How I Became a Diva...

I was five when we left Okinawa where my father had been stationed at the Air Force Base. We were re-assigned to the Air Force Base in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I spoke a mixture of English and Japanese and it made sense to me and my parents. Unfortunately, the staff at General Arnold Elementary felt that it was inappropriate upon entering Kindergarten that I didn’t speak English.

They decided I would best be kept in the corner of the classroom until I spoke fluent English. Meaning, I wouldn’t be able to participate in class activities or socialize with the other students. Now to some people this seems like a drastic measure for a child to experience.

Not for me. I was thrilled. I had my own easel board and paints. I had my own nap-pad where I didn’t have to share germs. Plus, I had a corner office! There are adults who would step over each other to have such a space.

I’m an only child and my parents weren’t very sociable. We didn’t participate in any activities such as church or neighborhood gatherings. As a result, I never had much interaction with other kids. So being separated from the rest of my classmates wasn’t as traumatic for me as it would have been for other children.

I have pleasant memories of keeping myself entertained and enjoying my personal space. I did mingle with my classmates. Just not as much as I might have, had I been fully participating in classroom activities. By second semester, I could speak fluent English, but I failed to mention it. I was content with my corner and my own easel board!

I suffered through several teenage girls assigned to babysit me. I remember they always watched TV and didn’t acknowledge my presence. By age 8, my mother gave up on the sitter idea and I basically took care of myself. The original latch-key kid. After school, I would come home and entertain myself with TV shows. I especially liked Perry Mason and I Love Lucy. What a life!

There was a toy store in downtown Lincoln called “Toy Castle.” I made friends with the owners. I ended up calling them Aunt and Uncle. They found me interesting and invited me to their home for overnight visits. Their daughter was by now a teenager, so I guess having a little kid around was fun for them. Not your typical kid thing, but definitely a Diva move!

For many years I didn’t present myself as a Diva because the people I associated with would not have understood where I was coming from. When I worked at Smith College however, my work-study students were quick to point out my Diva qualities. Ah, so nice to be finally recognized. And the rest is history.

Until next time…

Witticisms I’ve Collected Along the Way - Chapter 2

I cannot take credit for these wonderful witticisms. I found almost all of these in the latest catalog that I recently received from Catalog Favorites.

Attitude

·        A fun thing to do in the morning is not talk to me.

·        I’ll see your hot mess and raise you a walking disaster.

·        I’m not mean, I’m brutally honest. It’s not my fault truth hurts. Here’s a band aid.

·        I don’t have ducks. I don’t have a row. I have squirrels and they’re drunk.

·        I don’t care what people think of me. I’m busy. I’ve got MAGICAL shit to do.

·        It only takes one slow-walking person in the grocery store TO DESTROY THE ILLUSION THAT I’M A NICE PERSON.

·        If I was a bird, I know who I’d shit on.

·        If I give you a straw, will you suck the fun out of someone ELSE’S DAY?

    Statements of Truth

·        If you’re happy and you know it, it’s your meds.

·        Dust once. It came back. Not falling for that again.

·        Camping: Where you spend a small fortune, to live like a homeless person.

·        The more you weight, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay Safe. Eat Cake.

·        The 12-step chocoholics program. Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate.

·        If you can’t remember my name, just say “Chocolate” and I’ll turn around.

·        Line dancing was started by women waiting to use the bathroom.

·        To me “drink responsibly” means don’t spill it.

·        Today I was a hero! I rescued some beer that was trapped in a bottle.

·        My GPS says, “estimated time of arrival.” I see “time to beat” and the game is on…

·        My GPS has learned to say “your other left.”

·        I hate it when the voices in my head go silent…I never know what they are planning.

·        I have a daughter. I also have a gun, a shovel and a alibi.

·        Being an adult is like folding a fitted sheet.

·        On the surface: cool as a cucumber. On the inside: squirrel in traffic.

