Living Happily Ever After
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Articles from: July 2010

Until It Happened To Me

Date: July 31, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The second singles dance I went to I met a new (female) friend who was my height, close to my age, and was fun to hang out with. We had a great time and became instant friends.

I wasn’t the only one who liked her.

That night, the MEN, liked her too. Old men. They all looked like grandpas to me, but she was very nice about it. She got asked to dance every song by different men clearly older than us, and was friendly to all of them. She had the magic that night!

After each dance, she’d return to the sideline with a dinner date set with the previous partner. I bet she got asked out by five or more men that night! I couldn’t believe it.

Who has that happen to them?

I was concerned about the age of her suitors until she told me the man she currently had a crush on and dated was in his 60s–that after two failed marriages she was ready for a good, mature man. He was in her church congregation, she sat by him every Sunday, and they went out on the weekends–she was just frustrated that she couldn’t get him to only date her. Thus, she had gone to a singles dance to meet men. I give her an A+ for effort! I’ve never seen anything like that.

And I didn’t believe dances like that happened to single women…until it happened to me.

The next month I went to a singles dance with a male friend. I danced with him quite a bit, but every time he or I took a break, a senior citizen man would ask me to dance…and then during the dance, asked me to dinner on a date! I got three invitations from three men who had grandchildren the ages of my children.

When it came time to go home, two were hanging around offering to drive me home.

My friend I’d gone to the dance with and I sort of had a system. We dated, we even went to dances together sometimes, but we danced with other people too (if someone caught our eye) and when the dance was over we both hung back until the other one was alone and ready to go.

My problem that night, aside from all those senior citizens, was that my friend kept hanging back because men were around me and talking to me, and all I wanted to do was leave! It took him awhile to figure that out, but finally, he caught on to my desire to escape and we got to leave in peace!

The next couple of weeks I fielded lots of phone calls and dinner offers from elderly gentlemen, but in the end, I had to admit that the 55+ crowd was just a little old for me.

It was an interesting experience to have “the magic” for just one night.

I couldn’t help but remember how I felt heading into my single life, newly divorced, feeling like an old bag, sure no one would ever want me or date me or desire to spend time with me–and although the men that “magical” evening were way too old for me, It was very nice of anyone to say they wanted to spend more time with me.

In a way, though, it made me feel like a teenager again. Those lovely years of boys I wasn’t interested in calling me and asking me to “go with them” and me trying to politely decline. Those years of never having the boy I liked like me at the same time!

After a total life change I had to shake my head and laugh that apparently some things NEVER change: the magic never seems to strike the one you want it to–or you and the one you want at the same time!

It’s so true. “Just because everything is different doesn’t mean anything has changed.” (Irene Peter)

Bachelor #30: It’s A Too Small World

Date: July 30, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.” (Stephen Wright)

I love Disney. Anything Disney. I love “It’s a Small World.” But Bachelor #30 made my world a little too small.

I met him online. And it turns out, he had grown up in the same area as one family of my cousins, and knew my uncle very well. Turns out he had also dated, had been “practically engaged,” to one of my good friends from Denver I’d known the previous 20 years prior to her marriage to the man I knew as her husband!

He was smart, interesting, introspective, thoughtful, fit, loved to dance, had a great job, a very nice extended family, one son, was a great father, and an almost overly cordial relationship with his ex-wife.

But despite how great he was, I had a couple of concerns.

First, his marital history. He had married in his late 30s (and would never actually reveal the exact age he had married; he always acted like he couldn’t quite remember how old he was–who doesn’t know how old they were when they married?) He was married less than 5 years and then divorced (and would never actually reveal how long he had been divorced; he always acted like he couldn’t quite remember–who doesn’t know how long they’ve been divorced?)

The fact that he was 48 years old and had really only spent 5 years of his life married concerned me. I didn’t think that demonstrated enough flexibility and history to take on a my family like mine some day!

Second, he traveled the world for work a lot. He was gone for three weeks to one month at a time. I was married to a man who had traveled for “work” a lot. I had spent a lot of time alone and decided the next time around, that I wanted something different the next time. (I’m not only looking for a partner for me, due to the circumstances of my divorce, I am also looking for someone who will be a father to my children. It’s hard to be that when you’re gone a lot of the time.)

