beach baby

Mr. T and I always loved the beach. It was one of the reasons we moved to California, because we wanted to live near the ocean. We spent many afternoons and evenings at the beach in our town, watching the waves or walking along the shore. Mr. T always said I'd never met an ocean I didn't want to put my feet in and he was right.

So I knew I needed to get to the beach to refresh my soul and replenish my spirit but I really didn't want to go by myself the first time. I had never been to the beach by myself in my whole life and I wasn't ready to start.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work out the way we plan (tell me about it) and I slowly came to the realization that if I wanted to go to the beach, I was going to have to do it on my own.

So I started to make my plans. First thing I knew I had to have some sort of waterproof pouch to carry my valuables around with me. In the past Mr. T usually stayed on the sand while I played in the water so he could keep an eye on things but now I knew I needed to take everything with me in the water just to be safe.

So I got 2 pouches, a pink and blue, and put them to the test.

Yep that's my pouch submerged in water! I left it there, with a paper towel inside, for an hour and afterwards the paper towel was completely dry. Unbelievable! I knew that meant I could play in the water and my phone, money and car keys wouldn't get wet.
 
Now when Mr. T and I would spend the day at the beach, he would spend the whole night before we left getting things ready. For a 1 day trip (just a few hours, really) he would pack enough for us to be on a 4 week safari. He had snacks and drinks and extra clothes and chairs and umbrella and a cart to get it all there. If we took Charlie, she had her own suitcase full of stuff as well. 

I'm a bit more spontaneous so I decided to take as little as possible, just a mat to sit on and a towel.

The morning came and I got a bit of a late start. To be honest, there was a big part of me that was thinking about backing out. It was too much driving, what if I hated it, etc. But I gave myself a stern talking to and I got in the car and headed out.

I started out pretty well but the GPS wanted to send me on the highway and I wanted to go the back road that Mr. T and I had always taken. I got off at the exit that I thought was right and kept driving even though the GPS kept telling me to make a u-turn. After about 10 minutes, with the GPS getting more and more indignant, I finally had to admit that I'd made a mistake and was going the wrong way. Worst of all, I had to backtrack all the way back to the road I'd exited. How discouraging. I almost gave up and drove home right there.

Just as I was about to change lanes to take the exit back home, I looked over at the Hula Kitty I had just put in the car the night before. Her head was bobbing up and down in the most ridiculous way that it made me laugh right out loud and then suddenly I felt better and decided to push on to the beach.

Even with the unexpected misturn, I still arrived at the beach at a good time...meaning there were still empty spaces in the parking lot. That's the most stressful part of a daytrip to the beach for me, where will I park?

I grabbed my beach mat and my bag and practically ran to the beach, found a great spot and set myself up for a day of fun. It was heaven to be in my happy place, hearing the waves, smelling that salty beach air.

I couldn't wait to run and stick my feet in the waves!

It was everything I hoped it would be, I felt like me for the first time in a very long time. I ran and skipped and kicked and twirled. I also lost my balance and practically fell on my butt because that's who I am too. Whatever.

I went back to sit on my mat and soak in the sunshine and then it hit me...I was hungry. If Mr. T had been there, there would have been an assortment of sandwiches and chips and cold drinks and probably even dessert. Well crap, since I was Miss Spontaneity there was nothing. Double crap.

There was nothing else to do but trudge down the beach and across the street to Wendy's for a chicken sandwich and a nice big cold drink. Then trudge back to my mat. Lesson learned, next time I'll take a page out of Mr. T's book and bring a sandwich and some drinks.He was right, I was wrong, blah blah blah.

After a few hours of sun and surf, it was time to drive back home. My phone(GPS) died on me less than 30 minutes into the drive but that was ok, I knew the way now and made it home easily.

I'm so glad I went and I enjoyed it so much I plan on going back often throughout the spring and summer. I'd go every weekend if I could but I do have obligations so maybe every other weekend.

Do I wish things were different and that Mr. T and I could be there together? Hell yes. It's making me cry right now just thinking about the fact that we'll never go to the beach together again. But I'm glad to know that I can still enjoy it, just in a different way.

Is it lonely? Yes and no. I still think it would be more fun with a group of people but it's good to know that going solo can still be fun and it's not overwhelming. I feel like myself at the beach. I feel like the free spirit that I long to be.

 

only the lonely

Several years ago, after my father died, my mother was on the phone with me while Mr. T was away on a business trip and she was sympathizing with me about how lonely it must be.

I came back with something about how I was never lonely. And it was true. I prided myself on being Miss Independent. I flew across the country by myself, went on research trips throughout the Midwest by myself, went to movies and restaurants by myself. I was too busy living my life, dreaming my own dreams, pursuing my passions to be lonely just because I didn't have a man at my side all the time.

