I was exhausted. I went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared ahead and it looked like the walls were breathing. I fell back, but was too tired to sleep. This was a horrible day.
The funny thing is, looking back at that weekend now, this would be the good day.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Actually, it was a beautiful sunny Monday afternoon when my brother, my sister, and myself dug a grave.
My ex-wife, Arlene, and I have a very good relationship. Always wondered if we stayed together, would we have made it through the tough times and ended up in a good place.
Let me hand out this spoiler alert…
...the night before my wedding day, I thought, ‘How bad can this be?’
How bad indeed.
I am amazed that siblings growing up in the same house could be so different from one another. My daughter, Amanda, my sons, Alexander and Danny, may share a common genetic code, but that’s about it. You can tell they are related but I knew watching them grow up, they weren’t the same.
After a reader, Matt, read my blog post about psychics, he asked if I would record something for his You Tube Channel ‘Echoes of Clarity’.
My youngest son is a really good cook.
He must get that from his mother because the last thing I want (nor can) do is cook.
I am not a dancer.
I do not Tango, Swing, Modern, Folk, Tap, Samba, Rumba, Jazz, nor Ballet dance.
I have been known to pirouette once in a while, but never on purpose.
I'm not sure why women would give me their numbers, even unsolicited on my part. When they do, and I reach out, why do they not return my calls?
In the early part of my online dating experience, when I was not quite a novice, but yet to achieve a Master's Degree in the art of finding love on the Internet, I met ChampagneLady58.
Initially, Amanda’s due date was July 7th (7/7) which ironically is her mom’s favorite number (7). Every day after the due date is filled with anticipation because we could be off to the hospital at any moment.
We used to live in simpler times when you could waltz into a diner, drop a quarter on the counter, and say...
“Coffee, please.”
I avoid going to my doctor, or any doctor for that matter, because how dare they try to keep me alive.
