Desperately Seeking Reattachment.

The new nightstand lamp arrived yesterday, and the poor dear had lost her head. Literally. Wisteria is handling it beautifully and the new one should arrive shortly.

A decorator-friend tells me that it's good to mix some Asian-influenced items in with any decor to make it visually eclectic. So, this is my attempt along with an oriental, paper mache tray and a black chest.

I fumble with the frivolous right now because I know there is a pending item on my plate.

Today is my day to create the new resolutions...something that I do most every year. I've been walking around thinking that I've lost my ambition until a new thought permeated my mind last night and kicked me in the gut: I think I've been confusing ambition with courage. I've lost my willingness to take on any fight, prove myself, step out into the unknown. I no longer know what constitutes my identity. It used to be my job, and now I'm refusing, refusing to go back to what I used to do. Granted, I still need time to heal and get well. The stomach issues rage on, the migraines, the fatigue and the sluggishness have all continued despite my emotional recovery. Yes, there's still work to do on the physical.

Career-wise though, I'm at a loss. Totally blank. Empty. Phhffft.

Come to think of it...I'm sort of headless myself when it comes to this aspect of my life.

I don't know when my own personal reattachment will begin, but I'm antsy and searching without focus. And scared. No panic but an underlying degree of fear that I may not find the next thing. Which is silly, really, I know this. But the fear remains.

I like tangibles. Knowing the plan and being able to work on it. Feeling that I'm making progress and moving forward in my career.

Perhaps I have the perfect beginning for that list of resolutions: Faith.

Merry Christmas to you too, Diva!

This is a Kringle - it's a delightfully light danish bakery item. Ours was fashioned into the shape of a huge pretzel and filled with almond paste and decorated with Christmas holly. Very tasty.

The above photo came from here - looks like a great place to pick one up!

Things to Remember from this Holiday Season

• The airplane zig-zagging down the runway in 40-knot winds.
• Popping three Dramamine and thinking that I was going to die.
• Standing in line at the bakery for a Christmas Kringle. For 45 minutes. At 8am. In the misty fog.
• Watching my giddy niece get ready for a date.
• Chatting with our best friends and East-coast family on Christmas morning.
• Homemade, vegetable lasagna with bechamel sauce and crusty sourdough bread.
• Dad laughing outloud because I bought him a book on Neo-Conservatism.
• Sobbing in the movie theater while watching The Family Stone.
• Hoarding the muscle relaxants.
• Husband shopping on Christmas Eve for 2 hours.
• Noshing on Crab Louie at Duke's overlooking the Pacific ocean.
• Wrapping my sister's new I-Mac G5 (for my brother-in-law.)
• Unwrapping my 2006 Yiddish phrase a day calendar.
• Brother-in-law agreeing to consider carrying my jewelry on his clothing line label in Hawaii.
• Barbequed steak and salmon with baked potatoes and salad.
• Spooning Husband in the tiny, double bed.
• Explaining the real reason why I chose not to go to Christmas dinner with the clan.
• A $200.00 check from Dad...which was spent on the Coldwater Creek 50% off sale.
• Husband wearing his Denver Bronco suede jacket with pride at the airport.
• Listening to the happy cries of our cats when we walked through the door.
• Gobbling down swiss-mushroom burgers and sleeping in our own bed.
  
  Ahhh, yes. Gut yontev.

I Want One for Every Room-ba

Husband surprised me with this very cool gift for Christmas...a "personal robot" that scoots around the house and sweeps up the dirt on a continuous basis. There's a lot of hardwood in this house which makes this an especially good gift. (And don't even get me started on the cat hair and fuzzy balls floating around the house.)

Our holiday was very nice this year, though sad at times. The family dynamics have completely changed with the absence of my mom and my sister. I kept thinking about how much Jo Mama would have loved to see her great-grandson open his gifts...play with his building blocks...and strum his new, Wiggles guitar. And my sister Ann was always in her element during Christmas. She loved to give gifts and typically spent the entire year accumulating stuff for that one moment when we rotate around the room and unwrap our packages. Ann always had a huge, knowing smile on her face as we opened her packages and screamed in shock over her generosity.

