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Archive for the ‘Middle Age’ Category

Good Night’s Sleep?

Hi Hunter!  Yes, he is reading my blog and yes, things erupted after he read my previous post.  Sigh.  I need to trust him more and realize that honesty is the best policy when it comes to our relationship.


As we snuggled this morning, post wake-up fuck, he murmured that our relationship took a hard hit from this last kerfuffle.  I agree.  We are sleeping in separate beds, but enjoying the good night’s sleep that comes from not sharing the covers (him) or loud snoring (me) of a loved one.  I can stay up and read.  He can go to bed super early.  But are separate beds healthy for our relationship?  Pros and cons.  Pros and cons.


Apparently we are part of a bigger trend — people who have the balls to say, “I love you, but I really want a good nights sleep so go somewhere else”.  USA Today and Huffington Post cited a study that cited 25% of couples sleep separately.  I honestly don’t mind the separate beds these days because I have been sleeping like a baby.  The Hunter feels the same — my snoring isn’t bothering him and waking him up.  Will this continue?  Perhaps off and on.  I do enjoy when he jumps in bed with me in the morning for a snuggle and a fuck.

As for our relationship hit, that’s a story for another day.



Crazy Lives Beside Us

The Hunter had a really funny run-in with one of our neighbors that I haven’t written about.  I’ll try to keep it short but this will provide context to to my next post.

About 3 months ago we had a code enforcement officer stop by the house.  We weren’t home and he didn’t leave any information on why he was here.  My son was home and the officer was asking if the Hunter was running his business out of our house.  My son didn’t confirm or deny this and he duly informed the Hunter when he arrived home ahead of me.

I pulled into the driveway to see two cardboard signs attached to the trees out front. “Neighbors, we have a snitch who calls code enforcement” (I don’t remember the exact words, but that’s the gist of it).  I laughed and admired the Hunter’s audacity.  He thought I would be upset, but in my mind he was merely exercising his First Amendment right.  He wanted to add “Snitches get stitches”, but I advised him that this additional language was threatening and could get him into trouble.  He changed it to “Snitches are bitches”.

We knew who had turned us in — our batshit crazy next-door neighbor.  She is a screaming shrew who has fought viciously with our landlady after a BFF falling out.  I won’t go into their drama but let’s say that both sides probably bear responsibility.  Couple that with my landlady who has never seen an argument go unargued, and I can only imagine the fireworks when they lived side-by-side.

Anyway back to our drama.  We know it was our neighbor because the previous week the Hunter had given his business card to her teenage stepson because he wanted to have him help do some techie work with his GoPro camera.  Nobody else in the neighborhood knows the name of his business and the code enforcement officer had the name when he talked to my son, so it was an easy puzzle to solve.

Keep in mind that the Hunter named no names on either signs.  Neighbors drove or walked by regularly because it was early evening and folks were arriving home from work.  They read the sign and laughed or waved.  Within the hour, Crazy lady (CL) pulls into her driveway while we are sitting out back enjoying the early evening breeze.  “Motherfucker!!” she screams.  The Hunter looked at me and we giggled.  “Guess who’s home”, I say.

The Hunter has some big ass balls.  He grabbed his GoPro and walked into the front yard.  She had gone ballistic and marched over to the neighbors next to her to gain some allies. We had discovered early into our tenancy that they were also jerks (birds of a feather) but we never really had to deal with them, so it had never been a big deal.  They start screaming at the Hunter.

“Look out!! He’s got a gun!!!” was Neighbor’s first scream.  The Hunter calmly replied, “No, it’s a camera”.  The GoPro was on a selfie stick.  “Don’t film us!” Neighbor screams.

“We have lived here 20 years and we aren’t going to have that that kind of shit in our yard.”  Ummm, it’s in our yard, I think.

“We have called the cops”  Excellent because we need some protection from your crazy selves, I think.  Keep in mind that I am cowering in our house because I don’t have the Hunter’s confrontational chops.  I can hear everything though.

“You are just a tenant!” Um, what does that have to do with anything?

