My son graduated from middle school last week. He did a phenomenal job, ended with a stellar report card, and looked handsome as he walked across the stage to get his diploma. I’m sure he will forget a lot about the day, except for one thing.
He was sporting a Mohawk. He has wanted one for as long as I can remember. Every time we went to get his hair cut, he would request that he get one. I could never bring myself to let him do it. He has such gorgeous hair, I could never allow him to ruin it.
I am pleased, and rather surprised to report, that it looks fabulous. He looks really good, is really happy, and that is all that really matters. He not only graduated from middle school, but he transitioned from a young boy, to a young man, and it all happened, with something as simple as a hair cut.
I hope he realizes it starts and finishes with the Mohawk. If he comes to me now, wanting a piercing or a tattoo, we are going to have a problem. Hair grows back quickly, so even if it were horrible, no harm, no foul. Piercings and tattoos however, will need to wait. Forever!
Yesterday was Father’s Day. It’s always a little sad for me, since losing my dad. He was a wonderful man, and I love him very much. It took me a couple of years before I stopped calling him on his cell phone, every time I needed to talk to him. My son reminds me a lot of him, and that is a blessing.
My son spent the day with his dad. He was going to sleep at his dad’s, but called to say he wanted to come home after their dinner. I was thrilled to have him here. I always sleep just a little better when he is here at my house. He came home around 9:30, and I made us a cup of tea.
When he came in, he insisted I sit on the couch. I panicked thinking there was bad news coming, but no. He wanted to tell me he loves me, and while he has a dad who he loves very much, I am like a mother and a father to him, and he wanted to wish me a Happy Father’s Day.
He presented me with gifts. Some Tupperware, my favorite thing, measuring cups, we love to cook, spice jars, he likes to doctor recipes, and a pair of earrings, which is the only jewelry I wear. I was blown away. He is a lovely boy, and I am blessed to be his mother. That he included me for Father’s Day, means I’m doing my job right.
Our cat, Fiddles, has been vomiting. She eats, and then throws up. It’s almost instant. Within a minute of her finishing her food, it comes right back up. I’ve begun giving her smaller amounts of food throughout the day, and that seems to be helping, but I was concerned.
I took her to the vet to rule out anything serious. After an hour and a half, and $230.00, the vet told me my cat was bulimic, and suffering from some emotional issues. He suggested she see a cat behaviorist, to determine what is causing her to force herself to vomit after eating. Really?
Is it because I live in Los Angeles that this man thinks his diagnosis will be embraced? He did not suggest I change her food, or the amount she is eating, or get another cat to keep her company. Instead, he wants me to think she is so upset with her life, she is making herself vomit.
Her life is hard. She sleeps in a beautiful bed, has her own playhouse, food everyday, a ton of toys, and two people who love her, pay attention to her, cuddle and snuggle her, and make it clear that she is loved and a part of the family. Clearly, she is in distress. Quack, quack, quack.
I am not a vet. I am however someone who loves my cat. I happily spent the $230.00 to rule out anything serious, and make sure she was not in pain. For him to tell me it’s emotional, is in my opinion, a pile of crap. I am now dealing with piles of puke, and piles of crap. Fabulous.
I had an interesting date this weekend. A nice man, in his early 50’s, with two grown kids, and a lovely personality. We didn’t have much in common, but had a nice evening. While we discovered that we both found each other interesting, there was no real connection.
It was one of those dates where I walked away having had a nice time, and appreciative that I met a nice man. Compared to some of the other dates I’ve had recently, this one was near perfect. I hope he meets someone great, and if I think of anyone who will be a match for him, I will make an introduction.
An online dating service contacted me last week with a challenge. They want me to date exclusively through their site, for six months. Through my blog, they know I date, am looking for a relationship, and write about my search for love. They think I can meet my match within six months, if I use their service, exclusively.
It’s an interesting experiment, and one that I’m considering. The thing is, as my regular readers know, I date Jewish men. I hope to marry again, and would like it to be with a Jew. Some people get it, but most people don’t. At this stage in my life, faith has become more important, not less.
Is this the push I need to think outside the box, and not limit my choices in terms of love? Is it an opportunity to kiss and make up with JDate and see if they want to do the experiment? Should I just stay on my own, knowing that I will meet the right man when it’s the right time?
The question is, am I not comfortable enough with my own faith, that the faith of another should not matter? There are Jews on all the major online dating sites, and there are also different levels of Jews. Just because you were born a Jew, does not mean you are a practicing Jew.
Maybe it’s time to remove my own limitations, and open my heart to love, without throwing in obstacles which ultimately do not matter that much. I want a man to love me, love my kid, make me laugh, and share my life. It matters most that he be kind, and have faith. What his faith is, should not be a deal breaker.
My week had a graduation, an invaluable gift of love from my son, a classic Californian visit to the vet, and a new opportunity for love. At the end of the day, life is short, and I am fabulous, so I need to live my life out loud, and embrace new opportunities. I am going to let go, so I can hold on and enjoy the ride. Anything is possible, as long as I remember to keep the faith.
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