Every Breath You Take (flash fiction)

AI flowers and candy

Some people thought he was too intense for his own good.

Glen had never been able to do anything halfway. It was all or nothing, whether work or play or romance. And the irony was that Valerie had said she loved that about him. She had loved his constant calls and texts, his relentless attention to detail, his devotion to her needs, his thoughtful gestures and gifts, and his steady presence to make her feel secure. Or at least she had said she loved all those things before she decided it was too much. 

“Maybe she’s not my soulmate after all,” Glen cried to his mother during their weekly chat. “She doesn’t seem to appreciate or even acknowledge anything I do now. I gave her a box of candy when I brought her breakfast, and she threw it on the floor.”

“Face facts, darling,” his mother replied crisply, as was her way. “You’re too good for her. You’ve spoiled her rotten with nothing to show for it. Time to move on.”

Glen glanced at his laptop and rechecked the app he used to track Valerie’s movements. He thought maybe she would be writing him a note of apology or thanks, but she was just staring off into space. “I guess you’re right, Mumsy. She was treated so badly by her ex that she freaks out at my pure and honest heart.”

“Have you considered that you’re a bit too intense? Try not coming on so strongly with the next one, dear.”

Even his own mother was criticizing him now! Glen slammed his phone down in frustration. But she was right about one thing: he needed to quit obsessing over Valerie and find someone new. He began with the apps and methodically deleted each one he had been using to track her. He deleted every email and text, and he emptied the trash can. There was only one more loose end.

Glen sighed as he clomped downstairs to his basement apartment with the syringe in his hand. He politely knocked before using his key in case she was getting dressed. So annoying to have to dispose of another dead body, but she had left him no choice. Maybe he would go to that speed dating thingie tonight after he cleaned everything up.

~*~

Written for Fandango’s Story Starter 260 and inspired by the song “Every Breath You Take” by The Police (songwriting credit goes to Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner, from the 1983 album Synchronicity).

Tiger Striped Hodgepodge

Meta AI created image of "tiger fudge"

Happy last week of July! I am participating in Joyce's Hodgepodge again this week by answering the following questions.

1. What was the last thing you celebrated? 

We celebrated a friend's birthday with a Friday dinner at BJ's and seeing The Odyssey. I enjoyed the film but it was very loud, very long, and very violent. I wore earplugs the whole time, which someone told me to do, and I definitely appreciated that advice. Saturday the party continued at the Orange County Fair where we attended the fabulous (and glittery) combo cover band concert of Kenny Metcalf as Elton John and ABBA LA. Very fun! I wandered around the fair for a couple hours, mostly staying indoors to see the exhibits because I enjoy them and also because the weather has been extremely hot and humid here. Sunday (today) my family got together for a pool party and to celebrate (a bit belatedly) my grandson's birthday. He seemed happy with the FIFA themed foosball tabletop game I gave to him.

2 July 29th is International Day of the Tiger. Besides the wild animal itself, when you hear the word tiger what's the first  person-place-thing-whatever that comes to mind? 

Tiger fudge. This ridiculously delicious treat is made with melted milk chocolate chips, melted white chocolate chips, and heated peanut butter. You pour each layer in a pan separately and then swirl a knife through the whole thing to make it stripey. Refrigerate it until completely cold and then cut it into little squares. Meta AI didn't know what tiger fudge was, but after I described it, I ended up with the above pic, which I think is adorable.

3. The expression 'eye of the tiger' describes someone with intense focus, determination, and the drive to succeed. What area of your life are you currently bringing that kind of energy to?  

I don't have this level of focus and determination any longer. I prefer to do things at a moderate pace, probably because when I was focused and determined, it didn't lead to the success I wanted, so why not enjoy life a bit more? For example, I no longer force myself to get up at 4AM and write for three hours before work. That didn't lead to publishing success, so I might as well get more sleep.

4. What was the last meal you cooked? 

Hahaha. I don't cook for one person (myself), except for the simplest things like an occasional omelet. It's too hot to cook now anyway, and I prefer salads and fruit bowls with yogurt or cottage cheese.

5. Describe your July using exactly five words. 

Hot, humid, exercising, reading, blogging.

6. Insert your own random thought here. 

I had over 3000 views on this blog yesterday, which is disturbing, since I know they're almost all bots. What do they want from me? I think the massive view numbers began when I did April A2Z this past April, and they've been rising steadily. Before that, I hardly had any visitors, so the bots must scrape blog addresses from public lists, such as A2Z.

