My Twice-Tagged Meme

Kim and Arkie both taged me for this! Aren't I lucky? I'll put the name of the band into the first comment--see if you guess it first. And yes, I reached back a little. (One title is a dead give away. You know, if you're old.)

Are you male or female
For My Lady

Describe yourself:
Painted Smile

How do some people feel about you
I Just Don’t Care

How do you feel about yourself:
It’s Up To You (and by "you" I mean myself)

Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend
Once Is Enough

Describe your current significant other:
In Your Wildest Dreams

Describe where you want to be
The River Of Endless Love

Describe how you live
Ride My See-Saw

Describe how you love:
Nights In White Satin

What would you ask for if you had just one wish:
Forever Now

Share a few words of wisdom:
Never Blame The Rainbow For The Rain

Now say goodbye:
Remember Me!

New 12-Step Program

With only three steps. I just printed a card for Tom to carry in his wallet:

1. I don't want it.
2. I don't need it.
3. I will not bring it home, forcing my wife to find a place for it and dooming forever her on-going efforts to have an easy to care for and clean house.

This is not too much to ask, correct? My husband keeps bringing me junk we don't need! So far this week he has brought home

-- a golf-bag shaped backback, about 10" x 30". "We can always use an extra backpack." NO! We already have at least 8 backpacks available, tyvm.

--2 wooden spools which formerly held electricians wire. One is about 10" across and the other about 12". "We can put Christmas lights on them!" No. I have already handled the Christmas lights just fine.

--A longish acrylic tube with red caps. "Maybe we can mail something." What?

--Yet another ceramic coffee mug from work. I could have constructed a 50 ft. retaining wall with all the free mugs he has brought home!

And on and on. I am embarrassed to admit that we once had 4 clothes washing machines in our basement because people were giving them away--and "they still worked!" Who cares! I don't need more stuff! Especially other people's random stuff! We have umptibazillion books to house. I have my little collections--Asian statuary, turtles, cups & saucers (it's a Canadian thing) and my Breyer horses. He has his lighthouses and piggy banks. These collections occupy all available collection space in our house. We're full up thank you very much. Do. Not. Bring. Anything. Else. Home.

Maybe this will work.
I sure hope so!

TMI and a cat fight

You guys are really gluttons for TMI, aren't you? I was just feeling all glowy yesterday morning because of a reason. Now I suppose I have to follow through and post a TMI moment even though it isn't supposed to rain until this afternoon.

Okay, I have to admit that I like morning sex. I love waking up to The Hands, rocking me gently in my very special place. I always play possum for a while in order to extend play time for The Hands. DH has the best Hands. I love The Hands. Other parts too, but The Hands are perfection. Plus morning sex is just sweeter and more easy going. Me likey.

Tippie Toes is having his first cat fight this morning. Our neighbor's gray tiger cat has invaded our deck, so Tippy (usually an indoor cat) wanted out - and I let him. They are out there doing cat opera right now. Such a freaky sound! Like aliens invading or something. I don't think they will actually fight, because tiger cat is a (fixed) female and Tippy is a (fixed) male. But a cat's deck is his castle and invaders must be repelled.

Oh! Gray tiger just ran off. Tippy triumphs!

Wow

Just about everyone has a blog this morning! This? Let's me right off the hook. I can just take that TMI morning sex post I was going to make and save it for a rainy day. :)

This is How Winter Ends

Not with a bang, but a dribble.

Coming next month: Spring flowers!

I planted 50 daffodils last fall. And a bunch of lilies and some dogtooth violets. I just can't wait!

Random Friday Questions

Do you eat popcorn like Swami - one plump kernal at a time, or like Mr. Swami grab a huge handful, tilt your head back and stuff?

Do you always get popcorn at the movies? Do you get that weird, butter by-product sauce spritzed on top?

Does your microwave have a "Popcorn" setting? Does it work?

Do you buy pre-popped flavored popcorn? What kind or brand?

What ever happened to futurist Faith Popcorn? Did she die or what?