What an arrogant, judgemental little twit I was. 

What I didn't get until just now was that I could afford to be independent because I knew there was a man who was always there for me even if he was far away. He never let a day go by, no matter where he was in the world, without talking to me at least once and often several times. We Skyped together from all over the world. He loved that I had my own interests and fully supported them but he was always, always, always there for me and knowing that was everything to me so how could I be lonely?

But what my mother knew was that when that ends, when there is no longer somebody on the other end of the phone, it's so lonely. I can't even describe how it feels to know you're all alone. Even if you have friends that love you, it's not the same. They have their own lives and their own families and you no longer do and the last thing you want to do is become the person that's always there, that doesn't recognize boundaries.

Loneliness is a monster. You don't even realize it's there until it's surrounding you, crushing the life out of you until you can't breathe. If I don't make it through this, loneliness will be the reason why.

I can also see now why loneliness can lead you to make spectacularly stupid choices. I've been slightly stupid in my life (I'm not a blonde for nothing) but I'd prefer to never be spectacular at it.

I honestly don't know what to do about loneliness. I feel like I'm doing all the right things - getting out, trying new experiences, trying to meet new people, doing things on my own, etc. but loneliness keeps sneaking in and smothering me. Interestingly, it usually hits me right after I've been out doing something. I feel less lonely sitting on the couch watching endless hours of mindless TV but I know that's not what I should be doing and isn't healthy for me.

I guess I just need to keep going, be a moving target and continue to believe that it will get better.

It will, right?

love

I follow a lot of widows on Instagram. There's something comforting about reading the words of others who are walking the same path. 

Lately there have been quite a few who have announced new boyfriends, engagements and weddings. It makes my heart happy to see these women find love again after such sorrow and grief and loneliness.

Whenever a widow finds love again there are equal parts joy and guilt. The topic of soulmates comes up frequently because of course you believe you were married to your soulmate but, especially if you're young, the idea of never having that kind of love in your life again is hard to comprehend but if you already married your soulmate, then is that all you get?

It's made me think of what I believe about soulmates. I do believe in the idea of soulmates. I firmly believe that Mr. T and I were destined to meet, fall in love and be together however I've never felt that it's only one soulmate to a person. But I don't know.

To be honest, the idea of being that vulnerable to another human again scares the crap out of me. I can't even imagine going through the motions of getting to know someone new. That whole process of going from strangers to knowing another person inside and out is pretty much a mystery to me. Mr. T and I met so long ago, we were just babies. We were just a couple of kids who kind of grew up together. We had each other's backs.

 I can't even imagine doing it again.

It's hard enough just to make new friends as an adult. To think of trusting somebody with your heart, that's a big no from me. At least for now.

 
 Here's my soulmate, my best friend. I definitely trust her with my heart.
 

repair'd

So I survived the great sprinkler repair of 2019...barely.

The guy was here for over 4 hours and had to drive to the hardware store for parts twice and finished up in the dark with me holding the flashlight for him but he finished and, apparently things are fine now. We'll see when it's time to water the lawn again on Saturday.

It was stressful and I missed Mr. T so much. I started stress eating in the last hour, at least I held off till then! 

But it's done and I made it through and at least I have someone to call when other sprinkler things break. Because they will, sprinkler heads break all the time, I'm amazed it hasn't happened before now. 

And other things around the house are going to break too and I'm going to have to deal with then and I will. That's just how life works.

But right now I've got a beach trip to get ready for!

another first

That's a picture of a hole in my front yard that is filled with water.

It's not supposed to be filled with water. It's not supposed to be a hole.

All the houses in my neighborhood were built with in ground irrigation systems that work on a timer. It's nice because Florida gets HOT in the summer and you don't have to even think about watering your lawn, the system does it for you.

It's nice until it breaks.

Mr T did a great job of maintaining the irrigation. He replaced broken sprinkler heads and even fixed leaks and malfunctions of the pipes and valves.

I've spent the past 4 months wondering when something would break and I'd have to take care of the repair process myself. Well, wonder no more, I've got a major leak in my system. Woohoo, it's my first major repair without Mr. T.

The first irrigation guy I called was one Mr. T had used before and he thoughtfully left the guy's information on his bulletin board. Problem solved, I thought. Too bad the guy responded just once and said he'd be by in a few days and I never heard from him again.

Found another guy and he came by last night and made this hole. Then he couldn't go any further without a shovel so he's coming back tonight but that will only tell him exactly what's wrong. He won't be able to fix it until Saturday. Meanwhile it continues to leak. Kinda worried about the repair cost not to mention next month's water bill.

