Wednesday, August 26, 2015

In Case You Were Wondering

I am taking a break from writing on these blogs while I research and work on launching my new website. I thank you for your patronage and look forward to speaking with you again soon. Hang in there people.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Right From the Afterlife

For a while you are going to feel like everything your wife ever said to you is right. It is. While this might have been annoying while she was alive, it is positively creepy when it happens after she is dead and buried, or burned as was the case with my late wife. Again this plays off that freedom thing.

I remember that one day I wanted spaghetti for dinner. I had not had it while Ruth was sick for the last 11 months of her life, so I thought it might be nice for a change from Burger King. I went to the store and like a zombie I picked up the same spaghetti and sauce we had eaten once a month for 23 years. I did it automatically.

After I had the stuff in the cart I started wondering about the myriad of sauces on the shelf and I thought to myself that  since Ruth was now dead I could get any sauce that I wanted. But which one to get? I finally decided on a sauce that was peddled by a cute woman who was a bit chunky for television but was still very cute. Her face was on the label and everything.

What was bothering me was that I seemed to remember my late wife mentioning something about the spaghetti sauce but I just could not remember, what it could have been. I paid for my stuff and went home and fixed spaghetti for dinner. I heated up the sauce with the face of the chunky girl from the television, and it smelled very good. When it was all done I assembled it along with a nice roll and some very nice grape Kool-Aid.

I took a bite and it tasted like something in-between tomato sauce and ptomaine. Suddenly, my late wifes' words came rolling out of some old memory banks and I remembered what she said in one second. It was so simple. Ruth said:

"We don't get that kind of spaghetti sauce because it sucks and you don't like it."

That was it. That was what I could not remember and now would never ever forget again. I scooped the whole thing into the garbage can, hopped in Ruth's car, and sped to the nearest McDonald's, while blasting her favorite song. Just slightly creepy to say the least. Do yourself a favor and try and eat well.Try getting food you don't order from a clown's head or a donkey's hindquarters. Your arteries will thank you some day.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Mr Happy

As I have mentioned in this series before, you have an extreme amount of freedom now new widower, to do whom and what you like, whenever you would like to do so. It's a pretty heady feeling to realize that you are responsible only to yourself now. No more better half to remind you why she's the better half, so get used to it.

My sweet sister-in-law, as I have mentioned previously, gave me a nice book written by a woman whose husband had died suddenly and young. It was a nice book and all and it really went over a lot of stuff that I was going through and had gone through. But it was missing one thing,

Penis thinking.

OK folks we are all adults here and the word penis should not send us running for the hills screaming bloody murder. A lot of the population has them, so everybody better know a little bit about that particular part of the male anatomy. I don't know if women have the same thing but I do not believe that they do because, I don't know, just because.

Anyway the thing is that the average male penis thinks it is part of the cranial portion of the anatomy. It thinks it is residing somewhere between the cerebellum and frontal lobe, and as such, should be allowed into the decision making process for everything. What we wear, what you wear, what we see, and what we definitely do not see, are mostly ruled by penis thinking. 

The most obvious and easy way to prove illustrate this point is to look at any 70's to 80's jillionaire, who is right on the verge of rigor mortis, and what do they have attached to their wheelchair? That's right, a large blonde who you would swim toward if the ship was going down because those pontoons are never going to sink. 

In any case, here is the deal. You can go out and start banging everything and everyone in sight. That is your right. After all, you have been married for 21 years and she's dead, and you did not kill her, and it all seems good. Except for that new first time. 

Remember the first time?

Because guess what new widower? There is going to be a new first time for you if you decide that you want Mr Happy to now play on the neighbor's Slip 'N Slide. Are you ready for that? I know you think you might be ready but chances are that you are not. I know the first time I even spoke with a woman after my wife died I drove her away in about 5 minutes.

So here is the thing new widower, take your time, there is no need to re-marry your living ex-wife, your high school girlfriend, or that stripper from Reno. Mr Happy is going to try and convince you otherwise as is his wont. But remember, Mr Happy is not in your brain but in some other place that has no brains. So before you do something stupid like catch HPV, just forget about Mr Happy until a long time has passed. 

Because even brainless Mr Happy, knows when its too soon.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

The Widower and the Candy Store

If you are reading this it's because:

1. You are lost and meant to find another page

2. You are bored out of your skull and will do anything to avoid working.

3. You are a man whose wife has died, and who has not remarried.

If you meet these criteria, and even if you don't, then you are in the right place. If you are still confused, ask yourself these questions:

Did you have a wife who died? (Preferably not by your own hand) 

Did you remarry?

Again this information is specific to widowers but anyone who is going through the grief and pain of losing a loved one is also invited to read on. For some reason it hurts less when I laugh, so I try and laugh, and write when I can. Also, this is a place for men who loved their wives. If you are happy she's gone, go read something else, somewhere else. 

During the 93 days I had a Facebook account I learned a lot of things about friends and family that I not previously known. I heard about births, deaths, tragedies, and just every kind of message that could be conveyed from one human to another human. It was very illuminating. I tried it for 93 days because my late wife Ruth said that if you really want to know if something is for you, then try it for 90 days to see if you like it. 

One of the things I discovered is my 20ish nephew Ramon apparently does not know a female who owns any sort of wearing apparel other than a bathing suit of some sort. I remember those days, before being married, when every woman I knew owned at least a few bathing suits, but most of the time none of them would let you take their picture in the suit. 

The other thing I noticed is bathing suits have gotten incredibly small during the time I was married to my late wife for 21 years, and together for 23 years. Young women are also now much more likely to post a picture of themselves in a bathing suit on various social media outlets. Some even send the photos in themselves, seeking, I don't know what really.

As a husband I had heard tell of these women, and I was fascinated by the idea of such women. Now that I am a widower I am allowed to actually look at pictures of such women. Nay, these images are fairly shoved at me at a time when even glancing at another woman brings a bit of guilt with it. I tell you the life of the widower is filled with fun situations that you never thought you would ever have to deal with.

It's like this.

You live next door to a candy store. You live there for 23 years. For 21 of those years you own the house. Throughout those 23 years, you have been told, reminded really, to stay away from the candy store. You were told that the candy store was a place where people who ate the candy got sick and died. So you watched people go in and out of the candy store to no seeming ill effects, but you stayed away.

Then one morning you wake up, walk outside, and on the front of the candy store is a sign and in big red letters it says:

"Under New Management."

You as a new widower, who is also "Under New Management," meaning yourself, are curious. It's to be expected; you are a human man. You are also an idiot if you think you are ready to get married to a stripper from Elko named Rowena, 6 months after your wife of 21 years died. This will not only assure that you are going to die alone, you will also have no money either.

The first year after your wife dies, don't do anything drastic. New haircut OK. New stripper/hooker/hot mess girlfriend, not so much. Guitar lessons OK. Sipping Jack Daniels from a dominatrix shoe, probably not a good idea. I think you get what I mean. Everyone else who is letting Mr Happy do the thinking for you, well good luck with that. For the first year after the death of your wife, change nothing but your underwear and socks, and save yourself a lot of trouble.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Sharing a Coke

Sometimes sorrow will come in the mail by accident. Do not let these cosmic disturbances ruin your day or your progress.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Someone cue Lulu

"So how do you thank someone/who has taken you from crayons to perfume?/It isn't easy/but I'll try......."             


Ruth Decker-Tabarez, Wedding Day, 1992