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Every Friday, at the place that was our old restaurant. He’d get the jalapeno burger and I’d have French Onion Soup. Now it’s a flower shop that has 50% off on Fridays.

Today, after he’s been sick all week, I am having simple spring flowers, daffodils and daisies, delivered to him across the country. He’s not coming home as planned and instead is going to take it easy this weekend, rest and sleep and hopefully watch a couple of action movies I never want to see. We trade on movies which is why after I saw The Ring courtesy of a co-worker he got to see Memoirs of a Geisha…….. twice.

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I am not a fashionista. I did make a stop walking (yes, it’s warm enough to walk this week) to the grocery store at a shop. My husband tells me I need clothing. I agree. I bought a really cool black/white cropped shirt that screamed MM. We’re the same age, OK I’m six weeks older but she’s gorgeous and a model. I brought it home and tried it on over my bodysuit and it was so tiny. I gave it to her with the receipt and tag so she could get something smaller. She’s probably a size two.

It fit her perfectly. I took off the tag and crumpled up the receipt and she will wear it. I suggested that with her deft sewing skills she make it a 3/4 sleeve. MM sold me the 1957 Italian Necce sewing machine, the first that ever did a zig zag stitch. It is all metal and gorgeous and I gave it to my mother-in-law, M.

The fashionista model MM told me I had a good eye for fashion. I just don’t wear it (she didn’t say that). And I think I’m cool with First M. She loves all those cams and learning that new old machine. I married her son, then we gave her a super cool sewing machine and she has no-one to sew for now. I may come up with some legacy ideas.

When laid up after knee surgery she did make some hopsack towels, each embroidered with different herbs and their names. I’ve a great iron and keep them pressed and sometimes use them as napkins at the dinner table. Most guests are afraid to touch them because they’re so special. They are special, as is my family, all. Dee

Yes, I’ve an archived photo of a birthday party in our 1965 garage with my dear neighbor and friend Tommy and we were pinning the tail on the donkey for prizes. He died of a brain tumor before age ten and my parents chose not to tell me he was sick. He had six brothers so I found out soon enough.

Now that we are looking into new places to live closer to the job my husband begins in a few days, he bought a map of the USA I received today and have not opened, and pushpins. We’re going to play pin the tail on the US, with online data from census, walkability scores, crime stats, education, housing opportunities and mainly, airport schedules for nonstop flights to cities served. Oh, and the nearest Whole Foods. That works well for me searching neighborhoods once we select a city.

Airport is important so my husband can come home on the weekends to see me and dog Zoe. While so much more information is available now than in donkey times, sometimes it’s too much and sometimes not enough.

Perhaps a casino can set up a game with five airports that fly where we may need to go. We put in ten bucks, pull the lever and figure out where to live. I’m looking at housing and everything is expensive. We have no information as to where other clients he may be serving are located so it’s literally back to…. pin the tail with Tommy, God rest his soul.

His family has an Irish bar in my old hometown. I stopped by perhaps 20 years ago en route to my Aunt’s from the airport to order a soda. I was challenged by the bartender as to who I was. When I told him he put my tooth through my lip dragging me down the street on my bike, and I missed the school trip to the Zoo the next day, he knew I was his kid neighbor.

He then bought me the soda, and told me that his younger brother’s wife just had a son the day before, and named him Tommy. Let’s hope Tommy is on our side on this choice. Raise the pint Tommy never grew up to have to his memory and his family, Dee

I was a tomboy so didn’t dream of weddings and did not have scrapbooks dedicated to that special date. Instead I was encouraged to graduate college and have a life of my own.

Twelve years into marriage I still don’t have what one would call a “wedding album,” just a scrapbook from shots taken from our guests at an elopement. Its cover shows one our favorite dogs, Gus, with a placard of congratulations around his neck. That photo sits by my desk every day to remind me not only of his wonderful life, but of ours.

A week after we met, we had lunch at a sports bar, just burgers. I opined that I never wanted an engagement ring, it just wasn’t fair. And that it’s about a marriage. So many women get carried away and think this is their day and they’re going to cost their parents a fortune for a dress, a band and a party.

We eloped, for many reasons, and our families have forgiven us. Eight of us sneaked into a eucalyptus grove overlooking the Pacific ocean and a dear friend married us with vows he wrote. It is about the marriage and he was married 62 years before passing and his widow and I are still in touch.

My husband told me he’d need to be desperate for me to fall in love with me. I knew the moment he took my hand on our first date and helped me out of his car. Of course I didn’t tell him that it was love. It was up to him to figure it out.

As a wife of over 12 years I have strong opinions and so does he. We just work things out. I know when things are about to happen, most of the time, and am there for the glory or to pick up the pieces. That’s what best friends do for each other. That, my dear readers, is what life is about.

I think of Etta James singing “At Last.” My love is here to stay. He’ll be home on Friday. I need a menu and to clean up this place and even show him I know how to put a new battery in my old computer. Do you have a dime to unlock the plate?

He’s the electronics guy and late night dog walker. I do everything else. From Just The Wife, Dee

with whom we have multiple accounts, is investigating me, via this blog. Isn’t that fun. No-one else would have hit the term insurance several times in the past 24 hours. I used to regulate the insurance industry and remember a few things.