I know that there are lots of single women/single mothers out there who handle this kind of stuff all the time. I'm just taking a little while to adjust to my new status, I guess. I want to cry but I'm not going to let myself because I'm very much afraid that once I start, I won't be able to stop.

One good thing that happened out of all this is that the repair guy also has his own mowing company. I have not been happy at all with the people that currently mow my lawn; they are mediocre, at best. This guy gave me a much better price and, because he will be the one doing the mowing, I think he'll be more accountable than the random guys that the current company hires.

And I know I could mow the lawn on my own, I've done it before, but I can't get the lawn mower started. Even Mr. T had trouble with it.

Oh, gotta go, just got a text that the irrigation guy is on his way here to make an even bigger hole in my lawn. 

Just so excited.

waiting for the weekend

I've been thinking a lot lately about people.

Like people that say "we're right there with you" but you never hear from them.

Like people that say "let's get together soon" but don't make actual plans and can't be pinned down to a date.

Like people that say they want to come visit and actually settle on a date but ghost as the date gets closer.

Like people that say they want to talk over the weekend but the weekend goes by and they never call.

Like the damned irrigation guy that said he'd be by in the next  few days to look at a sprinkler leak and it's been more than a few days and you've heard nothing from him.

I've never been one to ask for favors or for help. I learned a long time ago, when my parents were both sick, that people love to say they're there to help but rarely follow through. I've really got to remember that now because it's too disappointing otherwise.

I'm not judging, I'm sure I was terrible at follow through myself when people have needed help. We are all caught up in our own lives and really, that's ok. My problems shouldn't be anyone else's responsibility. So now I have to pull up my big girl panties and get over being afraid of doing things on my own and take care of myself.

This weekend I'm going to treat myself to something I've wanted to do for a long time and just get over the intimidation factor. It's different to go places by myself rather than part of a couple. There are logistics to think about to make sure you're safe and that your stuff is protected and not vulnerable to theft.

Even the question of whether or not to take Charlie is different when you're solo. With another person one of you can stand outside a shop or restaurant while the other goes in and buys something. You can't do that by yourself. If Charlie comes then I can't go shopping or eat any place that doesn't have outside ordering. There are all sorts of situations I've never had to think about before.

Nevertheless, I'm excited and can't wait for the weekend!

roller coaster week

So this has been quite the week - a bit of a roller coaster.

Monday was really bad, crying for hours. I'm not even sure what set me off. It certainly didn't help that the weather was gray and gloomy. I felt completely hopeless and defeated most of the day. I pulled myself together long enough to go to chorus rehearsal but I left early because I couldn't stand being around people any longer and I had more crying to do.

Tuesday I called in sick to work just so that I could sleep. All that crying had left me emotionally exhausted and it was so rainy. I actually didn't think I could face driving to work in the rain...so I didn't. I really needed that extra sleep and I'm sure Charlie didn't mind having to share the couch with me.

On Wednesday and Thursday I could see blue sky, the temperatures started coming up and so did my mood. I was back at work, I went out to lunch with a coworker and I started working on new projects.

During the week I've been exchanging silly Snapchat photos with a variety of friends and that really seems to help improve my mood. I started out just connecting with the daughter of a friend but since I've been sharing the pictures on Facebook and Instagram I've inspired grown up friends to try it too so now I have several people to send daily silly pictures to. It's fun and lord knows I need as much fun in my life as I can get. 

By Friday I felt strong enough to tackle a really big milestone - a solo trip to Epcot, which was Mr. T's favorite Disney park. I had worried that since we spent SO much time together at this park, it would be too sad for me to be there alone. However it appears that just the opposite is true - I have so many happy memories there that it's a place where I feel close to Mr. T. 

I ended up having a great morning walking around the World Showcase and I can't wait to tell you all about it in future posts. I'm going to spotlight one "country" per post and share all my happy memories. We used to go there all the time to get exercise (it's approximately a mile around the World Showcase and Mr. T would frequently drag me around 2 times) so there are a LOT of happy memories...and quite a few memories of sore feet!

Stay tuned

out of the cocoon

This is kind of a hard post to write, mostly because, although I'm sure of how I feel, I worry that I might be jumping to conclusions but deep down I really don't think so. I've noticed that since I became a widow, there's been some disturbing things going on in the world of men. 

