Friends – Page 2 – 50 Shades of Gray Hair

Steak, Medium Rare, with a side of MILF

Our Massachusetts exploits end today. We closed on the house yesterday and the Bay State will soon be in the rear-view.

But, before I leave, I’d like to share one last mini adventure with you. One of those rare (if ever) experiences that leave you reeling and become written with indelible ink in the memory keeper upstairs.

One that began innocently enough as dinner with friends and ended as noted above.

“Steak medium rare with a side of MILF”

M I L F

Know the acronym? Sure you do. Or you think you do.

If you follow me, you may be wondering ‘What is she doing writing about such things?”

I’m taking liberties, that’s what. I’ll get right to the heart of it…

MILF = Majorly Intolerant Liberal Friends

See? Not what you thought or expected. I am usually one to hold the punchline to the end, but for anyone who found their way here because their engine locked onto the MILF train, I didn’t want you to have to wade through to the end and be disappointed.

So, no luscious MILFs here…just your average non-milf housewife with 50 Shades of Gray Hair sharing a small tale (with a big body) about her last adventure in the state we will remember as as ‘the second worst place we’ve ever lived’, which has nothing (well,maybe a little) to do with the story.

Now for the adventure with a tiny lead in from the last month…

The house sold, the estate sale done, the few possessions we wanted to keep all packed in boxes

and for the last 4 days…

The moving van picked and packed, dinner with friends, closing on the property…oh wait.

Backup.

Dinner with friends…that’s what I want to share.

How a much anticipated evening of always good food and always good conversation turned into the Battle of the Bilge in this War of Potty Politics

We arrive around 7:30 to this lovely old home, the glow from within spilling onto the dark sidewalk outside guiding us to the wide open front door. The delicious aroma as you enter leads us back to the heart of the home…the kitchen, where the excited greetings are accompanied by big smiles and even bigger hugs.

Conversation starts immediately, flowing as easily as the wine, belying the fact that we’ve not seen each other in months and months. But it’s been that way since the beginning; easy conversation covering a wide range of topics from dogs to chickens to jobs to renovation projects to current affairs to politics to…..ahhhhhhhhh, politics.

The men hung around the stove, talking their talk. The women meandered outside, walking their walk, joined a little while later by the men, come to usher their ladies inside to take our places at the table set with obvious thought and care. The centerpiece platter of perfectly grilled porterhouse and filet sat alongside a lovely old wooden bowl filled with the late fall bounty of assorted greens, veg, and herbs, as colorful as anything you’d find outside clinging to the trees. Perfect.

(Almost)

As the genders had separated early, I was not privy to the conversation the boys were having during their tour of duty in the kitchen, but as is common, it had been politics (nothing wrong here). As is also common, especially here in the northeast where conservatives are the minority, and my other half being one of said minority, they are of opposing views (again, nothing wrong here).

However…Emily Post’s advice was forgotten this night. What should not be discussed at the dinner table, was.

The opposing sides continued their politically charged discussion while seeming to enjoy the fare lovingly and expertly prepared. I was not overly thrilled with the topic as I don’t enjoy discussing politics at most times, but never less than at the dinner table. My other half however, has no such qualms. Politics are his ‘go to’ subjects; his opening, middle, and closing statements. I usually roll my eyes, try to divert, try to zig when I see the zag, try to interject something funny to deflect, anything to change the subject. Not this night.

Perhaps because the country is in such political turmoil right now? Maybe because the left and the right seem to be going for the jugular lately? Could it be because it’s ALL we see and hear anymore? On the news, in the paper, on the radio…snipe snipe snipe snipe.

Whatever the reason, the subject was as much a part of what was being fed as the steak and salad, but much less easy to swallow. I sat, as I usually do, quiet on the subject. I sat, quiet, but becoming more and more uncomfortable as the two-way conversation became a two-on-one way conversation. I could feel it. The tension was rising, the food was becoming stuck in my throat, and the wine was not helping.

It was getting personal, but only on one side of the table.

