Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogs. Show all posts

Sunday, April 7, 2024

Springing Forward With New Fur-ever Friend Freddie

I have exciting news! Are you sitting? Good.

I haven't really paid much attention to this blog over the last month or so (reason to be explained later, if you haven't gleaned from title). 

In my last blog I mentioned that I have hit 25K visitors to my blog, which was amazing! So when I sat down to attempt to write this blog, I was shocked to see that I have now hit over 30K visitors! WTF? 

What makes it even more interesting is the fact that the lion's share of new readers are in Hong Kong. As you can see from the image below, over the last month, almost 5K views from Hong Kong! No idea how they unearthed it, and I don't know anyone there, but hey, thanks for reading! Or I should say, "xie.xie!"




Meet Freddie Mercury, master of mayhem

My other piece of news is that I've added a fur family member recently, a puppy named Freddie. He started off as Teddy but we decidedly pretty quickly, he was more of a Freddie. Also, I felt it was bad mojo to move away from my Musician naming convention.  

Think of him as my adorable new alarm clock that came without a snooze button.

I'm sure a few of you are questioning my sanity. I get it. There's certainly a chance this was some type of perimenopausal-induced madness. God knows there's a laundry list of not-so-great symptoms; questionable life decisions is probably somewhere on the list. 

I've certainly questioned the decision a few times myself, if I'm being honest. I told no one -including my own family - because I kept questioning my own logic, and psychologically needed a possible out. Was I sick of my footloose-and-fancy-freeness? Or thought perhaps I was getting too much quality sleep? No! I assure you the latter is not the case. Sleep is one of my love languages.

While it sounds insane, I wanted to get a new puppy because my existing dog, Bowie, needed a companion. After my older dog, Marley, died at the end of 2022, Bowie stopped playing with toys and became more withdrawn. Dogs enjoy being part of a pack. 


To be honest, I've historically have had two dogs at the same time. Although it sounds like it's twice the work; if you're doing anything with one, it's really not that much work doing it for two. Other than walks, that is. It's kind of a "what's-a-pound-to-an-elephant?" proposition.

I bought my first Tibetan Terrier, Dudley, back in 2005, when I still had my original dog, an older golden retriever named Bogart. Dudley brought excitement back into Bogart's life, who at 11yo was mainly interested in two things: food and sleep.  After adding the puppy, I swear he lived another four years, in part because of his new companion (and interesting new food smells that came along with him). 

Raising a puppy is not easy. I'm exhausted all the time. My shitty short-term memory is even shitier with my sleep-deprived brain fog. 


My house has become a dangerous gauntlet of chew toys, bones and baby gates. At any time throughout the day, I probably have puppy poop under my fingernails, and there's a faint smell of urine, the source of which I have not been able to clearly identify. Basically, puppy-induced chaos.

The first week I felt like I had a newborn again; sleepwalking through my day. Needed nighttime potty breaks and then he's up with the sun. While he thinks 6 am is a suitable time to rise and shine, I vehemently disagree due to the fact that sleep is one of my favorite things. 

Upside is I've learned I can sleep quite soundly wearing noise-canceling headphones. I wish they had those around when I had screaming newborns. Pavlov's theory proven: I put those headphones on, and my body instantly relaxes, melts into my sheets and my brain starts saying, "What puppy? You don't have a puppy...for the next hour." 

Sadly, I often awake to Bowie, wide awake, staring at me in disgust. Apparently he can hear him.

I wish I could say I enjoy being up hours earlier than I normally would be, reaping the benefit of that extra time. I was raised by a cheery morning person who constantly reminded me of all the amazing things you can accomplish by "getting up with the chickens." Well, I'm on week four of my newly imposed wakeup time, and I'm more than happy to debunk this myth. 

So far, the only upside is I can now watch CBS Sunday Morning in its entirety. Cute show; you should check it out. 😏 I've actually seen it before but it's usually just the last 5 minutes.

And, as I am writing this, I am fully aware it will take me 87 attempts to finish this blog, as Freddie's attention span is short, while his capacity for terror is massive.



