Stay Tuned!

Stay Tuned!

I want to thank everyone who has written to tell me you enjoy The Blah, Blah, Blahg, and to ask when I will begin writing again. I have been writing during this long quiet spell, most of it for catharsis and healing, and not so much for public sharing, at least not at this time.

Now that I have completed some requisite musing, I am excited to return to publishing my blog.

I plan to have some new entries up very soon. Stay tuned!



…And Then To Rise Again Into Remembering


dear human you've got it all wrong

I met my first love in California, when I was 14; he was 19. He lived with his family, two doors down from my house, and he dated my best friend. I sometimes thought he was a jerk because of the way he occasionally bullied his sisters, but most of the time I thought he was interesting and funny. He was also quite handsome.

I lived in a two-story Spanish style house in a Southeast Los Angeles suburb. My bedroom was on the second floor at the front of the house, with big windows facing east, overlooking the street, and smaller windows on the north side of the bedroom, looking out onto a flat roof. When my best friend was dating the boy with whom I would later fall in love, she would spend the night at my house, and after everyone else in the house was sleeping, he would climb up on the roof and they would talk and kiss at the window.

Eventually my best friend lost interest in my neighbor, and though he seemed sad at first, he got over it quickly. He and I remained friends and he would still climb up on the roof when my family was asleep, and we would talk at my window and listen to records. Mature beyond my years, with a tendency to be a bit too serious, I didn’t have a lot in common with most boys my age, though I had my fair share of boyfriends. I enjoyed having a male friend that shared some of my interests, took me seriously, and was happy to engage with me in deep conversations.

I remember clearly when my feelings for him began to grow. It was summer; he was part of a group doing Shakespeare in the park, and he invited me to a performance. On that summer night, watching him on the stage, I felt my heart open, and create a place for him. Our relationship remained platonic for a while longer, but I was falling in love, and by the time he kissed me for the first time, I was head over heels. I had kissed many boys, but I had never experienced anything like that kiss. It was not just the physical chemistry, though we certainly had plenty of that going for us. When he kissed me, I felt my soul quiver. I knew in that moment that something huge had just happened and I would never be the same, and I was right.

For nearly six years, he was the center of my life. And then he wasn’t. We wanted the same things, and then we didn’t. From this distance, it makes perfect sense that we parted, but at the time, I was devastated. We had some wonderful, magical, transforming and soul stirring times together; and also some chaotic, messy and heartbreaking times. As is often the case with young love, the relationship ran its course.

Although I was crushed when our romance ended, we remained friends. Our lives took very different turns, and eventually we lost contact. A few months ago, through an unexpected chain of events, I received a phone call from my first love. I knew he had been given my number, but I did not expect to hear from him. I was a little rattled when I answered the phone, and he said “Ric?” Very few people shorten my name from Ricci, to Ric, and the only person to do that in many years had been my last love, my former husband. I let him know that it unnerved me a bit to be called Ric, and he defended himself with the fact that he had called me by that name long before my husband. Touché. Stubborn Taurus that he is, he managed to use my nickname at least a dozen times during the conversation, and being the flexible Virgo, I chose to capitulate.

We talked on the phone for quite awhile; he did most of the talking. I found myself distracted by the thought that 30 years had passed since we had last spoken, and yet there we were talking as if it was our appointed annual call to check in and catch up. It was surreal to hear his voice. He quickly filled me in on the past 30 years of his life. As fate would have it, he lives about an hour north of Seattle: my home for the past 20 years. He told me he was in a good place in life, happy and in love. We talked about getting together for coffee, and I said I would text him some old photos I thought he would enjoy.

The next few days brought more surprises. I sent him the photos as promised, and received an unanticipated, somewhat emotional response. The photos had triggered something, not only for him, but for his girlfriend as well. I am not a jealous person by nature, and it did not occur to me that photos taken four decades ago would be a cause of concern for his girlfriend. I felt bad. Plans to get together were cancelled. After a bit more discussion, and his assurances that my intentions were not in question and everything was okay, we again made plans to get together. My instincts told me things were not really okay, and he would cancel, and my instincts were right; he canceled two hours before we were to meet. I knew it was for the best.

I thought about his girlfriend getting upset about photos from another lifetime, and I got the photos out to look at them again. I saw the images as if I was seeing them for the first time, not only with my eyes, but also with my heart. In one of our text exchanges after I had sent him the photos, he wrote, “God we were beautiful!” Yes, we were beautiful, young, sexy, vibrant and in love. I felt a huge wave of emotion: love, joy, gratitude, and peace. Just as I felt it the first time he kissed me; once again I felt my soul quiver.

It took me by surprise to have such intense feelings well up inside me after all these years. I had looked at those photos dozens of times and never experienced such intense emotion. So many memories came rushing back, events I had not thought of in decades, and it made me smile to think of the incredible time we shared. I had to take a few days to just sit with the memories, and examine the emotions attached to each one. It is fascinating to me that these memories and feelings have been inside me all of this time.

One lovely memory that came to me was our first backpacking adventure together: we hiked to Rae Lakes in the Sierras. I had been on camping trips with girlfriends and always enjoyed it, but when it came to backpacking, I was a complete novice. I had no idea he was taking me on a trip that more experienced hikers found challenging, but I trusted him, and off we went. It was a glorious experience. We hiked, fished, skinny dipped and made love on the lakeshore. Time passed slowly in the mountains, and I loved every moment. That trip instilled in me a reverence for nature that remains with me to this day, and I treasure the memory.

