Odd Blessings Much Appreciated

Thursday, November 27th, 2008

So, it’s decided. I am going to join After years of a non-relationship with Bill (see blog #1) I realize I need a little more entertainment in my life than I have been having.

Rather then me writing about my ‘Fabulous Self,’ I have asked my sisters and my daughter to write short blurbs about me to put on the site. I said, “List my faults, along with the good stuff.”

Here is a line that my sister Polly put at the end of her summation of my personage: “Attractive, clean and walks almost everyday.”

What? Clean?
I think this line is a hoot but a man might think that my sister is saying ‘Thank god, we have finally gotten her out of rehab and, at least for the moment, she is pretty well functional.’

What finally dragged me, reluctantly, to the idea of giving network romance a try? Well, this week has been rather exciting by my standards and I’m thinking maybe it portends a change in my life.

An old boyfriend has slipped into my days. He tells me he has always loved me and wants to see me. That’s very nice and appealing but he’s married.

A man I have known for twenty years through business, called me from another state to talk about business along with another man we know: we three were having a 3-way phone conversation.

We were re-hashing our previous business lives together when suddenly Peter said, “Roger, don’t listen!”
Then, “Venus, do you remember when we were in Hawaii on that business trip and we hired a car and went to the other side of the Island, to the beach?”


“And you put on a one piece bathing suit and I thought, “Oh! My god, this is the sexiest woman I have ever known!”

“Thanks Peter, and that was twenty years ago.”

“Roger! Don’t listen!….Venus, have I ever told you that I love you?”

“No, Peter, I don’t believe you have.”

“Well, I do love you. Roger! Don’t listen!”

That same morning I had had another unusual experience.
I was at the coffee shop next to my brother’s jewelry store. My brother Art and I were standing outside by the cafe tables when he leaned against me and pointed to a tall, handsome man with a long ponytail, sitting in a chair with a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Venus,” he said, raising his voice and pointing. “There’s someone you went to school with.”

The man didn’t look familiar with his goatee and long hair but then, we didn’t wear those things in grammar and high-school.

My brother took my hand and walked me over to meet the fellow who stood up and looked at me.

“This is Colin R. You went to school with him.”

Oh my god! Colin R.?! I couldn’t believe it. I have been thinking of Colin for many, many years, wishing I could find him and talk to him.

I grabbed Colin’s hand and said, “I am so glad to see you!”

He said, “I see you around and I know who you are but I never say anything.”

My brains were twirling inside my head.
“Colin, I have wanted to apologize to you for something I did when we were in 6th grade. I was eleven. You were the class bad boy and one day our teacher, Mr. G. took all of us kids out into the school yard and had us get in a big circle.”

Colin was looking down at me as I rushed on.

“I don’t know if you remember, Colin, but I do and I am so, so sorry for what happened. Mr. G. put you in the middle of the circle and asked for volunteers to step forward and castigate you, to tell you how disruptive you were. And, I stepped out and told you my thoughts on your wicked behavior. I have suffered over this for years. I had no right to do that to you! I’m sure you had very good reasons for acting so badly. Something must have been going on at home that was hurting you.”

Colin, still staring at me, said, “Yes. My father was an alcoholic and it was pretty bad at home.”

“My dad was an alcoholic, too,” I said. “I think we were all kids with bad stuff going on at home but we never talked about it. We didn’t know that almost all of us were suffering, too.”

“Yeah,” Colin agreed.

“I am just so very sorry, Colin, that I said those things to you.”
Pausing and looking at the ground, I felt a little teary and gushy.
“I am so happy that I have finally been able to talk to you and apologize. What a blessing.”

And, what a true blessing it is for me to finally, finally be able to unload the emotional burden I’ve carried for years, the burden of adding to the hurt of a child who was already hurting. I hope, in at least a tiny way, that Colin feels better now, too.

I am lucky.
And, with all the other blessings I am counting this Thanksgiving Day, I give thanks for meeting Colin and for my very odd, love filled and entertaining week.
WINNER OF A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS *Michael Borell* Offer good through Dec 1st, 2008. After that, null and void

Grasping Love Brings Heartache

Friday, July 18th, 2008

We’re at our Art Class when Regina puts down her paint brush, tucks some brown hair behind her ear, looks at me and says, “I have to dump my boyfriend.”

