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In all honesty, my age is doing a number on my confidence. In fact, over the past 6 months I’d metaphorically hung out a “closed for repairs” sign. (He read it while deployed, but admitted he’d torn off its bodice-ripper cover first. As such, it has the simplest story line—and the most sex scenes. It’s not my academic knowledge, formal training or expertise—because I have none, none and none. But my honesty and willingness to openly and candidly (sometimes too candidly) write about my emotions, doubts, fears and experiences . I was a very bored stay-at-home mom when I wrote it. As I’ve said before, the only degree hanging on my wall says German, Russian and History. In the meantime I finally achieved a goal I had set four years ago. For a week now since (and after seeing a posted motivational video about goal setting for the new year) I’ve thought about my PP&C (passion, purpose & calling.) Writing has always been a love/hate endeavor . Six hours before 2017 ended, I finished reformatting the last of my three historical romances. I reedited each, correcting content and character motivation errors, writing mistakes and awkward phrasing. life is a circle that turns on itself, returning to end where it begins . What I needed—desperately—was the comfort of believing a higher power had a plan for me. Since my last relationship breakup has engendered 6 months of unwanted celibacy, I no longer have to cop to that “sex outside of marriage” thing. Postscript: Stay tuned for this techno-idiot’s foray into an audiovisual realm . I flew with a woman this week, my age—give or take. I know, rough life), I overheard her say, “I’m now taking applications for my new boyfriend.” I laughed. Like good writing, starting over is not a technique about And #2, like my book title avers, I still want fireworks. Single and alone, after 36 years of being wife and mother, the move itself was a faithful act. But I didn’t need a mountain moved (and a transcon moving company had taken care of my worldly goods). So back to me in Church, with a pretty clean slate, I might add. With E’s encouragement, I’m going to try something new next time, a 2-parter that is half video and half my per usual written post. ) One pretty standard bromide that abounds on chat sites and Facebook pages (and in self-help books by so-called “experts”)? I have no problem with the advice—hell, I’ve probably said it here! It’s trite and unoriginal, a feel-good remark intended to soothe and create the illusion of problem solving. But sitting in that lounge, I realized a hair-splitting truth.

Because it is my guilty-pleasure favorite , I gave it a new cover. If only a cover would sell a book, this one would put me on the New York Times List for sure! I toy (no pun intended) with the idea of writing romance again. Nor do I think my life has enough content or humor for a second humor memoir. And the concomitant question: What the hell am I doing? I am no expert on life, nor do I possess any credentials to address its issues. Again, because God has a sense of humor (and impeccable timing), I think my answer came on the day of 2017 in the form of an email from a follower of “singleat60.” She opened up to me, a stranger, relaying her last few years of adversity and struggle with major health issues.

Ironically, however, by doing so I also returned my east coast roots. And OMG (no pun intended) was that first confession a doozy!! That particular Sunday the subject of the homily was perseverance, specifically “you don’t bury your God-given talents in the face of failure.” It was a coincidence to say the least. Just the week prior I had written a piece here entitled “ . Not only on a personal level, having been dumped by a man I really cared about, but on a professional level as well. A humor blog about sex and aging and starting over? But who would have thought they would resonate so with other women? A lot of that could be pervs simply searching for porn with the word “sucks” in the title.) Neither can I truly know how impactful my off-the-wall musings and attempted humor posts are. Her outlook on life—and post relationship dating—was more than admirable.

So along with my NJ/PA/NY roots, I returned to my religious ones—ie the Catholic Church. (Thou shalt not kill.) I think he doled out 20 Hail Marys, 5 or 6 Our Fathers and an Act of Contrition. Nowadays #2 (taking the Lord’s name in vain) is the one I struggle with. and start all over again.” Its subject was failure, because at that point I’d had a lot of it. (Though the numbers today say 5355 views by 3162 visitors in 90 countries, let’s be realistic. Waiting in the hotel crew lounge for our room keys in Paris (yeah . I loved her But more, I loved her brand of brass—that clash of class and sass that bespeaks confidence. I can write (and no doubt have) 100,000 words on the topic of starting over, wanting more, refusing to settle for less and learning overall andto love the self that stares back at me in the mirror.

He switched to Italian and asked where I was going.

Tomorrow to America.” He titled his head and affected a frown.

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