A Single Middle-Aged Woman...

She wakes from the animated , sexy dream about him again. He's one of two men she's ever dreamt about like that. The dreams come so easily, so unexpectedly. They set her mind to wondering "what if" thoughts. She doesn't want to think "what if" thoughts about him; especially not him. Telling herself she won't be like all the other women in his life...not the ones who raped his trust, and not the foolish ones who chase him. She loves him. He loves her. They are friends. Just friends. Friends who have an inappropriate amount of sexual tension between them. He was so animated and funny and uninhibited, which made him nearly irresistible. He danced naked in front of her. Not a serious, seductive male stripper kind of dance. He danced a playful, teasing dance, wagging his naked penis at her, enticing her to do fun things to it. She laughed. She fought to resist. She felt pulled towards his dancing naked penis as if it were the negatively ...

...happened at the theatre tonight and on the way home. I met Scrooge at one of my favorite theatres here in Dallas, the Angelika. I like it because they feature unusual, thought-provoking (does a hyphen belong there?) and well made films. Tonight our intended feature was "Milk," starring Sean Penn. It was playing in Auditorium 2. It was scheduled to begin at 4:35 p.m. It was my pleasure to order a cup of $2.45 drip coffee and people watch as I waited for Scrooge to arrive. There was an especially attractive gentleman in the coffee shop whom I wish now I'd had the balls to make up an excuse to speak to. I let fear snatch yet another of life's offerings for an experience from my grasp. But, that is a story for another time. Upon seeing Scrooge through the wall of plate glass windows I texted him to come buy his ticket from the kiosk. It is much faster that way. Overlooking the time I wasted texting as opposed to just getting up, going out the door, and telling him t...

Who would have thought on November 4th in 1958 that 50 years later America would elect our first African American president? No one that's who! And I'm the lucky girl who celebrated her 50th birthday on that momentous occasion. Never in my life have I been so involved, and that's not saying much, in a presidential election. This time I listened to every debate on TV. As I did, I listened not so much to what they were saying as to how they were saying it. I filtered through the words the candidates were saying, because much of it I either did not comprehend the complexity of, or decided it was campaign babble. Our new president presented himself professionally, seemingly knowledgeable, and poised at all times. He seemed to me to be a thoughtful man. The other candidates seemed frayed around the edges, subjective to what their advisors were telling them perhaps and thus not speaking from their own convictions as much as I perceived Barack Obama to be doing. Up until the mome...