In The News...

After 17 years of marriage, yet again, I am reminded how incredibly happy I am.... not to be single. There is no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't found my Beloved Husband in an airport in Italy, I would be forever single.... Not that there is anything wrong with being single, it's just that, in this day and age, I would never be able to "do" the whole dating scene again.

Case in point-- The gorgeous Cher. She's a huge music icon, an Academy Award winning movie star, has been in the entertainment business for four decades, and at age 64 still has one rocking body....

And she turned to the Internet to find her current boyfriend! Yes, the Internet! That's what she told Parade magazine in this past weekend's cover story.

She met her current beau online and chatted back and forth on Facebook before they met in person a month later at her sprawling Malibu mansion. They've been together for a year. (And for the record, he's a grown up... At age 52, her oldest boyfriend ever.)

Can you imagine getting a blind date Facebook "Friend Request" from Cher?

If I was single today, it would not be pretty. I can't figure out Facebook and with Cher in the dating pool I'd be toast.

*******

Speaking of hot and gorgeous....

While I was reading the Cher story in Parade magazine at my favorite West LA deli, none other than the gorgeous Diane Lane and Josh Brolin walked in with their family and sat in the booth next to us.

In a word-- Breathtaking. I tried not to swoon or stare.

*******

And last but not least-- A big congratulations to Four Is A Neff for winning my $100 CSNStores.com Gift Certificate Giveaway. She's an awesome mom, a gifted writer, and has been a good friend and loyal reader of my blog for ages! Stop by and say hello-- She's posting a heart-felt series on "Thankfulness" that I think you'll enjoy. Tell her Joanna sent you.

What's new with you?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

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LAST CHANCE - ENTER $80 CSN GIVEAWAY BY MIDNIGHT, AUGUST 4th - SEE DETAILS BELOW.

With apologizes to all my golf-loving readers....

It was 1979-- A peanut farmer was President, Rod Stewart was belting out "Do You Think I'm Sexy", "Three's Company" was on everyone's televisions, and all I wanted for my 21st birthday was a microwave oven.

Back then, I rarely cooked and the idea of "nuking" dinner was very appealing. All my friends had one and I wanted one too-- Everybody knew it, including my then live-in boyfriend. It's all I'd talked about for months.

The morning before my 21st birthday, I hinted heavily, one last time, and even went so far as to accidentally on purpose drop an advertisement of the model I was hoping for in his briefcase. I felt confident, the next day, frozen heat-up dinners would be gracing my dining table. I was so excited!

Boyfriend got me a set of golf clubs.

@#$%&!

Did I mention I hate golf? Well let me assure you, Boyfriend knew-- Without a shadow of a doubt, that golf was at the absolute bottom of my "to-do" list.

Boyfriend had been around for a couple of years at that point and we'd spent a few (six or seven hundred) afternoons together, while he played and I fanned myself through 18 miserable holes of golf, in the gawd awful Ohio heat and humidity, only to be treated to a beer and a hot dog after the torture. Did I mention I do not drink beer?

Boyfriend was addicted to the game. Me, not even a little. I played a few times but knew instantly it was not for me. But I didn't complain if he played. In fact, I was more than happy to leave him to his game all day long, as often as he wanted to play-- Which should tell you a bit about the quality of our relationship.

Let's just say, the more Boyfriend played golf without me, the happier I was...

But he was having none of that. He wanted me with him for days filled with his cursing, throwing clubs, kicking balls, and nasty sportsmanship that pretty much made 5 hours of golf-togetherness a real picnic.

Boyfriend, despite hours and hours of practice, was a terrible and very frustrated golfer.

The morning of my birthday, and with great fanfare, Boyfriend presented me with a full set of baby blue golf clubs-- Yes, baby friggin blue ones that were actually a couple of inches too long for my short height. I'm pretty sure they fell off a truck somewhere in New Jersey and no receipt was presented to exchange them for the correct size... or a microwave oven.

The baby blue clubs looked like kiddie toys, except I wanted used them as a lethal weapon on Boyfriend who kept telling me how much fun I'd have playing with him. Oh, and the matching baby blue golf shoes that came with the set-- Two sizes to big and also not returnable.

I was not a happy camper sitting there with my new golf clubs-- Stunned, very angry, and with so much steam coming out of my ears, I'm sure my Farrah Fawcett hair do was withering to straight strands of an over sprayed mess.

Golf clubs? Surely this was a joke. So I excused myself and headed towards the kitchen thinking, hoping, praying-- a bright shiny new microwave would be waiting for me with a big beautiful bow on it.