Aging Gracefully

·        My Bucket List: 1.) Keep Breathing.

·        Over what hill? I don’t remember any hill.

·        The older I get, the earlier it gets late.

·        I thought growing old would take longer.

·        The Golden Years have come at last! I cannot pee, I cannot see, my budget shrinks, my memory stinks. The Golden Years can kiss my ass!

·        I came, I saw, I forgot what I was doing. Retraced my steps, got lost on the way back. Now I have no idea what’s going on.

·        Don’t grow up, it’s a trap.

·        I don’t have grey hair. I have wisdom highlights.

·        Go braless…it will pull the wrinkles out of your face!

More Unicorn Tails

·       Sometimes, I question my sanity. But the Unicorn in the kitchen told me I’m fine.

·        He told be I was delusional. I nearly fell off my Unicorn.

·        Always be yourself. Unless you can be a Unicorn then always be a Unicorn.

The Bike Adventure

This is a true story that happened in the parking garage of our apartment complex. 

Hello Parking Spot #16,

We gave our bicycle to a neighbor and we told her that it was in spot #16 instead of #18 which is where our bike was located. You may have noticed your bike took a ride.

We are very sorry for the mix-up.

Our best,

Parking Spot #18

Hello Parking Spot #18,

Thank you for the note! I was very worried someone had stolen my bike, and we were very confused to find it further down the way in the garage.

Don’t worry about it.

Thanks,

Parking Spot #16

Dear Parking Spot #16,

We are so sorry about the bike incident this past weekend. I haven’t ridden my bike in years. When we moved from Massachusetts last year, I should not have brought it up, but I decided to hold on to it. It has sat in the garage unloved since then. I thought it was time that I find a new home for it.

I offered the bike to one of our neighbors. Several days went by and my bike was still in our parking space and I couldn’t understand why.

Meanwhile, sometime Sunday afternoon, we saw that my bike was still in our parking space and thought it odd that our neighbor hadn’t come to get it yet. At that point, our neighbor texted Mary and wondered if we had taken the bike back. (Probably should have, because it really needed a bath). Mary strongly suspected that the wrong bike had been taken. Then she looked at the numbers on the parking spots. Oops!

At this point, I was horrified thinking that the bike owner would have thought it was stolen, and what might they be going through emotionally about the loss of their bike.

It all worked out, but not without some drama. If you knew me, you would know that “drama” is a daily occurrence.

Please accept our gratitude that everyone got their rightful bikes back. Enjoy the gift card to our neighborhood coffee shop!

All our best,
Parking Spot #18

Moral of the Story - If you are offering an item to someone, inform them if you are not around, the correct location as to where they should pick it up! And just in case, follow up. Or maybe just walk it over.

Ex-husband #1 - He Apologized for How He Treated Me...WHAT!

I was married to ex-husband #1 twice. Pretty crazy, I know. First time was from 1978 to 1980. Second time around, was from 1981 to 1983. I ended up being his ex-wife #2 and #3. I had no contact with him until he sent a friend request on Facebook in October 2009. The emails replicated below are the only communications we have had to date.

Initially, I responded to his friend request and then later deleted it. I was curious about this person, later writing to the email address listed on his Facebook account. Some information made sense and some didn't.

Please note: None of the email addresses are correct. Only my blog address is.

--- On Sat, 10/3/09, Sharon Elaine <osharonelaine@whyme.com> wrote:

From: Sharon Elaine <osharonelaine@whyme.com>
Subject: Who are you?
To: Ex-husband1978@because.com
Date: Saturday, October 3, 2009, 6:47 AM

It wasn't Facebook that deleted you.  I did. Once we became friends, I saw your bio information and it showed a birth date of 1960. The ex-husband I knew was born in 1955. I was uncomfortable keeping you as a friend. If you could kindly explain why you think I know you, it would be a great help to me in whether we become Facebook friends.