The Milky Way Bar

Space candy via Meta AI

Look through any window 

Past your own reflection—

Contemplate the endless night.

Note the comforting moon.

Stars come into focus.

Constellations form their patterns:

We give names to the shapes;

Our minds fill in the blanks.

They’ve discovered sugar in space—

The building blocks of life!

Did sugar come from Earth

Or did it float on “down” to us

Like sprinkles from a cake?

Either way it’s so nice

To know the universe is sweet.

You can close the window,

Walk away from the night,

And create your own confection.

~*~

Written for John Holton’s Writer’s Workshop (window) and dVerse Poets Pub (night), and inspired by a news article on a recent discovery in space.

Jelly Bean Jealousy

Dragon guarding jelly beans (Meta AI)

I like the slang word "jelly" for jealousy. It's softer, lighter, not so murderous. Look at that dragon in the pic: would he set you on fire if you touched his candy stash? Maybe he would, or maybe he'd be only a little bit jelly. Jealousy is more about wanting to keep what you have rather than simply desiring what someone else has (envy). A jealous husband doesn't want men to flirt with his wife; an envious husband wishes he made enough money to afford a fancy car like the guy next door. But we often use the two words interchangeably, and so be it. Everyone knows what we mean, which is the important thing.

Back when I was interested in romantic relationships, I wasn't really a jealous type, as far as worrying about who might be talking to "my" person. I guess I never thought of anyone as "mine" in that way, and it still seems weird to me to claim ownership of someone. I mean, if "my" person would rather go off and be with someone else, then good riddance. Why would you want to be with someone who is no longer interested in you? Ick. That doesn't mean I was into polyamory (not that there's anything wrong with that) ~ it just means that out of all my OCD behaviors, jealousy wasn't among them.

Sometimes people want you to pretend to be jelly (in the romantic sense), so I would go along with that, and vice versa. It all seems so ridiculous now. So much wasted time. But it's easy to feel above it all when I have no interest or desire; back in the day, I definitely wanted to find someone. Now though, I'm too jelly of my free time, my me-time, to squander it on a date. I hoard my non-working hours like precious treasures because every week there are fewer of them left, and at some point, not too far into the future, they'll all be gone. A human lifespan is such a blip, a blink, in the evolution of the universe.

~*~

Written for Linda's Stream of Consciousness Saturday (jelly).

Five Prompts Haiku Style (100 words)

Me and my (almond) Snickers

Stuffing or dressing 

Either way bring on the carbs

Oysters optional 

My top ten candy

Cadbury choccy creme egg

Retro Chunky bar

Peanut M and M’s

Original M and M’s

Hot Tamales too

Peanut butter cups 

Coconut Jelly Bellies

And English toffee 

A Snickers of course 

Frango Mints from days of old 

I think that makes ten

Paddled a canoe

In the Dells of Wisconsin 

But it flipped over 

That was lucky though 

Next up was the waterfall 

And we couldn’t steer 

Great piece of advice

Never go out on a boat 

With a stupid jerk

(John Holton’s Writer’s Workshop)

Eating the Evidence (flash fiction)

Meta AI generated image of flowers and candy

Detective Nicki Finn gazed around the lobby, noting the security guards posted at each door and the ceiling cameras positioned every few feet. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t catch this guy,” the hotel manager fumed as the evidence tech bagged the candy.

Once again, the thief had left behind his usual calling card—a box of chocolates. And not just any chocolate either; this was the finest imported delicacy, direct from Belgium.

“Thank you, Angela,” Nicki said to the tech. “I’ll ride back to the station with you.”

“Our conference bookings are way off,” the manager complained. “No one wants to stay here with a thief on the loose.”

“We are making every effort,” Nicki said. “Thanks for getting the guest list to us so quickly. Please don’t speak to the media, especially about you know what.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “The chocolate, right. It’s our secret. Ours and every other hotel he’s hit.”

Angela drove the van to their usual spot. “Ready?” she asked Nicki, taking the box of candy out of the bag.

“Yes, but this is the last time,” Nicki vowed as she hovered over the selections. “Oh God, this one looks like a creme brûlée!”