Nothing.

But the birthday gifts continued.

Golf lessons! Boyfriend signed me up for 24, one hour golf lessons and the first one was that very afternoon... Because apparently that's what every 21 year old woman wants to do on her birthday.

Back then, I had a hard time speaking up and expressing myself, so instead of beating him to death with the golf clubs, I smiled, bit my tongue, and agreed to try a few classes.

Over the next month, I literally hit 5,000 golf balls, each time cursing Boyfriend and plotting my escape from our living arrangement. And for the record, I really did try to learn how to swing those ridiculous looking clubs.

I took a few more classes then I'd intended because the golf pro was very sweet and because, after class, I could fain exhaustion and not have to play a round of golf with Boyfriend.

After about a month of frustrating classes, the golf pro sat me down and delivered the bad news. Very gently he explained, trying not to hurt my feelings, that "golf was not my game." Hallelujah! I nearly kissed him on the lips and knew I would never take another blue golf club out of that @#$%^&! baby blue golf bag again.

Golf Pro, bless his heart, also advised Boyfriend that golf was simply not my sport.

Shortly thereafter, a brand new microwave oven was my first purchase for my new apartment-- Which was far, far away from the baby blue golf clubs and Ex-boyfriend.

Seriously. Baby blue golf clubs?

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

$80 CSNStores.com GIFT CERTIFICATE GIVEAWAY ENDS AUGUST 4th. All you have to do is leave a comment here on THIS POST to enter. And for more chances to enter click, HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE for complete details. Comment on each of these posts for more chances to win! Come on-- It's $80! Don't be shy.

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She What?

Have you ever done something that, in hindsight, was not your best choice? I'm not talking about a "Wow, I could have had a V-8" moment, I'm talking about a "For the love of god what was I thinking?" moment.

I can only imagine what Megan Barnes from Florida was thinking when she recently (allegedly) crashed into the back of a pick up truck because she was driving while shaving-- her coochie!

Swear on Scouts honor. True story!

Ms Barnes, who at the time was driving on a suspended license had, just the day before, been convicted of driving under the influence. With her ex-husband beside her, which in and of itself raises a red flag on her judgement, she was behind the wheel with her foot on the accelerator while her Ex was steering the car.

Why you ask? Ms Barnes was busy giving her "bikini area", as the cops called it, a little freshening up, you know, a trim of the bush so to speak.

Picture that for a moment if you would....

Sitting in the driver's seat...

Cruising down the road...

With her Ex-husband...

And a sharp object close to your va-jay jay!

Yep, I'm guessing Ms Barnes, or at very least her Ex-husband will be wondering "What was I thinking?" for a very long time.

But wait, there's more.

After the crash, the crazy couple allegedly drove further down the road and changed seats (and possibly put her panties back on?). When the police arrived, the Ex was behind the wheel with a deflated airbag and not a scratch. But Ms Barnes, covered in airbag opening evidence on her face and arms, was in the passenger seat, whose airbag did not open.

Uh-oh, busted!

Why would anyone make such bad choices? Ms Barnes told police she was preparing for a date with her boyfriend. No mention was made of the Ex-husband's lame excuse.

I've made some poor choices in my lifetime and I'll probably make a few more, but there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will never make a choice that bad.

How about you?

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna Jenkin

Photo Credit - Bikini - © NatUlrich - Fotolia.com

Photo Credit - Clown - © Georg Preissl - Fotolia.com

Dream Location

In our quest, for lack of a better term, to stabilize our pool and deck, which are slowly sliding down the backyard hill, I've learned a thing or two about geologists, engineers, contractors and our local Department of Building and Safety.

Who knew inside the walls where building permits are "copied, pulled and processed" was a single woman's dream location to meet eligible bachelors in every shape, size and age range? Seriously! The place is crawling with prospective love connections! Granted, I'm not single or looking for a man, but I've discovered the proverbial jackpot for all my single gal pals.

The ratio of males to females in the waiting line at Building and Safety is easily 25 guys to one girl. You're not going to find that in a singles bar! And the guys are VERY helpful with no corny, or sleezy come-on lines either.

With few exceptions it seems, contractors, engineers and architects are largely a male dominated business which means the few woman in this office really stand out. And, since the primary reason this group of professionals are in the office is because they are employed, it's all the better!

If you are not in the construction biz, you stand out even more, because, like me, you enter the office with a bewildered, befuddle, what-the-heck-am-I-doing-here kind of look on your face. It's a confusing joint with lots of windows, instructions and often staff who just point to random signs for instruction rather than actually speaking words when spoken to.