What's he like? His breeder described him as "smart, curious and happy." Hmmm. She obviously didn't remember our initial conversation. This is my 5th dog, so I know personality outweighs good looks. I told her I care much less about color and markings, but really want a sweet, snuggly puppy. I didn't say lethargic, but if that were an option, I would have.

I also knew damn well I didn't want the smartest puppy. "He was the first one of the eight in his litter to learn how to climb the stairs," the breeder brags. Translation: a climber...fabulous.

I've owned dogs for 30 years and know full well that you don't want a smart dog; shoot for mid-range intelligence. You don't want dumb and untrainable, but smart dogs require owners that are one step ahead of them; not a cranky perimenopausal women with a passion for sleep! 



How do I describe him? Imagine if the Road Runner and the Tasmanian Devil somehow had a love child...that would be Freddie. He's a handful but he's also the cutest little pain in the ass ever. And, most importantly, Bowie seems to have taken a liking to him. At a reasonable hour, of course. And, he really is snuggly...right before he falls asleep. 

I hope this blog finds everyone healthy, happy and ready to embrace the warmth of spring. 

Until next time,

Barb and the boys 


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Monday, September 4, 2023

The Ebb and Flow of a Mother's Nest

I would like to start off this blog by making an exciting announcement. Overnight I hit over 20,000 views of my blog! This is particularly shocking considering I've been playing all summer and haven't really been doing a whole lot of writing.  I only write when there's nothing I can do outside, and this summer has been particularly amazing so while I've played a lot of tennis and seen a lot of concerts, I haven't been particularly prolific in terms of my blogging. 

A few interesting things have happened. My blog is read by people from countries all over the world, but the bulk of my readers are obviously in the US.  At some point over the last six months, someone in Singapore found a link to my blog and it's been quite widely shared. According to Google Analytics, over the last six months, I have almost as many readers in Singapore as I do in the US...and I don't know anyone there. I had to pull up a map to even figure out exactly where it is!


Bottom line is apparently people in Singapore think I'm hilarious. I have absolutely no idea how anyone there has ever stumbled across my blog. It wasn't through social media, and I've never put a dime into promoting my blog through any means. It's quite curious, but let me just take a minute to thank my readers in Singapore. I truly appreciate it and keep reading!

It just shows you the power of social sharing with others. I hope you all keep sharing my blog. It encourages me to keep it up, and creating a big following will also be key to me landing that lucrative book advance and movie deal I have in the works. 😁

The Empty Nest Season

It's that time of year again. Your social media feeds are stacked with images of the smiling faces of kids returning to school. What you often don't see is the even happier moms. There's a reassuring ritual to sending kids back to school. It means an end to summer chaos and back to structured parenting; everything is now scheduled. School, homework, practice, meals, etc. Most moms are often quite happy to send their kids back to school.

Sending them off to college, however, is a whole different thing. Several of my close friends sent their one-and-only kids off to college this year, leaving their nest suddenly empty. My brother sent the last of his three daughters off to college this year.

Having gone through the process, I know how hard it is. You work so hard to get them to this point, you should be overjoyed; after all this is what successful parenting looks like.  As moms, we devote so much of ourselves to being good mothers that once they are gone, what is our purpose? It's also a reality that they do not come home the same kid as the one you waved to as you drove away from their dorm in tears. 

When my son went off to college, I couldn't wait for him to leave. He had spent most of his senior year being a complete a-hole. Apparently, it's life's way of preparing you for their absence. Well, it worked but as the days were counting down, he suddenly was not so sure he was ready. 

The check for his tuition had already cleared so he was going, one way or another. One day with near tears in his eyes, he said, "Mom, not every kid goes to college. Some just get married and start families." I honestly don't remember my response, but it was probably something super-sensitive like, "Shut up and go finish packing." 

The backstory was he was dating a very pretty blond she-devil who had convinced him he should stay home and marry her, once she finished high school. So going in he was not fully on-board with the plan.  Regardless, I dropped him off with a few tears and prayed he would last.

The first few weeks he continued to struggle, feeling like he didn't fit in and wanting to come home every weekend to visit the she-devil. I tried not to worry and assumed it would pass. Two weeks into classes, I woke up and checked his social media posts to assess how things were going. On his Facebook page, he wrote the following: 

"Officially a dropout."