“Mmm.” Angela bit into a chocolate. “Tiramisu! The question is: who knows about our addiction? We’ve kept it on the down low.”

Nicki grabbed a second piece. “Gotta be Brian K. We both dated him. He knows.”

Angela nodded, her mouth full of candy. “Brian. Next time we won’t eat the evidence.”

“Next time,” Nicki agreed, eying the half-empty box. “But for now… dibs on the macaroon!”

~*~

Written for Fandango’s Story Starter #250.

The Office Diet

Yes, I put blueberries in my salad!

Monday oath

No more snacks

Bring salad

Tuesday comes

Brownies here

Thanks a lot 

Next day sad

Brownies gone

Wish I had

Thursday blah

Need caffeine 

Sugar too

Friday fail

Candy spree

Start again 

Yay weekend

Exercise

No junk food

~*~

I think this is my first tricube poem (3x3). Fun form! It’s supposed to be three stanzas, but whatever ~ we can call this a double tricube. I was inspired by the Tanka Tuesday challenge. 

Debunking Home Cooking Myths

There are benefits to home cooked meals, of course, particularly if you enjoy cooking, but there are also a bunch of myths surrounding home cooking, which is what I am blogging about today. (This is all regarding cooking for one person; if you’re cooking for two or more, this post probably won’t apply.)

The first myth is that cooking is “easy.” Have you taken a look at a recipe lately? They’re like an encyclopedia of ingredients! Not only do you have to forage for all the items (often with some being hard to find), but then you have to put them all together. Every recipe says that their dish will take “20 minutes” of prep time, but guess what? That’s a lie. And then there’s cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. All this trouble is not worth the 15 minutes of pleasure of nomming up a bowl of chili or whatever.

Second, there’s the cost factor. Now, if we’re talking about a filet mignon, then I agree it will likely be less expensive to make that at home as opposed to going to a fancy restaurant (whether it will be as delicious is a different matter). But let’s discuss something I would actually make or order. How about a salad? Restaurant salads are around $20 (plus tax and tip), and you would think it’d be cheaper to make that at home. Not really. To make a comparable salad at home, you would need to buy all the ingredients the restaurant uses, and the only way this would be cheaper than going out is if you used up the leftover ingredients to make salad every day until they were gone. But what if I don’t want the same salad every day for three or four days? Then most of the ingredients will need to be tossed, and suddenly the home salad is no bargain.

Third, there’s the health factor. I like to buy prepared meals for weekday lunches, such as Lean Cuisines, that are portion controlled. Other than the fact that prepared foods are generally too high in sodium, everything else about them works well for me. I’ve tried other options, such as making sandwiches, but bread and lunch meat and cheese and condiments are all high in sodium too, and then I am stuck eating the same type of sandwich every day for a week, which I hate. Same goes for pasta and veggies. That’s a great lunch for a couple days, but then ick no not again. (I do not have much freezer space to store piles of leftovers.) With the pre-prepped meals, I can have different pasta/rice dishes with chicken and veggies all week. No wasted food.

What about taste? I confess I am not a gourmet. Some frozen foods are kind of yuck (pizza, for example), so I avoid those, but most taste fine to me. There’s a dozen or so I like a lot, so these are in constant rotation. I also buy a salad or sandwich from a restaurant once or twice per week to break things up. Do I eat anything at home? Sure! Oatmeal, yogurt and fruit, carrots and dip, grilled cheese sandwiches, tortillas with refried beans, etc. 

Now we arrive at the most important food group of all: dessert! Obviously, I am not going to make candy or ice cream at home because that’s way too time intensive, but until recently I did bake cakes, cookies, brownies, etc. Never pie because that’s too hard, plus you can so easily find good pie out and about (all pie is good pie). I used to enjoy baking ~ I don’t now though, mainly due to so many people being on restricted diets that most of my treats go to waste. Also, goodies from the grocery store have improved so much that it isn’t worth the bother to bake. I brought Christmas cookies from the store to a friend’s house party yesterday, and they were delicious! So soft and buttery with rock crystal sugar sprinkles for texture, not to mention that these were perfectly shaped Santas and snowmen and candy canes, unlike the shapeless blobs that used to result from my pressed cookies. I do admit that I have not yet found a brownie as scrumptious as the ones I made in the past from a Ghirardelli mix plus mini M&Ms…

Well, it’s certainly a good thing I figured out that I no longer have any desire to cook or bake before I meet my next dream man. LOL

Pop, and Other Palindromes

The other week some friends and I were thinking of palindrome names, such as Bob and Pip and Otto. Eve, Ana, Elle, Nan, Ada. Then there’s Mom and Pop. Sis. Race car. Taco cat. It’s really hard to come up with a whole sentence. Madam, I’m Adam. Able was I ere I saw Elba. Do geese see god? Etc. (I googled these.)