On my first visit, I scanned the numerous signs to figure out which line to stand in for a numbered ticket, so I could stand in another line to be assigned a line, then I waited for my number to be called so I could stand in yet another line. You get the idea. If you don't know the drill you're walking in circles and wasting a lot of time. But, if you're a single woman, that could be a good thing because all the experienced contractors, engineers and architects are very helpful and point out where to go and what to do next.

One day I had to complete several forms to obtain copies of past permits. I was joined at a long counter by obviously experience form completers who, upon seeing my lost expression, spoke right up and asked how they could help. I gratefully accepted.

After my forms were finalized and I stood in the proper line for processing, I was finally told to "sit in the chairs along the wall". Woo-hoo! Words were actually spoken and they offered me a place to sit! But before I did, I quickly scanned the 30 plus guys who were also seated and selected a seat near a contractor who had been helpful earlier, and who just happened NOT to be wearing a wedding ring.

On this particular day, that idiot Governor Sanford from South Carolina, had recently been busted for having an affair with a woman in South America, and was all over the front page of the Los Angeles Times. At one point, Mr. Helpful actually laughed out loud as he read the front page story so I used the opportunity to strike up a conversation-- on the behalf of my friend Liz, who was single and dateless.

Mr. Helpful seemed like a nice enough guy and was chatty and pleasant. I found out he's a contractor, divorced, unattached, 48, and had a great sense of humor. He asked about my construction issues and was sympathetic to the seriousness of our problem although it was not his area of expertise. By the time our numbers were called, twenty minutes later, I had his email address and my promise that Liz would be in touch.

Although I swore off matchmaking a long time ago, he just seemed like a nice guy and Liz had just told me to be on the lookout, so I stepped outside my comfort zone and hooked a friend up. I'm happy to report, so far so good. They meet for coffee and are having their third date this coming weekend!

When my other single gal pals heard about the potential dating pool at the Department of Building and Safety they enthusiastically volunteered to "keep me company" anytime I have to return-- to stand in line-- and check out the single guys. Who'd have thought Building and Safety had the potential to replace bar hopping for the singles crowd!

As for our sinking pool and sliding deck. Sadly, they're both still on the move while we await soil tests and geologist reports that are still "being processed". We've gone from having to stand on the deck to see the movement to standing 50 feet away and seeing the movement through the living room window. It makes my heart skip a beat.

Thankfully, our pool and deck are not hanging by a thread and no, we are not in danger of the yard pulling the house crashing down with it like you might have seen during California mud slides glorified and television and replayed hundreds of times. It's no where near that bad. But it's definitely not good and going to be a very big job to repair. If only there was a line to stand in to move the process along faster.

A million thanks to all of you who have sent good wishes and asked about it since my last post. As much as we need rain in California, I'm hoping it holds off until we can get things shored up and stable again.

Back to a happy note...

Where's the craziest place you've ever connected with people?

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna

Photo Credit: © Sebastian Duda - Fotolia.com

I Married Him Twice - Chapter Two

The second of a three chapter story.

Read Chapter One

Never once was the "M" word mentioned in our six year relationship. "M" as in marriage. Yes, we were in love, yes we were committed to each other, and yes we were blissfully happy, but marriage-- Not even on our radar screens until….

Beloved planned a lovely weekend get-a-way for us at the beach in La Jolla for Valentine's Day. Dinner was at the wonderful George's Restaurant over looking the Pacific Ocean. Love was definitely in the air-- and in the crowded restaurant. We were surrounded by love birds, literally! Everyone in the joint was declaring, celebrating and rejoicing in their love for all the world to see. Since love was not a word Beloved and I bantered around a lot back then, it was awkward and extremely uncomfortable to say the least.

To the right of us was a couple who had just eloped and had brought a dozen friends to celebrate with them. Behind us was a couple making out so aggressively that the moaning was hard to miss. In front of us was a couple celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary with the husband pre-arranging special treats delivered in each course of their food. And directly next to us, no more than three feet away, was a starry-eyed young couple holding hands.

After this young couple's champagne was served, the guy got down on bended knee, bumping into our table in the process, and proposed to a stunned and now none-too-happy young woman. The poor guy had a ring and everything and stayed on his knee for what seemed like hours professing his undying love before the girl finally agreed to “think about it”. It was hard to miss and painful to witness.

Except for the poor guy at the next table, everywhere we looked in the restaurant, love and marriage was staring us in the face. And there we sat, not discussing our love for each other, not being overly romantic and not interested in all the lovebird non-sense going on around us. But, it left a huge elephant in the room and both of us knew it. So we did what we'd always done. We ignored it.

