Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts

Monday, February 21, 2022

Bumbling Through Life and Love

Greetings and salutations, everyone. With all my chores and play done for the weekend and a bonus day (thanks, Presidents), I thought it would be a good time to get another blog written. Definitely not time to do any fun outdoor activities as Chicago has seemed to be locked into a rather arctic weather pattern, snow, cold, wind....and repeat. 

Dear Jon...the breakup blog

I have to tell you it took every ounce of maturity in me to not name this blog "Dear Jon: the Breakup Blog." I mean, come on. Is there a more compelling, click bait of a title?? But I'm not about to write an entire blog about our breakup as it wasn't super dramatic. We honestly never once had a fight before this incident occurred. While I won't go into all the details, I will say it was ultimately his obsession with Aspen, which you'll remember from this blog, that did us in. 

He thought it would be a great idea to cosign on a 1M+ house with his bestie (who happens to be a girl with whom he was once romantically involved) in Colorado, 30 miles from Aspen. I was equally sure that it was NOT a good idea, but I didn't hear about it until it was a done deal. 

I know many of you, especially the women, are saying, "ah, hells to the no!" I mean when you are in a committed relationship with someone, can you have a best friend who is the opposite sex who you have slept with? I was actually ok with the relationship but buying a house with her was a bridge too far. And, on account of feeling a little homicidal towards him, we both thought it was best if we parted ways.

Perhaps because it wasn't a super emotional breakup, I did the only thing I know to do: carry on. Therapy? Nah. While I know for many it's truly a blessing, I just jumped back into the dating world with reckless abandon. And guess what? When you tell men right off that you are just out of relationship and don't want anything serious, the pool of potentials becomes very deep.

Swindling the Tinder Swindler

So did anyone watch the Tinder Swindler on Netflix? If not, you should, especially if you are living in the world of online dating. It's all about this guy who basically had a pyramid scheme in which he stole ridiculous amounts of money from very naive, yet well-intended women. 

Sadly these dating apps and sites are literally snake pits, often chock-full of shady people trying to take advantage of others, many of whom are looking for legit relationships. I won't say men because from what I understand, there are just as many gals with nefarious intentions out there trying to separate men from their money. 

Perhaps it's my years of experience with online dating, but I can spot these guys from a mile away. Things to look for:  all their pics are professionally staged; their profiles make you want to vomit because they are so ridiculous, perhaps pulled directly from some sappy romance novel, and they somehow do something with their profile so you can't see where they actually live. Broken English is another red flag.  

So for shits and giggles, I've decided to try out-catfish them! I want to swindle the swindler. My goal? To ask for money from them before they have the chance to ask me.

Didn't take long to find my target. Meet Sammy. He's a textbook example: seemingly wealthy, attractive, and attended a college that doesn't exist. I do wonder if that's right next door to the School of Hard Knocks I keep hearing about but I digress! 


So immediately, Sammy matched with me! Normally I can be a bit caustic, but I played it cool with Sammy because I didn't want to alert him or scare him off. He pored on the charm, saying things like: "I can't wait to meet you and I'll tell you how beautiful you are. I hope you wouldn't get tired of me telling you how beautiful you are." Fortunately, I had not just eaten because I definitely would have hurled at this point. But no!!! I came back immediately with a "I promise to never tire of hearing you tell me that." I hope none of you are reading this on a full stomach. Thought about tossing in some broken English but decided against it. 

Unfortunately, after a few weeks of messaging, Sammy just disappeared. Perhaps the prison guard took his phone away? I guess I'll never know for sure, but don't worry. I'm sure there will be more Sammys and my mission remains the same: to scam the scammer. Not all heroes wear capes. For anyone out here online dating: proceed with an abundance of caution and have a sense of humor about it. Also read my last blog on the topic, Online Dating in Your 50s. 

Years ago, I was matched with this guy, super hot. He was somewhere in Africa with the military. Do we even have troops there? No idea but again, it became a game. Eventually he told me he was coming back to the states but he had acquired what he referred to as some "spoils of war" and he just needed a bank account to deposit a large sum of money. But honestly it wasn't until he asked me to pick him up from the airport that I "ghosted" him. I mean come on; we all have that line we can't cross. What am I? A fucking Uber? 