It’s unfortunate that the word “palindrome” is not one.

I say soda, not pop, for a generic carbonated beverage. That answer marks me as someone from back east on the geographical language quizzes. 

I used to love Pop-Tarts, but lately they aren’t worth the calories. They’re pretty bland and dry. I’d rather have a couple of cookies. In fact, these days I prefer cookies to most other desserts even cake/ cupcakes. That’s weird! Who even am I anymore? I also am a big fan of pie, especially contrasting flavors in a pie, such as key lime with a graham cracker crust. My coworker made mini KLPs for us this week, and they were delicious. The ratio of crust to filling is higher in a mini, and I liked that. Same goes for mini PB cups. I had a Reese’s tree the other week, and I have to say that the ratio of PB to chocolate was too high. YMMV.

I’ve been thinking about contrasts a bunch lately. You can’t truly appreciate something until you experience its opposite. That’s my theory anyway.

~*~

Inspired by Stream of Consciousness Saturday (pop). Don’t worry, I am not going to start bombarding you with a ton of prompt crap like I did back on my WP blog, but if the mood strikes me, I think it’s OK once in a while.

Fat Tuesday

Happy Mardi Gras to any readers who celebrate. I used to have New Orleans on my retirement bucket list, but now I think I’ll be lucky just to have a bucket after the F-team crashes the economy. What a fucking disaster. Anyway, even if I never get to visit NOLA, I hope that someday I can taste an authentic praline. Yeah, I had a vague plan to travel across the USA and back, maybe via train, after my 9-5 days were done, but that doesn’t seem likely now. It’s okay ~ I generally dislike travel; this just sounded interesting. If the F-team destroys Social Security as seems to be the current plan, I will be in trouble, like millions of other Americans. Maybe I will never retire in that case…

Remember how I said the other week that I had a feeling I would lose 5 pounds soon? Well, it happened, at least temporarily (but I hope to make it last), due to being sick. At first, I thought my tummy was having a reaction to over medication with NSAIDs, which I have experienced before, but it turned out to be one of those icky viruses that are going around. Very nasty. I felt terrible for 10 days and spent last weekend battling a fever sans any OTC meds. On Saturday I used a Target personal shopper to pick up soup and stuff and deliver it to my door. With a 101 fever, I couldn’t go out. As I have said, I like both Target and Amazon for their prices and convenience, and I have no intention of giving either one up, even though billionaires make me barf. 

Along with my tea and saltines and Alka Seltzer, I had to buy a pill cutter for Gatsby’s high blood pressure medication. He actually had a good report from the doc! Many of his issues were cleared up (or mostly) due to the supplement I give him twice a day, so we're continuing with this, but he has borderline HBP, and it's important to control that because of his kidney issues. Thus, we now have these tiny pills that I have to cut into quarters, which is difficult, but I imagine I will get the hang of it ~ I've only done one so far. He's also still a little underweight, but there's not much I can do about that: he has his favorite (KD) food available 24/7.

I read another Victoria Holt/Philippa Carr romance novel from the "Daughters of England" collection. This one was The Adulteress, and it was very enjoyable: great character development, fun twists, well-paced. I gave it four stars ~ its only flaw was the abrupt ending, which seems to be a relatively common thing in VH books. It fits my 2025 Reading Challenge category of having purple on the cover.

I also read the suspense novel You Me Her by Sue Watson, to which I awarded three stars. It was a fast read, yet tedious at the same time since I didn't really care about any of the characters. This was yet another book set in the UK and narrated by a neurotic woman in first person, present tense. Meh. It fit the Challenge category of an international bestseller. 

Finally, I read The Measure by Nikki Erlick, which was interesting. Not sure what genre it was, maybe speculative fiction. I didn't care for the writing style of introducing so many characters in a short time with backstory dumps, but I did admire Erlick's unique idea of every person getting their approximate death date, and her grand attempt to imagine how this knowledge would play out across the globe and particularly in American politics. Personally, I think it would have worked better on a smaller scale, such as within a particular community, but I appreciate the effort. It was different! Yay! I gave it three stars. It was a book club read, and it also fit my Challenge category of being a book club edition.