I laid there in bed for several minutes, contemplating whether I should be concerned about my racing heartbeat and wondering what percentage of his tuition might be refundable. Once my pulse returned to semi-normal, I called him. 

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" 

Ben: "No."

"Really? You don't want to tell me about dropping out of school?"

Ben: "Mom, I joined the Miami University Skydiving Club and we're called the drop-outs!"

I probably should have worried about the prospect of him jumping out of a plane, but my only response was extreme relief. 

As a footnote, I will also add that my son who I struggled to get to college is now 30 and STILL IN COLLEGE! This year he kicked off his 11th year of higher education. While he's close to finishing his PhD and already has one Master's degree, he's already planning on a post-doc so clearly has no plans to ever actually finish college. 

When Laura left a few years later, it was a whole new ballgame. She was my last kid and since Ben left, it had just been the two of us, and we were super close. We got along well, and I was sad to see her go. I was truly going to be all alone at home. 

My young boyfriend at the time, who you'll remember from this blog, helped me pack her up and drove my car down while I quietly cried the whole trip from the backseat. Fortunately, she adjusted well so that part was easier but coming home to a quiet, empty house was tough. 

After working so hard at parenting solo through the teen years and getting them both ready to move onto this next exciting chapter, it was time for me.

For me it was the beginning of a new odyssey. I sold the family house in Ohio, and the month I turned 50 moved to Chicago to start a new life for myself. I have lived in 10 states so moving is something I have done a lot of, but this was the first time that I decided where I wanted to move. I decided what place I would buy and how it would be decorated. Yes, it was empty but the nest was all mine! 

Until it wasn't. During the pandemic, Laura's job changed and became remote, so she rejoined the nest. Honestly it was nice to have company, and fortunately I bought a duplex with a separate garden unit so she has her own space. Then she moved out, and it was nice to have my place to myself for a bit.

Then a month ago, Laura moved back in temporarily. She is in the process of moving to Salt Lake but with me until then. I'm liking having her back, and having a free dog sitter, but she also brought another resident: her cat Alfie. 

I thought I was through with cats to be honest. The first week after they moved in, I was on a Zoom work call, and one of my coworkers said, "I didn't know you had a cat" just as Alfie knocks over a picture frame, which crashes to the ground. When I turn around and see the cat, hanging from one paw from my curtains. The next day, he came sauntering in with this little gift in his mouth. 


Anyone recognize that? That's one of the pulls for my blinds that no longer works. Alfie is a busy guy and as far as I can tell, has literally no idea he's a cat. Bowie in equal parts loves and fears him. The way they play with each other, it's clear that neither of them thinks Alfie is a cat. 


Alfie has certainly added some fun and hijinks to the household, although there are a few rugs and blinds that will never be the same. 

This blog is getting long soI'll close by telling all you new empty-nesters out there who just sent their last child to college, the empty nest eventually will feel normal. And, when they do come home, he or she will be different person, but for the better. They might actually surprise you and show some appreciation for all you have done for them. Or not, but I'm sure they think it. 😉

Enjoy what's left of warm weather and keep reading!

Ciao for now,

Barb


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Monday, March 21, 2022

Boys Will be Boys- Age is But a Number

Greetings and salutations, everyone. Spring is close to springing. For the time being, the damn virus seems to be waning. All good and positive signs of better things to come. Today, however, the weather here in Chicago is hella-shitty with cold temps and rain. Silver lining: another blog! 

Random name generator

That's actually the name of a cool Wilco song, but also my nickname for online dating apps. I thought I would provide an update on my dating life. Back in the saddle and sad to say that little has changed in the almost two years since I exited the dating pool. Same old shit; some good, some awful and a lot of hilarious. 

One thing that seems to have changed is that some believe there was some type of moratorium on reporting post-pandemic weight gain on dating apps. In the same week, I went out with two guys who had both gained 20+lbs since Covid but didn't bother to update the photos on their profile. 

I know you are all thinking I'm being extremely shallow.  Perhaps, but here's the thing: both of these guys admitted to gaining weight and then BOTH complained about how they hate when women don't include full-body shots in their profiles and regaled me with stories of meeting women who look very different from their pictures. And, yet neither seemed to recognize the rather obvious hypocrisy of what they were saying. Online dating, especially post-50, is always an adventure as I wrote about in this blog. 