Carol, who is doggedly painting some flowers, doesn’t hear Regina, because eighty-year old Carol can’t hear too well.
About ten minutes ago Regina had mentioned that The Boyfriend was taking her tonight to see The Pageants of the Masters in Laguna Beach and Carol said, “What? You’re going to be on a mattress, tonight?”

Stan, Regina and I laughed and Regina, said, “Ah..yes…I guess I will be on a mattress, tonight.”

I said, “I’m jealous.”

Regina is the woman who’s husband died about two years ago, at fifty, from colon cancer. As you recall, his illness and death traumatized all of us.

Regina has since been valiantly putting herself out into the world, remodeling her house, keeping her mind busy and living life.

When she tells me she is going to dump her boyfriend, our teacher, Stan, is out of the room. It’s best that way as he gets upset about these kinds of announcements.

“So,” I ask, “why are you going to dump him?”

“Because he is suffocating me!” Regina says, with fervor. “He calls me three times a day and he emails me and he wants to be with me every day and he says he’s in love with me and he has only known me a couple of months!”

“Oh, I get it,” I say. “A girl I know who is only nineteen just said the same thing to me. She said her boyfriend calls many times a day and when she sees his number on the phone she makes a bad face and thinks, ‘Man!! I just talked to you, what more could you possibly have to say!’

“I told her that her feelings about his calls are not a good indicator of the beauty and endurance of their relationship.”

Regina heaves a big sigh and slaps her illustration pad on the table top.

“This guy was married for thirty-six years and his wife died and then he takes up with me. He has only been with two women in his life. I want time to myself, and I want to be with my women friends. I tell him this and to back off, but he just won’t. He’s ruining everything.”

I mumble my understanding of her feelings.

“I said to him, ‘Can’t we just be friends, with benefits?’ He said ‘no’ that wouldn’t work. So, it’s all or nothing. The thing is, he’s not ready for me or any woman. He is still grieving his wife. Whenever I do something he says, ‘my wife wouldn’t have done it like that.’

“So what are you going to do, Regina?”

She says she is going to end it, tonight.

Which is very sad, I think. The poor man just doesn’t know that women…just like men…don’t want to be suffocated in a relationship. Everybody needs their space and a bit of mystery and uncertainty about the beloved often keeps things hopping.

I’m thinking of a hair dresser I know, named ‘Sally’. She complains all the time about her rich and loving boyfriend in Canada. He wants to marry her and take her out of California and away from her work and all her family and friends. He demands that she do it his way and that she can have a life of ease if she does. He gives her no other options.

‘Sally’ has been telling everyone that she can’t do it his way, that he is over-bearing, that he is stifling her and that she is going to have to get rid of him.

What happens? He dumps her, first! He calls and says, ‘This Isn’t Working. Let’s just live separate lives for four months. Don’t contact me. Let’s see how it goes.’

‘What happens’ is now ‘Sally’ is crying all day and all night and wailing that this former beast is the Love of Her Heart and that she can’t live without him. She is so steeped in suffering that she can barely cut hair and her voice is raspy from all the moaning and crying she has been doing.

Ummm. Is Love totally not rational? Does it have to be like this?

Ladies and Gentlemen, here’s an idea. Let’s tuck our insecurities away for awhile, put our grasping claws in our pockets and give each other: freedom, mystery, a bit of uncertainty along with the Love…. and see what happens?
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1. If you have not been able to receive the FEED to automatically get my blog, a listener and friend of mine has this advice for you: “my feed (for your blog) is automatically sent to my norton anti-spam filter, so I have to check that every day as well as my inbox.”
Another suggestion is to try a different email address.

*Vanessa Allred. Offer good from July 18th through July 20th, 2008. Null and void after that.

Venus Swallows an Earwig

Monday, May 19th, 2008

This morning I swallowed an earwig.

Every-night, I put a glass bottle of water by my bed on the bedside table. When I get thirsty in the night, I drink from it. I don’t keep a cap on the bottle.