We deny your claims

You are to blame for damage

We increase your rates

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That is my Haiku to the Gecko. He says to just keep sending us premium payments. We’ll investigate you for a small dent and scratch.

Why? I put it off for a week. Glad you asked. Earlier this week I receive two Safety Recall notices from the manufacturer that as my car has lived in a warm, moist climate if the air bags deploy they may kill me with shards of metal. Also that the seat belts may not work. If that’s not enough, the key may fall out when the car is not in park. So, I’ve a car with no control, no seat belts and no air bags. Great.

The Gecko is telling me he’s investigating me because a little ding is more important than being killed by an air bag and a seat belt that doesn’t work after the key falls out on the freeway. I beg to differ. As long as they’re reading my blog I must say hello or I would be remiss in my hospitality. Hi!

Some folks have priorities. I have people to love and protect and will have the information required for my Safety Recall. Having the rare parts in and getting my car so it will not kill me is more of a priority than a minor dent. When the parts are in, the Safety Recall work will take four hours and will make me feel safer driving up the highway to see the inspector.

It’s interesting that when it’s a recall, it’s called service. When it’s a dent, the insurance company you’ve paid premiums to for years send an inspector. When I pay for insurance, I expect service. Thank you, Dee

Right now I live in a 20 story tower overlooking a big lake a block away. We have a trash chute. Those entitled persons never take the fraction of a second to turn the handle and turn off the red light on the trash chute, thus inconveniencing 19 floors of residents and requiring maintenance to go floor to floor to find the problem.

They never know who is the problem, however. My husband, software guru, has given them two easy ways. I’m low tech and would go for fingerprints.

When we were out west all the movie people would come out around this time and my husband and I called them PIB’s and SPIB’s. People In Black, and Servants of People In Black. The SPIB’s took over the grocery store. They wouldn’t let your cart or personage walk by because their butt was in the middle of the aisle looking for the perfect tea.

I was on that aisle with a basket asking to get by. No way. I was asked to join Sundance in publicity and was slated for volunteer training. Things changed and I ended up with more snowy weather, no hills.

In the end I give, I do not take. Entitlement is rampant and I would rather live a simple life with my husband and dog than feel more important than everyone else in the world. If I did, my dog would be tiny and in a designer bag. Now, in order to keep her paws from all the salt and snow, I do pick her up on occasion. Not in a designer bag, in my arms as any dog mom would do. Cheers, Dee

I love my car. It’s a mid-sized SUV that is perfect for me and the dog for traveling, she’s in back with water on her 4″ orthopedic bed. No, she’s not spoiled.

This afternoon I got a recall notice saying that if this car was manufactured in a hot, humid climate the airbag, if deployed, may disperse metal fragments that can kill occupants.

It gets better. I received a notice for each air bag today. There are two more. I’ve been driving this car since 2008. One is about faulty seat belts and the other that the key may come out of the ignition when the car is not in park. I never received those notices.

Did I say I love my car? I’d like to keep it at least another five years. These safety issues baffle me, however. There’s a backlog on the air bag parts (also in the notice) so it’ll be a week or two before the nearest dealership calls me to come in. They say the car is fine to drive as I’ve been driving it for nearly seven years with the defects.

Let’s see, air bags, seat belts, ignition errors. I just don’t feel as safe anymore. Dee

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/02/23/whole-foods-america-s-temple-of-pseudoscience.html

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I read this sitting at my desk a little after eight on a Saturday morning, after taking out the dog and feeding her frozen raw meat with blueberries and carrots in it.

Yes, I was eating organic raisin bran topped with non-organic sliced banana and OK, organic milk. I was trained as a cook. I shop the outside (produce, fish, meat, dairy) and go inside for rice, tea, pasta. Whole Foods produce people are good to me, the butchers are great, and the cheese folks help me out whenever I need it. I don’t see what’s wrong in buying food at Whole Foods.

I also go to a local shop for certain things, an Italian shop nearby for 00 flour for my pizza dough and large blocks of mozzarella, also wonderful sun dried tomatoes.

A local bodega is my source for dish soap and dishwashing detergent. They have no meat department but make great sandwiches and have a decent cheese selection. They specialize in beer but that’s not my thing.

For paper products, in a pinch it’s the drugstore (I hate WF’s paper) or huge quantities via Amazon Prime. It’s the only way to go.

The other day I accidentally bought soy sauce from WF that is gluten free. Why would I do that. Wrong glasses, I think. There’s this entire gluten free area I avoid. Yes, the political correctness is annoying. I’ve been trying for years to figure out why they sell steer (emasculated bull) and not capon (emasculated chicken). And I don’t like that the gluten free people and multiple supplement customers look at me like I’m a monster for buying linguine with flour in it. I know they also buy a lot of chocolate and junk food!

They do have the best veg in town. I spread the wealth around the neighborhood. Everyone has their specialties. I know what I want, and need. Some of it is at Whole Foods. Cheers, Happy Saturday! Hope you got to sleep in later than 4 a.m. Dee