Case in point - my neighbor, who is probably a very nice guy but he's very loud and I'm very quiet and I've never felt entirely comfortable with him, has paid more attention to me. He's gone out of his way to stop and talk when we're both outside and one evening he came over to the house to let me know he was on his own and that if I ever needed to talk I could come on over or we could go out for drinks or dinner or whatever. Then, and this was where it crossed the line for me, he said that since we were neighbors we should be friends and said "give me a kiss" and leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

Probably all very innocent but it bothered me...a lot. Since that time it makes me uncomfortable in my own neighborhood, a place that has always been my own personal haven.

And here's an even worse example - there's this guy that I've known for a couple of years but we've had very limited contact. We were both at a recent meeting and ended up sitting next to each other. Whenever he was talking directly to me, he would touch me on the leg or the arm. Now, since I don't know him very well maybe he's just a tactile guy and this is done to emphasize whatever he's saying but it wasn't just a tap on the leg or arm. He would run his hand up and down my thigh or upper arm. He did this at least 4 times on my leg and twice on my arm and we weren't talking all that much.

I might be making way too much out of this but it doesn't feel innocent to me, it feels like a violation. I saw this person again a couple of weeks later, in another meeting, and he found a way to touch me on the arm and shoulder a couple of times and we weren't even talking. Obviously I will go out of my way to avoid him from now on. Even if he doesn't mean anything by it, it feels wrong to me.

But that's not to say that all touch is bad - there's a guy in my office who has always been a friendly sort and comes to my office to talk. After Mr. T's death he has started hugging me every time we see each other. That's all, just a hug. It feels perfectly natural and normal to me and I appreciate his little gesture of comfort.  I know that he would feel uncomfortable talking about my situation but I think this is his way of letting me know he's there for me.

The hugs of friends are always welcome. It's something I miss in my everyday life, being hugged and touched on a daily basis. You don't realize how much you crave touch until it's taken away.

And something really special - I love it when the children of my friends greet me with a big spontaneous hug. It's the purest expression of love and friendship and it's very sweet and very much appreciated. I would never want a child to be prompted to hug me but it's lovely when they do it because they want to.

I know that there will be all sorts of experiences out there for me that wouldn't happen if I weren't widowed and I'm apprehensive about navigating all of that. I lived in a safe and happy cocoon for almost all of my adult life so I'm one scared little butterfly. I'm happy to have the love and support of my friends while I figure all of this out.

we'll always have Paris...or Nice

Mr. T grew up in Paris and I'm not gonna lie, hearing him speak French was quite sexy and certainly one of the big appeals when I first met him in college. 

Of course, like most American girls who are too stupid to learn a second language, my one line of French got his attention too. Think Lady Marmalade and an inappropriate thing to say to someone you barely know. I can still see the look on his face when I said it.

Because of certain issues, we didn't get to visit Paris until we'd been together for 16 years. During that time, I had developed a teeny, tiny, major obsession with Paris and the Eiffel Tower that has never really gone away.

My first trip to Paris came about because Mr. T had a business trip there in January and I just invited myself along. I found a good airfare for the same flight he was already booked on and figured it wouldn't cost any extra for hotel and I promised not to eat much. He was shocked when I first mentioned it, it took him some time to process it (Mr. Spontaneity he was not) and then he smiled and I knew I was going to Paris!

It was an awesome trip, cold (because it was January) and I actually have pictures somewhere. I will share more about that trip another time but right now I want to talk about a memory from our second trip.

We had an anniversary coming up that summer and Mr. T took it upon himself to plan a 2 week trip to celebrate. He did it all himself, picked the dates, our flights, our lodging, our locations, everything.

I'd love to say that I was totally appreciative but I can't lie - I didn't like not being in control of the plans. I probably wasn't as gracious about it as I could have been, possibly I was a little grumpy but eventually I realized this meant a lot to him and I sat back and enjoyed letting him have the fun of planning.

Our lodging in Paris was perfectly nice, kind of a little studio apartment in the Chatelet - Les Halles district, near a Pizza Hut (where we never ate) and a Moroccan restaurant (where we did.) We had a fantastic time in Paris for a few days and then we flew down to Nice to see the famous Riviera.

Our hotel in Nice was not so nice. It was supposed to be another studio apartment but it was just a big square room with one tiny little window. It was summer and it was hot and the hotel didn't have any air conditioning. The whole room had that dank inside of a non-working refrigerator feel and smell. I shudder to think about it even all these years later.

We went out for dinner and walked around until very late at night, somehow hoping the room would have cooled down by then but no, if anything it was worse. 

I'm a pretty easy going traveler and I take things in stride, always trying to make the best of every situation. Not this time. I was hot and sticky and uncomfortable and generally out of sorts. We couldn't even sleep because it was so awful in that room.

Mr. T didn't really say much, just kept looking through the phone book. At dawn he said he was going out for a walk. I was being such a grumpus, I don't even think I did more than grunt at him as he walked out the door. I'm amazed he even came back and didn't just leave me there in not so nice Nice.