Anyway, yes, back up to my dating shenanigans so buckle up, everyone. Probably going to be an exciting ride. 

Hope this blogs finds you all happy and well. Let's hope that 2022 is not the shit show that the last  two years have been. Gotta get better! 

Until next time...

Barb

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Friday, November 12, 2021

"There's a Sandwich in Every Beer" and other Jon-isms

Hi everyone! Can't believe we made it to fall already. About 15 minutes from now it will be Christmas and then it will be 2022. Wow, that went fast. 

I've kept you all updated on both the ups and downs of my love life so thought I might mark the one-year anniversary of our first date by telling you a little more about my man. 

A few things about Jon

Man's divine right to hot tubs. Jon strongly believes that as American citizens we have certain inalienable rights, one of which is to be able to sit in hot tubs everywhere. In some areas of the country, the beachfront is public so everyone has a right to be access and enjoy certain areas of the coastline? Jon believes this should also extend to include hot tubs, especially those at expensive hotels. Those are his favorite, despite the fact that these swanky establishments often put security in place to protect the sanctity of their respective hot tubs. Fortunately this is never a problem. He's perfected his tactics over the years, and while I'm sure he would not want me giving away any of his "hot tub poaching" secrets, safe to say his success rate is very high. Once he's breached the perimeter and safely landed, it would take an act of God to remove him. The upside is he's going to drop some cash (beer, food) so these hotels should welcome him with open arms. 


"There's a sandwich in every beer." This is typically his response whenever I ask if he's eaten. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm a mother and not a fan of skipping meals, but I do feel the compulsion to ask this grown-ass man if he's eaten. Jon will go half the day without eating or will eat something for breakfast and then not eat all day. Or eat nothing until mid afternoon. But fortunately he is likely not to forget to drink a beer at some point so...well there you have it.

Keeping his mechanics employed. Jon owns multiple used cars, none of which are ever running at the same time.  So needless to say he spends a lot of time transporting cars in and out of the shop. He has a Range Rover that was built during the first Bush administration that is a constant money pit, two Toyota FourRunners and recently purchased a used Porsche Boxster. Yes, clearly might be a mid-life crisis thing, but my ex husband's midlife crisis involved a 20-something, mall food court worker (going to have to wait for the book for that whale of a story) so I guess I should be happy that his manifested this way. 

His mechanic assured him the Boxster was in mint condition! Two weeks later he awoke in the middle of the night to hear his car alarm blaring in a midst of a thunderstorm. Then he realized that not only was the alarm going off but for some reason his windows have rolled themselves half way down. He thought he had the issue resolved--after McEyver'ing some fix--but later while driving to a meeting, the alarm started going off again. Long story short, it's back in the shop. Shocking, I know. As is the Range Rover.


The big winners in all of this, of course, are his auto mechanics who all coincidentally own very large, expensive boats that they do allow Jon to visit. So you know every time he purchases yet another "money pit" used car, they immediately start thinking of what's the next boat toy Jon is going to help them buy. 

Has ukulele, will play...whether you want him to or not. When he let his eldest daughter take his guitar to college in Boston, his new instrument of choice became his ukulele, which he brings everywhere. Literally everywhere. And, he will play it, whether you want him to or not. He has a pretty good voice though I must admit his falsetto, to which he often defers, lands squarely between "not good" and "God awful." What he makes up for in natural skill, however, he more than makes up with raw enthusiasm. He brought it to the Turks & Caicos this winter. My daughter thought it was adorable...for the first hour...as he worked his way through the alphabet, her enthusiasm waned. 



Make fast. Having lived in Chicago for many years, Jon is an expert driver/parallel parker and navigator. That said, he firmly believes that you can park pretty much anywhere, even double park, if you have your flashers on. Apparently he thinks the proper use of your flashers can negate any silly driving or parking ordinance. One time he joined me at dinner with some friends. He joined mid-meal and offered to give me a lift home. We came out of the restaurant an hour or so later, and there was his giant Range Rover with this SUP on the top parked in a no-parking zone...with his flashers on. 