--On Sat, 10/3/09, Ex-Husband<Ex-husband1978@because.com> wrote:

From: Ex-husband <Ex-husband1978@because.com>
Subject: Re: Who are you?
To: "Sharon Elaine" <osharonelaine@whyme.com>
Date: Saturday, October 3, 2009, 12:33 PM

Hi Sharon, March 21st to be exact. I am the ex-husband you are thinking of.  I have been in the computer business since 1981 and I have never played around with Facebook or any other social networking site. Being the pragmatist that I am, I have not been amused by such frivolity. My focus has been almost exclusively business related. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a stick in the mud. I just haven't looked to computers for entertainment because I work with them all day. I approached Facebook with apprehension since much of my professional focus is computer security and privacy. I created (more like fabricated) my account about the time I started looking for you. You may also notice that the account indicated I am from Laramie and attended Laramie schools. (As you know, that's not true). I'm still Facebook challenged. As I become more comfortable with the whole concept, I'll lighten up. Enough of that. For my own selfish reasons, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for being the creep that I was. I don't expect you to really care after all this time.  Nevertheless, I have wanted to tell you for years. I'm sorry. I am interested in how things have been for you, if you are interested in telling me. --- On Sat, 10/3/09, Sharon Elaine <osharonelaine@whyme.com> wrote: From: Sharon Elaine <osharonelaine@whyme.com> Subject: Re: Who are you? To: "Ex-husband <Ex-husband1978@because.com> Date: Saturday, October 3, 2009, 2:12 pm I've wondered for years what became of you. Did it work out with you and Paula? Are you still together? Did you two marry for the second time? What part of the country are you living in these days? What you wrote: "For my own selfish reasons I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for being the creep that I was. I don't expect you to really care after all this time. Nevertheless, I have wanted to tell you for years. I'm sorry." those words really hit home with me. It was what I always wanted to hear from you. Thank you for saying them. A few of my friends know that I married and divorced the same guy twice. I rarely mention that interesting fact. I just say that I have three ex-husbands. That is not a typo. By law, I've had four marriages and four divorces with men. I like to think of it as just three ex-husbands. My life has turned out to be much different than I had expected it would. I've always thought of writing about my life since it reads like a sitcom. Mother pushed me into being married again after our divorce. She believed that a woman couldn't be fulfilled without a man. She died in 1998 from bladder cancer. She lived with me for the last 2-1/2 years of her life due to having Alzheimer’s. Remember Bob, my step-father? He died in 1991 after having Alzheimer’s for over 15 years. I have been living in Massachusetts for the past five years. One of the reasons we moved up here from Virginia was at the time it was the only state that had legalized same-sex marriages. Mary and I were married in December of 2004 and I took her last name. If you want to know more about my life, go out and read my blog at: ohsharonelaine.blogspot.com If you are not in total shock by now, I would be interested in hearing how your life turned out. My Best, Sharon From: Ex-husband<Ex-husband1978@because.com> To: Sharon Elaine <osharonelaine@whyme.com> Sent: Saturday, October 3, 2009, 4:14:48 PM EDT Subject: Re: Who are you? Sharon, I am so happy that it mattered. Sounds like you must have found two other guys who didn't know what they had. I guess I was suppose to be shocked by your marriage to Mary. Can't blame you. Most guys are jerks anyway. Paula and I were together for quite a long time. It became very lonely for me though, like living with a child. She immersed herself in ignorance. Having an intellectual conversation was not a possibility.   I am married to a wonderful woman now and if you want a shock, I have a 2-year-old daughter. She is the coolest thing in the world. Since you may be wondering, my wife is 16 years younger than me.     I now live in Colorado. For the first time in my life since the town I grew up in, I'm all domestic living in a conventional neighborhood. Paula and I had a house on a lake which I left with her. Other than that, I have always been in a condo or something else less than conventional. I'm not a fan of these cracker box neighborhoods, but it is good to have kids around for my daughter. This brings peace to my life. Thank you for being gracious. My best, Ex-husband #1

The Bank Robbery

I wrote this fiction piece from a writing prompt I found in the book “642 Things to Write About” by the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.