I hate grocery shopping!

All week long I have been thinking I was getting sick or something. My morning coffee, which I need to light up my life has tasted flat every time. I inspected the coffee. I rinsed the cup before use in case my dishwasher was not rinsing properly. Still flat.

Today? I noticed that the half and half I am using is labelled 'no fat'. Yecch! Land O Lakes recently redesigned all their dairy labels and I bought the wrong kind of creamer by accident because I did not study the fine print on the label sufficiently. Blecch!

Also, my favorite grocery store has spent the past month and a half rearranging all their stuff onto new shelves, in new places--just randomly reorganizing. This is the same thing as hiding stuff! I refused to go shopping for a while because I did not want to have to relearn where everything is. Then I got tired of eating weird shit from the pantry and the pantry started getting more and more picked over, so I went shopping. Had to walk up and down every. single. aisle. and scan it from top to bottom. What a freakin waste of time! And I wound up with the wrong creamer. Plus I couldn't find my favorite Satay sauce! Bastiges.

I hate grocery shopping. I may try an on-line shop & deliver service in protest. Anyone ever try those?

Maybe One Will Fall On His Head.

My DD's boyfriend is pretty much hopeless. He graduated from high school in 2002 and since that time he has not had a job. He "hangs out" at his home (and increasingly--here) doing slightly helpful house projects sometimes. In theory, he is looking for a job. This means that about every 2 weeks he stumbles onto a sign in a window somewhere and "applies." Mostly, he plays video games. He went to 1 semester of community college but dropped out because he was annoyed that an advisor gave him "bad advice" and so he wasted money paying for a course that was not useful for his career goal of becoming a hospital radiation tech.

He does not present himself well in terms of personal grooming. He has a mullet with the long part of his hair being mid-back. He has a full, curly beard--not too long, and without a moustache. I know he has the beard to cover his double chins and he does look better with the beard than without (he has shaved it twice for interviews) but the combination of beard and mullet just marks him as Not A Contender. I fear he will never find a job and that once she graduates from college next year my DD will wind up supporting him. She luvs him, you see.

So what kind of job can a kid like this succeed at? Considering that he has No Clue and No Innitiative. In high school, he worked at a convenience store part time for one year. Nothing since then. Well, he did work a cash register at Target for a couple of months, but then they moved him into retreiving carts from the parking lot, so he quit.

He's a nice enough kid. Not a brilliant under-achiever, just average smarts.

Things That Annoyed Me on Sunday

1. Other peoples' pubic hair.
2. Golden Retrievers.
3. George F. Will.

Sheesh.

You Gotta Love The Irish

They're so willing to be silly. Yesterday Tom and I went to the St Patrick's Day Parade in St. Paul. This is not a parade of memorable floats or anything. Mostly it is just idiots wearing too much green walking behind family banners: The Flanagans, the O'Malleys, O'This, O'That, McTit, McTat--Irishy names like that. Paunchy, middle-aged men in green-on-green pinstripe zoot suits or emerald green tophats and tails. Teenage girls with green feather boas and green glitter, wearing "Kiss Me I'm Irish" men's boxer shorts over their jeans. I love stuff like that!

After the parade we had a late lunch at The St Paul Grill, right next to a big table full of O'Birthday Girls. One of the O'Birthday Girls has a March 17th birthday so every year they dress in green and march in the parade, singing Happy Birthday. Such divine idiocy! The O'Birthday Girls? Very loud. Fairly drunk. They were passing bottles of the hard stuff around under their table.

One celebrant decided to play his bagpipe, right there in the dining room. The hotel let him have one song, then threw him outside where he was less likely to make people deaf. I love bagpipe music myself but some people would rather listen to cats fight, I guess.

I had beef tenderloin medallions on little potato buns with sauteed onions and a nice horseradish mayonnaise. They had the best black rye bread ever! But they were out of sweet potato chips by the time we ordered.

Did you do anything special on St Paddy's Day?

Pretty Kitty

Now that I have figured out how to post photos I have become a real photo ho! Anyway, these are my kitties.

