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Ironically, however, by doing so I also returned my east coast roots. And OMG (no pun intended) was that first confession a doozy!! That particular Sunday the subject of the homily was perseverance, specifically “you don’t bury your God-given talents in the face of failure.” It was a coincidence to say the least. Just the week prior I had written a piece here entitled “ . Not only on a personal level, having been dumped by a man I really cared about, but on a professional level as well. A humor blog about sex and aging and starting over? But who would have thought they would resonate so with other women? A lot of that could be pervs simply searching for porn with the word “sucks” in the title.) Neither can I truly know how impactful my off-the-wall musings and attempted humor posts are. Her outlook on life—and post relationship dating—was more than admirable. So along with my NJ/PA/NY roots, I returned to my religious ones—ie the Catholic Church. (Thou shalt not kill.) I think he doled out 20 Hail Marys, 5 or 6 Our Fathers and an Act of Contrition. Nowadays #2 (taking the Lord’s name in vain) is the one I struggle with. and start all over again.” Its subject was failure, because at that point I’d had a lot of it. (Though the numbers today say 5355 views by 3162 visitors in 90 countries, let’s be realistic. Waiting in the hotel crew lounge for our room keys in Paris (yeah . I loved her But more, I loved her brand of brass—that clash of class and sass that bespeaks confidence. I can write (and no doubt have) 100,000 words on the topic of starting over, wanting more, refusing to settle for less and learning overall andto love the self that stares back at me in the mirror. In the meantime I finally achieved a goal I had set four years ago. For a week now since (and after seeing a posted motivational video about goal setting for the new year) I’ve thought about my PP&C (passion, purpose & calling.) Writing has always been a love/hate endeavor . Six hours before 2017 ended, I finished reformatting the last of my three historical romances. I reedited each, correcting content and character motivation errors, writing mistakes and awkward phrasing. (BTW, a girlfriend told me it was my worst post ever—depressing and sad. “Church” and “vibrators” practically in the same sentence?!? The shots he missed in the game he practiced the next day over and over and over again. I decided to correct the mistakes I believed I’d made in marketing. But hey, sometimes the events in life just doesn’t lend themselves to a light and witty post. The ultimate lesson to be learned of course was faith—faith in God—who doesn’t make mistakes. I changed the title and cover and book description. Certainly what I write nowadays is therapy for me, a way to vent and address my thoughts and issues . Though he’s now water under my bridge, he set the bar pretty damn high.

Add to it my insistence upon fireworks (read “It’s in His Kiss”) and my proclivity toward young, dark-haired, exotic (albeit dude was a definite against “type” although still 9 years younger) and what we have, ladies, is a pessimistic attitude that has surely created a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In Alabama it is still illegal to sell them to anyone without a doctor’s note. BTW, the same article reports that 53% of US women aged 18-60 have used a vibrator. In the meantime, in a step on the road to open discourse about sex after 60, including toys and lubes, here’s a couple recommendations. Box 6350 Scottsdale AZ 85261 if “back massagers” aren’t your thing, Riteaid has a little fit-on-the-finger number they call a “personal massager.” And contrary to the ads, a claw-footed bathtub is not required. I didn’t have the time to produce a book every 8-10 months which is what was required “to make it.” Nor did I have a supportive spouse.

(Note and FYI: Not only were they men—having all served in the Greek army prior to beginning their college studies, they were all uncircumcised. Am I the only one who knows what they are meant to massage? So, too, the “device” itself—until it reemerged in the 1960s due to the sexual revolution. Until recently many southern and Great Plains states were able to ban the sale of vibrators completely as “obscene devices” by enforcing public moral codes that restricted private intimate conduct. It should be a natural progression we continue to carry the torch and more openly address subjects previously taboo “in polite company.” So here goes . Today it’s the notion that if a man and woman over 50 do “it,” it’s by sitting in respective claw-footed bathtubs and holding hands over the rim? Unfortunately, I can’t now find that woman’s email. I will absolutely run her article and supply her link. I was told I was very good and had all the potential and talent needed “to make it.” The problem was success required prolificacy, and I had three boys who required their mom.

To say it was a romantic fantasy and an erotic escape would be an understatement. Where do I go in 2018 (metaphorically speaking/writingwise, ‘cause we all know I went literally to Paris—see “Now Taking Applications”).

Because it is my guilty-pleasure favorite , I gave it a new cover. If only a cover would sell a book, this one would put me on the New York Times List for sure! I toy (no pun intended) with the idea of writing romance again. Nor do I think my life has enough content or humor for a second humor memoir. And the concomitant question: What the hell am I doing? I am no expert on life, nor do I possess any credentials to address its issues. Again, because God has a sense of humor (and impeccable timing), I think my answer came on the day of 2017 in the form of an email from a follower of “singleat60.” She opened up to me, a stranger, relaying her last few years of adversity and struggle with major health issues.

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