Carbon Dating

I let my friend Andrea drag me to a singles mixer. Bad idea.

The Marriott ballroom, decorated in early bordello, was filled with men in dark suits who sported enough ear hair to knit sweaters for the entire US Olympic ski team. It looked like a convention of retired undertakers. I whispered to Andrea, “When I said I wanted to start dating again, I didn’t mean carbon dating.”

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One Mean Cat

Every woman needs a really mean cat who adores her. The kind of cat that when the vet sees him coming, he pulls on elbow length leather gloves like he’s about to wrestle an alligator. The kind of cat who has a big red sticker on his medical file that says, “Caution: I bite.” Continue reading “One Mean Cat”

My Head Ate Too Much

Though I’ve been told I have a big head, lately it’s not big enough to hold all the information I’m collecting. My head is stuffed full. Too many entries are crowded willy-nilly in my mental data bank, making retrieval difficult, sometimes impossible. If only my brain had a delete button so I could dump some old memories to make room for new ones. Of course, a few embarrassing moments should be retained to keep me humble, and a few sad ones–not too many–to keep me grounded. I wouldn’t have to delete much, I just need a little more room. I want a pill that relieves over-crowding and creates extra space, like Beano for the brain. Continue reading “My Head Ate Too Much”