And last of all, I felt our common associations made my world a little bit too small!

“It’s a small world, but we all run in big circles.” (Sasha Azevedo)

So long, Bachelor #30.

The circles are getting exhausting.

Bachelor #28: “Old” Blue Eyes

Date: July 29, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Blue eyes say, Love me or I die; black eyes say, Love me or I kill thee.” (Spanish Proverb)

I’ve never been a big “eyes” person. I think I was married to my former spouse before I noticed his eye color. But I noticed Bachelor #28′s beautiful blue eyes the moment I met him. With his dark hair, perfect white teeth and huge smile, you couldn’t miss them!

Bachelor #28 was a widower with one son. He was an absolutely nice, normal, friendly, outgoing, loving, wonderful man. He was also funny, successful, 6’5,” and handsome–everything I was looking for in lots of ways, especially the shallow ones! But we were different at the core; in our religious beliefs.

I was in over my head with Bachelor #28 for entirely different reasons than the Barracuda. “If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” I knew I wasn’t “tall” enough for this one.

But Dr. Seuss had the solution. “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know.”

I did know what to do. So I did it. I steered myself away from Bachelor #28. For my own good.

But those blue eyes.

“I picture my epitaph: ‘Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown.’” (Paul Newman)

May his blue eyes never “fail.” Bachelor #28.

However, I’ll miss his stories. He had one of the best I’ve heard.

We had some great and animated discussions comparing notes on who had been on dates with the most memorable people. I’ve held my own in those types of competitions (as evidenced by this blog) but I had to give Bachelor #28 the victory when he recounted a friend’s experience at dinner with a man she met online who showed up wearing a Superman cape.

Seriously.

He made an excuse about having just been somewhere where he had to wear it, yet he never removed it despite the fact his reason for it was over. He wore the cape throughout the entire meal and date. The woman was mortified.

Bachelor #28 verified it to be absolutely true, as well, when he told the story to another friend, a bartender in Park City, UT, whose face lit up with recognition. She, too, had met and seen the man (but never dated him) about town as well! She noticed him because he always wore a Superman cape!

I give.

I’ve met some memorable people, but no superheroes! (So far.)

Farewell, Bachelor #28.

Bachelors #22-26: The International Set

Date: July 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

My dad loved Hawaii.

And he did his best to instill the same passion for Polynesia in me. I absolutely loved the time I spent in the South Pacific growing up. I loved it so much, my heart literally hurt every time we had to leave and return to our home in Colorado.

Eventually, I was offered a piano scholarship to BYU-Hawaii and my dad’s only hesitation about letting me accept it was his fear that I would fall in love with an islander and my family would never see or hear from me again! He knew me well. I may well have done that, given the chance.

So it was kind of ironic that I married a man who hated the sun, Hawaii, the beach, the feeling of sand between his toes, and every other “island” thing that I loved. After I divorced it hit me. Although I would never have chosen divorce and never thought it would happen to me, what if I actually found a Polynesian man to love the second time around? (And then I realized the following, too: it may take someone from that far away to have not heard about me or the drama-filled ending of my marriage and previous life thanks to the criminal actions of my former spouse!)

Hmm. It was something to consider. So I had to laugh when I actually got asked out by what I’ll call “The International Set” of bachelors. Bachelors #22-26. Each hailed from some place far removed from Colorado and the fall out of the Ponzi scheme my former spouse perpetrated. I had a chance at the anonymity I had hoped for!

Unfortunately, Bachelor #22 was very nice, but not my type at all. Nothing serious ever developed. He was just a fun friend, from a foreign country, kind, who enjoyed hearing about my kids and dancing. I’ll remember him most for his constant smile. Adios, Bachelor #22!

Bachelor #23 was nice, but too short for me. (And I’m not talking he was less than my dream height of 6’2″. He was literally quite a bit shorter than me!) He was a widower with one arm and several children. He spoke Samoan fluently, but English…not so much! That was NEVER going anywhere. Tofa, Bachelor #23!