This is Tippy Toes, who is a cat of very little brain but very big personality. For some reason, he doesn't mind wearing weird shit around his neck. So here he is wearing a lei. Isn't he a cutey? He is one of those cats that will talk to you. If you make eye contact and say something to him, he will say something back. He comes when he is called. He is totally useless as a mouser because mice scare him. Spiders scare him. He will tackle a small moth but mostly he is not competent to kill them either.

Tippy was found as kitten, wandering in the woods on the day after Halloween all covered with sticky dirt. I think he may have been a "party cat," one of those unlucky black cats that is picked up to use as a Halloween party prop--then dumped. Anyway, the neice who found him gave him a bath and passed him on to my DD. I think he is living happily ever after.

He is called tippy Toes because he is all black except for the toes on his right front foot which are snow white. (I think the white toes are sunk into the couch here.)


This is our older cat, Sugi (SOO-jee.) She will be 20 years old this fall *boggle*. This is the cat who can speak dog. She was also one of the all time great hunting cats. She could walk into our yard and kill a red squirrel in about 10 minutes. (Our property is infested with squirrels, and red squirrels are so destructive!) For those of you who don't know--red squirrels are incredibly tough. In a cat/squirel fight they often win--but not with Sugi! There was not a field mouse on our property anywhere! And? She is the smartest cat I have ever had.

Sugi has been blind for the past almost 2 years, but has adjusted very well. She hates the vet and we have decided to see if she can die peacefully in her own bed, rather than be put down. She is getting really skinny and has an open cancer sore on her back. Every once in a while she has a seizure. But she gets around, eats pretty well, finds her litter box and responds when you talk to her.

How do You Stay Hot?

Or maybe, how did you stay warm this winter?

I have three favorite coats. Number one is a light-weight, honey brown, unlined suede jacket that I wear almost all the time. When the temps are below 20' I will wear a sweater under it. I'm a snow person so this is plenty warm for me.

When it gets really cold, in the teens and down to zero, I put on my mother's boot length down coat. It is an old coat--maybe 20 years old?--but a classic, beautifully detailed thing. My mom was a high-end dresser, being a former runway model and this is probably the most expensive coat I own. Mostly, I wear it because I got it when my mom passed away in '99 and wearing this coat is like having her arms around me again. It is just so comforting as well as warm.

When it is seriously cold, like 20 to 30 below I put on my grandmother's beaverskin coat. Grandma must have been way shorter than me. The sleeves are too short for me, and what was probably full length for her is about mid calf on me. Still, it is freakin' warm! I have walked around in that coat when it was -35' with a stiff wind, and not felt cold! At all! Beaverskin is truly amazing. Plus I get the giggles a little that I never knew my grandmother but I know what her beaver feels like.

I have other coats. Every other year I buy a new one, usually a stylin' ski jacket of some kind, and I wear it now and then. But the first three coats? are the ones I wear. They're my coats!

What did you wear this winter?

Winter Wonderland. Again.

Scenes from my yard during a lull in the storm. And yes, these are color photos, lol!


My "sunny" spot.


From the deck.


Out the kitchen window.

Don't Try This At Home

Saturday I almost backed out of my garage without opening the garage door. Pretty stupid, huh? The sad thing is that I did this once before and put a crack in our old, wood garage door. Now we have brand-new, fancy-schmancy, poly-carbon-coated (or something) doors, with stained glass panels. I love those doors!

The funny thing is, last time I did it I never did 'fess up. One day DH noticed the crack and I played dumb. Baffled, even. How did that happen!

Mr. Swami is So confused

He finally figured out that he could open comments by clicking on them. He assumed, quite reasonably, that Bob was a guy. So he was very confused when Bob talked about missing Mr. Bob (in some comments to my first post.) He thought Bob was talking about about his, you know, "little Bob" and didn't understand the comment.

So when I explained that Bob didn't have a "little Bob" because Bob was a girl, he got all confused and stuff. Now he's skeerd of blog world.