I feel guilty for noticing the flip-side too, that the holiday was a bit lighter than normal without mom or Ann. Jo Mama always had a frenetic energy about her which raised the tension of the room. She tended to be Jittery, and it put the entire family on edge. She and Dad also used to bicker, argue, criticize or pout when they were around each other, so that usually cast a pall on any event as well. And my sister Ann thrived on The Argument. So conversations typically felt like a tug-of-war (Me) or Pussy Acquiescence (Denise)...meaning I wouldn't "give-in" just to make peace and my sister Denise always, always did. I think our actions used to infuriate the other equally.

All that I really wanted to do for Christmas was stay home...here in Colorado. Southern California was nice and it's always good to see my sister and her family, but I prefer being in my own home. When I jumped into bed last night I almost cried: The perfect pillow, my favorite comforter, my little cat nestled in the nook of my arm.

There really is no place like home. I'm so happy to be back.

In Case I have Failed to Mention this...

I am neurotic.

I'm assuming that this is apparent to anyone who reads this blog. I have some heavy duty social issues that keep me from attending most functions.

I am now home alone, reading and typing on the computer. The rest of my family has traveled to a cousin's house to enjoy steak and lobster with 50 other somewhat-related guests. The thought of being lost in the middle of that many people made me queasy, and I started having psycho-somatic stomach aches and nausea. Two of my inlaw-cousins have invited their entire families - these are people who I don't.know.at.all.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a holiday exclusionist. In fact, I normally say The More the Merrier. But somehow right now...this is not what I want to deal with at the moment. I don't want to meet new people today. I don't want to see old friends who will be surprised to see how much weight I've gained. That damn look in their eyes...something between surprise and pity. It's painful and shattering to endure.

Forget about the fact that I've been feeling poopy for over two weeks and my mojo is spent. I don't want to have to face my reality on this day that is supposed to be...peaceful and fun. I just want to stay home and work on my new Scrabble book.

I realize that this makes me a Dud. I understand that I have Issues. And I don't care.

I Vant to be Alone. That's all there is to it, as far as I'm concerned.

All in All...A Very Good Day.

The sunrise was spectacular this morning.

Despite the beautiful sky, I basically slept all morning. The knot in my back caused my neck to stiffen and my left arm throbbed and went numb simultaneously. Husband came home and found me in bed at 1:00pm in the afternoon. He spent 45 minutes rubbing the knot out, so I could get up and start working on dinner.

Family and friends arrived at 5:00pm. We feasted on prime rib, crab cakes, couscous, salad, broccoli and cheesy bread. Cheesecake, ice cream and chocolate cake were served for dessert. We laughed and hooted and brawled...hugged and cried and kissed each other on the cheek. My niece played the piano and it was hauntingly beautiful. We finished the 1500 piece jigsaw puzzle and hummed along to Frank Sinatra singing Christmas carols.

It was a perfect morning and a wonderful night. The in-between part wasn't' so good, but that's OK. I'm grateful that I was able to join the fun and be part of the good memories.

Thank you, God, for family and friends and simple good times.

OCD in DEC

I can't seem to stop myself. I feel the beads in my hands and my mind starts swimming in the possibilities. A necklace with hanging toggles. A bracelet with gold links. And the turquoise, oh gawd the turquoise. These little, stone nuggets call out to me.

Buy Me.
Design Me.
Sell Me.

It's an amazing feeling to see someone fall in love with a piece and purchase it. And I imagine that it's something that they'll keep for a long time, an item that their child will eventually wear to play dress-up.

An item that people will say, "Oh, remember when we used to wear turquoise? Can you believe that? " (I say this all of the time when I look at my high school photos and see good, decent guys wearing platform shoes and Angel Flight pants.)

It isn't enough for me to purchase the beads and string them. I need them to be purchased. It completes the process for me emotionally.

My husband, the real artist in the family, thinks that this is absurd. "The gift is in just doing the piece, expressing yourself."

Sorry, Charlie. It's all about the sale for me. The reinforcement that someone else loves it, wants it, is willing to cut a check for it.

I suppose this negates me as a true artist and purist. This attitude probably gives me the distinction of being Artsy, a tagline that I dislike immensely.

Artsy-Fartsy is even worse.

It reminds me of all of those porcelain collections considered to be Precious.

Whatever the label, I am Obsessed with this jewelry gig. It's an unexpected gift.

May Your Days Be Merry & Bright

The oven went Kaput this morning, which means no baking until the repair guy comes out to visit. Perhaps he can also fix the garbage disposal that broke last night too.