Bachelor #24 was a nice, older Samoan gentleman who loved young people and helping them achieve their dreams. He ran a foundation for troubled youth, and had a heart that was big enough to love the entire world, it seemed. (A very good quality.) Every time he asked me out on a date, he invited me to bring my children, too, even though he had never met them. (I didn’t bring my children, though. I wasn’t comfortable letting my children meet many of the men I dated.) A very nice man. However, in my eyes he was more like a father or a grandfather, not a man I had romantic interest in. That frustrated him and he quit asking me out as soon as he realized that. Tofa, Bachelor #24!

Bachlor #25 was another “senior” citizen…from Greece. He was nice, but it was clear to me from the moment I met him that there was never going to be a Big Fat Greek Wedding in my future. Ta leme, Bachelor #25!

Bachelor #26 was a genuine Kiwi–VERY handsome, tan, VERY cool, laid back, outdoorsy, loved to hike and walk (the muddier the better!) and had an accent to die for! Too bad we had very different goals and values. He was a fun and nice man but it finally came down to hei kona ra, Bachelor #26!

So the international set didn’t work out for me. But I haven’t given up.

“I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s disgusting. It really is. I’ve seen ‘While You Were Sleeping’, like, twenty times, and I still believe in the whole Prince Charming thing.” (Jennifer Love Hewitt)

I’m with her.

Bachelor #19: The Barracuda

Date: July 27, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge? (Douglas Adams)

The following is not going to sound like it’s coming from a woman in her 40s, college educated, who has seen her fair share of the world, but here it is:

If I was a baby guppy fish, Bachelor #19 was a barracuda!

Don’t get me wrong. Bachelor #19 was a law abiding citizen and a good person. I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that he was dangerous–not in the axe-murderer, serial killer sense of the word anyway. It’s just that he was handsome, several years older than me, and CLEARLY much more experienced and worldly-wise than I was.

We had different core beliefs, values and lifestyles. He had grandchildren, I had a four-year-old.

So I’m not sure what the attraction was for him. I never asked him. He just always said, “My gosh, you’re cute!” (But not in those exact words. I’ve edited his colorful way of expressing himself.) And he asked me out. A lot.

But he made me nervous.

He made me feel as if I was getting in way over my head. I think I was. But at least I was smart enough to sense that. So I took the cowardly approach and was “busy” every time he asked me out. I quit returning his calls.

“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.” (Jack Handy)

The thing I remember most about Bachelor #19, aside from his colorful language and the “something” about him that made me nervous, was how patient he was to me in my cowardice. He didn’t get mean, rude or hostile. He continued to be kind, patient, complimentary and understanding of my hesitation. Until one day, he finally gave up and quit asking me out.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” (Dr. Seuss)

Goodbye, Bachelor #19.

This fish isn’t biting.

Bachelor #17: The Importance of Voice and How You Use It

Date: July 26, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Women don’t want to hear what you think. Women want to hear what they think – in a deeper voice.” (Bill Cosby)

Voice. The biggest thing I can say about Bachelor #17 was that he had a very unusual voice. And it wasn’t deep.

He was tan with spiky hair. When I first met him, I thought it was white-blonde, but on closer inspection I realized it was gray! (Such is dating in your 40s, versus dating in the 1980s! Sometimes I still can’t get used to the older men…)

He loved Michael Jackson, American Idol, was a good dancer, had an outgoing and fun personality, drank rootbeer by the gallon and was a successful businessman. But he paid the price for his success in the hours he worked. Although we went out places, he preferred “at home” dates so he could take phone calls and be accessible to his clients. And while he was a very nice man, I would say he could best be described as a “mama’s boy;” not very tough emotionally, used to being catered to and taken care of; prone to whining.

Although I didn’t love his devotion to his job and I tried to overlook the whining, things fell apart on the first family date–he brought his daughter and had me bring my two youngest sons. It was a later evening activity, my boys began the evening tired, and it went downhill from there! In fact, I spent most of the evening out in the foyer with my youngest who just wanted to go home and didn’t really care about the man providing the evening’s entertainment.