Meet Story – Part Final. And They Lived Happily Ever After

Tom and I, once we get over our early miscues, settle into such a sweet and easy relationship. We just get along, you know? My yin fits his yang and we form a solid, stable circle. All that is left is to meet the relatives and pick a date! Piece of cake! *snorffle*

Meet The Parents

Tom is a local boy, so I meet his family first. The family farm is a two hour drive away and we go there as a couple for the first time about five months after we start dating. On the way there (and for days before) Tom tries to explain his parents. They are rigidly, resolutely Roman Catholic. (What I call rigor mortis Catholics—their religion paralyzes them as much as it grounds them.) They did not want his first marriage to end. They were very hard on his first wife. They were a big part of the reason why his marriage broke up. They are extremely and parochially Catholic! Tom says if I don’t like it at The Farm we never have to go there again and I never have to see his parents again! So I have no idea what to expect.

We are scheduled to arrive for lunch on Saturday. Dinner at noon is sacred and we arrive about 12:03. So as soon as we walk in the door we have to sit at the table with his Dad, Mom, a younger brother and someone else—I forget who. As soon as we sit, we have to say Grace. Everyone crosses themselves. Except me. I just sit quietly and bow my head respectfully. I see eyes flick at me during the cross-yourself maneuver. The second the prayer is over Tom’s mom turns to me and says “I see you didn’t cross yourself. Aren’t you Catholic?”

I answer “No.”

Then she jumps up, runs to the kitchen sink (we are eating in the farm kitchen), bangs some pots and exclaims “Why can’t these boys find nice Catholic girls!?! What’s wrong with them?”

Everyone at the table snaps their eyes resolutely onto their plates and starts eating, just shoveling the food down. In total silence. It is very uncomfortable and kind of funny at the same time. After two or three minutes Tom makes some comment about how good his mom’s food always is, and conversation slowly begins to flow. The folks start that “interview” thing that makes meeting parents such a treat. I would term this one a ‘hostile interview’, lol.

Then (and in the first few years of our marriage) his parents are very manipulative. They have no idea that Tom has not been a practicing Catholic since about 2 weeks after he left home for College. Tom just fakes out like he is still going to church. I find this very strange. But Tom says they would never-ever understand or respect his dropping out, so he just avoids the confrontation. Again, I am baffled but whatever kind of relationship Tom wants to have with his folks is fine with me. We are not going to live in the same town and Tom tries to protect me from too much contact with them—so I have no worries. I am a fairly grounded person and I don’t get upset or insulted too easily.

I meet his brothers who all live within a few hours drive. Three of them are seriously dating someone. All will be married within the year, only one to a nice Catholic girl, lol! I think this is what comes of force-feeding your kids religion.

Road Trip!

My relatives and the rest of Tom’s siblings all live out-of-town so to meet them we have to do a Road Trip! Our first Road Trip! We will drive from Minneapolis to Boston and back. We will meet my mother, brother & sister, and Tom’s sisters who all live as far from home as they possibly can. (One sister, in fact, doesn’t even visit The Farm for about 15 years after she first leaves.) We will have my daughter with us for the first couple of meets—then drop her off in Hamilton, Ontario with my mom while we continue on to New England and the rest of the meets.

One sister lives just North of Chicago. As we drive up to her house Tom remarks that this is probably his strangest relative and if I survive meeting her, the rest of the trip should be fine. I have no idea what to expect!

Turns out, she is totally normal. I like her immediately and she remains my favorite of all Tom’s siblings. Her husband is a certified manic-depressive, but he is in his manic phase during our visit and so very charming and entertaining.

Next we meet my brother, who lives East of Chicago. He (like me) is an agnostic, but is married to very devout Christian Scientist. His wife is at some weekend religious retreat when we first arrive on a Saturday. Tom and my bro hit it off pretty well, we have a fun visit. Tom, my daughter and I wind up spending the night on the living room floor. My brother has 6 kids in a very small house—it’s the only space available.