A very nice man knocked on my door an hour ago - he's from the water company and was here to shut the water off. "Huh? Water bill due when? how much?!" I did an emergency check-by-phone process to keep the water flowing. I don't remember even seeing a bill. Hello!

I spilled two trays of assorted beads all over the carpet in the dining room. Now, I have to separate them one by one and put them back into their containers. My arthritic wrists are screaming over this affront.

I'm still irritable. Can you tell?

I am stunned when I look back at this time last year and reflect on all that we had endured in 2004. My dad had just had a heart attack, my mom was becoming increasingly psychotic, my sister had been found unconscious and was hospitalized for 5 days with a mystery illness that we still cannot identify, my husband wasn't working, and I was deeply exhausted and recovering from a minor car accident.

I don't know how I got here - to this place where I am now. Our home is everything that I've ever wanted, there is nothing bigger or better out there that I want more than this place. I am happy exactly where I am. Husband is working solidly with people he enjoys and respects. I quit my job only to discover that I'd disliked it for a very long time. Why does it always take me so long to admit that? I don't want to go anywhere - there is no destination or hotel or resort that compares to the warmth I feel in my home. I'm still exhausted but recovering. I'm confused over the purpose of life. I'm preoccupied with death and constantly afraid that I am going to lose someone close. I appreciate every single day. I have no career and am still trying to adjust to that fact. I've lost some weight, am still quite heavy, but don't torture myself over it every minute of the hour. I love my husband more than ever. And I have a whole bunch of new, fun friends...something that I was afraid wouldn't happen before we moved.

Perhaps one day I will rediscover my ambition. Perhaps not. I don't miss the dry cleaning bill, eating lunch out every day, microwaving dinner or eating chips out of a bag in front of Law & Order because I'm too tired to cook. I don't miss managing people and I don't miss the accepted chaos/wretched customer service at my former place of employment. I don't miss the one hour ++ commute each way or the disingenuous people. Most of all, I don't miss the lack of appreciation for all of our hard and good work.

I am mystified over the events of the last 2 years and scared over the future. There will be more pain and I hope that I will get through it with grace. I barely got through the first 6 months of this year and am thankful to be intact, such that I am.

Gifts for Husband

Husband has become a Broncos fanatic...so he is getting several football themed items in his stocking this year. I think the salami from Norm Thompson above is a hoot. Not sure I'll eat it but it's bound to get a few belly laughs at our Superbowl soiree. And the jacket is from QVC - the photo with the Broncos is gone, but this is the style. It's suede and on major markdown - a nice bonus to my shopping efforts. Husband is also getting a radar dectector, an electronic ice scrapper for his windshield, ear muffs and a baseball cap with a directional light built into the front. Can't wait for him to open his packages...I think he's going to have fun with all of his new stuff.

Misc. Dribble

Nothing new or exciting to report. I've got a 1.5 hour massage scheduled today to get the knot out of my left chicken-wing. It's the size of a tomato, and my left arm ached all day yesterday. Which added to the irritability...which lasted all night long.

Family flies in tomorrow night so it's all about laundry and cleaning this afternoon. It is such a peaceful feeling to know that we have enough bathrooms and privacy for everyone now. In California, we had 11 family members stay with us and we all shared 1.5 bathrooms. And I still can't get over the fact that Husband's brother and wife insisted on showering together while we were all in the kitchen eating bagels and Cheerios...waiting for the shower ourselves. Yeech.

Our master bedroom has a small, gas fireplace. I turned it on last night (a splurge because I've been told that it's going to cost $15 per hour for the gas) and fell asleep with the amber shadows dancing on the ceiling.

Tomorrow morning a good friend is coming over to bake cookies all day. I'm not sure why, given the fact that both of us have wheat/yeast issues.

I need to run to the mall to buy some of this - to give to my neighbors for Christmas. Beyond that, I am done done done. No more wrapping, no more shopping. I bought this for our very dear new friends down the street and this for our good buddies up the street who have an amazing Pub in their basement. Can't wait to play a game with them!

The move to Colorado was intended to accomplish many things.

1. Housing Affordability so I don't have to work the corporate grind anymore.
2. Space so we can enjoy a larger home without all of our neighbors watching.
3. Slower Pace to enjoy more hobbies and leisure time.
4. Health so I can stop the downward spiral and be a vibrant, happy soul again.

