Where, oh where, has my sex drive gone.

I mean I have looked all over for it.  Under the bed, in the cupboard, even the dryer.

Yet it has vanished.  No great surprise since I have gone through the "change" #okay #finemenapauseforyoumedicalpeople

I had expected a lot of things to happen, given the horror stories on the internet (not to take away from anyone who is truly having a rough time), but none of them happened.  I had expected my ovaries to go out with a bang (given that is how they burst on the scene during puberty).

Instead it appears my ovaries decided to take a slow, graceful exit stage left.

It happened so slowly as a matter of fact that I barely noticed.  It actually took my Roomie asking if I needed her to buy me feminine hygiene products while she was at the drug store, to realize that no, I did not need them.  But then I stopped and went... wait.  When is the last time I actually did have to buy said products?

Probably a year ago.  My first thought was "WAHOO."  My second was... "Ah, now I get it."

You see I had noticed that I was thinking a lot about Disneyland.  The characters, the ambiance, the rides.

Every few minutes the thought of Stitch or Goofy or Buzz Lightyear would pop into my mind, I would think about it for a few seconds, then move on.

It wasn't until that day with my Roomie, that I put two and two together.

Now that hormones weren't in play, giving me decidedly more risque thoughts, my brain had just attached itself to the next best thing... Disneyland?

Um, yep, I guess so! :-)

Don't get me wrong, I do mix my sex drive and if it would like to come back home, I would more than welcome it.  But given I am single #akaDoomed, I guess Disneyland will just have to do #quitenicelyinfact :-)

Cat-Pyre

This blog isn't so much about me (shocking I know) but about my roommate.

While on the surface my Roomie seems like an ordinary member of society. She has s job, a car, and loves to "spin."

Get to know her though?  And the cat crazy just pours right out of her.  There is nothing that she doesn't love about cats and her black cat extraordinaire, Elvira.  She even likes the smell of Elvira's poop (okay, maybe not that bad, but pretty darn close).

It doesn't matter that Elvira bites and scratches if she gets the least bit upset (well, according to my Roomie, Elvira is AFRAID and that is why she comes flying AT you with claws and teeth bared #ya #right).

But this blog isn't even about Elvira and the other cats (even though I could twenty blogs just on the cat antics in the house).  No, I want to remain focused and talk about my Roomie's cat obsession... I mean cat fancy #sorry #obsessionwastherightword

So Roomie and I are sitting around talking about the animals ('cause that's what we do while looking out at the beach) and some how vampires also came up (another common theme in our household).

Therefore it was no great surprise when Roomie blurted out, "Cat-pyre."  Obviously referring to a cat that had become vampiric.

Now this blog isn't about the fact she said "Cat-pyre," it is the wistful look on her face as she thought about what a cat-pyre would look and be like.  Then her eyes unglazed and she breathed out... "That would be awesome."

Yes, for her it would be.  I mean, combining her two favorite topics into one???  Fantastic!

Then we were watching True Blood and Jason had been mauled by a were-black panther and was suffering as he was turning into a big cat.

However what my Roomie took away from this horrible sequence of events was...  "I'd go through all of that if I got to be a panther."

I looked at her, with her sincere eyes (a cat of course on her lap),  "Yes, I believe you would."

She just nodded sagely and went back to watching the show.

So if you happen to stumble upon a Cat-Pyre or Black Were-Panther, please leave a comment below with your location since it probably means my Roomie has fulfilled her dreams but has gotten lost #howdoyouputatagonaCat-Pyre?

Only so much time...

Yep, I have hit it.

That moment in your life when you start to lose friends, contemporaries, to illness and disease.  Not just the awful, early tragic death of a high school buddy.  No, I am talking about *gasp* old age diseases.

I keep shaking my head, I mean I am only 46, yet the slow march of time appears to be quickening its pace.

I thought that 40 was the new 30?  How wrong I could be!

I mean, I thought I was totally cool with my mortality, until you know, it actually is staring me in the face.  And at 46, really?

I keep telling myself I am just being silly and not to worry, but then our office manager's best friend... aged 38 was diagnosed with bowel cancer and died within six weeks.

A great client of mine 52, died of a stroke last week.

I had a friend visit, 54, and it was clear he was starting to show signs of "forgetfulness" which as we all know now is something much more.

But then I look at Kirstie Alley and others cooking right along, as dynamic and vibrant as always.

I began worrying which path I was going down.  Would I be one of those shocking "Oh My GOD she was only ____ years old."  Or would I be one of those "Oh My GOD, she's how old?  She looks great!"

Then I realized worrying wasn't going to do much, was it?

If I get called "home" early, I get called "home" early.  Not exactly a lot I can do about some of the inexorbable forces at work in nature.

What I can do though is stop worrying.  Stop looking for "signs" of my mortality.

If I only have "so much time" left, I might as well make the most of it.

Of course how exactly I am going to do it is a slight mystery, but one I am eager to discover!

How do you handle your mortality?  Do you feel that same pang? #pleasetellmeIamnottheonlyone!

Lost Loves...

Um... probably should stay lost. LOL

Yes, I had in my mind that I had lost the love of my life.  He truly was everything that a man could be and perfect for me. 

And I had ruined it.  Ruined it with my fear and insecurities.  I had run away in shame.

I carried these dual notions for nearly 15 years.

He was perfect.  I was scum.

Yet somehow I took comfort in this fact.  I could hold that possibility of that long lost love close to my heart and ache for what could have been. 

If only I hadn't screwed up...  What if...  If only...

Can you hear the pining?  The swell of music in the background?  Yes, I believe I did weep a bit of blood.

Then out of the blue he contacts me.  Let's catch up.

My heart soared.  And the more we cooresponded (email 'cause that's how we roll these days), the more the only barriers I perceived that could keep us apart were gone.

Within a few weeks we decide he should visit.  Now he is a vet as well and he can't find anyone to watch his dogs so, of course, we decide for him to just hop in the car and bring them with him.

I dreamed of our meeting.  I dreamed of the first time we would set eyes upon each other. What would he say?  Would we hug?  Would we kiss?

The only thing I knew for sure was that that it would be magical.

Okay, fastforward to three dogs barking/howling/screaming in my driveway.

The love of my life looking haggard and beaten after driving 7 hours with them.  And a little pissed that I was 'late.' We did the bum's rush out to the backyard where the dogs proceeded to bark/howl/scream...


And not just that, but any time we get close to talking about anything emotional the little poodle goes berserk.
I mean, I could not have written a more Charlie Chaplin/3 Stooges fire drill if I could try.

Within ten minutes he announces that he is going home in the morning.  I try to persuade him to give it some time for the dogs to calm down (the whole while plugging my ears).

Later in the evening with a beautiful, gorgeous sunset he says "I know I should have waited until I had someone to watch the dogs but I just really, Really, REALLY wanted to come see you."

I step forward, "Oh Ken,"

And I swear that I am not exaggerating... at that exact moment, the poodle vomits on his foot.  The other dog falls off a chair and the blind dog runs into the sliding glass door.

I just looked at him and said, "Yep, leaving tomorrow morning sounds about right."

So all the gossimer haze around that relationship is gone. #clearly

It wasn't so much the dog's antics, it was the fact that obviously he was used to the dogs running some emotional interference for him.  And I realized in that moment that I want a guy who can just say what he feels rather than going through some kind of bizarre labyrinth.

I know that I should be glad that the rose colored glasses have been taken off and that I have clarity, however I must say, I do miss those violins when thinking of him :-) LOL