Monday morning my brother’s wife arrives home; we have lunch and get ready to leave. At some point during lunch my SIL finds out that we all slept on the living room floor and she goes a bit berserk. We slept together while unmarried! With my daughter in the same room! And her kids in the same house! Oh, the immorality! She throws us out of the house. Which is okay with me since we are leaving anyway. My brother is embarrassed but Tom is very entertained. I have religious nuts in my family too!

Next we visit my Mom in Canada. Mom loves Tom right away. She says my late dad would have really liked Tom—that means a lot to me. While there we also meet my sister Carole and one of her husbands. (Number two, I think.) We drop my daughter off at Grandma’s and head for New England. But first? We make a stop at my Alma Mater, Cornell University.

Cornell

I have booked a room at Willard Straight Hall, which is the Student Union building and also, legally, a hotel since this is how they can get their liquor license. When I was a student they had about a dozen rooms so I have no idea when I book a room that they now have only ONE guest room, just to keep their liquor license. So as we register they give us a room key and a building key. When The Straight closes at 10 p.m. we are all alone. In my old Student Union!

Oh, the fun we have running all over four floors of building! The main lobby, the cafeterias, the reading rooms, the lounges—me in my yellow baby-doll nightie and Tom in his pj bottoms. Yes! We are loose and free to roam the Student Union in our pajamas! It is like a fantasy come true! We are a bit naughty. Okay, we are a lot naughty—it is just too much fun!!! We consider running around naked, but decide to keep the pj’s on because of the large windows here and there. We are just deciding to have sex on one of the cafeteria tables when we hear footsteps. Oops—there is a night watchman!

He gives us an amused look and announces that he patrols the building every hour or so. Oops, and darn!!! We are not alone in the building after all. Giggling. we go sit on the leather couches in the Faculty Room, worry about the night watchman and decide to not get frisky any more except in our own room.

I’ll bet that night watchman has seen a lot of hanky-panky in his day. I mean seriously, who wouldn’t go nuts left all alone in their Student Union building!?!

And More Family

On to Boston. Tom says his Boston sister is the most normal member of his family. Which means that in true Bizarro World form I find her to be the strangest. She even has a bizarre dog! Tom finally agrees with me—sister is a bit strange. I guess what gives her the reputation for normalcy is the fact that she had a nice Catholic wedding to a nice Catholic boy and she’s still nicely married and still devoutly Catholic.

We meet the Vermont sister, the one who never visits home and is married to a Methodist (or something). She is very sweet. We picnic by a lake and have a fun time before heading back.

So we’re done. Each of us has met the other’s relatives (except for my sister in Hawaii) and survived. All we have to do now is plan a wedding!

Happily Ever After

Oh, wait. First we have to buy a house together! While cruising around the Lake of the Isles we stumble on an Open House in a lovely Victorian house, in a fairly exclusive neighborhood. On the spur of the moment, we make an offer. It is probably more money than we can afford, but what the heck we go for it. And get it.

The house is gorgeous, but now all our money is sunk into real estate, so we pare down our wedding plans and go on a strict budget. We will spend $1,200.00 on the wedding—no more.

I find a gorgeous white Gunne Sax dress in a little boutique in Rosedale. It will be a perfect wedding dress. We plan to a simple wedding in a beautiful Unitarian Church. And we pick the most Romantic day we can think of –Valentines Day! We decide to invite only about 50 people, and have our reception in the church’s lower level all-purpose room. We pick a fairly simple meal—I don’t even remember what it was any more—some chicken thing.

I carry red roses, Tom wears his best suit. My daughter is our only attendant. My mom and Tom’s brother are our witnesses. Tom’s mom and dad do not come to the wedding because they only go to Catholic weddings—too bad, but it was their loss! It is a simple and very sweet ceremony. I am totally, completely and over-the-moon happy.

With our limited budget we did not have formal wedding pictures (for which I am still kicking myself!) but here is a snapshot of Tom and me on The Day Of.