While I was sick I wasn't in the mood to watch much TV, but I do plan on viewing this week's episode of Bachelor 29 and also With Love, Meghan. The main reason I feel like watching Meghan is because I am so tired of her haters that I hope her show is a smashing success. There is literally no reason to hate this person who now has her own life in the US and no longer makes precious Catherine cry, but the haters appear after every article that mentions Meghan to carp and caw. It's Meghan Derangement Syndrome.

So that's it. I listened to the SOTU while writing this, and it was so boring. I didn't find it offensive, just dull, rambling, and repetitive.

Happy Hearts Day

As I have mentioned before, I like Valentine's Day ~ in fact, I enjoy it more now post-dating/ romance. I like pink, candy, cupcakes, flowers, jewelry, teddy bears, and all the hoopla. It doesn't bother me one bit that other women have men to give them these things; I buy them for myself, and that way I get exactly what I want. Today, I treated myself to a small heart-shaped box of Dove chocolates (from Target, lol). They were delicious! I am wearing a Pepto Bismol pink sweater, one of my favorite (and dare I say most flattering) colors, and later I'm meeting a friend for a concert at a church in Huntington Beach. A church! I think they will have cookies, hopefully heart-shaped with red crystal sprinkles, or maybe I'm just fantasizing that they will.

I've given up on The Bachelor, and I canceled my Hulu subscription because there is nothing else on that channel I want to watch. I watched the latest bachelor episode on Tuesday, and it was so cringe that I had to turn away and play solitaire on my phone. Everyone seemed so phony and ridiculous. All the emotions appeared contrived and calculated, or they could be viewed that way. It's impossible to tell who is on the show to find true love, and who is on there trying to create an influencer "career," which makes me suspicious of every occurrence of supposedly heartfelt dialog, complete with tears. I can't take it seriously or get invested in the outcome. 

I began watching The Later Daters on Netflix, and that's pretty good. The people seemed real anyway, and their conversations were funny. I don't know if I will continue it though, as I just don't care enough. It's so much more enjoyable to read a book or even rewatch an old favorite movie. The older I get, the more I crave comfort and familiarity, not new things. I don't like new things! Some friends on FB were complaining about random friend requests, and I mentioned how my account is entirely locked down and closed off to new people. Even 154 friends are too many to keep up with, so why would I want more? I have around 2650 followers on Bluesky, most of whom never interact with me in any way and vice versa. I have followed 1700 back, but I created a list of a few dozen favorite accounts and mostly check those not the main feed. Point is, I don't understand why someone would keep their FB account accessible to randos when the settings give you a choice not to. It's like my old WP blog... I have 1000 followers, 2000, 3000! And yet the same dozen or so people interact regularly regardless. Seeing that big number is an ego boost, I guess, though it shouldn't be, since it's meaningless.

I had trouble commenting on WP blogs this week, not that I comment often, but something was glitchy. Whatever. I'm so over social media, except for my book club chats, because everything is politics 24/7. So boring. Speaking of politics, the Huntington Beach City Council has adopted a "MAGA" sign for the Central Library, so after I'm finished with the books I have and return them, I won't be going back there. I picked up a new library card today for the Fountain Valley Library, which is a lot closer to me anyway. The HB "MAGA" is cleverly disguised with different words than you-know-who's MAGA, but it's clearly an homage to him. Barf. This is an example of politics in real life, and my decision on how to react to it, as opposed to reposting useless memes on social media. Some of the memes are hilarious, yes, and I've reposted some over the years (political and otherwise), but how does this add value to my life?

I thought I might want to be part of Bluesky in a big way, but now I'm not so sure. The best thing about it is I that found two old internet friends to reconnect with. That's not a minor thing. I would so much rather nurture ongoing friendships than accumulate gobs of followers who (1) never buy my books, (2) never interact with me, and (3) seem to disappear off the radar once I follow them back.

I am happy and loved this Valentine's Day, and I am thankful for my wonderful family and good friends. My sweet kitty Gatsby is hanging in there and has put back a little weight. It took me a long time to understand that I have a lot of love in my life; it just isn't the romance novel kind of love. And that's OK!