Best years ever. Jon has two beautiful daughters whom he cherishes, and we have certainly had a great run, thus far, and I know he loves me. Despite this, I can feel fairly certain that no other chapter of his life will ever surpass his four-year, post-college, ski-bum internship in Aspen. He hustled, worked multiple jobs and skied every possible opportunity. During this time, he became a competitive "extreme" skier. He was even in a movie: Aspen Extreme. When he talks about this period, which he does at every possible opportunity, he lights up. It's akin to "This one time at band camp..." 

I'm sure an ideal retirement scenario for him would involve a second residency somewhere in the mountains. I'm actually ok with that. A few times he's mentioned that living on a boat has always been a dream. Honestly there are few things I'd rather NOT do more than live on a boat. I'd take a root canal. At least the pain is limited to a few hours. Some of my darker moments have been on boats, staring intensely at the shore or any other immobile object so I didn't throw up...again.  Anyway, boats and I have a troubled relationship. A ski house. No problem. 

Walking sunshine. That's how I would describe his temperament. Every time I see him, he has a smile on his face and just seems thrilled to be alive. He blessedly tones it down in the morning, but overall he has a very sunny disposition. He greets everyone with a smile or sometimes a wisecrack, and he is game for damn near anything...as long as beer will be served. 

This temperament was put to the test recently when Bowie, my youngest dog, got into this jacket while we were visiting my parents, chewed through an interior pocket, got into his wallet and proceeded to eat five $100 bills. I walked into the scene after the fact finding just pieces of bills, staring down at three clearly visible faces of Benjamin Franklin. 



I knew enough to know that wasn't a bill I carry often, but could hardly process it. Fortunately, he took the news in stride. My guess this is at least partially due to the fact that he recognizes the value of a good story, and I know for a fact that I will quite literally never live this one down.  

Was there a bill extraction from that damn dog's poop later?...I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say my love for this man should never be questioned. Enough said. Funny side note: Bowie completely ignored four $1 dollar bills that were nicely folded, sitting on the top of his suitcase.





Shitty weather cometh...Why am I telling you this? Because it means more blogs from me. Silver lining, amiright? I'm sure this makes you all feel better and will make the 4 inches of snow predicted for the weekend here in Chicago seem less awful. Hardly, but hope you are all ready. 

Get started on the Christmas shopping, folks, so the supply chain fairy doesn't lob a turd in your Holiday punchbowl. 

More to come and Happy Thanksgiving!!

Barb

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Saturday, August 21, 2021

Bidding Adieu to a Wonderful Summer

Many of you have been questioning why there have not been any recent blogs. My answer to this is that I've simply been having too much fun on the weekends to write. Writing is something I do in my day job so taking away any "play time" on the weekends to write a blog just never seems like a good idea.

The summer has been full of tennis, music festivals, bike rides and just a whole lot of fun. Went to AND survived Lollapalooza with my daughter as well as the Hella Mega Tour with my son a few weeks later. I was so happy to be hearing live music again, definitely my happy place. All and all an amazing summer and sad to see it soon coming to a close.

Today, however, it's extremely soupy and hot out, giving me two options: cleaning my condo or writing a blog. Condo cleaning can wait! 

Ben and I seeing Weezer, Fallout Boy and Green Day at Wrigley. Note: I'm wearing the shirt I bought him after taking him to his first Green Day show at 13.

Love Life Update

Not much in the way of an update. Jon and I are still enjoying each other's company, and next month we celebrate the one-year anniversary of our first date, which took place at the Hopleaf, one of my favorite local bars. To this day, Jon has my number saved in his phone as "Barb Hopleaf." 

As you all know we met and started dating during the pandemic so I must say I did worry about what would happen when Jon--who is quite the snappy dresser--realized that my pandemic wardrobe and my schlubby chic normal wardrobe are sadly one and the same.  He seems to have dealt with that reality.