One funny thing—after eating our reception dinner and on the way out of the church we passed by another couple who was arriving for their wedding. The guy was in a nice tux and the other guy was in an elaborate white dress. Yes, even back in the 80s Unitarian churches were conducting Gay Weddings! We wished them happiness and Tom shook hands with and congratulated the tuxed guy. Then it was fun to watch our two families as they exited the church past the in-coming gay couple!

My mom wished them future happiness. My good friend from the lab had met the guy before, so she stopped to chat for a minute. And Tom’s brothers all walked by hugging the opposite wall and looking kind of scared. It was too funny.

Ow. Ow. Ow. I hate this!

Okay, before I post the end of my Meet story I think I should post a photo of myself as I am today. You know, so I don't seem to be living in a world of illusion or delusion or something.

So here I am, a couple of decades older and not a few pounds heavier. What I dislike most about myself these days is the damn jowliness I have developed. See, I never expected that and it looks worse in photos than IRL (or so I tell myself.) Some day soon I will get a facelift--but not for a few more years. A full facelift is one of the few things for which I am still considered too young!




Okay. Stop looking now and go read the rest of my Meet story!

Janet's Story

Okay, here we go. Several of you asked about Janet. (That is not her real name, by the way.)

I first meet Janet a few weeks after she starts working for a Department Head in my medical school. Word of a real beauty on the floor spreads like wildfire among all the men. I remember making a point of walking by Dr. Brown’s office and glancing in at her, just to see. Yup. She is gorgeous.

Actually, we meet & became friends in the bathroom. She and I happen to enter at the same time and go into neighboring stalls. You know how you can always hear what is going on in the next stall? Well, we both really have to pee, and we both start and stop at the exact same microsecond. It is pretty funny. So we make eye-contact while washing up. She says “Tab?” and I answer “Diet Pepsi!” So we have a little laugh about our twin bladders and how volume in and equal volume out are related.

Turns out I had been given bad information. Janet is not a secretary but a Statistician. She has a double major in Computer Science and Statistics. (In the late 70s and early 80s, the women’s equality movement was really just getting going. All the male scientists saw that she worked at a keyboard with papers in an office, and categorized her as a “mere” secretary.) Janet? Has the body of a model, the sharp mind of a geek, and a lovely personality. Really, she has everything—the famous Total Package.

Anyway, Janet and I now have a speaking relationship and we just hit it off at once. She is smart & funny and not at all hung up on herself. She has trouble making friends at work because all the guys just wanted to date her (translation: eff her) and most of the women, for whatever reason, back away. Or they try to set her up with their friend/brother/boss/whatever.

So we do lunch almost every day and quickly find we can talk about anything. Mostly we talk about men and sex, lol. What could be a more fascinating topic?

Janet has a definite preference in men. Her preferred partner is The Big Black Athlete. I remember being troubled when she just flat-out states that she only sleeps with black athletes. I think it maybe some kind of bad racism thing, but my radar doesn’t go off. Some people like blondes, some people like big boobs or long hair & beards—whatever. It seems a preference based on a look, is all. You may disagree with me, but I finally decide she is not being “a Racist,” she just has a type. It is a racial choice, but not a bad thing. (She dates big white guys once in a while too, just prefers black guys.)

Anyway, she invites me to go to some clubs with her. She also warns me that most men would ask her to dance before they asked me, and hopes I wouldn’t get mad at her. Until she says that I hadn’t thought about it—of course that would happen! But like I said earlier, for some reason that does not bother me.

So we dress up and go out. Rarely, rarely do I get asked to dance first and when I am it often turns out to be a calculated ploy to get Janet to dance with them next, lol. But I just have such fun with Janet it doesn’t matter.

And everything I know about sex with Big Time athletes I learn from Janet!

On the back of the laundry room door in her townhouse, Janet has a poster of the Minnesota Vikings. When she nails one, she puts an X through his numbers. I laugh so hard when I first see the poster! And how many X’s there are! There are other posters, rolled up on a top shelf. Other teams, other years.

I ask her “Don’t guys get mad if they see that poster?”