Items 1-3 have been completed and I am now working on #4. My neighbors have been seeing an alternative health doctor for many years, and they are incredibly energetic, active and...sparkly. So after talking with them about their nutritional plan, I decided that I wanted to "get me some."

I saw their doctor last week and he performed an iris scan on my right eye. From this, he was able to determine several things:

1. My gallbladder is performing below normal levels and not creating enough bile, which in turn is causing my stomach to produce too much acid to digest the foods I eat. This is the cause of my ultra-severe heartburn and indigestion. If I can get this under control, perhaps my throat won't fizzle when I go to bed at night...something that could be good for my marital relations.

2. My body is reeking from Candida, which also causes indigestion and itchy skin. I con confirm this to be true.

3. My estrogen levels are sky-high. He's planning to put me on progesterone...as soon as I fully research it and give him the Thumbs Up.

The AH doctor has put me on an assortment of supplements, including cod liver oil, two digestive aids and a very funny looking green capsule. I have been going through a major detox over the last three days with severe joint aches, migraines and muscle cramps. He warned me that this would happen and encouraged me to go the distance...no matter how uggy I might feel.

I've been so sick over the last two days that I've been weepy and witchy. I had to cancel two holiday parties and reluctuctantly went to one last night.

Husband: Did you pick out something for me to wear?
Jill: WHO THE HELL DIED AND MADE ME BILL BLASS? ARRRRGH.

This is all very out of character. Getting Healthy is tuff work.

I love my dad, but he can be an Asshole.

• He abandoned the family without a word when I was eight years old.
• He asked me to take a dna test when I was 32 so he'd have leverage to divorce mom.
• He frequently sat at the kitchen table in the early-am hours with a gun, convinced mom was having an affair right under his nose.
• He planted tape recording devices throughout the house.
• He drank a lot and never held a job for more than a year.
• He called my mom, "JoJo the dog-faced girl," during dinner at a fancy restaurant.
• He would pout at the dinner table and refuse to eat if mom asked him to cut back on adding salt to his food. (He did this at my collge graduation party in front of all of my friends.)
• He frequently yelled at my mom in public...until we finally refused to go anywhere with them because of his behaviour.

Bleh. I could go on and on and on.

Dad and I were talking the other night and I asked him why he and mom didn't just.get.divorced. He replied that mom refused to talk about it...except once.

Dad: I went to a graduation party for a co-ed at the university. She was affiliated with the fraternity when I was working as an alumni. I had bought her a pair of earrings for her graduation and she sent me a thank you note, which you mother opened when it came in the mail. This was about 10 years ago.

Jill: That's a very personal gift to give someone you don't know very well.

Dad: It's all that I could think of giving her. Your mother read the note and said, "I want a divorce." (Smirk)

Jill: Perhaps it's because of all of those years when you never gave mom a birthday or Christmas gift....even though she bought you something for every single event. Plus, earrings are not an appropriate gift to give a young woman, they're waaaay too personal.

Dad: Ahhh (eyes gleaming). They were black onyx to go with her naturally blonde hair. (Smirk)

Jill: You were 72 years old Dad...and she was 18. What the hell were you thinking.

Dad: (Smirk)

I thought about my mom all night after that conversation. She endured the worst of the worst by staying with him...and she always refused to divorce or leave...even after dad left her and was unfaithful. Something that he frequently accused her of doing.

Why was my mother so weak, and why did she accept this piss-poor treatment throughout her entire life? It snuffed the laughter and humor right out of her body. I never, ever knew her to be happy. I just wish I knew then what I know now.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Mom wasn't nice to me, and she took most of her unhappiness out on me. But now, I understand why. Finally, I understand.

I. Want. A. Do. Over.

For her, and for us.

But it's all over and there is nothing that I can do, nothing that can be undone. No do over, no take back, no salve. Just me, walking around with salt in my wounds and feeling deep, deep regret and powerlessness and futility.

I'm actually working on posting somthing poignant...but in the meantime, I would just like to utter a rant over the fact that we can't buy alcohol here on Sundays. I found two very cool recipes on the Barefoot Contessa's food network page: White Hot Chocolate (Grand Marnier) and Chocolate truffles (Frangelico), and I can't make either of them today because I don't have any liquor in the house. I'll check out Costco later today, but I'm doubtful.

Gah!