This morning I pop out of bed, notice a bit of water left in the bottle, and think, ‘might as well drink it.’ I toss the water down and oh my god! I’ve swallowed an earwig! I know immediately what it is and I can feel it lodged down inside my throat, on the right side, near my collar bone. In my mind I can ‘see’ it’s long, narrow, shiny brown body with the two pinchers flung in front of it, and I can ‘feel’ it’s waving antenna.

“ArrrGH!” Without any conscious thought I immediately bend myself in half towards the floor and croak and choke, “Arrrgggh, agggh, ukukuk!”

The earwig drops out, splat! on that laminated wood floor.

What fantastic luck!

I sit down hard on my bed and then as I always do, I pull a card for my day ahead, from a deck of regular playing cards.

Arrrgh! I get the Death Card!

I try and remain jolly when I get the Death Card but so far, when this happens I always hear about or see a friend who is dying and this ‘bright’ news along with swallowing earwigs is not a good start to a day.

But, hey, it all works out! My sister Polly gives me two tickets to a Do Wop Concert for this evening, that she and her husband Doctor Ron have to give away because they decide to go to Italy, instead.

A Do Wop Concert is where a lot of Very Famous singers from the 1950’s and 60’s get together on stage and sing all their Very Famous old rock and roll songs.

I invite my ex-boyfriend Bill to come with me for the performance. We’re excited. We’re so excited that Bill drives (what is rapidly becoming my ‘old’) green Jaguar down the mountain at 85 and 90 miles an hour.

I scream, “What’s the matter with you?! Why are you driving so fast?”

But, he won’t slow down. Honestly, I don’t know what is the matter with this normally dead slow driver and there is that word, ‘dead’ again. And, as he races the car I am remembering the Death Card I pulled for this day.

I look at the man. Maybe he’s been revitalized by the coming Do Wop performance, remembering his darkly handsome, lost youth, or something? He isn’t saying, he’s just driving like he probably used to drive when he was a kid.

We get to the Civic Theatre an hour early. Now what?

Everybody else is there, too, milling around in the large courtyard.

“Oh, yes,” I say to Bill. “That’s how old folks are. They get early to everything.”

Bill looks around at the gray-haired, limping mob and says, “Looks like The Old Geezer Club, to me.”

We look at each other. We’re sure we look nothing like the Old Geezers.

The people who have gathered for the show are incredibly interesting. There’s a lot of old men in old duck-tail hair cuts. Well, I mean, those that have hair have the duck-tail, greasy hairstyle.

There’s lotsa’ lumpy flesh here, and lotsa’ blond ladies. And, canes and wheelchairs and people I probably knew in school that bear no resemblance to their Be-Bop-Do-Wop former selves.

At last, we move into the theatre and take our seats.

Bill likes his seat. We are way back on the aisle, by the doors and Bill can flick in and out of the hall whenever he wants and bring in wine and treats. Which he does. The show is underway and he immediately drops his glass of red wine onto his white chino pants. He then goes out and gets a thick brownie with masses of chocolate frosting. He eats it, then leans over and complains to me, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t see much of the stage.”

I snatch his glasses off his nose and hold the lenses to the feeble light. Just as I suspected. They are loaded with gobs of fudge frosting.

Here are my thoughts about the concert.

You have all these old MoTown men in their 70’s, shuffling on stage, trying to do all the fancy kicks and leg and body drops and it ain’t workin.’ One man has to sit down on the bandstand for a few minutes and recover. The music and the words seem mushy and hard to distinguish. I’m feeling kind of bad for all of these Formally Famous Big Rock and Roll Stars in their hot red or bright lemon velour suits that look like pajamas.

And then I realize, ‘Oh. That’s it! That’s the Death Card for the day. It’s The Old Geezer Show!’

I’m relieved. We all have to go on this eventual final field trip, but at least nobody I know is doing it right now, right today. We’ve all got to go, but, hey, this is wonderful…..we’re all sitting here singing our way to The Promised Land.

Maybe all of us Old Geezers can gather together and sing our way into heaven. What do you think? A bit of shuffle, a little MoTown, some Rock and Roll…and we’re in.

……… “Good Night Sweetheart. It’s Time To Go….Good Night Sweetheart, Good Night.”

I hope I get a fun playing card tomorrow.
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