As the police arrived, we decided to sit inside and watch a pre-season football game, so the cops can deal with the crazies first without having to deal with us as well.  As we are sitting there, my phone began exploding.  My landlady was texting and calling me to ask what is this sign and demand that we remove it.  I ignored her because I needed to live thru the chaos in front of me.  I was also wondering how the heck she knew when CL basically has a restraining order against my landlady and cannot contact her directly.  Apparently CL enlisted the Neighbors to contact landlady who had no idea who was texting her all kinds of crazy messages.

Eventually the police came over and knocked on the door.  There are two — both young.  One is soft-spoken and polite; the other is a bit tougher.  We stepped outside to chat with them.  They told us that they explained to the crazy neighbors that we are well within our First Amendment rights to have the sign in the yard.  We began discussing the catalyst of the code enforcement officer visit.  The neighbor came to the edge of our yard to videotape us.  All 4 of us ignored her.

The cops told us that the neighbors were upset with the profanity.  Tough cop, with a straight face, said that they were cursing like sailors as they said the profanity offended them, so he told them he couldn’t believe that.  The tough cop then asked if we would remove the profanity.  “I would hate for the neighborhood kids to see it, ” he explained.  I refrained from being a smart ass by saying that if they could read it they had probably already learned that word.  The Hunter graciously said that he had made his point and would bring the signs inside and did so.  He had made his point, so the signs weren’t necessary.  All 4 of us mulled over why CL would have such a strong reaction to signs that didn’t name anyone…..interesting…..

There is more to the story.  I dealt with our landlady using the beautiful strategy of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”, so our relationship has improved significantly.  I sent her the GoPro video which she put on her Facebook, shared with friends and family and probably caused CL more drama because they have mutual FB friends.  I never intended her to distribute it, but, hey, that’s her choice.  In my email to my landlady, I warned her that if CL harassed us in any way, we would find it to be a threat and violation of our quiet enjoyment which could result in us moving out early.  I called her and softened it by explaining that I needed to give her formal notice just to protect us both.  She understood.

The other neighbors around us loved the dramatic evening.  We heard from several, “she got what she deserved”.  One sat with his wife in his backyard which ended up being a front row seat for the entire saga.  He said it was one of his most enjoyable evenings in the neighborhood in years.  CL had sicced code enforcement on him several times apparently.

Although at the beginning I was really nervous about such a huge confrontation with a neighbor, I ended up finding the whole episode ridiculously hilarious.  It was a good learning experience for me about difficult confrontations.  The stepson saw us the next day and gave us a sly grin and “What’s Up”.  He and his dad are no longer allowed to chat with us, but he continues to say hello and wave.

All of this leads up to the past week where the Hunter has shown himself to be a better, more restrained, less vindictive person than me.

I Need a Hobby

I was watching the HBO documentary “Read the Obits Before Breakfast” which features Carl Reiner and a bunch of 90-year-old youngsters discussing how they are so vibrant at such an advanced age.  They interviewed a geriatric expert for scientific background.  It all came down to staying busy and having a passion.

I don’t really have a passion – a hobby.  I putter on this blog, read, go to the gym and beach irregularly, but I don’t have that consuming passion.  In my youth, I took piano lessons for a year before switching to the violin for about 5 years.  I wasn’t a prodigy and just sawed away in the 2nd section quite contentedly.  I loved horseback riding but never had the mount or means to test my limits.  I ended up doing a lot of trail-riding although I dreamed of long-distance endurance competitions.  Horses are also way beyond my budget these days.

I enjoyed photography in college but not passionately.   With the kids, I sat on the sidelines of  ballet, soccer, flag football (all short-lived), lots of baseball, tons of horse shows and lacrosse.  I had no desire to jump in, with the exception of a brief equine flirtation.  

I’m boring.  When I moved out and got divorced, I thought it would be hiking.  I like hiking a lot, but it’s not my passion.  I have no interest in volunteer work – I did 2 petition drives this year and I’m done with that.  I need something that excites me like hunting for the Hunter.  He is all excited about his Fall hunt. He’s scouting, planning and I’m so happy for him. But what about me?