The battle had begun.

The lines had been drawn.

The tempers and voices rising.

Insults flung.

Demands to “Shut Up” issued.

But…again, from one side of the table.

One side of the line drawn in the salad bowl.

One side, two like-minds, two voices as one…

“Get out of our house”

Yup.

Our last adventure in the Bay State.

Our goodbye dinner with highly educated, worldly, creative, well-rounded, the highest level of professional, acutely attuned to current events friends…could think of nothing more constructive to say when faced with as true a believer of his point of view as theirs, than…

“Shut Up and Get Out of Our House!”

MILF?

You got it…

Majorly Intolerant Liberal Friends

Only, sad to say, since the communication I received the following day was not an apology but a justification that ‘my damned husband had pushed them too far’, I’m not sure the F still applies.

Intolerance in any form, whether of one’s beliefs, color, religion, etc. is the root of what’s wrong with the world; what has always been wrong with the world. It starts wars between countries, helps create extremism, causes rifts in families, drives wedges between friends. I, for one, am saddened to say the least. I’ve never held that friends can only be friends if they all believe the same thing. I do, however, hold to the notion that respect for one’s individuality goes a long, long way toward keeping one’s friends.

But even more to the point…I’m disappointed that people I’ve held in high regard, considered enlightened, and I believed were very aware of the power of communication, would find themselves in the position of reacting to someone, a friend no less, with opposing beliefs and a willingness to stand up for them, would result in their lowering themselves to the level of a petulant child.

The Cab Ride

I arrived at the address and honked the horn.

After waiting a few minutes I walked to the door and knocked.

‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice.

I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.

A small woman in her 90’s stood before me.

She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years.

All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.

In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said.

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness.

‘It’s nothing’, I told her.

‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy’ she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.’

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

‘I don’t have any family left,‘ she continued in a soft voice.

‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city.

She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.

They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.

They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.

The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.

She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said

‘Thank you.’ I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.

Behind me, a door shut.

It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift.

I drove aimlessly lost in thought.

For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL


Life 
may not be the party we hoped for, but while we 
are here we might as well dance.

I received two emails this evening.

One that said “Inspiration, I think we both need it”

And hours later…I received the one I’ve just shared with you.

For me, this second email was the answer to the first.

Thank you to those who always know…when I need a lift up.

~♥~I love you~♥~

Demon

There are times, quite often in fact, when we let our experiences dictate the path of our lives. Usually, the bad ones, or the self-destructive ones…it’s surprisingly harder to stand up than it is to fall down. I’m sharing Kyle’s post DEMON for the very reason that I struggle daily with my own demons and it’s always comforting to know I am not alone. Equally so, to have a friend who can bear the naked truth of the dark side of some of our choices yet show there is light to be found…IF we are willing to look. Thank you Kyle.

kyle mew

they’re a bunch of fucking natives, and they spout all this hippie shit about self-discovery and journeys into my soul and what-not. i nod politely and agree, but just so as to be polite. i don’t want to offend them, but its all a load of crap as far as i’m concerned. i’m here for the trip of my life. i’ve heard about these mushrooms, ever since i started taking drugs. the most powerful hallucinogenic on the planet. the trip of a lifetime. they are legendary and until now, i wasn’t even sure they existed at all.
i look at the pile of goo the old woman spits onto the plate. i understand why she has to chew the mushrooms first. she has been doing this for years, and there are enzymes in her saliva that will break down the mushrooms and prevent me from vomiting too much. novices have…

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Me Too? Yeah, Why Not

Sigh.

Big sigh.

Bigger sigh.

It’s BEEN a coupla days ya know?

If I had my camera, I think I’d know where to go from here.

But…as it happens, I don’t.

Also as it happens…I won’t.

Not for a while anyway.

So…where does one, such as me, go from here?

Hmmmm

A side trip I think.

A dirt road not yet traveled or a path traveled once that needs revisiting?

I’ve been digging through my photos looking for something…some kind of inspiration.

