What does that mean, girlfriend?
On March 21, 2012 John asked me to be his “girlfriend”. I had no idea what that even meant to him.
I’ve used the term “girlfriend” casually and never thought of what it meant to anyone else. To John it was a big deal. It was a step towards “forever” and his experience with forever wasn’t a good one.
I’d met John eight months earlier, and I can say that the best thing that ever happened to us…for us… was the fact that we became friends first. Once the pressure of the possibility of a romantic relationship was taken off the table, we both relaxed and stopped acting like peacocks looking for a mate.
There was no need to try to impress the other in hopes of “pick me”. Continue reading
I’ve clearly been dragging my feet about sharing this next part of my (our) story. But here goes…
It was February 2012 when I had the unfortunate incident with my co-worker at the winery. It was also that incident that got me to pick up the phone and call John.
I knew I wanted to tell him and get his support and I’ll admit, even a hug. Which is exactly what I got.
Over the next three weeks we talked almost every day. We played tennis and hiked and went to coffee and dinners together. Just like we used to.
He was still busy driving back and forth to the valley to get his house ready for the new tenant. But most days we were doing something together. Continue reading
For those who have been following along on my blog you know when John and I first met, through online dating, we became “just friends”. We both started dating other people, but because of his columns that I was editing, we talked almost daily.
He would come over and sit on my deck and we’d talk for hours about our lives. We played tennis and met for coffee several times a week. We shared our stories with each other and helped each other through difficult breakups.
My favorite times together where when we sat on that deck and John talked about his childhood, his family and growing up. He had some of the funniest stories to share, and they found their way into his columns.
His readers loved it as much as I did.
I’ve written before that 1999 was a difficult year for me. I moved, divorced, lost friends, changed jobs, had surgery and turned 40. It was a big year.
When I moved from my farm into town I went from 20 acres, a 3,000 square foot home, a shop and barn, lots of animals and spectacular views, to a 900 square foot home on a tiny lot, a carport and one dog. We split the dogs up when we got a divorce, but the kids came with me.
So I learned how to share a bathroom with teenage boys, make the best of our small house and go for walks in the park that was just a block away. I was finding my way again in the world, and it was exciting and scary.
I have been fortunate to meet so many amazing bloggers online, and Cat Coluccio has proven to be an exceptional treasure indeed. The more I learn about her, the more impressed I am. She gives us a taste of her background on her Rocking Midlife blog… Continue reading
When my husband and I made the decision to separate and divorce we agreed we were going to be the couple that could do it the right way. What we hope for and what becomes reality can be quite different.
I’ve heard it said that whatever you are fighting about during your marriage is also what you fight about during the divorce. I had no idea just what a fight I was in for. We couldn’t agree on anything. Continue reading
Getting a divorce after 18 years of marriage and having two kids is not an easy thing to do.
And it hurts. A lot. For everyone involved.
For that reason, it was extremely important for us to try everything we could to repair our marriage. I’m proud of the fact that we tried to find the answers, for years. It was no easy decision to end it and wasn’t taken lightly by either of us. But once the decision was finally made, a new set of problems arose. Continue reading
As a teenage girl, living with a single older father had its challenges. One time I got in trouble because he found a razor in the bathtub, and asked me if I was shaving my legs. I was in ninth grade.
We were living in Oregon at the time, and I hated it. I was going to a strange new school, and I had no friends. The first day of ninth grade, I met a girl in the cafeteria who asked my name. When I told her, she laughed and said her uncle had a dog named Loretta. That was also the school where I was teased for having “chicken legs” because I was so skinny. I wanted to go back home to Michigan.
My dear sister Linda is 15 years older than I am and like a second mother to me. She came to my rescue and told our father that she was moving back to Hart. And she was taking me with her. I was elated. We packed up her car and her three young boys, and headed back home.
That’s when I met Greg. He was two years older, my brother’s best friend, tall and blonde and so sweet. We hit it off immediately and before long we were dating. I was happy and busy with a new boyfriend, school and work.