The family date wasn’t a huge success. My children felt nothing toward the man, and he didn’t want the challenge of a four-year-old. (He had married later in life, stayed married less than 10 years, and had one well-behaved, mature-for-her-age daughter. Need I explain further?)

The icing on the cake of the evening, however, was one distracting fact: his zipper was down all night long. It just added to everything about the evening that was a failure for me. (Those who know me best know what a problem THAT is for me!)

That night was our last date.

What I didn’t know was that I should have been thanking my boys for that.

A few days after that “kids included” date with a nearly 50-year-old man who forgot to zip his pants, I happened to be listening to the news (a very rare occurrence for me since becoming the subject of too many broadcasts back in 2009) and heard the radio station announce a local man was suing a health club because of harassment he received from other patrons of the club as he exercised. A commercial came on and I wondered what type of adult would be made fun of as he exercised, what type of person would perceive he was being made fun of while he exercised, and what type of person would sue over that.

I should have known.

The injured man came on air when the commercial ended and there was no mistaking that voice. That very unusual voice. The high voice of a man prone to whining. Bachelor #17!

I gave silent thanks to my boys for their behavior.

I need someone strong. I need someone who doesn’t care what people think. I need someone who can roll with the unexpected events in life, rise above the challenges and laugh in spite of it all. I need someone who doesn’t whine. And the last thing I want or need is to be involved with someone seeking negative publicity! I had enough of that in 2009! (Besides, it’s going to take someone with all of the above qualities to love me and accept the past I bring with me to any relationship–my baggage not of my creation.)

Goodbye Bachelor #17. I hope your court case works out for you–or at the very least, that you’re able to exercise, and live, in peace! That means no whining.

“It takes a genius to whine appealingly.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I have yet to meet a genius.

Of Corpses, Fish and Flowers

Date: July 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden, Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?” (T.S. Eliot)

I love “old-fashioned” flowers, like hollyhocks and peonies, but peonies are my favorite. Someone once told me peonies can live to be up to 90 years old. I don’t know if that is true, but it has made me love them even more.
I can’t imagine what they’ve seen and what they’ve survived to live that long.

Kind of like each of us as we live our unexpected lives.

My Colorado yard had LOTS of hollyhocks and peonies.

When I moved to Utah to begin a new chapter in my unexpected life, I left before my belongings. My former spouse, unemployed and waiting to be formally charged for the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated and the crimes he committed, moved my things to Utah for me after I was already working. Knowing how much I loved my peonies and that I had no money with which to buy new plants in Utah, the man I had divorced uprooted 2-3 peony plants from my Colorado yard and hauled them to Utah in buckets, hoping they could be transplanted in my new yard upon their arrival.

In the midst of working full time, tending my children in the evening, and trying to unpack and move in to our Utah home, one of the peony plants from Colorado died before I could plant them. I looked at it, dead, withered and lifeless in an orange Home Depot bucket, and realized I had a lot more in common with peonies than I’d thought. I felt like that plant looked and wondered if I was headed for the same fate. It felt like pieces of my heart were already there. But seeing the dead plant motivated me to plant the two remaining peony plants.

They looked dead, but I figured if that were the case, I couldn’t damage them further. I planted them in the middle of the July 2009 heat and went on living my life, not sure if they were alive enough to take root or if they’d survive the winter snow. I should have known better, though. I probably should have been more worried about whether or not they could survive my children!

Sometime during the winter, my four year old came to me one day, proudly holding an entire peony plant that he had uprooted. “Look Mom! Look what I found trying to grow in our yard! Look how strong I am! I ripped this whole bush out of the ground all by myself!”

My eyes were huge as I looked at the accomplishment dangling from his little hands–my peony plant, roots and all.

The loss of a plant, considering all I had lost, seemed like such a little thing. And it sounds petty, but in a year of disappointments I couldn’t help but add the peony plant to the list. But at the same time I acknowledged there were a lot bigger losses and issues in life, and in my world, than the loss of one pink peony plant. I had experienced too many to count in 2009 and as usual, knew I could choose to laugh or cry about things, so I shook my head at the absurdity of uprooting a plant from its home, hauling it several hundred miles in a bucket in the summer heat, transplanting it when it was mostly dead and with winter coming…and a small child finally doing it in.