Damn it! I’m running late to my dentist appointment. I have no time to be part of a bank robbery. What were these people thinking? Holding up a bank at 10:30 a.m. on a Wednesday morning? Didn’t they know people had plans? 

They insisted that we all lie down on the floor and not move. I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt and capris and lying on a cold stone floor is extremely uncomfortable. Is this really necessary? Couldn’t they have planned this at a better time such as during the winter when I would be wearing a warm coat with leggings and boots?

Plus, I was told to keep my head down and not move. Are you kidding me? Did I mention the damn floor is freezing? I’m so cold, I’m shaking. I must tell the bank staff that their cleaning crew is not doing a thorough enough job. There are dust bunnies everywhere.

I just don’t believe this! One of the bank robbers is wearing a pair of Keds designed by Taylor Swift. They are classy with a figure of a cat’s head on the heel of the shoe and they are very pricey. Could she be robbing the bank to help pay for her shoe fetish? 

I just realized why this situation seems so odd. All three robbers are female. How unusual. Should I mention to the one robber that her socks are two different shades of red? Think she’d be offended?

They are now asking for all our jewelry, money, and cell phones. The one wearing purple high tops is gathering all of our possessions. What about robbing the bank instead of us? Isn’t that the whole purpose of a bank robbery?

The alarm just started going off and that is making all three very jittery. Did I mention they were carrying guns? I hope they are NRA members and have had lessons on the proper technique of holding and using firearms. As we all know, guns can be very dangerous in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what the hell they are doing. I pray that they have some type of experience and don’t start shooting because the damned alarm is making them so nervous.

Finally, after three hours something finally happens. All of a sudden, they are asking us to stand in a tight circle facing outward and to slowly start walking out the front door. Hey, don’t they know there is a squad of men with loaded guns right outside the door? I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t want to be considered a moving target. Well, I guess I have no choice at this point. I’m not the one holding a loaded gun. I do what I’m told.

Just as the last of us squeezes out the doorway, a string of firecrackers goes off.  One of the robbers had set them off. We all go running in different directions, screaming our heads off, causing quite a disruption which is what our three wanted. In all of the confusion, they got away.

Afterwards, the police were taking descriptions of the robbers. I was able to tell the officer that one of the robbers was wearing black Doc Martins and had a husky voice. The one wearing Taylor Swift’s Keds had a whiny-baby sounding voice. And, the one in the purple high tops with the red socks had a very southern accent and had a slight limp.

The fact that the robbers were female made national news. Other than that, they were never found after taking all of our jewelry and the money from the bank. They did leave our cell phones behind so at least I’m still functional. Unfortunately, I’m missing a lot of bling.

P.S. – I was in the grocery store recently and looked over at this nicely dressed young woman wearing a pair of Taylor Swift Keds – could she have been one of the three bank robbers? I will never know.

The End!

I'm just a Guppy in Shark Infested Waters!

I first published this story in May of 2014. When re-reading this, it made me aware that there have been so many negative people in my life. I seem to attract individuals who are harmful to my well being. 

I know -- a psychiatrist would have a field day delving into my life to find out why this happens. I've been in and out of therapy for years and have never understood my ability to attract individuals who are as damaged as I am. I do know that they lash out at me due to their own complicated personal issues. With that said, I always blame myself for their actions by thinking I have done something to cause them to go off on me.

                            ******************************************

I’m lacking in self-confidence, big time. I’ve known this since I was seven-years old. It’s hard to believe I can be good at anything when there have been so many individuals throughout my life who have constantly disagreed on that point. Okay, here’s a list of things that I don’t have the ability to do thanks to my gene pool or being hit on the head one time too many:

• My ability to sing, carry a tune, hum or whistle is abysmal. Remembering the words to a song, much less the title, isn’t in my realm. Mary hears music in her head. I just hear static.