Apologies and Forgiveness

I don’t do prompts on this reanimated blog, as far as writing poetry/fiction on demand, etc., but I will go on and on (and on) about a topic if it resonates with me. JYP has a new provocative question up, asking which is more difficult ~ giving a genuine apology or feeling genuine forgiveness ~ and I have a few things to say about that. 

I don’t find the casual “I’m sorry” to be much of an apology at all. It’s almost always meaningless, like the standard “how was your weekend” office greeting, when no one really wants or expects any answer other than “good, yours?” People say they’re sorry all the time, but what do the words actually mean if the speaker doesn’t change their behavior? Nothing. It’s particularly empty when the speaker says it in the form of “I’m sorry you” (feel hurt, offended, etc.), as opposed to “I’m sorry I” (lied, cheated, etc.)

Some of my faithful readers may recall that I met a man in September 2016 who seemed wonderful at first, and we had two fabulous, all-day dates along with many lengthy chats, but then he acted like a colossal jerk when I told him I was having an issue with a scammer. He abruptly canceled our third date because he decided I wouldn’t be focused enough on him if I was worried about the 4K missing from my bank account. It didn’t occur to him to help me take my mind off my problems by spending some time with me as a friend would. No, it was all about him feeling duly worshipped. I told him I never wanted to talk to him again, which was one of the smartest things I’ve ever said.

A few weeks later he apologized, and I forgave him, which was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. We had two more lovely dates, made some fun plans for the future, and he ghosted me over Thanksgiving. I felt so betrayed and humiliated, and the experience truly wrecked me for a long time (not to mention that he began texting me a few months later to regale me with all the ways I failed him, such as not baking cookies when he came over and being three years older). When I emerged from my depression over this fiasco, I gave up dating, since I couldn’t trust my own judgment.

But I didn’t come here today to dish on that asshole, as enjoyable as dishing is; I came here to talk about the fact that a genuine apology is as rare as a winning lottery ticket and requires a change in behavior. If you do the same thing again, then you really aren’t sorry, are you? It’s like my vow to give up gummy bears ~ no one really believes me, including me, nor should they. Changing one’s behavior is very difficult, even for something as small as resisting a piece of candy, which is why I say that genuine apologies are harder (and rarer) than genuine forgiveness.

Forgiveness, in my experience, gets easier over time, partly because memories fade as well as intensity of emotion. Also, forgiveness is a gift to yourself more than anything, and who doesn’t like gifts? When I forgave that ghosting guy, I relieved myself of the burden of caring about him, wondering why he did the things he did, and second-guessing all of my own behavior (which was flawless, if you must know). It was incredibly freeing to be done with that mess, and a breeze to maintain. Forgiveness just feels good! This doesn’t mean I want to talk to him or try again (gah); it just means I am no longer shouldering the emotional baggage of feeling “done wrong.” In fact, I got some good stories and poetry out of the experience and am much better off now that I gave up dating altogether.

Apologies, however, don’t feel good, not genuine ones anyway, because then you’re tasked with figuring out how to change and maintain the change. It’s harder for me not to nom up a pack of gummy bears when I know they are sitting right there in the kitchen cabinet* than it is to continue not caring about whatshisface. 

*It’s the office kitchen ~ I don’t keep candy in my home.

Anniversary Squared

Eight years ago today, 9/25/16, I met the man who became my last first date. Normally, this would mean that we turned out to be soulmates, are still together, in love forever, blah blah blah. Nope. I had high hopes for all that, but alas…

We met on the notorious dating site, Plenty of Fish, where I had recently created a new profile after a break from dating due to bad experiences. Why I thought this time would be any different, idk. Stop reaching into the bag of broken glass hoping to find candy. Initially, I nixed this particular guy (let’s call him M²), because he lived too far away, in my opinion. While I was willing to meet men in Los Angeles (though not necessarily vice versa), if they seemed like a real potential, 50 miles seemed a reasonable limit. M² lived over 60 miles away, which I thought was too far. He convinced me otherwise, however, and by the time the day of the date rolled around we had been chatting online for a couple weeks. I really liked him, more than anyone in years, if ever. We also had a super long phone conversation. Silly, I know, to feel strongly about someone you haven’t met in person yet, but my heart belongs to words.