I will never, ever, ever take the sunrise for granted here. It's different and dynamic every single day. My neighbors must think I'm a geek for running outside into the cold (typically wearing my jammies under a black, full-length coat)...barefoot...hopping around and then finally standing on the bark because it isn't frozen like the concrete...every morning around 6:30am. Sometimes, the entire sky is enveloped in a pink glow and I'll just stand outside with my mouth hanging wide open. We never saw beauty like this in California. It's so much cleaner, fresher and...big here in Colorado.

The sky seems to go on forever.

When I was growing up, the only way that I could fall asleep at night was to imagine myself flying through the air on a magic carpet. I would drift asleep feeling the weightlessness of freedom, air blowing through my hair...leaving everything and everyone in my real life behind. Away I floated into a beautiful blue, white and pink sky.

I swear, when I see a sky like the one above, I ache inside to be able to fly...to make curly cues and graceful dips. To feel the wind caress my cheeks and forehead...gliding and swooping and feeling the rush of the descent only to lift back up in a huge arc. To be at one with peace and eternity...surrounded by air and sunshine and warmth and no boundaries...no heaviness...pure grace and fluidity.

Just me and the wind...Waltzing.

The Love Lump

He's actually much sweeter than he appears.

(sigh. I have insomnia.)

Random Thoughts

The new couches arrived today, and each cat had to "initiate" one by A) Sitting on it for more than 2 hours; B) Sniffing every square inch; and C) Cleaning themselves on it - which is also known as "playing the cello."

This is Boss on one of the new couches. He always has an ethereal glow about him, and at night when we're all tucked into bed, he actually sparks when I pet him because he's full of electricity from the dried-up carpet.

The Zero Humidity issue is one of the biggest adjustments that we've had to make after moving to Colorado. They are small annoyances though, nothing outrageous like big bugs or tornados. My brown sugar turns into a brick overnight if I don't seal the bag. Never had to do that in the Bay Area. The piano went complete haywire-out-of-tune because of the change in humidity. Apparently, one is not supposed to transport a piano to an area with such a disparate humidity rate - it's really, really bad for the piano and it "might not recover."

One month ago I told my husband that I'd like to turn our piano into a player piano for my Christmas gift. I thought it might be $500 bucks to do the conversion. Oh no, I was way off. The cost is more than $6,000. That was a major No Go.

I was bemused by Katie Couric's demand for a seven year contract worth $20 million per year. Don't the network executives know that we as a public really don't care about the individual all that much? That they could hire someone to replace her for a fraction of the cost...and we'd be AOK? Sometimes I really do believe that the world has gone mad. Just think about how all of this drives the economy: Celebrities earn outrageous amounts of money, causing the networks to charge more for advertising causing businesses to charge more for their products causing people to have to work more or have dual incomes. I'm not saying that celebrity salaries are the cause of our inflation, but consider the impact times 100 more examples, like Athlete salaries, CEO bonuses, etc. It just seems to keep escalating....to the point where a morning television host wants a contract worth $140 million. Gimme a break.

The weather has dipped down to -10 degrees. What's up with that?!

I am meeting with a jewelry store owner tomorrow to present my jewelry. I'm so afraid of being rejected I can't see straight.

That's all for now in my benign, little world. I can't help but feel that everything is perfect just the way it is...and all that I need at this very moment.

What People are Wearing

OK, true confession here...This was always my favorite part when perusing one of those "gossip" magazines. In fact, I never actually read them, I only bought them for the pictures.

pause

(bee-da-boom)

Here is another blog that I enjoy checking out - because I get a kick out of the atrocious outfits captured on film.

And the commentary is pretty good.

I found an interesting tidbit at a blog that I check-out on occassion. I enjoy seeing how people spend their big bucks deluxe.

Most of the time, I'm unfazed by what I see. Until I saw this.

Which leads me to ask, why oh why would anyone ever be willing sell it?! I think it's especially beautiful, and I would hold onto it for the rest of my days if it was mine.

Husband and I were enjoying our coffee in the family room this morning, as we gazed out at the bright, blanket of snow.

Husband: This is the happiest I've ever been in my life.
Jill: Me too, sweet boy. Me too.

Happiness has been allusive to us both for most of our lives. Husband apparently suffered from chronic depression since high school, and he felt like a new person less than 2 hours after he took his first Lexipro.

I was too busy hiding out during my childhood to even think about being happy. Mom used to chase me through the house, screaming at me and smacking me on the legs. I learned very early that it was best to be invisible. I spent a lot of time singing to myself in my closet, dreaming about how my life would be different when I grew-up.