But come back he did. He threw open the door and told me to gather up my suitcases because he had a taxi waiting.

He wouldn't tell me where we were going but he had that little mischievous grin that I loved so much so I knew he was up to something.

We pulled up at a big hotel on the Promenade des Anglais and walked right in, suitcases in hand, and got on the elevator. I kept looking at him, asking what's going on, and he would shush me and tell me all would be revealed in time. 

We stopped at a high floor and walked into a corner room with floor to ceiling windows with the most gorgeous view of the coastline and ocean. Best of all - the room was deliciously cool! OMG, I was so happy and just couldn't stop smiling.

Mr. T had walked all over Nice, stopping in at hotels to ask if they had air conditioning. When he found this one, he knew it was perfect and he booked a room right then and there for the rest of our stay. He was pretty proud of himself, rightfully so.

The hotel not only had blessed air conditioning and amazing views but it was also right across the street from Vieux Nice, the old part of the city. Being a big history buff, this was, of course, my favorite place to hang out throughout our trip and it had the best ice cream/gelato stores.I found a favorite flavor that I've never really found the equivalent of in the US and darn it, I can't remember the name. I know it had "de lait" in the name. It's similar to Dulce de Leche but way, way better. This is right when I would turn to Mr. T and ask him what it was and I know he would remember. Makes me tear up right now knowing that I can never ask him again.

But this is a time for happy memories. Mr. T really turned the trip around and I was happy, happy, happy for the rest of it. I will always remember it as the trip where I discovered how much I love cherries. We were walking down the street one night and some woman came out of a little store with a bag of cherries. She looked right at us and said "aren't you so happy when it's cherry season?" and thrust the bag in our direction and told us to take some. She was right, they were the most delicious cherries ever and I've been a big fan of cherry season ever since. I kind of go a little crazy over it and it all started in Nice. I think of her every year and remember that magical night. Our time in Nice hadn't started out so well but it became lovely and perfect all because Mr. T knew how to fix anything.

All too soon we had to head back to Paris for the final part of our trip. There are some funny stories from then but I'll save that for another time.

Au revoir y'all

what's the point?

So here's what's on my mind this morning and I'm not even going to pretty it up with a picture.

So I sit here, 4 months after this whole nightmare started, and I wonder - what’s the point of all of this? What’s the point of going on?

Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of harming myself but I seriously wonder what the point of all this is.

My whole life is going to change even though I’ve desperately tried not to think about it. I am never going to make enough money to pay my mortgage so I’m going to lose the only thing that Taz and I had together - our home. I’m either going to lose it because the bank takes it away or I’m going to lose it because I have to sell it.

I won’t be able to rent anything in Orlando because my credit is so screwed up by all the years of Mr. T's unemployment so I’m going to have to leave this area where I’ve built somewhat of a life for myself. I'm going to have to move in with some family member (not that any of them have said they want me) and become the unwanted relative.

Before that happens I’m going to lose the job that I love so much because it’s only part-time and I need full-time to buy me a little extra time in the house.

My only possibility for keeping the house is to get a roommate which I will do if I have to but I'm such a private person that I hate the thought of losing my privacy and having to learn to live with a stranger in the house. And what if they are horrible and I'm putting my property or my life in danger? I can't even contemplate doing that right now.

Wasn’t it enough that I lost my husband, why do I have to lose everything else too?

What’s the point of all this? Why am I still even here? How am I going to keep living for the next 30-40 years? Why should I?

Mr. T's one big fear, the thing that kept him up at night, was that I would have to struggle financially once he was gone. He was trying so hard to find the “big thing” that would at least allow him to get enough money to pay off the house and even leave me with a little nest egg so that I wouldn’t have to worry about having a roof over my head. He was so afraid that something would happen to him before he could get this done.

His worst fear came true.

Why?

This sucks.

wedding

Last night I went to a wedding.

I had been looking forward to this wedding for over a year. It was the wedding of Mr. T's favorite coworker and the daughter of the founder of the company, who was Mr. T's business partner.

Mr. T was looking forward to this wedding too. He was planning on taking his camera and taking lots of pictures, hoping that he could capture just the right one to give to the couple as a wedding present. It was the main reason we got his cameras out of storage in California when we went for a visit last September.

So it became very important for me to be there, to represent Mr. T and show our combined support for the couple.

But it was  hard for me to go. I wasn't going to know anybody else at the wedding and that's hard for a shy, introverted person. Plus the location was 90 miles away so it was a long drive to a place I've never been before. I thought about not going quite a few times.