I laughed.

It wasn’t THAT big a loss, but it’s still true: “Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.” (Bill Cosby)

It reminded me of our attempt at having a fish for a pet several years earlier. The fish was new to our family when we left on a vacation to Africa for one month. And wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to arrange for anyone to feed it while we were gone! I realized my mistake partway through the trip and prepared myself for a dead fish when we returned home. To my shock, the fish was alive and swimming in its bowl when we returned to Colorado! I fed it, changed its water, and secretly admired the little fish’s survival instinct. The next evening however, as I did the dinner dishes, I realized the fish was missing. Apparently, our cleaning lady had come, hadn’t realized anything was swimming in the fish bowl, dumped the contents down the drain and washed the bowl!

In the case of the peony plant, all I could do was compliment my son on his brute strength, give his “huge” arm muscles a squeeze of admiration, and help him heft the remnants of my peony plant into the big garbage can outside. Another peony dead. Sometimes the best laid plans die or don’t work out due to circumstances beyond our control.

One peony plant was left, but who knew if it was even alive, or if it could survive the rest of the winter?

I was walking in my yard recently and saw it. The peony plant was still in the ground, thankfully. It was finally green. And to my surprise, there were blossoms getting ready to bloom! Who ever would have thought? And after all of this time, one year since it was first uprooted, has passed?

“Where flowers bloom so does hope.” (Lady Bird Johnson)

It looks like I’m going to have peonies after all. With my hope. In my unexpected life.

New Year’s Eve 2009

Date: July 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Earlier this month marked the one year anniversary of the day my new and unexpected single life officially, legally, began.

It has been quite a year!

All of the fireworks this month reminded me of the last fireworks I experienced–New Year’s Eve 2009. My first New Year’s Eve as a single woman.

I spent it with one of the bachelor’s I’ve already written about. And as optimistic as I like to think I am, I probably felt a little pessimistic that night too. “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” (Bill Vaughan) That was me that night.

“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can go.” (Brooks Atkinson) That was exactly how I felt. That was exactly what I did.

My New Year’s Eve involved dinner, dancing…and fireworks. And as far as “firsts” go, it wasn’t too bad.

But at midnight, as the fireworks exploded and I stood watching them light up the Salt Lake City skyline, I felt something unexpected.

Each time a firework exploded into a colorful shower of sparks and light, I felt the “thunder” of it in my chest and saw a moment from 2009 flash before my eyes: I was sitting with Shawn Merriman at the table as he told me of his crimes, pending prison sentence, that I was left alone and with nothing to raise our four children and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was watching my children’s world shatter, seeing their shocked expressions, tears and grief, wondering how I would survive the moment I was present as my children’s hearts were broken and their childhood illusions were shattered and then, BOOM! That moment was gone. I was driving away from my entire life, the only life I’d ever known as an adult into a completely unknown life in Utah, wondering how my heart would ever heal and then, BOOM! That moment was gone.

The flashbacks continued for several minutes. Each explosion of light blasted away a hard experience from 2009; a piece of pain from the previous year. Pain I didn’t even know was mine, I’d become so accustomed to living with it.

Burdens I hadn’t even known I’d been carrying were lifted. I was stunned at how good it felt to see, hear and feel it all going away. It was healing.

So aside from the marriage proposal I got earlier that day (#2, if anyone’s counting!) that is what I remember most about New Year’s 2009. The fireworks. What they represented and how they felt to me.

Life was getting better every day and I knew that someday, every day would be a celebration again. That my children and I would continue on the path to happiness and joy in our new and unexpected life.

Just as the old moments had passed with each firework that exploded, new moments and memories were taking their place: my three-year-old taking off on his bike sans training wheels down our new Utah street, the family dance party my middle son was standing on a bench busting his best disco-karate moves and the bench shattered beneath him (he was ok, but we all got a huge laugh out of the whole adventure–and the first time I’ve ever lost a piece of furniture to a child’s antics), our first Christmas as a new family unit, our “group hugs,” the family drives, evenings in the canyon, and even our first family vacation.

