Spent the last week of July this year down in Belmar, New Jersey in the bottom half of my ex-sister-in-law’s two family house. Its a great house, equidistant between the beach and the center-of-town. However, my favorite thing to do is, at the end of the day, after the sun goes, is plant myself on the front section of her wrap around porch.
Author’s Note: This is not a spoiler alert, this is more like ‘if you don’t like what I say next, do not read further.’
It was like listening to two forty-something frat boys trying to one up each other.
Author’s Note: For this post, I am not using real names. I’m not hiding a crime (well, not really) and the people involved know who they are. Usually, I would ask the people in the post if I could use their names, but in this case, I don’t have access to everyone, so ‘the names have been changed to protect...me.’
Drove out of my development the other day, saw a young couple, and another young woman, who stood by a small, white SUV, hatch back open and the tail end of a couch hung out over the pavement. The three stared at the car, puzzled looks stamped on their faces.
I grew up at a time that drunk driving was encouraged (kidding, of course – sort of).
A good conversation is one of my favorite things. Conversations in bars are even better (just add alcohol).
Oh the things we find in our walks in the woods.
No one wants to die in a stupid way. Something that will end up a punch line of their life once they are gone. Preferably, I would like to die in my sleep and, one night a few years ago, I almost got my wish.
Anyone who has read my blog knows I write about my ex-wife, Arlene, a good deal of the time. Now, before you think this is some angry ex-husband rant, you’d be wrong.