Let me think about it and I’ll report back……

I’m Fat

Yep I cannot ignore the scale, my non-fitting clothes or my flubber any longer.  I’m fat and I am perilously close to a weight I swore I would never see again.  I have gained 25 pounds since the Hunter entered my life.  WTF

I know how it happened.  The first 6 months or so we ate, smoked pot, ate some more and trust me we weren’t noshing on carrot sticks.  I quit the gym. I ignored the creeping pounds.  The Hunter gained weight too but he has shed it effortlessly.  

Then I hit my funk – more food to fill the emptiness.  Next came the stress of moving, the Hunter’s job situation, both of us starting our own companies and that kept the scale moving up. Add in the delicious, but not healthy, meals the Hunter prepares. It’s been a perfect storm, but now it’s time to get serious.

I tried the Fasting/One Meal a Day of no-carb, high fat diet/lifestyle but that sucked.  Not for me.  

Instead I been going to the gym and over the past couple of weeks my attendance continues to improve.  I’m really out of shape, so I’m trying to be patient and not be hard on myself. My next step was to rejoin Weight Watchers after a 15 year hiatus.  My first meeting was tonight.  I’ll try a couple of meetings until I find the right group, but I need the accountability.  WW has changed a few things so I’m re-learning parts of the program.  

It sure was easy to get to this point, but it won’t be easy to correct. Once again I need patience,  action steps and kindness to myself.  

The Hunter Turns 50

Happy Bday HunterToday is a big day for the Hunter.  It’s his birthday, but I have made it a point to have celebrated throughout the month of May.  We took a fabulous road trip, which was too short, but so much fun.  We had a great dinner with his son, Nino, and Nino’s girlfriend over the weekend.  We hung out with my dear friends and spent a beautiful day on their boat.  It has been wonderful.  He is not big on presents, because he gets shy and thinks I have done too much for him already.  The trip was a present and he’ll be getting some much-wanted work clothes, but he isn’t getting that “Oh My” present.  It’s simply not one of our Love Languages.

In the midst of all this great stuff, he has a very dark cloud looming.  His mom has very advanced Alzheimer’s and over the weekend hospice has moved in for the final days.  That woman better not have the audacity to die on his birthday.  That is my most fervent hope.

The Hunter has a Love/Hate relationship with his mom (and his extended family) that really sheds a bright light on the man he is today.  His parents are immigrants.  Neither finished high school and they worked hard their entire lives.  His sister is about 8 years older than him and she went on to become quite successful financially.  But this is a family of very negative attitudes.  They constantly belittle and snipe at one another.

Apparently the Hunter was the runt of the litter — the youngest.  With an older sister and much older cousins, he was that super-active, sometimes annoying kid in the background.  He was a behavior problem at school at times.  His mother, according to the Hunter, beat him every day.  Yes, beat him.

Apparently the worse beating that really left him scarred was when she forgot to pick him up from baseball practice.  After waiting and waiting, the coach gave him a ride home.  She beat him until his sister finally interceded because “you made me look bad”.  Yes, this is the type of household he grew up in. She finally stopped when he turned 14 and grabbed the belt out of her hand…..

It’s interesting, from an armchair psychologist view, to see the child/mother dynamics of an abused child.  The Hunter tells many stories about his mother’s great cooking, meals she would make, her amazing domestic skills — she could sew pretty much anything.  He has many good memories of her, but then he has ugly ones too.

However, his parents always sided with his son’s mother, the Hunter’s Baby Momma, when Nino was young.  They never defended him, only blamed him.  Now obviously I am hearing only one side of the story, but….  hopefully you are getting a picture here.

In any case, the Hunter had to spend a very long afternoon with the family as they all paid their last respects to his mom.  The mom who beat him.  The mom who years later denied ever touching him.  The mom who never defended him and only berated him.  He is paying his respects with a family that he refuses to spend holidays with.  One that continues to belittle him and not support him.  It’s difficult and complicated. Actually, as I was wrapping up this post, he walked in with an old photo album he brought back from her house and we spent about 45 minutes looking at his childhood photos.  It was lovely and he enjoyed the memories.

