was under!  Demos might’ve been in the cold, dark woods, but at least he knew what was going on! About a half hour later he came back to the house to find me frantic and hysterical crying. He couldn’t feel his hands and toes, but big deal! If he hadn’t come back soon I was going to have to melt snow to flush the toilet!

Gratefully, a couple of hundred dollars later all ended well. A huge tractor with a plow pulled the truck out of the ditch and then plowed a path all the way to Demos’ gate. That still meant we had to walk a bit of a distance to the truck every time we wanted to go out, but it was way better than being stranded. After Demos finally calmed me down, he still had to shovel the snow to get to the crawl space under the house, slither in and turn on the heat and water.

It was quite a night and we collapsed into a long, deep sleep. At least I did.  I noticed it got a little cold, and I heard Demos get out of bed, but I thought he was just hungry or thirsty. Actually, I heard him get out of bed THREE times, but I thought he was just REALLY hungry or thirsty. Turns out the heat stopped working and Demos had to get dressed, go outside, go under the house and push the reset button for the heat. Of course he didn’t want to fall asleep until he knew for sure the heat was fully working so he kept getting up to check the thermostat. I’m happy to say, when I woke up in the morning the house was toasty warm and I had no idea there was ever anything wrong with the heat. I got up and made my Honey a breakfast of eggs and delicious sausage we had picked up at the German deli on our way up.

After a relaxing morning, we set out to do some errands and pick up some things we needed for around the house. When we came home we headed back up the mountain. I was displaying symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but we were making it up the mountain with ease until…..

…we see the “neighbor’s” car stuck and completely blocking the road. They were a lovely young couple with two small beautiful children with a car full of groceries. But, who gave a shit about them! There was no f*ing way I was walking up that mountain again!!! To make matters worse, I had just found out that the delicious sausage I had eaten that morning was made from venison! How much could a girl take, I ask you? Thankfully, Demos was able to help them get their car unstuck. Unfortunately he had to BACK HIS TRUCK DOWN the winding, slippery mountain so they could get their car to safe ground. Then they piled in our truck with all their stuff and we drove them up the mountain to their “gate”. I have no idea how, where, when or if those people ever got out of their house again, but I’m sure they figured something out. I can’t worry about them. I have myself to worry about. The snow will probably be melted in a few weeks anyway.

So, still suffering from PTSD, I decided I did not want to go see a movie in town (45 minutes away) that night. Heaven forbid something impeded us from getting up that mountain again, I would just lose it. So I cooked a yummy dinner and fell asleep by 9:00PM. It’s exhausting watching Demos do all that work.

That night the house was filled with strange happenings (the ceiling fan turned on by itself, weird noises, loud bangs) all of which Demos had to get out of bed to investigate.  I didn’t even care if the house was haunted, as long as I didn’t have to climb that mountain again. In the morning, Demos left to try to dig out the two quads that were stuck in the snow. (No luck, by the way). I took a shower while he was gone. When I came out of the shower I found him sitting in the kitchen with his foot in a bucket of snow. He had badly twisted his ankle! OMG! Are you ok? Are you in pain? Can you drive? Does this mean I have to lug everything to the car myself???? But my handsome, gallant boyfriend told me he would do everything himself. He said he’d rather have two sprained ankles than risk me getting one. Awe!! How sweet!! But then I realized he’d rather have two sprained ankles than me having one  because that would mean  a lot less whining and complaining and no trip to the emergency room. So Demos piled up a sled with all of our things and made a few trips to the truck, hobbling in the snow, pulling the sled behind him.  Ah, chivalry is not dead!

As we headed home and reflected on our weekend, Demos said, “Ya know, as long as we are together, it’s a good weekend.”  “How true”, I said.  “As long as we’re together and I have a blow dryer with an outlet near a mirror, its good weekend!”