Neither of us was particularly interested in marriage. Beloved had been married once and as far as I could tell, once was enough for him. I, on the other hand, never imagined myself married. I knew I didn't want to have children and I was fiercely independent and career focused so marriage was never a priority for me. Our relationship worked for us and marriage, or the lack thereof, was never an issue.

Back in Los Angeles and a few weeks after Valentine's Day, I had a huge meltdown at Beloved's house. It had nothing to do with our relationship. I was having an awful time of things. My father was now terminally ill in Ohio, I hated my job, and my apartment had just been robbed.

I was determined to move into a security building. But, under the circumstances, I wasn't sure if Los Angeles was where I should look for a new apartment. I had always longed to move back to New York City (where publishing jobs were plentiful) and I was desperate to be closer to my family and my father to help with his care.

Long story short, Beloved was the only reason I was living in Los Angeles and we both knew it. I should add that in our six years together, I'd been very clear that I had no desire to move into Beloved house and live together. I had my own place, my own things and I wasn't about to give them up for a "roommate". Sure we spent a lot of time at each other's homes and rarely spent a night apart, but we always had our own homes and were happy with the arrangement.

So, back to the meltdown. Apartment hunting was depressing. Little was available in a secured building or in my (fairly high) price range. I'd spent a long day on the housing hunt and in the end had received a call from Ohio that Dad was having an especially difficult round of chemotherapy. I was defeated, stressed and, honestly-- freaked out.

Enter Beloved, in his usual “save the day” manner, who enthusiastically suggested I "put my stuff in storage" and move in with him. He literally said those words-- "Put your stuff in storage." Not, “let’s make a home together.” Nope, “storage”!

Then he started babbling on about my not rushing into anything, i.e. moving, until after my birthday in April-- As if another six weeks and turning 35 would somehow make a huge difference in my circumstances.

I. Nearly. Killed. Him.

As I said before, I didn't need a roommate and through a sea of tears, I reminded him of that fact. He responded with more of the "wait til your birthday" crap until I finally gave up and prepared to head back to my just-robbed apartment to pack for my as yet un-located new apartment.

Mind you, I was not leaving in a huff. I was just trying to push through my depressing and now bazaar day to get something accomplished.

Beloved’s response was to ask me to marry him!

Whoa! He went from "storing" all my worldly possessions to the "M" word in under five minutes.

I started to hyperventilate.

Beloved explained, due to all my tears, that he’d panicked, with the “stuff in storage" comment and that the engagement ring he'd designed for me wouldn't be ready until my birthday in six weeks, so if I could just wait, I'd have the storybook proposal he'd planned.

As I said, it was the first time we'd ever discussed marriage so it was quite a surprise, frankly, it wasn't a romantic proposal. It was more like "stop crying so I can marry you" kind of thing. I'm pretty sure I said yes that day but we talked about it a lot before we discussed it publically with anyone.

And sure enough, six weeks later, on my 35th birthday, Beloved made a lovely proposal, with a beautiful engagement ring, on bended knee. Which brings me to how we married-- twice.

Stay tuned. Part Three on Friday.

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna

Photo Credit

Chapter One

I Married Him Twice - Chapter One

The first of a three chapter story.

It wasn't long after I'd met my Beloved Mystery Man in Milan, that I knew-- over salad-- I'd found my soul mate and was hopelessly in love. But I didn't let on to anyone, especially him!

While we were still in the “just dating” stage of our courtship, we were not seeing other people. But, we played the “dating” game with him calling me for a “date” numerous times a week and every weekend. I liked being “courted” and the relationship evolved slowly, but at a pace we were both comfortable with.

Neither of us was anxious to jump into a serious relationship, but there was no denying the spark between us. So we made a point of taking our time getting to know each other and building a trust and a meaningful relationship one “date” at a time.

Then, out of the blue, I got the dreaded phone call no daughter ever wants to get. My Dad was on his way into surgery for just-discovered cancer. The words still ring in my head leaving me reeling with helplessness. I was at work when the call came in and remember sitting at my desk for a full hour not knowing what to do. Then I called Beloved and cancelled our date for that evening. My Dad’s illness was simply too shocking, too painful and too personal for me to cope with. My usual instinct to “withdraw” and “put my guard up” immediately kicked in.

Beloved was having none of it. Instead, he said he would meet me at my apartment at 7:30pm which was when I usually arrived home from work. He greeted me in the driveway with open arms and no judgment as I cried uncontrollably.