• When it came to school sports, I was always picked to sit on the sidelines for whatever activity, even when it came to jumping on the trampoline. Volleyball, basketball, baseball… words I learned to fear. My ability to run has always been questionable, and now with two bad knees... I don’t know if given the opportunity to “run with the bulls in Pamploma” that I could. Is that a basketball team or a sports drink?

• My coordination is so off, it’s hilarious. My ability to use a fly swatter is sad. The creature has already flown around my head twice and made it to other side of the room by the time the swatter even hits the wall. Skipping, jumping, galloping, even dancing … I look like I’m listing to the side in very rough seas.

• I don’t know how to make money and keep it for a rainy day. I do know how to spend money and buy a Jones of New York raincoat. I just want to point out that it was on sale! And, 12 years later I'm still wearing it.

• I have a hard time remembering faces and names, even my own. The other day someone said, “Hi Sharon.” I don’t know who she was and still don’t. I did point out how beautiful her haircut was.  She did say “When you last saw me, it was long”. That was a helpful hint. Not!

• Everyone around me is talking about singers, songs, sports, twitter, hash tags, and I’m just lost. I’m still trying to figure out Facebook and I’ve had an account for ten years.

• My ability to think on my feet just doesn’t work. I’m must be flat footed. Do I need arch supports? Though I can be spontaneous with a week’s notice.

Here’s something I do extremely well -- I’m bait for sharks. That’s the best way I can explain my life. A little blood in the water (my lack of self-confidence) swirling around me and everyone sprints for the chum. Complete strangers start berating me in elevators, street corners, grocery store aisles. Co-workers will huddle and come at me en masse. It’s like being hit by a linebacker. My own parents even blamed me for their IRS audit when I was eight years old!

So, here’s my solution about the sharks – I’ll just become a guppy. They are small and a shark couldn’t even see them much less feel them. I could flow right around their teeth and I wouldn’t get hurt. That’s a nice thought, not realistic, but still… a possibility.

Until the next time...

Color by Number

I’m a counter. I keep track of the number of loads of laundry I do every week, the number of glasses of water I consume (using an app on my phone), and I keep the household finances. Numbers help me put my world in order. So here are a few numbers.

So far in my lifetime, I have lived on three Air Force Bases in two countries, and in seven states plus the District of Columbia. Within those seven states, I’ve lived in 14 cities. I’ve held 25 jobs since graduating from College. My first job lasted three days and my longest-held job was 12 years.

From the age 19 to 49, I dated more than a few men and married three of them. And all three became ex-husbands. Thankfully, since 2003, I’ve been in one relationship for 16 years.

I find these facts and figures fascinating. When I was growing up in Lincoln, Nebraska, had I been told about the various types of numbers I would accumulate over the years, I would have been dumbfounded. If I had looked into a crystal ball, I never would have believed everything that actually occurred in my life. First of all, I truly believed I would live in Nebraska for my entire life, marry one man and live happily ever after. Oops…surprise! We know that definitely didn’t happen.

What did happen? Well … life did. I was given limited instructions from my parents on how to function; I went blindly forth into the world. Yes, I got lost many times, made some horribly bad decisions and I met a few individuals who were in serious need of long-term therapy. But along the way, good things did happen.

For many years, the sad memories far exceeded the happy ones. But in 2003, something extremely good happened along my journey. Mary came into my life. She was the first person to show me what unconditional love looked like. There was no master agenda, no drama, and no playbooks to be followed. What a lovely change. 

Since our lives have merged, things have happened, some good and some not.  And we have definitely accrued enough material for a long running sitcom. For me, to be loved by someone who wants the best for me, who gives me support, and who is willing to be my champion if deemed necessary, is just amazing. 

Until the next time...