Imagine the white rabbit in Alice and Wonderland…

I’m late I’m late for a very important date.”

And no, I don’t have a date, but the FEELING is there…of being late, missing something, needing to hurry to catch up,

Ok…so, I know I’m not going to catch up, hence the sigh.

But I am going to just jump onto the path and see where it leads.

**The Natural History Museum at night –** **London**

Why here?

Why these photos?

Imagine the joy of coming out of the dark, which frightens To see and hear the carousel, the enduring symbol of youth and happiness — **Imagine the joy of coming out of the dark, which frightens –** **To see and hear the carousel, the enduring symbol of youth and happiness**

I don’t know for sure.

All I know is this:

it’s as light as it is dark
- me too
for every dark and shadowed corner, there’s a central hall, a heart, full of light
- me too
it holds the secrets of the past as gently and reverently as it exudes the hopes of the future
- me too
it reeks of the old and stale as much as it shines in the light of progress
- me too
it’s full of things that frighten as much as fascinate
- me too

Like I said, it’s BEEN a coupla days.

But I’m glad I chose to jump on this particular path.

It was a good choice the first time, and like all good things….it still is.

Life’s contradictions

Life seen in contrast

Life lived in flux

Life felt in extremes

Life

Let Mikey try it?

Sure. But…

me too

Cheers!

How Does Your Garden Grow

As some of you know…this has been quite a year for me

A year of losing a marriage of 31 years

A year of therapy and doctors and pills – (over, over, and no mas!)

A year of knowing time is short and getting shorter, with my beloved father; my Superman

Losing our beloved Ripken after only 10 years of furry joy

But also…

A year in which I found hope for new life and new love after 50

However, through it all…the worst of it…I found the best of it

The bare truth, the ugly truth, but the truth, just the same

And there is beauty in that

♥

This is not a sad tale

I’ll say it first; say it loud and clear, my husband and I are together again

And while there are reasons for couples who’ve been together as long as we have been, to find themselves where we did…

There are also reasons to find ourselves where we are now

After we separated and during our time apart, I did find love

And while it proved to not be what I thought and felt it was

I learned I needed the possibility of it

I had to have it

I had to know it was possible

Not with him, as that is done before it ever really began

But knowing the capacity for that kind of love is still in me, has helped me understand

In some small way, that the man I chose 31 years ago deserves nothing less than what I promised him so long ago

And too…So. Do. I.

It is with his blessing and understanding, which comes from the love and trust I know he has for me

That I am able to put the following out there because I must

For me

It’s closure of a sort

A new beginning of an old story deserves just that…a beginning

And in that same vein, the ending of the new story deserves its say.

And while that love was not, in the end, what I thought it was, it’s better as it is now

Friendship. And a lifelong one it will be

I have NEVER taken love lightly – Any kind of love – Nor have I ever taken it for granted

But I find I have always needed the kind of love of which I speak and know too that I can’t settle for less

Nor would I want a partner who would either

And it’s there, still, with the man I married

It had gotten tangled in the weeds, but it’s there

My garden is all but free of the weeds now

Mostly clear, and clean, and ready for next year’s bounty

What’s left to be done is this…and it is with love for this someone who has become, if not what I thought, at least what I needed at the time, and what I’ll always need at all times…

A true friend and A beloved one

It’s rarely pretty, this finding love and losing love

It’s not always complimentary, exposing ourselves the way we do

But I love my friend, as much now as ever

And I hope he understands, as I now do, that the truth, given OR received, is never wasted on ones we love:

♥

Rode hard, put away wet
Know the term? You do I bet
But here’s the thing…well, more than one
We all have dreams, or at least want some

We read the words from men like you
Meant to shock, arouse, and lube
Don’t get me wrong, they do all that
But there’s more to see here than that

If you’ll allow, I will explain
In rhyming time and sweet refrain
That which delineates the sexes
It’s more than just muscle reflexes

The matter of perspective arises
Far above your “cash and prizes”
As women go, I’m plain at best
At least the shell, the crust, the vest