The year has flown by and we have had a lot of fun together. Lots of adventures and certainly more on tap. He is a very active guy so we are always doing something, although he definitely also enjoys activities that are not at the top of my list of fun things to do. 

For one, he's a camper and while I love campfires, s'mores, hiking and being outside, the whole sleeping outside thing isn't my bag. I can hike until my legs are jelly, but at the end of the day I want clean sheets, a hot shower, and a meal I don't have to forage for. Period. Sadly, I know he hasn't given up trying to convince me to give it a try. "We don't sleep on the ground; we have cots." Oh boy! 

While I know his intention is to alleviate my concerns, the last time I was on a cot was in the 6th grade when I was feigning a stomachache to get out of the long run in gym class. I don't remember enjoying it, although it did beat running. 

Now, can I imagine a scenario in which I would willingly sleep on a cot...in a tent? Well, sure. But most of those scenarios involve the Red Cross and some type of natural disaster, like a tornado or hurricane (highly unlikely), or maybe a plane crash. 

One of his trips over the winter, he and a group of equally nutty, but physically fit friends walked up a mountain in skis with skins on and all their gear for 8 miles!! I'm not even a fan of carrying my own suitcase. The end goal is a hut. A hut. Not a bougie hotel suite, but a hut. Backcountry skiing is the real reward.


For real, I would have made it maybe 2-3 miles before someone put me out of my misery. Our relationship could not have weathered the amount of bitching and complaining that would have been emanating from me. 

Call me crazy, but I prefer skiing in areas where ski patrol can come rescue me, if needed, and where magical chairs take you to the top of the mountain. Not areas where you have to wear special devices to survive avalanches and where you have to walk uphill to get to the top. 

They don't build them like they used to...

I might be in the market for a new washer/dryer. I truly hope you were all sitting for that shocking news. To be honest, I don't want to buy a new set as I am well aware that the appliances they make today don't hold a candle to the quality of the ones of yesteryear. 

When my ex and I got married, we financed a washer/dryer set from Sears. When I moved out of the family house nearly 25 years later, both were still in perfect working condition. I gave them to a friend's son and his wife so they might still be washing and drying like champs. Update: my friend Mary reports they are still both functioning perfectly 32 years later. 

When I moved into my condo, there was a rather old washing machine and dryer already there so I didn't rush to replace them. At one point the dryer started making an odd, clunking sound. Turns out of of its fins (probably not the technical term) on the inside had become detached and was flinging around. The screw to keep in place had fallen into the drum of the dryer so I just tore it off. Works like a charm again. Not a McGyver-esque fix, but it worked. 

It's not that I can't afford a new pair, but why spend thousands to replace them with some space-age, computerized contraption that won't last a quarter of the time these other super-senior appliances do? I don't want a motherboard on my washing machine. I really don't need them to be "smart." Just like dogs, you don't want the smartest one. They are too much work. Same theory applies with appliances. 

Washing and drying clothes is a very simple task. That's why the older models didn't break much; there wasn't much to break. Simple mechanics; no electronics, sensors, or microprocessors. I'm not asking it to  solve differential equations; I just want it to clean and dry my damn clothes. Have clothes become more complex? I don't want to me able to communicate with my washing machine. 

Older ones are also much easier to operate. My current dryer offers me two options: Normal and Delicate modes. So my options are: hot or surface-of-the-sun hot. Easy peasy. Don't put anything in there that will shrink. Same with my washer. A few options but 90% of the time, I go with normal (warm wash/cool rinse). The newer ones offer a million different features, a myriad of different configurations to choose from. My clothes don't require any advanced settings. 

I had a lot of friends who ran out and bought those front-loaders and then had to deal with mildew and other issues; there were class action lawsuits from furious owners. My mom bought a new fancy top loader a few years ago, which to this day I can't figure out how to operate, and it's so deep that she quite literally fell into it one night and couldn't get out!!! Fortunately she eventually escaped it; thankfully she's a nimble and athletic old lady. 