Being “weak’ was not my usual self and I was embarrassed to be so needy and weepy in his presence. Despite my feelings for him, we’d only known each other for ten months and I’d never cried in front of him before. Eventually he helped me up the stairs, unlocking the front door for me, then settled me onto the sofa with a blanket and a glass of wine. When he disappeared out the back door I wasn’t phased and thought he’d had enough drama for one night.

Thirty minutes later, I dried my eyes and found the dining room table set with my favorite salad from a local gourmet restaurant. Beloved knew I had not eaten all day and this was my version of “Los Angeles comfort food”. It was one of the kindest and most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for me. It took a while for my first bite, but eventually I calmed down enough to start eating.

That night, as I told Beloved stories about my father, whom he’d never met, I knew I was in love. Of course I was also devastated and pushed the feelings as far back in my mind as I could, but it was very real and there was no turning back for me.

A few months later, for Valentine’s Day, I gave Beloved a beautiful salad bowl, which he thought, based on his expression, was a strange gift. No, I did not explain the significance of the salad he’d brought me, and insisted I eat, on that fateful night. It wasn’t until years later, after we were first married, that I told him this story of exactly when I knew I was in love with him.

Dad eventually recovered from this go ‘round with cancer but it was a long and difficult haul for him. Sadly, it was not the last time I got one of those awful phone calls about Dad’s health. Each time, over the next five years, Beloved brought me another salad and held my hand through the process.

Stay tuned. Chapter Two on Wednesday

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna

Photo Credit

Around The Dinner Table & GIVEAWAY

Have I mentioned before that my family is a tough crowd-- In a very loving way, of course, but tough nevertheless. Case in point-- Meeting new boyfriends.

I learned early in my dating years never to bring a boyfriend home to meet my family unless I was SURE he couldn't live without me. Around our house, boyfriends were questioned, "checked out" and an easy target to embarrass and harass. Not the boyfriend, oh no, no, no-- the embarrassment was aimed directly at our siblings! Most of the time it was all in good fun to let the guy know not to mess with our sisters but a few times... well, let's just say the "questioning" stung a little too much for me and I avoided the entire "meet the family" gatherings at all costs.

But, since we lived in a small town, everybody knew everybody's business and boys had to meet my parents and understand the "rules" or there was no dating. Period!

Rule Number One was that boys had to abide by my Mom's very strict 11pm curfew. If a boy brought one of us home so much as a minute late, our Mom was parked at the front door, in her rocking chair, reading the Bible, and perched to scare the hell out of the boy. I kid you not!

My oldest sister Marie was guilty of breaking the 11pm rule a lot and spent so much of her teen years grounded that I was never late-- Of course my high school boyfriend was afraid of my Mom so that helped too.

Fast forward to my past weekend in Ohio. It seems the "boyfriend checkout" continues and has evolved into an art form. My lovely niece, Victoria, just turned 16. About 2 months ago she started "dating" Kevin. Dating has changed a lot since my day with more group outings than one-on-one-pick-me-up-kind-of-dates but they are definitely "a couple". Naturally, Kevin had to pass the "parents test" before they were allowed to go out together.

Victoria was comfortable enough (or should I day delusional enough) to invite Kevin to our big family bbq with three generations in attendance, including my folks, my adult siblings and all of Victoria's generation of siblings and cousins. Now it was the rest of the family's opportunity to check him out. Let me tell you, the look on Kevin's face when he walked into the living room was priceless. As we said back in the day, the poor guy didn't know if he should "s**t or go blind".

We were all greeted politely. My brother shook his hand and gave a thumbs up when Kevin looked him in the eye and called him Sir. My Mom gave him the once over then a big hug. My sisters told him what a brave guy he was to come to dinner, and I welcomed him to the Zoo. I actually saw him breath a sigh of relief when he was invited to sit down.

Victoria and Kevin sailed through dinner unscathed, even holding hands under the table. Ahhh, young love. But our "best behavior" didn't last long. Dessert was being served and Kevin was invited to the hot seat next to my very protective, oldest niece Meredith, who, at the ripe old age of just 26, has ridden shotgun over the cousins since they were born.

Meredith is a lovely newlywed and all of about 105 powerful pounds. As soon as she had Kevin seated next to her, the rest of the family knew what was in store and gathered round. The conversation, in rapid fire, went something like this...

M: So Kevin, you like my niece?

K: Yes M'ame, I like Victoria very much.

M: What's your favorite hobby?

K: Football M'ame.

M: Do you like football better than you like Victoria?

K: No M'ame, I like Victoria way better than football.