She says “No, they just think it’s interesting. Some like to check out who else has been here. Sometimes they like to put the X through their number themselves.” We giggle over that. Men are such idiots, and especially athletes!

Janet has purple silk sheets for her bed, and a variety of Vikings related decorations. When a Viking comes over he knows he is doing a fan.

I ask “Aren’t you scared? They’re so huge, and you hear bad things sometimes!”

Her advice is “Never go to their hotel room! Especially if they are on a floor with the rest of the team which they usually are. That’s a hard scene. Bring them back to your place. Offer them a homemade cookie and introduce them to your cat. Let them see the picture of your mother hanging on the wall. Then you have a chance to be a person. The guys like being in a home; they treat you nicely in a home.” This makes good sense to me.”

She continues, “Things can go bad fast in a hotel room. Never stay in the same hotel as the team (when you’re out of your own town.) Bring them to your hotel.”

I ask, “So, do you have to do, like, anything they want?” As if the answer could be anything other than “yes!” If you have hang-ups, don’t do athletes. She doesn’t like it much when anal sex is on the menu, but otherwise, well, she just loves everything. The bigger the guy and the harder he bangs, the better!

(This is a compression of various conversations. I do not find this all out in one Big Reveal. As we become better friends our boundaries recede and we finally become just about totally open to each other.)

Actually, I rarely see Big Time athletes when we are clubbing. Which is fine with me because that whole scene kind of scares me a little. And Janet does say that during football season, players usually show up on Sunday or during the week. And she goes hunting alone at those times.

So Janet and I have fun on our Friday Club nights. Maybe once or twice a month a man meeting her requirements shows up. Almost always she can reel him in, and we leave with this guy following us in his car. Janet usually drives, thus I would be dropped at my place and she continues on to her townhouse. Which leads to a funny story:

One night shortly after Janet drops me off at about 1 a.m., I get a telephone call. It is an old guy who lives across the street from me. He is frantic. “Are you okay!?!”

I am baffled. “Uh. Yeah.”

He says, “Because you know a huge black guy in a gold Lincoln followed you home! He just watched you walk inside and then took off after your friend! You need to warn her!!! Should I call the cops?”

The guy is so excited. I tell him that it’s okay—the guy is a friend we happened to bump into. He sounds a bit disappointed & hangs up.

The next Friday at about the same time, Janet has another guy follow her home. The same neighbor calls, only this time not so frantic and rather prying.

Him: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Him: “Because a big black guy is following your friend again.” He pauses significantly. “This one is in a white Porsche.”

I say I know.

He humpfs and hangs up.

Fun times in the neighborhood.

Anyway, when I start dating Tom, Friday club night goes away. I am usually going out with Tom on Fridays. Janet and I are still great friends. We see each other every day and talk on the phone often. She has Tom and me over to her place, etc. Tom of course is fascinated with Janet, especially after I clue him in on Janet’s sexual odysseys.

But as time goes by, I worry about Janet. She starts going alone to bars way too often. Several times during the week as week as well as Friday and Sunday nights. She knows this is too much, and tells me “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m bringing home too many men.” She seems kind of down. “I just can’t stop myself!”

Some weekends she goes to Chicago (because they have a basketball team and in the early 80s Minnesota does not) and I know she is doing athletes in hotel rooms. She just can’t stop. So I worry. Is she safe? Will she be happy in life? I always used to think that she would wind up as some athlete’s Trophy Wife—but maybe by now she has done too many athletes for that to happen? So I worry.

Then, about 3 months after Tom and I are married, Janet finally meets Her Man.

By this time Janet is working across town for a large corporation. She meets him in the parking lot and they chat as they walk into work. He is a young executive in her company, and 6’9” lol!

She learns his name as he walks her in. Then, being a total computer literate she promptly hacks into the personnel department’s database and checks up on him. Yes! He is single! Halleluiah!

About 10 months later, Janet finally gets to stand under a canopy and marries one of the best looking men ever. I am so happy for her!!!!