I did everything I could to provide support for myself. I bought a new dress and shoes, I got a pedicure and I had a hair appointment to get my hair blown out straight. I probably spent more money than I should have on all that but it did make me feel stronger.

After a 2 hour drive through lots of traffic, I finally arrived at the location. It was a big, beautiful house right on the water. Pretty much a gorgeous mansion. At first I thought it was a place they had rented but I eventually realized it was the groom's family home - who knew?

 The ceremony was set in the back yard, right on the water with big boats docked right in front of us. Stunning!

 It wasn't easy to walk into the ceremony setting, not knowing anyone. I kind of hoped maybe a couple of Mr. T's other coworkers might be there. Even if I'd only met them once it would be a little easier but there was nobody. I quickly found a seat, sat quietly and waited for everything to begin.

The ceremony was beautiful. The bride and groom wrote their own vows which were touching and tender and quite funny. It perfectly captured their personalities. I got quite choked up and couldn't help thinking that Mr. T should have been there. I'll never understand why he wasn't allowed to be there.

After the ceremony was over I got a chance to hug the bride and groom. They both seemed pleased that I was there. I told the bride that I had watched a LOT of Say Yes To The Dress over the past few months (a reality show that probably saved my life in December because it was the only thing I could concentrate on and it filled up the empty hours) and her dress was still the prettiest one I'd seen. I meant it too, it was a beautiful dress and looked perfect on her.

I had been getting pretty hungry during the ceremony so I had high hopes for food when I walked out into the cocktail hour but there was no food. Yikes! Then I looked around and realized I didn't know anybody there. What was I going to do? How could I stand around by myself and not even have food to eat.

So I did the only thing I could do, I walked to the driveway and had the valet get my car so that I could make a getaway. I had done what I'd come to do. I had watched these two special people get married, I had honored Mr. T's spirit and I had hugged them. Time for this princess to leave the ball.

I held myself together while I got out of town and over the long bridge and then, once I was on the familiar highway, I started to cry. I had really enjoyed the wedding, I'm so happy that I went but I was feeling so lonely and all alone and missing Mr. T.

I cried about half of the 90 miles and then I really had to stop and pay attention to my driving since it was now dark and raining.

And then the hunger really took over so I got off at an exit about 16 miles from home so that I could get some french fries at the McDonald's drive-thru. There are times when only comfort food will do.

I managed not to inhale the entire pouch of french fries while still on the road. I drove into my driveway and saw a cute little face looking out the front window. I wonder how long Charlie had been standing there, waiting for me to get home. It's always nice to come home to her sweet little face so she was rewarded with the last of my french fries.

Like I said, I'm so glad I went to the wedding and I did have a good time but I was really happy to be back home.

I wish the bride and the groom all the happiness in the world and I know Mr. T, wherever he is, does too.

kungaloosh!

Living near Disney, there are lots of opportunities to attend dress-up events that take place each year - Dapper Day, Magical Tiki Meetup, the Not So Scary Halloween Party. Each event has clothing suggestions, either a costume or vintage or just variations on a theme. 

Adventureland Day is one of those events. It's an unofficial event that asks people to dress as explorers from the early 20th century so that they can go on rides together, take group photos and participate in a scavenger hunt.

Mr. T and I wanted to participate in Adventureland Day last year (he had a ton of explorer, Indiana Jones type clothes) but something prevented us, I probably had to be down with my mother or something.

So this year, when the announcement came out, I knew I really wanted to attend but I didn't want to go by myself, I just wasn't ready for that. I put out a request on Facebook asking if anybody wanted to go with me...and was willing to dress up. Right away I had a friend that was thrilled to go. She is part of a group I call my ohana which is Hawaiian for family. It's 2 friends, their husbands and 4 kids. They love to dress up too and were excited about the challenge of putting together explorer outfits.

I put together an outfit centered around a photographer's vest that belonged to Mr. T. And I was thrilled to wear a hat that we had purchased in Carmel on our vacation there last September. I wasn't going to get it, didn't want to spend the money but Mr. T insisted because he knew I really did love it. I knew it was the perfect hat for the explorer look that I love and I had planned on wearing it when we went to Animal Kingdom for my birthday in November but that never happened so it made me happy to wear it now. Between the hat and the vest I felt like a little bit of Mr. T was there with me.

My ohana stepped up and came up with great outfits. We were all quite stylish. You may be wondering where Taz's vest is - it had become too hot for it by the time we took the group picture. Florida is HOT y'all.

We all rode Jungle Cruise together which is a river ride with fake animals and silly jokes. I love it.

The whole ride is themed around a fictional travel exploration company from the 1920s and I just love the atmosphere of the waiting area. So many photo opportunities.