But underneath, (not just for me)
There is a fire, so plain to see
But only plain to those who dare
To look beyond the graying hair

The less than fit, the age defined
The stretch-marked bellies, the Swiss cheese minds
Women of certain elegant ages
Have printed upon their bodies’ pages

Their stories of love and pain and laughter
Their tales of lives that we’re all after
But when we fall for men who seek
The more fit, the young, the more sleek

We feel pity more than other
For negate they do, that once their mothers
Were beautiful in the eyes of one
The one they trusted, who gave them sons

But you close your hearts to love and trust
The only thing left is shallow lust
Which produces naught but sweat and cum
May be fine, enough for some

When the end is near in our lives’ journeys
We’ll lie upon our final gurneys
Does one suppose he’s surrounded by
The lithe, the fit, the candy eye?

I fear, my love, that won’t be so
Fear even more there will be no
One at all, regardless of..
The state of fitness..nor of love

For if you set your sites so low
As to allow for only those
That please the eye, the prick, the glands
Forever you’ll dwell in Never Land

Even Peter Pan learned the trick
To not just grow, but teach his dick
That though the fit and the buff
Will feast the eye, it’s not enough

To satisfy a life long need
To touch a heart, to plant a seed
In love and trust, eternal gladness
To have that one to share the madness

Of every day life in every days ways
Of every day love and yes, the haze
Of lust and fear and pain and sorrows
Of knowing they’re there through our tomorrows

My wish, my hope, my fear, my joy
All rolled in one for you my boy
Is that the day you meet the end
You know you’ve done as you intended

For to wait upon the reaper’s time
With naught but wishes to fill your time
Is no way to greet the earth
The final rest, the final dirt

To know you’ve lived and loved and tried
With all your heart despite your pride
To give out more than you’ve received
No more we’d ask, no more we’d need

To face your death with lightened heart
Evolved from apes, from apes apart
Our choices bring us far above
What evolution thinks of love

For apes we are and apes we’ll stay
But apes are not all the same, I say
Some just fuck but some will love
Some for life, some far above

If it were not so, I would bow
To Darwin here, and Darwin now
But for myself, to this I say
Close your heart to love, you will pay

In the end, it’s all we’ve got
That makes us different, far apart
From just biology and lust
That fades, with time, and so does trust

♥

WaG tHe DoG….

What the heck does that mean?

Just this:

I’ve become (dun dun dun)

A PIT-BULL – WOOF!

Now I actually know what that really means.

When you find something that you sink your teeth into and can’t seem to let go of because it

just HAS to get done

just HAS to be perfect

just HAS to get out there

Geesh…my doggy-jaw is E x H a U s T e D

For those that visit me here; are friends of mine on Facebook; do the Google-y +1 circle thing with me…you know what I’m talking about.

I’ve been buried in photos, copy, making videos, posting videos, making advertisements, paying for advertisements, and now my social pages are fraught with links to

You Tube

Craigslist

Backpage

more more more!

Our first Open House is this Sunday and all I want for Christmas is a BUYER!

In the meantime, however, I’ll keep slogging along, doing my thing, and hopefully not lose what family and friends I have because they are sick of me SeLLing My HoUsE all over cyberspace!

Oh…and did I tell you I have real estate agents?

😆

At least I HOPE I still do…oy what they must think of me!

Thanks for indulging though, now it’s time to go feed the dog!

For the Love of a Damned Good Conversation

I was working on a post this morning, having to do with the tons of fun in the sun trying to sell a house in today’s market (yeah, right), when as often happens, a short sidestep away from the center line resulted in being led down another dirt road. But that’s life, especially my life, as I live for the treks down the less traveled dirt.

This particular step off the line was a conversation with a friend that began with small talk about the Gawd awful heat wave and remedies for sun burns, meandered to the pros and cons of having your home and all its contents spread all over the air waves for any ol’ burglar to scope out, tip-toed into current affairs generally and recent events in the Florida courts specifically, then naturally (!?!) morphed into what it must be like for a child to be raised in a Muslim household that forbids TV, radio, music, internet, and playing with children not of their own religion.