[Ohhh and ahhhs from the family.]

M: What exactly do you mean by "way better"? Never mind, Kevin, What's Vic's favorite color?

K: Orange M'ame, like the color of the socks she's wearing today.

[The crowd cheers for Kevin. Victoria sits a little straighter in her chair.]

M: What color are Vic's eyes?

K: Light brown M'ame?

M: And do you spend a lot of time looking into Vic's eyes when you are driving and supposed to be watching the road? Never mind, Kevin, where exactly are your hands when you are driving my cousin in your car?

K: Steering wheel M'ame and yes we both wear our seat belts.

[Kevin scores extra point with the adults]

M: So Kev, babe, what do you like best about our dear Victoria?

Chirp, chirp. Kevin was silent. We heard crickets! He blushes brightly. Victoria looked like this.....

M: Kevin, are you still with me?

K: Yes M'ame

M: Let's move on. Kevin, what's your favorite flower and have you sent them to Victoria yet? Scratch that. What is your idea of the perfect date?

[Without missing a beat....]

K: A perfect date is one that ends at 11pm sharp with Victoria safe at home M'ame.

[Good answer-- More cheers!]

M: When was the precise moment you decide you liked our Victoria?

K: The minute I saw her M'ame.

M: Right answer Kev. Just one more question. Are you fully aware that if you make our Victoria cry, no scratch that, if you make Victoria so much as whimper with sadness, all of the people in this room will hunt you down; you understand that, right Kevin? Am I clear on that? Our Victoria is very precious to us.

K: Yes M'ame, Victoria very precious to me too.

At this point the poor guy was sweating bullets, my niece was again smiling joyfully and all is right in the world.... For as long as Kevin is good to our girl Victoria.

Yes, we know this will not be the last interrogation of boyfriends around our family dinner table but Kevin was a great sport and took it like any nervous as hell 17 year old boy could. Afterwards, Victoria gave him a big hung and told him "You're in Dude!"

It's nice to see that as time changes, some traditions stay the same.

Did your siblings cover your back?

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna

Photo Credit: Mine

Don't Forget: Leave a comment on THIS POST and any NEW POSTS between now and AUGUST 16th to automatically be entered in The Fifty Factor Time & Money GIVEAWAY! For full Contest details click here or on the picture of the cake in the above right corner.

Unexpected Gifts

Some days are simply exhausting, it's when life slows and there is nothing I can do about it. Other days, something in the house breaks, bad news is delivered or the heat combined with a never-ending hot flash threatens to wring me out. I feel sorry for myself and have a great, big, pity party-- And then I move on, or at least as best I can at the moment.

I recently had "one of those days-- A. Day. From. Hell. Nothing life threatening, just a whole lot of drama all lumped into one very long, very hot, day. But around 10 o'clock that night, five gifts appeared within about an hour's time, and I couldn't help but feel better. Okay, six gifts appeared, and one of them was a Xanax, but you'll see why my spirits lifted if you keep reading.

The first gift was a post by my dear friend and "Sister in Snark", Holly over at Your Mother Knows But Won't Tell You. And if you didn't read this post, grab a cup of coffee or a big ice tea and settle in for a great read. Then pass the post onto every single, unattached, person you know. Believe me, they will thank you for it! If you don't know Holly you should, so please pay her a visit! You'll see why I love her, why the post kept me hanging on every word and why I think she should write a book!

After reading Holly's hilarious and informative post, I checked my emails and found this picture!

Two of my favorite love birds were recently married and put "their motto" on the top of their wedding cake. "The peanut butter to my jelly", is what the bride and groom always say about each other. Can you see the wedding veil and the tuxedo bow tie? It made me smile.

I checked the front door for mail well after 10pm and found gift number three, my tres chic new indoor/outdoor rug, courtesy of Christy at A Lil' Welsh Rarebit's Giveaway a few weeks ago. Cool, huh? It will look great on my patio!

Christy is a self proclaimed "trophy wife and stay at home mom" with a beautiful baby girl! And, she's training for a triathlon! Please stop by when you get a chance and cheer her on.

And then, I found gift number four-- A bowl full of these left for me by Godson's Mom.

They are tiny tomatoes-- Think smaller than a pencil eraser, and the sweetest tomatoes I have ever eaten. And they smell wonderful! Of course these are the remaining few that I haven't eaten-- yet. But I stopped long enough to take a picture to show you because, well, just because they are perfect.

I finally sat down around 11pm and thumbed through Real Simple Magazine and discovered gift number five-- An Essay Contest titled "When did you first realize that you had become a grown up?". I read the short blurb with details and folded the page to read again later.