We met on a Sunday for lunch, on one of the hottest days of the year, at a Laguna Beach restaurant named Skyloft. I previously had a bad time at Skyloft with a creepy date and couldn’t find my car afterward for two hours, but I pushed all that out of my mind since this new guy was awesome. Square Sunday was without question the best date of my life. Conversation flowed perfectly, there was a lot of humor, and I felt intense physical chemistry. At the end of the date, which lasted six hours because we were having such a great time, M² kissed me on the beach as the waves rolled in behind us. It was magical!

I wish the relationship had ended right then, so I could have retired from dating on a high note, on a beautiful sunny beach kiss date composed of square numbers, because why not go out on a good day rather than after a plethora of pain? (This philosophy doesn’t only have to apply to euthanasia.) But that didn’t happen, sadly. I don’t want to discuss the rest of it right now; I only want to focus on the date itself before I forget all the details. I probably have forgotten some by now, of course.

Eight years. An anti-versary, if you will. Despite what happened with M² after September, the 25th remains special to me.

I’ve met up with a few other men since, but I wouldn’t call them dates. They were simply meet and greets that I wasn’t the least bit enthusiastic about. Finally, it all faded away, and I am much better off in all ways without that drama in my life. I guess my last M&G, this past March, could be termed a date, but to me it was just a catch up dinner with a fellow writer whom I had dated briefly in 2012 and knew I had no future with.

Last Night I Dreamt I Went To Blogland Again

Actually, I didn't dream about going to Blogland again (my dream was much weirder, involving my ex-husband's lost mobile phone, a lawyer, and a pool full of dogs), but I did visit a few blogs tonight, and I did not feel the least bit tempted to join back in the fray. Usually, when I visit Blogland, I check out several blogs before getting bored and exiting ~ tonight I got bored after two. It's not them; it's me. I find the idea of writing to prompts much too tedious to contemplate, and there's no other reason to be there, since the days of posting true "web logs" have long passed. I do engage in community prompts on Bluesky, but they're quickie posts about songs or movies. No one expects a Wikipedia dump there or original short stories.

I gave up writing my murder mystery, at least for now. Work is more tiring, especially with the longer commute at night, and I don't have the energy to be creative, except for the occasional poem. I will publish a new poetry collection next year, but my progress is at "a glacial pace" (nod to Miranda Price in The Devil Wears Prada). I can handle the slow lane for poems, but I can't write a novel that way because I lose my train of thought. Is it chain or train? I can never remember.

Anyway, I've been watching the Democratic National Convention every night this week, which gives me yet another convenient excuse not to exercise after work. What will my excuse be next week? No worries, I will come up with something. I really have to exercise though, even just a little, like a half hour a day, because I do not want to go on cholesterol meds. I feel like my diet has been much healthier lately, but I could be deluding myself since I nom up gummy bear snacks pretty regularly at work. I've been eating only fruit for dinner several times per week however as a way to reduce my overall fat and salt intake (I want to lower my BP as well as my cholesterol).

Welp, it's a process, a journey, blah blah blah. I am definitely doing better than when I was baking and/or stopping for fast food, so I will congratulate myself on that instead of beating myself up for being a sofa spud. I've also been working on crafts, as the arthritis in my hands permits, which is relaxing and good for my mental health as well as giving me a way to connect with others socially. The new book club is going great, even better than the original Meetup group, as we're more inclined to chat between meetings and plan other events with the relaxed WhatsApp structure. I definitely have enough to do with all that plus regular family and friend events, so I don't have to FOMO about the things I've given up.

My title is obviously a play on the first line of Rebecca, which is a great book and an even better movie (not often the case) with the wonderful Lily James. I love her. Today I finished a mystery that kept my attention throughout: The Wife You Know by Chad Zunker. I gave it four stars even though it's silly that a software developer guy is able to elude trained assassins even for a couple days. Whatever. The writing was strong enough that I was able to suspend my disbelief for the duration of the story, and that alone is worth an extra star beyond the "gentlemanly" three I generally give to books I don't hate. If I truly hate a book, I won't finish or rate it, unless I have to for a discussion, which is why I don't have many one-stars out there.

Like anyone cares, right? I guess I should go to bed; my cat is annoyed I'm up late writing at my little desk, but I had to move off the sofa because my laptop needed to charge. It doesn't last very long lately when I unplug it... I guess we're all getting old.