But, the Hunter is worried that his mom’s death will send him spiraling into a depression — it happened before, after another death which ended up destroying his marriage.  I can’t do much for him except listen and love him.  I feel his pain and conflicted feelings.

He wants to have a family for the holidays, so I have told him that we have our children and, in the future, their children plus friends that we love.  I told him that we will create our own family.

That bitch better not die today.  It’s the Hunter’s special day, not hers.


I just re-joined my Toastmaster club after a multi-year hiatus. Some of my best friendships grew out of this club and it’s great for tuning my communication skills. Anyway, I just gave the classic first speech, the Icebreaker, and realized that it makes a great post (once I discreetly filtered out a few specific details).  Here we go into the history of Maggie……

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be. — Douglas Adams, author of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy  

Today is a momentous anniversary for me and it’s fortuitous that I am doing my Icebreaker on this special day. I’ll tell you more about this anniversary later. I believe that life should be a journey of constant growth and exploration. Oftentimes I take lessons from people of how NOT to do things, so let me explain how I have applied these lessons in my life.   

I was born and raised in North Carolina. I consider myself a Southerner although somehow I lost my drawl along my travels. My parents divorced when I was 6, and my mom went back to school. My dad, who is a great guy and I love dearly, has never been a father figure for me.  He has been merely an interested observer of my life. Between my mom’s education pursuits and impulsiveness, I lived in 9 towns in 12 years. I graduated high school at the age of 16, went to University One for a year, then University Two on the other side of the country (which I consider my Study Aboard year because a Southern girl in the Pacific Northwest is a story in itself) I ended up in our fair city at the age of 19 and sank my roots. I finally finished my communications degree at University Three.    

I met my husband when I was 19 years old. We married when I was 23 and our marriage lasted 25 years. We had two wonderful children and many happy times. Today’s anniversary is the second anniversary of my divorce becoming final. Before you assume that this is a sad day for me, please don’t. I celebrate this day because it represents an important transition in my life. You see I consider my marriage a success, but a chapter in my life that had a beginning, a middle and an end.   

I just read a quote the other day that personifies my parenting style:  There are two things we should give our children: one is roots and the other is wings. I was able to take the lessons learned from my parents about what NOT to do and apply them my marriage and raising my children. These lessons were: Create roots for my children and be actively present in their lives for all their pursuits.  

Raising my kids was an incredibly busy, rewarding time of my life. Their father and I kept them close to their aunts, uncles and cousins. They grew up in a very stable, two-parent household and I am thankful they had the childhood I didn’t have. My children are perhaps my greatest success. 

My mother-in-law passed away in January 2013. Her death caused me to reflect and once again I took away several valuable lessons of how NOT to do things. I loved her dearly. She was a wonderful, smart woman, but she also sacrificed for everyone and never put her needs first.   

As I approached 50, I suddenly realized that my life is halfway over if I’m lucky or more than halfway over otherwise. It was time to get serious about living the life that I want to live. This led me to divorcing my husband because it was time for me to live my life on my own terms. My children were out of the nest. I won’t air the dirty laundry of our marriage, but suffice it to say that from the outside our marriage looked perfect, but inside it was not.   

I have been stretching myself outside my comfort level. I went to Jamaica by myself, I tried online dating (huge waste of time). I joined a hiking club, thanks in part to our fellow Toastmaster, P. This hiking club has pushed me outside my comfort zone with canoeing and hiking. Through this hiking club I met my boyfriend, The Hunter. Any man that would date me after seeing me with no makeup, sweating is the right man for me.   

For my next push outside my comfort zone experience, I am bravely moving and leaving our fair city after 30 years for a new one an hour away. Yes, by summer I will be living in a beautiful house on the water with a fruit tree. It felt like home the moment I drove up.   