Fast forward to now and I still have to pinch myself because I still can't believe we got Here. I know that the newness will wear off eventually, but for now I'm savoring my moment. Fire in the fireplace, Christmas Jazz playing in the background, snow outside, and Christmas lights inside.

I'm Home. And I'm grateful...for as long as it lasts.

Oh, and while I'm sitting here...still awake and swimming in mild discontent...I feel compelled to write that I really, really need a new digitial camara that will take better, crisper photos of my jewelry.

Make and model suggestions are heartily encouraged.

It Remains to be Seen

The wind is howling and it's just started to snow. Everyone else in the house is asleep, except Boss, who thinks it's amusing to sit smack dab in front of my monitor. He's so...cat like, despite my belief that he transcends mere animalhood and is one of our most precious National Treasures.

I guess I'm awake because I'm worried. Nothing specific. Just a huge vastland of Unknown is facing me, which was by choice. I chose to quit my job and move to Colorado. I chose to to not look for work and spend my days de-stressing. I am currently choosing to not go back into sales management, even though I've built my entire life on it and the income that I've earned through the years.

I sincerely don't know what I want to do. My ambition is like a flat tire...completely and totally deflated.

Barry Gibb once stated in a television interview: "I guess all of the controversy has been good because we've always had something to prove. Once that goes away, you quit." (sic) That's as close to the real quote that I can get, but the point is that I no longer have anything to prove and that has extinguished my motivation and drive. I certainly can't afford to do this forever and desperation will finally kick-in and get me off my butt...but in the meantime, I spend my days making jewelry, shopping for antiques to sell locally and cleaning.

Except for the last two days because I took another header down some stairs and I may have broken my foot. I can't seem to walk but I've adopted a Wait and See attitude before going to the hospital for x-rays. I've never fallen so much in my life. A friend listened to me describe my latest mishap and asked, "Were you drinking?"

(Raspberry) "Nope, not a drop. I've just stopped looking at where I'm going."

There seems to be a parallel at work here.

I already know that I'm an enfp. I've done tons of skills tests. Some days, I want to be a massage therapist. Other days a paralegal because I love doing research. Then on the other days I want to design websites. I'm all.over.the.board.

I know that this is an exciting time and I'm embracing it, I really am. But it's also scary. What if I don't find the Next Big Thing? Will I have to go back to sales management and slowly turn into a piece of chipped beef? All dried up and knotty?

As the title says...it remains to be seen.

Isn't that right, Boss?

Hey. Down in front.

A Lesson in Domestic Sociology

Father has exposed me to the underbelly of Life as a Senior, and I really wish he hadn't.

My mom's best friend started calling Dad the week after mom passed away. She wants to hook-up with him and offered to wear a black lace garter belt. I can't help but wonder if that helps disguise the fact that she has emphysema, a hump-back, and she was my mother's best friend. This gal has done the Married and Buried thing a total of four times. That's four husbands who died before she did. I think Dad's afraid he could be number five.

Sex is a still a big deal when you're older and I've recently learned that it's rampant in assisted living facilities. A good friend completed a research document about the prevalence of STDs in nursing homes. Figures from 32 states show that the number of persons over 50 with HIV or AIDS went from 40,000 in 2000 to more than 67,000 in 2003, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (CBS News) Our misconception that old people don't have sex is way way way off the mark.

Back in California, Dad's eighty-four year old neighbor recently gave him a porn video and asked him to visit her so they could to watch it together. He declined. She then offered to give him another video. He declined. Apparently, she's "a chubby." Then there's the little problem that "he couldn't do anything if he tried." Two pieces of information that appall and disturb me at the same time.

Considering all of this new information has caused me to make comparisons of the elderly vs people who have head injuries. Tact seems to disappear and the normal, human sexuality impluses live very close to the surface. Recent studies tend to suggest that our aging brains do stop filtering appropriate vs inappropriate actions and comments. Which may be a contributing factor to my Dad's recent experiences.

I don't know why I'm so surprised by all of this. I guess it's just a tad disconcerting to hear Dad talk about all of his new sex-escapade opportunities with the hotties at the nursing home. I hadn't given it much thought up until now.

As his friend Phyllis commented at the dinner table, "I don't know how these men are going to handle all of these horny women running (sic) around here."

Dad's chuckle was filled with glee.