After the ride we participated in the scavenger hunt which sent us all over Adventureland looking for clues to find a missing idol. I wish I had pictures of that part but we were too busy hunting for clues. The kids loved that part of the day, some of the adults not so much. It was a typically hot day in Florida and all that walking in the sun made things a little sweaty.

It was a special day. I really appreciated my ohana being there for me. We had a lot of fun, lots of laughs and made some special memories. It was nice to be doing something purely fun and for a little while I didn't feel so all alone. I hope we can all do it again next year!

 

time for a little silliness

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a complete change of pace away from sad.

Here's something absolutely silly - I have joined the Snapchat generation.

I seem to have acquired quite a few friends between the ages of 9-11, daughters of my friends. I'm very popular with the tween set, maybe it's my mental age?

Recently a couple of them requested that I join Snapchat so that they can send me silly pictures. Hey, I'm all about silly pictures!

Of course I feel a bit like a dinosaur as I try to figure out how to use the blasted thing but I did manage to send out this picture yesterday evening. I like Snapchat, it gives me a glamour makeover!

Expect more silliness in the weeks ahead.

change pt. 2

I visited my local grocery store yesterday. This is what it looked like. They say it's closing on March 25 but it's going to run out of stuff long before that. It's 90% empty right now.

I wandered around the empty aisles and just felt like crying. There was such an overwhelming sadness at yet another ending of something I had enjoyed so much. It's silly, I know, but that's how I felt.

When we first bought the house there was a park nearby called Splendid China so this store was decorated to reflect that. The panda and kids used to dance to music every hour. They haven't done that in a while but I still loved to see them there. I will miss them.

I was still feeling sad about the change later at home until I saw a posting on a neighborhood group that said the rumor is that a Neighborhood Walmart Grocery is going into this space. That's basically a regular grocery store with cheap Walmart prices.

Suddenly I perked up - I'd still have all the convenience of my little store but with prices I could actually afford. This would be even better - I could do ALL my grocery shopping there and never have to go to the bigger, more crowded stores that are further away.

I was still sad to see my store go but I knew that this change would eventually be even better for me.

Then I started thinking - isn't this a lot like life? We hate change and fight against it but sometimes things have to change to make way for new, sometimes better, stuff in our life. What a thought and one I'm not entirely comfortable with. I certainly don't want to delve too deeply into the analogy.

Look, I would have loved my little store with all its flaws forever. If I had my way, they would never have closed. But nobody asked for my opinion (which is probably why the world is in such a mess) so if the change has to happen, I really hope the rumors are true and that a better, more affordable but just as convenient store takes its place. 

But if the rumors aren't true and there isn't something better out there then F*** change!

hard

And here's where I'm going to confuse everyone and basically contradict what I wrote last time.

Because this is HARD.

It's f-ing hard.

And what nobody knows is that every time I get home from being out doing something fun, I cry.

Not because I didn't have a good time, because I did. 

Not because I wasn't happy doing whatever I was doing, because I was.

Not because I'm not strong, because apparently I am.

But because every happy thing I do just reminds me that I didn't get to share it with the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

Every outing with friends ends with me going home to an empty house (except for Charlie) and them going home with their spouse and children. 

So I'm learning that happiness and strength come at a price.

And I'll keep going and I'll keep trying new things and I'll keep smiling and laughing but don't be fooled into thinking I've got this all figured out. 

I'm pretty sure I haven't.

grief

I've had a lot of people try to explain grief to me lately.

I post a lot on Facebook about my little daily doings and I've especially been posting when I'm extra sad or things just don't make sense anymore. I always get comments about how this is just part of grief, how it's different for everyone, how I'm doing great, etc. It's sweet that people want to be supportive but sometimes I feel like I'm being schooled on "how to do grief." And it usually comes from people who have way less experience with grief than I do.

As if they know exactly how I'm feeling because they lost their grandmother, second cousin, neighbor down the street.

I'm no stranger to the grief business. I've lost a parent, both my in-laws, my beloved sister and numerous pets who were my babies.

And don't even try to tell me that losing a pet isn't real grief. You try losing your almost 16 year old fur son who has been there for you every day. It was, up till now, the darkest period of my life.

So I've got experience in grief, I know the stages, I know that it can be quiet for a while and then hit you like a tidal wave. And I especially know that the grief of losing a spouse is unlike any grief I've experienced before. Not only have I lost my best friend but I've lost 90% of the household income so my whole life has exploded into something I don't recognize and my future is terrifying and murky.

But one piece of advice recently shook me up a little. Someone said that one day I would be able to laugh again and would feel the sunshine on my face.