When she finally liberated herself, she came up excitedly to tell my dad what has just happened. His response was, "well, thank God you got yourself out of there, because I have no idea where the camera is and I would have had to find that first before I came down to help." Image below is her demonstrating what happened. Notice the stool. 


Ok, well this is getting long so ciao for now, but sadly the weather will soon turn and as a result, I'm sure there will be more blogs to come.

Hope all of you are well and let's enjoy what's left of summer. 

Warmest and sweatiest regards,

Barb


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Monday, May 24, 2021

Don't Call Me a Couger

Oh yes, that's right. It's that blog; the one I have been promising some of you for a very long time. The one about my rather infamous May-September relationship with...we'll call him Will. I won't use his real name, although I will say absolutely nothing but good things about him. 

I met Will the summer after my divorce. Right after my marriage ended I dated a guy named Dan, who was perfect. That is perfectly ill-suited for me, which was ideal because I was not in the head space to open myself up to any level of a real relationship. He was super hot, fun and dumb as a stone. Like I said, perfect. Sex was great and as long as we steered away from discussing topics that might provoke his stupidity, we were good. Lasted about a year.

One day I was talking about my concerns around the supreme court (my bad!!) and  said something like "Ginsburg can't live forever," to which he replied, "no, he can't." Oh no. Well, that pretty much killed the vibe for me and no level of hotness could repair the damage. 

Six-pack Will

At the tail end of that relationship, I was invited to my next door neighbor and friend's son's birthday party. There I officially "met" Will, her nephew. In reality, I had known of Will for years, probably since he was in college. He was a neighborhood favorite, at least among the women. He would come over to mow or watch her kids, sometimes sans shirt, God bless him. 

He had a full 6-pack, truly the most perfect body on a boy..I mean man I had ever seen. When he was there, I would go full Desperate Housewives and leer at him from my window. I wasn't selfish though; I would inform other neighbor girls and they would promptly throw kids in strollers and bikes to come down the cul de sac for a peek at "six-pack" Will. 



Anyway, back the story. I officially meet Will at this party and we start talking about music, which we are both really into, and learned we both liked the same genre and loved the same bands. He was a guitarist and had been in a band for years, since high school. He had just moved back from L.A. and was working for an accounting firm in town. 

We started to go to concerts and hanging out together with my friends, a motley crew of largely of artists and writers. One night we joined some of my friends for a midnight showing of the Big Lebowski. 

During the intermission I went to the bathroom with my girlfriend Kelly. Once inside, she said to me, "Please tell me you are knocking boots with that man." Considering her side gig was erotic fiction writing, I thought it an odd phrase, but said absolutely not; he was way too young for me. 

I will never forget her reply: "The gods have placed this beautiful gift in your hands and you aren't even going to open it to see what's inside? That's just not right. You are crazy. He's clearly smitten with you."

At some point during the evening, she got in his ear as well on the topic and when he drove me home that night, he did indeed kiss me so apparently I was the only one who wasn't picking up the signal. We dated for several years, and honestly  it was just what the doctor ordered. He was kind, intelligent, caring, considerate, passionate, fun, and did I mention super hot? 

Now dating someone nearly 20 years my junior does come with baggage, although it wasn't typically ours. My parents chose to largely ignore the relationship, while his parents were shockingly warm and welcoming to me. My parents had nothing against Will; there wasn't much to not like to be honest. However, they also didn't see how this relationship had any potential for a future. And, to be honest neither did I, but I also did not care in the least.

I was sitting in a lawn chair drinking Sav Blanc.

After we had been dating a couple of years, my parents came into town for a visit and I invited Will over for dinner. I thought everything went well; he told them about the house he had just bought and his job, moving from LA, etc. That night my parents were upstairs getting ready for bed and I heard my mom howling with laughter, literally gasping for breathe. 

Apparently my mom was telling my dad that Will really did seem like a nice guy; it was just a shame that he was too young. My dad gave her a confused look, stopped brushing his teeth, and said, "You mean too old for her." 

Yes, apparently the entire evening he thought that Will was my 17-year old daughter Laura's boyfriend. 