Don’t you just LOVE these conversations that sprout tentacles like a giant squid? I do…I love the random nature of them almost as much as the feeling of comfort I get knowing we can talk about anything…all at once! Very stimulating to say the least.

Anyway, post Muslim life discussion, from which we both came away thinking we’d like to try our hand at reading the Koran, the conversation jumped the broom to religion in general. While one of use believes and the other does not, one thing is certainly true: Where we find intolerance, bigotry, segregationist thinking, there is usually a religious aspect fueling it. If we are ever to see the day when our planet’s caretakers can live in true peace and brotherhood…religious fanaticism or extremists, of any kind, must see the end of days.

This of course ‘evolved’ into, well, evolution. Which as a non-believer in religion of any kind, is in fact, the religion of choice. Past the talk of apes and chimps, we discussed how humans are shown to have an innate ability to share. Yup. Share. Which of course led to whether being kind and empathetic is genetics or learned, and whether lesser traits, like competing in all respects, is too, learned or innate. Survival of the fittest after all, with no moral force guiding it? For the non-believer, the take is that we are just naturally a ‘nice’ animal. For me, the believer, I tended to agree, but still harbor some doubt. I do think, that while certain characteristics of humans are innate, most are learned behaviors. Basically, nature vs. nurture. An old and forever on-going topic of discussion that has its own, very long, dirt path. We discussed why certain behaviors occur in some animals and not in others.

For instance, the beaten dog. How can a dog who knows mostly pain from the hand of its human, still find it within itself to lick that very hand the few times it might be extended in what one could only marginally be described as love? It’s insane. Yet, it happens all the time. However, for a child to be reared in the same way, the risk is far, far greater, that the result could just as easily be a non-empathetic psychopath as it could be a loving, thriving, kind, and generous, human being. Is that a choice? Nature vs. nurture again? I used myself as an example, and even so, I still have doubts about it…or maybe doubt is too strong a word.

I have questions.

Being a victim of childhood sexual abuse (The year that broke the dam) from the ages of 5 to 14 and a victim of rape at the age of 19, one could imagine that I could have become a bitter, angry, mean-spirited, non-trusting, love-hating person. But I didn’t (Back on the Road). I’m like the beaten dog…and I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic here…it’s more a visual aide. I live a life filled with as much love as there is hate; as much beauty as there is ugliness; as much need for love, both to give and to receive, as distrust of it. So, it begs the question…was this my choice? Or was I bound by genetics to grow into a woman with a heart and huge capacity for empathy? I don’t know.

But here’s the rub, and ultimately, the reason for our long stroll down these particular paths…in speaking with this friend, it was pointed out ardently, that I do, in fact, have a wonderful heart, a good and strong personality, a huge capacity for love, and that (this is the key) I’m beautiful on the inside.

Ah yes…the beauty within vs. the beauty without (is that the term? doesn’t sound right, but you know what I mean). I, for one, actually HATE that phrase. I love that I am, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a double-edged sword for me. I fell into the trap long, long ago, that it’s more important, at least initially, to be more beautiful on the outside. It has been my experience, and I just may have to take the responsibility for it (Delusional Illusions), that people who could not see beyond the surface passed me by without a second glance and without having the pleasure of getting to know me. I’m not alone. I’m certainly not unique in my thinking this is the way of things. I say honestly, if it was a choice to be the way I am, it was not an easy one, but for me, the only one. Why? Genetics? Nurture? (shrugging shoulders still)

So while I do still struggle with this question, the conversation, for all its meandering, did help me see that hard or not, choice or not, I am on the right path. My path. And if Joe Blow from Kokomo chooses to walk by me because I don’t look like a Playboy centerfold…I say one thing (well, I say it behind his back ’cause I’m nice)…

Fuck You!

We are all beautiful…let’s get to the heart of it, shall we?