Over the past six months of blogging, I've tried to figure out what I want to do with myself. I don't like retirement, which is one of the reasons I started blogging, but honestly, I'm not up for another 60 hour a week job either. What I have figured out is that I enjoy writing, something I never did before in my "previous life", so I think I will write more and have less of "those days".... Or at least try to.

Before the Essay Contest gets buried in my "to-do" pile, I'm going to sit down and take a stab at it. I've never written one but I definitely feel like a grown up-- And I remember the first time I realized my childhood was behind me.

I'll enter it in the Real Simple Magazine Essay Contest. Deadline is September 7, 2009 so I have time work on it-- And you have time to work on your essay if you so desire!

What unexpected gifts have you received?

Welcome to The Fifty Factor - Joanna

Photo Credit - Top Pic

PS Be on the lookout for my first ever GIVEAWAY. Coming soon!

Dating: Chapter Four

What is it about guys and blind dates?  Either they want no part of them or they think they are the master of "hook-ups"!

Case in point-- my husband.

We'd been dating for about six months when my husband/then boyfriend proposed a double date with my BFF and his long lost work buddy-- Who'd just gotten dumped by his too young, too hot, too gold-digging, huge-boobed, girlfriend.  Yes, that should have been my first clue that this guy was a few brain cells short of quality dating material, but nooooo, I made the arrangements for the four of us to meet for drinks at an oh so chic restaurant bar.  "My guy" assured me that "her guy" would be terrific for BFF, whom he'd never met by the way.  Red flag number two went right over my head. 

BFF had recently broken off her engagement to a longtime beau and was still not quite sure of her next step in the dating world, but figured since I'd been gushing about how fabulous "my guy" was, his friend should be fabulous too.  Right?  Note to self when arranging future blind dates:  Do not make assumptions of this nature.

So there we were, the three of us waiting for "her guy" to show up.  He was running late but it gave BFF a Cosmopolitan head start for her first foray in blind dating since the teen years.  Might I add, BFF's HOT and very hip.

We quizzed "my guy" about "her guy" and discovered he was a divorced accountant with two kids in high school. He lived in a geographically desirable radius of BFF's apartment-- an important factor when considering Los Angeles' nightmare traffic, and he was "a really nice guy". 

BFF and I kept our eyes on the front door, checking out all the men as they walked through-- All in the appropriate "age range", all reasonably attractive, all appearing to be from this planet, if you catch my drift.

And then, a full thirty minutes late, "her guy" appears at the table.  We'd seen him walk in but dismissed "Grandpa" at first glance.  There was a painful pregnant pause as he was introduced.  BFF and I shot inquisitive looks to "my guy" asking if "Grandpa" was indeed the blind date.  

Sure enough, they started reminiscing about the glory days as junior accountants together and lord help me, I thought BFF would kill me right then and there.

It had never dawned on me to ask "my guy" if "her guy" was, um, how can I say this delicately, um, err-- Well-- I never asked if "her guy" was older than Moses!  Nor did I ask if he had a pocket protector full of pens in a rainbow of colors or, if after discussing the glory days, he'd have anything to talk about other than his ex or how filthy rich he was.  Oh yeah, and I never asked if "her guy" would do anything other than stare at BFF's boobs all night. 

BFF kicked me under the table until I was black and blue.

"Her guy" was completely oblivious as he proclaimed his great wealth and told stories about how much money he'd thrown at his recent ex-girlfriend, as if that information would seal the deal with BFF.  Oh yeah, this guy was already picking out China patterns for the two of them! 

I was half sick to my stomach and half trying desperately not to laugh-- The situation was that bazaar!  All I could think was, it must have been a while since "her guy" had been on a date or he'd forgotten the golden rule of dating-- Don't talk about your ex-girlfriend to a potential new one.

BFF ordered her second Cosmopolitan while I tried desperately to find some enduring qualities in this guy.

Ninety painful minutes after he arrived, "her guy" left for a business dinner.  Good-byes were awkward, as he asked her name again, and no phone numbers were exchanged. But, I got the feeling he was very confident love was in the air as he patted her on the tush.  "Her guy" made a lot of assumptions and knew absolutely nothing about BFF, because he was the only one talking-- about himself-- the entire time!

The three of was watched, in silence, as "her guy" left the restaurant and disappeared out of sight.  As soon as the coast was clear, I turned to "my guy" and blurted out...

"Are you kidding me!  He's older than my Grandfather!!!  What were you thinking?!?!"

To which "my guy" answered--  

"What are you talking about, he's my age!"