Later that year, Laura insisted that he come to her high school graduation. They had gotten quite close and she absolutely wanted him there. Afterwards, her dad texted her and said that he thought her boyfriend was really cute. She did not have a boyfriend at the time. Ok, I must say I did enjoy that (insert evil laugh here). 

Will helped me pack and move her into her dorm her freshman year, and not once but twice, people asked which dorm room was his. Don't get me started on him attending Laura's sorority's Fathers Day Weekend. 

He truly could not believe I'd never seen a single episode of Saved By the Bell. He didn't know The Cars. Yes, we had a wide gap of social references, but he was a great boyfriend. The age thing affected those around us more than it affected us. I could go on all day with hilarious stories about that. But he truly had an old soul, and was, at heart, a pretty nerdy-but-hot auditor who often was the sensible one, talking me out of various stupid things. 

We traveled, saw a ton of concerts, music festivals, art shows, etc. My only complaint ever was that he ate like a 13-year old female anorexic. He was an avid runner and daily ate extremely cleanly. I'm surprised his digestive system survived years of eating out with me. He would have a green smoothie and maybe a few yams, lean protein for dinner. Not exactly how I ate, but I forgave him on account of the aforementioned 6-pack. Oh, and by the way I now have green smoothies for lunch daily and am doing yoga, two things he really tried to get me into. 


We continued to date for a while after I moved, but eventually we both started dating other people. I told him from the very beginning that this would be fun but would not last. My plan was to move away once the kids graduated from high school. I knew I would eventually have to release him back into the wild where he could mate with someone his own age, which I'm happy to say he has. But the few years that we spent together were amazing and not something I will ever regret. I mean, for one, I get to write this blog. 

The Rude Awakening Cometh

When I moved to Chicago and started dating men around my own age, it was a bit of struggle. My sister had warned it was going to be a rude awakening, and she was not wrong. I basically spent the next two years dating a string of attractive but douchy dudes. 

I'm not saying all men over 50 with flat stomachs are dicks, but the majority I encountered were.  One of them was Drew, the narcissist golfer from last summer. Remember him? Catch up on "Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer" here. Or there was crazy Dave. He had washboard abs AND narcissistic personality disorder. Bonus! Catch up on crazy Dave here. There were plenty of others, I assure you. Online dating at this age is no cake walk, as you will know from this blog, "Online Dating in Your 50s." 

New beau Jon does not have a six-pack. He has what I would call an athletic dad bod, and while he is super sporty and athletic, he also loves beer and great food, and as a result has a small beer belly that he carries around like a fucking trophy. To say it doesn't affect his self confidence would be the understatement of the century. And, he can make it roll so it doubles as a party trick. Bottom line: He's adorable and he knows it, and I love him, every inch, and he knows that too. 

It's been a long and winding road for my love life but I must say I'm happy to have experienced everything, the highs and lows. Each relationship, good and bad, and every bad date I suffered through, taught me something about myself. And, I'm quite happy it's all led me to where I am today. 

This is getting long so I'll close here. I hope everyone is feeling good, having this damn virus almost in the rear view. Let's make this a summer to remember!

Ciao for now,

Barb


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Sunday, April 5, 2020

Celebrating the Beauty of Love Amid Dark Days

Hi, I'm back. Yes, I'm trying to keep this a weekly exercise both for my own mental sanity and hopefully for the amusement of a few of you. This week a lot of shit has happened, none of which was particularly good. Not to me personally, just all this stupid virus stuff. Don't worry; no dismal recap coming. I'm not even going to attempt to blow sunshine and rainbows up your ass. No one wants to hear the positive spin on it, even if I could. This shit has gotten real. Enough said.

One awesome thing that did happen this week is my parents celebrated 55 years of wedding bliss. People say that a lot, but I would doubt the word "bliss" really applies to most marriages. It certainly did not apply to mine. With my parents, however, it's true. And, I have born witness to it my entire life. My parents, who met in high school, are truly as in love now as they were five+ decades ago. Maybe more.