“Everything is created from moment to moment, always new. Like fireworks, this universe is a celebration and you are the spectator contemplating the eternal Fourth of July of your absolute splendor.” (Francis Lucille)

You just have to keep living.

Bachelor #16: The Doctor Is In (Town)

Date: July 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met Bachelor #16 online. He was a doctor living in Northern Utah. He was a few years younger than me and seemed quite nice and normal–other than the fact he was willing to drive four hours just to go to dinner with me!

He was also the first man I dated that I tested out the whole “don’t tell every detail of your story, just one aspect of it” tactic on. And to my amazement, it worked! I told just one reason I had divorced when asked my story, it was comparable to his, and the conversation turned to other things without me having to reveal every aspect of my marriage that had ended in disaster.

But wouldn’t you know it, and as the evening progressed, the doctor wanted to know a lot more about my children. Specifically, if their father paid child support and exactly how often they saw him or spent time with him. I don’t recall that I’d ever been asked that before, so Bachelor #14 had never prepped me about what to say about that and sometimes I’m not so quick-thinking on my feet! That darn deer-caught-in-headlights look I’ve gotten so good at was evident in my face.

I didn’t know what to say, so I told the truth. I answered honestly: their father wasn’t employed and he lived in another state which made regular contact impossible due to his situation and lack of funds, my financial situation and my work schedule. I told him my children had contact with him through letters and twice-monthly phone calls which I paid for.

Bachelor #16 couldn’t believe that. It bothered him so much that through the rest of the evening he kept coming back to that and asking more questions about my children’s father, his child support, and their contact with him. I answered the questions, but offered no details.

To my surprise, his concern seemed to have less to do with my former spouse and more to do with my mothering: what kind of mother would stand for that? What kind of mother would allow that? What kind of mother would let that be the extent of a father’s involvement? What kind of mother would support such a dysfunctional family situation? He warned me of potential ramifications in later years as a result of my tolerance for an absentee father.

There is nothing I could say to that. He may well be right, although I’ve been working since 2009 when our unexpected life began, and I’ll continue to be working my children’s entire lives, to prevent that. You have to make the best of what you’ve got. And in that regard, I admit, I don’t have much. I’m simply doing the best I can and then relying on others (friends, family, neighbors and many good men) to make up the difference for my children until someone, someday, becomes their father.

Bachelor #16 was also upfront about what he wanted from a woman: more children. I had to be honest about that, too, and tell him I was unable to accommodate that plan.

As for me, I discovered Bachelor #16 wasn’t very close to his mother or siblings, he touched feet all day long (turns out he was a podiatrist), and neither of those things worked for me. Clearly there was no magic.

“That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.” (Charles de Lint)

So long, Bachelor #16.

Not Fair

Date: July 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met an old friend and his wife for lunch a few months ago. We hadn’t seen each other in person since 1989 but he was exactly the same–same good person, same nice guy, same handsome man (now a husband and father), same terrific sense of humor. In some ways, he hasn’t changed a bit! Then he smiled and I saw something was different.

He had gotten braces. As the daughter of an orthodontist, I had to acknowledge them. He made a joke about them–something about a mid-life crisis and how it wasn’t fair.

THAT made me laugh. I mean, what IS fair?

I corrected him, “No, what’s NOT fair is having to be single again after having four children! What’s NOT fair is having to date when the wrinkles are showing!” But I felt his pain. I was secretly fixing my own shifting teeth with Invisalign at night. The things we do mid-life.

What’s also NOT fair is having to repeat some teenage experiences–like dating and battling acne at the same time! That was an experience I always thought was best left in the 1980s and can you believe my good fortune? Forty-two years old and getting some acne again? I consulted my dermatologist about it. I wanted him to “magically” make it stop and he told me he couldn’t do anything, that the acne was most likely caused by hormones. Probably the “old age” kind of hormones, knowing MY luck!

No, life isn’t fair. Especially the unexpected life. But I’m thankful I’ve got one. Each new day is unexpected. Each new experience (and challenge) a blessing.