An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

The other day my girl comes home from work and I can tell she's down. I wait.....which is something I have learned to do....wait. I am not pro at it, I must bite my tongue, resist the urge. A few hours go by and she comes in to the room where we sit and out it comes. Her dad, whom she loves very much, invites her up to a local camping spot. She doesn't especially want to go but makes the effort. She knows how much their camping experiences together were special to him (and her) and feels as if she can stop by for his sake. She gets there and he is not alone. He is with one of the guys from his sober living home. One thing about the sober living homes is that you can kind of tell the men who are trying hard and the ones who really are not. This is one of the guys who appears to be going through the motions but not actually getting it. The Secret Keeper is happy to see her. After light talk, he seems to need to tell her about a recent problem and explain what happene...

The drama continues but it doesn't have to be drama, does it? The Secret Keeper got out of the hospital yesterday after 10 days. I cannot tell you exactly what was wrong with him as I did not speak to a doctor. I do know that he was on a binge (and not food) before going in and I do know that he needed dialyses at least once while there. Otherwise, I have pretty much left it up to my girls to make decisions and let me know whatever they choose. That's a hard thing to do for a recovering control freak but I did OK. My sister (the nurse) on the other hand, was inundating me with questions and peppering me with advice for a person we have no influence over. It was out of caring but it was not remotely helpful and added to the stress.  Yesterday I had a HUGE (picture Donald Trump with duck lips) and vivid reminder of how life was before my marriage ended. The Secret Keeper called me to tell me he was getting out of the hospital...he left a message, he called again....he l...

My silly dog and I walk at the beach nearly every morning. It's a unique group of people we see. It's 6:30 am and the hard-core surfers that range in age from 10 to 80, the young men, the unemployed, the businessmen catching a wave before going to work, the hippies; they are all here enjoying their passion. There's also the observers.  The remainders are the runners, the bikers, walkers, the lovers, the homeless and, lastly, the addicts. There's one gent that I've been watching for months. He's a nice-looking Hispanic guy, probably around 40, and looking way too healthy to be an addict. So I watch and I see what he's doing. He selling. He selling to kids, skaters, surfers, women an d men. It doesn't matter, he's an equal opportunity supplier. I don't know whether to hate him or pity him. Mostly I think it's pity but I can't help but wonder; does he carry a little of everything? Do you approach him like a supermarket? Or does he spe...