Now, don't get me wrong. They have had fights. The last significant one was in 1977. It started on the drive home from church over whether Missouri was considered a southern or northern state. I'm not sure exactly how it escalated, but I vividly remember them shutting their bedroom door when we got home and arguing. My sister and I both cried, questioning if we would be kept together or separated in what was obviously going to be the end of our parents' marriage and our family as we had known it. 

We had quite literally never heard them raise their voices to each other, let alone fight. Well, fortunately there was some type of resolution. I never asked what the answer was and Google was not around to end these types of ridiculous debates. Perhaps an encyclopedia was consulted to get to the bottom of it. Remember those?

I would say that my parents' marriage was very conventional. Dad was the money maker and mom was the kid raiser. Worked pretty well actually. If my parental unit was the government, my mom was the executive and legislative branches. She was largely the leader of the family and established policy and kept us following the rules. My father was the Supreme Court. Only issues of the highest order ever made it with him. And, in what was not a particularly well-balanced court at the time, there was a 99.9% certainty that the answer was going to be a solid no (no RBG to keep the parenting fair and balanced). My Mom's "Go ask your father" was the equivalent to "no way in hell you're doing that" but I'd rather not be the one to tell you.

My dad retired very early and my parents spent many years traveling around the world; golf trips, wine trips, ski trips, etc. Then 15 years ago my dad had a massive stroke, spent two months in hospitals and is pretty significantly physically impaired as a result. Really sucked. Big time. That next year was full of challenges as he had to learn how to do everything again, speak, eat, walk, dress himself, drive, everything. And the whole time, my mom was there, tirelessly cheering him on and doing the heavy lifting of taking care of him. And, never once bemoaning her situation.

Watching them as they navigated this strange, new world of theirs was like watching a damn Hallmark movie. They never complained, not to themselves and not to others. My dad never had a day he wanted to give up, not that drill sergeant Barb Jones would have let him. My dad once told me that he knows that this is "bonus time" and he was going to make the most of it. They saw every day as a blessing. A blessing that they are both still here, still in love and still feeling super blessed to have each other. (BTW, for someone who isn't particularly religious, that was a lot of blessing though it is Sunday, after all).



Every day, they could somehow see the good and how lucky they were, despite their newfound challenges. When others would throw their hands up in frustration, they persevered. When the majority of people would have found solace is just bitching about their situation, they didn't.  One story really stuck with me: they were both walking in the park, fairly soon after he could walk again. Two women were approaching them and she said she could see the look of pity on their faces. She said it was so ironic because all she could think of was how lucky they were to be outside walking in the sunshine and enjoying the beautiful day. That pretty much sums up my mom in a nutshell.

Now I'm not going to lie. There have been times her constant perkiness have been annoying. There were many years growing up when I definitely thought a "pity party" was in order; like try changing schools every 3-4 years your entire life. But she would not have it. Every move was a new adventure. "Exciting news, kids, we're going to get to explore Iowa!" Oh boy. Just being awoken by someone so cheerful and full of positive energy in high school could be viewed as cruel and unusual punishment. I'm probably still not a morning person because of her. But it's also instilled in me that life is good, sometimes despite everything.

She sent the video below to my siblings and I a few days ago to let us know they are ok. Coronavirus isn't keeping her down.


 

Don't worry, most of my blogs are not going to be sappy shit like this. But today, I felt it was good to reflect on something positive and how lucky I am to have parents who truly love each other. It shows me every single day that I can't give up on finding love, despite the pitfalls of online dating (many blogs coming on this topic).  Because it truly does exist and when you do find it, be grateful. Even when you think that listening to your spouse chew loudly or (add annoying habit here) for another month might send you over the edge, be thankful you are not alone.

It is also a great lesson to us all that while this shit really sucks, we all still have things in life to feel lucky and fortunate about. Might take a little digging and soul searching these days, but they are there. Tap into what's good, focus on your own well being and happiness and those around you. Appreciate each other, even when you also want to slap them upside the head. Good Lord, I'm starting to make myself sick with all this positivity so I better close.

Until next time, everyone. Namaste.

Barb

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