Focused at Fifty

As a child, I remember my mother was cooking in the kitchen on the stove, slowly stirring a small saucepan of Prego tomato sauce. I stood there right next to her, watching her intently. She moved the sauce onto a green avocado hot plate and turned off the electric burner, specifically warning me not to touch it as it was still hot. Being ever so precocious, I touched it immediately and howled in pain. For a good two weeks, I had first and second degree burns on my palm in the shape of the electric stove coils. You live and learn, right? Maybe not.  A waiter delivers my food in a restaurant and warns me that the plate is very hot as she puts it down in front of me. As soon as she leaves the table, I have this overwhelming urge to test her warning and touch it! I usually do and with my calloused fingers tips from decades of waiting tables, I laugh and scoff at her warning!  The other week I was baking these incredible triple chocolate brownies. For a split second, I forgot that ...

A bit ago, I was discussing a mutual acquaintance with someone and we talked about the very real issue of addiction among people we know. This acquaintance starts a job and then cannot follow through without whatever pain killer he takes. It eventually affects his ability to work and he just quits, unable to handle it. It was a sobering conversation. It was frank and uncomfortable.  The following blog is just my thoughts on the subject of addiction. At this juncture in my life, I am not looking for advice. Comments are always welcome.  I have complicated issues with alcohol. I've recently been pretty open about them. I don't look for sympathy from people. It is my own cross to bear. I will always have to watch what I drink. Something switches in me and I eventually become angry. I don't drink in the morning. I don't drink every day or night. I don't pass out from it at night. My issues stem from binge drinking so I have stopped doing the "shot" thing. No m...

"Unabashedly Marc" The other afternoon, I passed the mirror in the hallway and glanced ever so slightly and quickly to my left. I stopped short with a fright, thinking I had seen my father or mother, but no, in that instant it was me staring back. My father's eyes. My mothers nose, her face. My real father's gray beard. Wow... it was me!  I asked myself,  When did this happen? Well it happened, I sighed. I stopped into the bathroom for a closer look and I see myself looking back at me in the mirror. And I also see my mother looking back at me. My biological father Joseph's eyes. The beard I vowed I would never grow, as I felt like I would look like the man I most despised. And yet here I was, unable to escape looking like the man I hated and happily looking like the woman I most loved (well, besides my dear Sis Sher LOL.) 😊 It was a conundrum of sorts. Left me a bit shaken and confused as to my feelings. I eventually realized that there is no out running my looks...