I must be doing this grief thing all wrong because I'm already laughing and I can and do appreciate all the sunshine I can get.

I think my brother in law (who lost his wife - my sister - just 3 months before Mr. T died) said it best when he said that it's not really a matter of good days and bad days. Each day has good and bad in it.

Maybe I'm just built different but I refuse to sit in the house with the lights off, no makeup, still in my pjs and stop living. I can't imagine a life without laughter so it's been a daily part of my life through this whole experience. Heck, I talk to Mr. T on a daily basis and share the laughs with him.

I'm pretty sure I go through all five stages of grief every single day but that doesn't mean that I don't also sing and dance and laugh and enjoy living on God's time.

For whatever reason, my path in life is now on my own and that sucks but I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all Mr. T ever wanted in life was for me to be happy. He told me that over and over again. How could I possibly do my best to honor him but seek happiness?

So bring on the laughter and I'll take all the sunshine on my face that I can get right now. I'm doing this for both of us now and I intend to do it right.

it's a sign

So today was the day to drive 40 miles to visit my mother. I got there and she was asleep, of course. She was dressed but she didn’t wake up for almost 30 minutes and when she did, it was clear she wasn’t feeling up to going anywhere. We talked for about 45 minutes and then she sent me home saying she wanted to go back to bed.

You don’t have to ask me twice!

I thought about just heading home but there was nothing to rush home for. It’s not like Mr. T was there and we could do something fun with our unexpected time. And Charlie wasn’t expecting me so I decided to get some lunch. At first I thought I would go to the diner but then I suddenly remembered the Vietnamese restaurant at the shopping center. We had always been intrigued by it - how weird to have a Vietnamese restaurant in that town! - but it was just down the block from BDs Mongolian BBQ and Mr. T LOVED that place. He had a whole routine of piling up the beef as high as possible. When they grilled it they usually had to use 2 plates. He was disappointed once when they got it all on 1. The best part was that he could eat whatever he wanted and take 2 boxes home which usually gave him lunch for a whole week. He just loved that place - the taste and the value.

 Because he loved it so much, we never even thought of going anywhere else when we were in town so we never tried Saigon Bistro. So today was my day to check it out.

  Mr. T and I went to quite a few Vietnamese restaurants over the years and, of course, he cooked all the time so I know what he liked and thought was authentic and I have my favorites as well. I was thrilled to see my very favorite Banh Xeo on the menu. It’s also known as Vietnamese Crepe (or Pancake) and it’s filled with pork, shrimp, onions and bean sprouts. I first had it in Virginia and Mr. T's brother made it for me at his restaurant near Paris. The places we went in California, Noodle Bar and Lucky Noodle House, didn’t have it so Mr. T would make it for me. It’s a tricky recipe and he did it well but it took a lot of effort and some of the results were better than others. So we were both thrilled when we found it on the menu at the restaurant in Orlando. It was so good there that we both decided he didn’t need to keep making it if I could get my “fix” there. The restaurant near my office has it as well but, for some reason, they don’t put pork in it and it’s much better with the pork.

 They do a fabulous job on it at Saigon Bistro. It’s almost as good as Pho 88 and definitely an easier place to drive to so I’d pick this one anytime. I loved every bite, it made me so happy to eat there.

 I was so sad when it was over.

I also tried the Chia Gio. Now Mr. T made a MUCH tastier and more authentic version which was the highlight of any family gathering. A couple of times he made them the night before we drove to Alabama just so that my sister could enjoy them. So there’s really no comparison but I’ve learned to judge restaurant versions based on their own merits. This one had the wrong wrapper (wonton rather than rice paper) but all restaurant versions are that way now. This filling was the closest to Mr. Ts that I’ve ever tasted so I really loved them. I would totally order them again. I don’t think Mr. T would have liked them because he couldn’t get past not using rice paper but I have different standards.

I’m so glad I went. I felt close to Mr. T and I had missed those flavors. Oh, the nuoc mam! I have always dissed restaurant nuoc mam because it never tasted as good as Mr. T’s. His had so much flavor and pow and garlic. This nuoc mam was pretty darn close, a lot of flavor, not watered down or too sweet. Definitely a home run.

What’s interesting is that last night I was crying and I asked Mr. T to send me a sign that he was ok. Today the idea of this restaurant just popped into my head out of the blue. I don’t usually get to leave my mother so early nor do I stick around down there, I’m usually out of there like a bat out of hell. Today I had plenty of time, it wasn’t too hot to walk around the shopping center and I thought of a restaurant that hadn’t crossed my mind in years. And it was delicious and it made me happy. If that isn’t a sign I don’t know what one is.