Another hilarious change is people with mask photos and the idiots bragging about being unvaccinated or  and having "pure" blood. Ok, thanks for making this decision easier, sir. 


Age is just a number

Right now the age range of men I'm dating is a full 30 years, from a cute 38-year old fireman to a 68-year old retired widower/CFO. For the record, my setting is 45-60 years old, but what can I say; younger men often like older women (partial credit to Mrs. Stifler). 

Now I know some of you are questioning why I would date someone that young. My answer: why the hell not? My experience dating younger guys (well documented in this blog, Don't Call Me a Cougar blog) has been very positive, and I'm still in healing mode so not searching for Mr. Right...right now. Like when I dated the beautiful idiot after my divorce. He was the right one at that time.

And, honestly guys definitely mature later than women but they all cap out, emotional maturity-wise, at different ages. And based on my extensive research (not at a scientific sample size  yet, but probably sadly close), some men truly never grow up. Chronological age plays absolutely no role in whether a man is mature or not. Case in point: the older guy. 

Honestly I almost bailed on him, as he was way out of my normal age demographic and French (not a positive) but he was interesting, well read, very smart, and had obviously done well in life. First date was fun so accepted a second date. He invited me to dinner at a restaurant by his house, so he showed me his beautiful mcMansion, which was quite impressive. 

Dinner was pleasant but it became pretty apparent we didn't have a whole lot in common. I'm a music freak and he didn't know the first thing about music. The place we were at has a small music venue and I noticed Graham Nash was coming. He had never even heard of Crosby, Stills and Nash! What?? Points silently deducted.

At the end of the night, he started pawing at me like a fucking teenager. Despite attempts to thwart his advances, he persisted and it was definitely starting to make me feel uncomfortable, which is not an easy task. I don't scare easily. Bossy by nature (my future rapper name), I finally looked him square in the eye and said, "Old man, you better back the fuck off or I'm going to drop you like a bag of wet cement." 

Now whether or not I could have actually pulled that off is irrelevant. He awkwardly chuckled but got the message and did look a little afraid so mission accomplished. What in God's name was that man thinking??? Did he think because he's rich, I would jump into bed with him? Dude obviously needs to create a profile on sugardaddy.com or something. Whatever, but again, goes to prove age doesn't mean anything. 

This weekend, I went on two dates with two almost-40-year-olds. So both a full 30 years younger than the horny old French man, yet both were polite, considerate and absolute gentlemen. Go figure, but just more proof that some men never grow up. Point being, you can't assume emotional maturity is a given at any age. And yes, this applies to both men and women. 

I mean you encounter the obvious ones, the true Neanderthals; I usually refer to them as dick-forward. The ones you barely know who start talking about sex. Probably the same geniuses who send women dick pics. I've discovered the perfect way to deal with these knuckle-draggers. I simply send them a dick pic in return. Works perfectly every time. Yes, I save them, just for this reason. 



                                                          Image credit: @thefatjewish

Or the men who say they got divorced because their ex-wives didn't like sex, which is something I commonly hear. I would say it's cited in probably 80% of the time as the main issue in their marriages. I always chuckle inside at that one, though I always nod in sympathy when I hear this. There have been a few of these guys who I have dated for long enough to become intimate with and spoiler alert: their wives probably didn't dislike sex. I'll leave it there.

I went on another interesting date with a guy who somehow had found my blog and read ALL OF THEM! He started with, "I hope you are wearing your ski house goggles (a direct quote from this blog about the Drew, the narcissist golfer) because I own a place in Telluride." We sat down and he immediately told me he thought ex-boyfriend Jon has a Peter Pan complex and I'm better off without him. Ah, ok complete stranger; thanks for that insight. 

He then made me promise that I would not write about our date and then proceeded to neither do or say anything blog-worthy, well other than what I've already shared 😉. Lesson learned: don't even mention you have a blog! 

It's our little secret. 

Alright today the weather is much-improved, offering a hint of what good is to come, in both life and weather. Hope springs eternal, y'all. 


Barb

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