OMG, again!!!

Bartender, another round please.

BFF sucked down her third Cosmopolitan faster than you can say "I'm not touching this one with a ten foot pole." and left the building.  Her message on my home phone that night summed it up for all of us perfectly--

Never again!!!

It's a miracle BFF is still my BFF twenty years later.  All I can say is, I learned my lesson that night and have never, ever, set up a blind date with or without "my guy's" help.  

And my husband still can't believe it wasn't a love connection! 

What's your track record with blind dates?

Welcome to The Fifty Factor  -  Joanna

Dating: Chapter Three - The Way To A Man's Heart....

Big news today!  Please check out my interview on SocieteAmore and leave a comment if you are so inclined.  It's my first interview ever and it's about blogging. Thanks to Rowe for asking me to participate!  

The story below first appeared on Lilly's Life as a guest post.  If you haven't read it, please check it out. And if you haven't met Lilly yet, you will love her! Please stop by and say hello!

I'm off to a family wedding in Ohio.  Be back on Monday.  Have a great weekend!

It started innocently enough. My 50-something gal pal just wanted her house to smell nice when her 60-something blind date picked her up Sunday night.  So she baked cookies 30 minutes before he arrived with the cover story that they were for a co-worker's birthday the next morning.  You know how great chocolate chip cookies smell, don't you?  So did her date.  If the evening went well, maybe she'd invite him in for cookies and milk at the end of the night.

The date was great and the guy ate cookies!

Two weeks later, on their second Sunday night date, she literally saw him inhale when she opened the front door. A look of disappointment momentarily registered on his face when there were no baking cookies to greet him. She made a note of it.

Fast forward several terrific dates later.  This guy always called a day or two before the requested Sunday night date.  He never called in between and the dates are always on Sunday.  What happened to the other six nights a week?  She was feeling taken for granted-- like a "back-up" date, and couldn't understand what was going on.  She really liked him and she thought he liked her too, so she decided to change course.

The next time the guy called for a Sunday date, my friend invited him to her house to watch the football game with dinner afterwards.  She's an amazing cook and her not-quite-yet-boyfriend didn't realize the culinary delights in store.  I'm pretty sure he was expecting take-out pizza.

To his delight, he arrived to delicious smells coming from the kitchen that continued to simmer, all day, throughout the game. When his team was victorious, they shared dinner on the sofa with his feet up, looking very comfortable.  She sent him home with a doggie bag of left-overs to last the week.  He was a happy guy and actually called her the next day to say thank you.  After a 45 minutes of conversation-- a first for him, he asked her for another Sunday date!  Again she suggested football and dinner at her place. 

The following Sunday, same thing.  Dinner simmering throughout the game with her date's anticipation of more mouth-watering food afterwards.  This time though, she surprised him at half-time.  They made out on the sofa like a couple of teenagers until the second half started. The guy was in heaven.  Football, great food, a hot babe AND a doggie bag-- The perfect Sunday!  A guy could get used to this.

Not so fast...

Mr. "Almost Boyfriend" was still only dating her on Sundays.  So the following week--  She didn't answer her phone on Thursday. Or Friday.  Or Saturday.  Or even Sunday.  No simmering smells coming from the kitchen. No "action" at half -time.  No left-overs for the week. Nothing!  She was completely unavailable to "Mr. Almost" and even went so far as to take her own voice off her answering machine.  He was not going to hear a peep from her all week. 

Monday night guess what?  Her phone rang.  It was him. She offered no explanation for missing in action.  Nor did she offer her cooking skills or television for the next Sunday game. Instead, wonders never cease, he asked her out on a "proper" Saturday night date, at a fancy, romantic restaurant.  He brought flowers when he picked her up and was the perfect gentleman.

This was a huge turning point in their relationship. Turns out, he was new to the dating game after having been married for many years, and had a bit of a confidence issue.  He was afraid if he asked her out on a Friday or Saturday night, he'd get shot down.  Guys can be such idiots sometimes.  My friend wasn't dating anyone else and she never figured out where he got that idea.

They've been happily together for nearly three years now and are talking about marriage.  We've all laughed over this story together several times, and each time, they coo at each other like a couple of school kids.  

Why did they play the silly games that often go with dating? There are a lot of reasons and none of them particularly good-- other than dating is hard at any age and insecurities seem to bloom with new love.  Thank gawd they are well past that part.

Whoever said "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach", was right.  But to remind him of that piece of information, sometimes a girl has to take matters into her own hands.

Welcome to The Fifty Factor  -  Joanna