This chapter of my life is amazing. I know that I am living my life on my terms. I was so incredibly flattered by the note my daughter wrote to me on her wedding day this past February. She described me as fearless. How flattering. Particularly since she’s seen me react to cockroaches. 

There you have it, Dear Readers. Quintessential Maggie in a nutshell. By the way, I got an awesome evaluation and then retreated to a nearby bar with two girlfriends and drank the afternoon away with rounds of prosecco to celebrate my anniversary. What an outstanding day!

Twistin’ the Night Away – Not

Here’s a man in evening clothes
How he got here, I don’t know, but
Man, you oughta see him go
Twistin’ the night away
He’s dancin’ with a chick in slacks
She’s movin’ up and back
Oh, man, there ain’t nothin’ like

Twistin’ the night away
They’re twistin’, twistin’
Everybody’s feelin’ great
They’re twistin’, twistin’
They’re twistin’ the night

Sam Cooke

I am not a party girl.  I was never into the club scene when I was young. Screaming small talk into somebody’s ear was never my preferred way to meet someone. Combine that with my inability to hold my liquor plus a lack of dancing skills  and you’ve got Baby in the corner (without a hunky Patrick Swazye to teach me — RIP sexy man).  Anyway, it surprises a lot of people who know me that I am not a fan of a big party. Give me a small dinner party, cocktail party and I shine, but large events are making me sigh because damn they are a lot of work.

Last night the Hunter and I went to my boss’ annual toy drive Christmas party. It’s my fourth time at this 100+ person event and I have to admit — it’s boring. A bunch of old fart country club types who do not have any tilitillating small talk, small bites of food, drinks heavy with cheap liquor and a host and hostess working like crazy. The upside was a great excuse to get dressed up and go out with the Hunter, a stunning setting, a great band (who took the longest breaks I have ever seen) and saying hi to my co-workers and some folks I use to work with (but never really liked).  I tapped out after 2-1/2 hours. It just doesn’t ring my bell. The Hunter was a great sport for going because he doesn’t like these big parties either. It was the first time he met my boss and it went well.  

I had two parties yesterday plus I hosted a business party for over 300 this week and now I can say that I am a bit of a snob when it comes to parties.  I also now realize how amazing my house parties were back in the day. The daytime party yesterday was for the girls and I was grateful that a new friend invited me. We are in the same business and I had taken her to lunch so we could get to know each other better. She reciprocated with a party invite. It was fun — her friends are not my type (sorry, but I can be snobby on my blog if I want), but everyone was fun and in great spirits. You can tell that they are all very close, which can be a tough circle to penetrate, but they were welcoming. We did that crazy gift exchange/swap where everyone gets a number and can either swipe or unwrap a gift. I love these — it brings out my evil streak. I got a fabulous candle.  

The priceless moment of that party was the unwrapping of the second gift. A woman, who is a hoot, grabs a tall rectangle box and tears the paper off the top.  It says “Rabbit”.  Every soccer mom perked up like a lion that caught scent of its prey. The look on their faces was fantastic. It was an electric wine opener, but I immediately said that I knew what I would be bringing next year…and you know I will. 

The business party is put together by a very seasoned team, so it is effortless on my part. I am the hostess and have to run it, but that’s easy when you have awesome professionals behind the scene. It’s just a long afternoon and evening. We keep it to a firm two hour cocktail party but when you give people free food and drink, I am always amazed by the gluttony that ensues. 

My next party will be my daughter’s bridal shower. That will be a measure of my diplomacy and a taste of how the wedding will play out. It’s coed and a former sister-in-law is having it at her house. The Hunter and I decided that perhaps he will stay home for this one. I think it’s the wiser course of action. My Ex is one of 3 brothers and a sister. The sister is completely cool — she was at the Engagement party, but the brothers have been childishly ignoring me and rude, so I know it could be potentially volatile since we will be on enemy territory. The Hunter and I prefer to keep the focus on the happy couple…I mean the soon-to-be newlyweds and not us. Some may call us cowards, but I prefer to think that we are being diplomatic. 

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