A month after I heard from my love, I was in California celebrating my birthday with some of my oldest friends, many who were in my life when I was with him. I told the story of our phone conversation and the subsequent outcome, including the memories and emotions I experienced, and was still experiencing a month later. One of my friends said, “I always thought he was your soul mate,” and I agreed. My best friend made a face and exclaimed, “He was a terrible boyfriend!” not because he broke her heart, mind you, but because he shattered mine. I can say without hesitation that my heart has fully healed, and though I have not been in love with him for many years, he still fills a place in my heart and always will. (Mi alma se acordará de usted a través de la eternidad.) And though her statement is to some extent true, I believe that our brief reconnection was a gift to remind me not of his flawed character, or my own, but of the incredible love I have experienced in my life, and not just with him.

Remember, he was just my first love.

Added note: I started writing this piece in August, just a few days after the scheduled get-together with my first love was cancelled. I had not experienced such a strong urge to write in a very long time. Each time I sat down to write, another memory would surface, along with a host of emotions neglected for decades, and in need of examination. And I want to write about all of it!

As if on cue, my third love came to me in a vivid dream within a week of my conversation with my first love, and on my trip to California in September I had an unexpected but lovely encounter with my second love. By that point I was in the midst of quite an emotional melee and aware that it was not a coincidence that these three men had brushed up against my life again. I realized something profound is unfolding, and I must pay attention. I have learned that, like it or not, when my soul quivers, big things are about to happen.

I considered writing about my first three loves together, but that didn’t seem the way my heart intended to go. In a literary sense, my first love is a series of novels, my second and third loves are short stories, and my fourth love is a saga. I will try to honor each of them in a way that is fitting for the contribution they have made in my life and the place each holds in my heart.

Stay tuned.

I Choose Love


the lesson is always love

I have been in love with four men; each of them very different in looks and stature, and dozens of other ways, but all managed to find a place in my heart. There is a common thread that exists with all of my loves; we were friends before I fell in love with them. As a friend, I did not try to hide my flaws and win them over, as one might do in pursuit of a romance. They also came to the friendship without pretense. They knew me, and I knew them, flaws and all, and from friendship love grew.

Recently, over the course of a few months, I connected with my first three loves, as unexpectedly as when I first fell in love with them. Each encounter has resulted in a flood of delicious memories of happy, funny, sexy, transforming times that I am so grateful to have experienced. Don’t get me wrong; there were painful times – some truly shitty times; they are part of the transforming category. Each of these men broke my heart, but I don’t regret loving them; not one bit.

The surprising deluge of memories has caused me to reconnect to a part of myself that I had put to sleep: reviving my heart to recall love, long dormant, and reminding me that while I am pretty fabulous on my own, I am truly at my very best when I am in love.  I have arrived at the conclusion that love does not die. I can suppress or repress love, and relegate it into dormancy, but it still exists; it still lives within me, even if I choose to ignore it and leave it unattended.

This awakening, along with the patient and loving nudging of wonderful friends, has fueled me to write again, as well as explore other creative endeavors. The unconditional love from my friends has always been an inspiration, and combined with the recent consciousness acquired from my love encounters, a divine tonic was concocted that has resuscitated my creative cells; resurrecting a vital part of myself, and filling my heart with joy.

I am back, people, and I have some stories to tell!


never miss an opportunity to show your love

It should come as no surprise that I am witnessing a significant shift in my life since I have been focusing on love; and yet, I continue to be astonished. One of the most pleasant surprises has been having people I love visit me in my dreams. Of late my dreams are filled with vivid conversations and interactions with loved ones who have passed on, as well as a few dream encounters with past loves.

Last week my dear friend and sister who passed away a little more than three years ago, came to me in a dream. Rarely a day goes by that I do not think of her. She has been very present in my heart and thoughts the past few weeks, as her 61st birthday was October 13.

My friend and I had a joyous reunion in my dream. I got to tell her how much I love and miss her, which she already knew. I shared with her some of my recent experiences: crossing paths with two of my loves, and how another love also came to me in a dream. I divulged to her my revelation that love is everlasting, and we laughed that I had ever thought otherwise. She encouraged me to continue to focus on love, and promised she would visit again.

I felt such peace and joy to talk with my friend, and every time I think of the dream, I am overwhelmed with emotion. In the process of writing this, I have stopped several times to wipe away tears. We all wish we could have just one more opportunity to spend time with a loved one who has passed. I felt like I received that gift in my dream; it felt that real.

Lies! Lies! All Lies!


my soul remebers you

After my marriage ended, I briefly attempted dating. I was a single mother in my 40’s with four children, one with a disability. I wasn’t expecting men to line up at my door, but I did hope for a few viable suitors. I anticipated dating would be a bit challenging, but it turned out to be far more complicated than my memories of dating prior to marriage and children.

I had no experience with online dating, and neither did anyone else I knew, but I decided to give it a try. It was hard to keep track of all of the “winks” and emails. After a few dates, I felt like a therapist. My dates wanted to talk about their ex-wives’ lack of appreciation and unrealistic expectations. They seemed to be asking for validation I could not provide. I could barely grasp my own situation at the time. I surmised that a freshly divorced man was not a good date, and that I, a freshly divorced woman, was ill equipped to deal with their emotional needs. I threw in the towel on dating.

Well meaning friends encouraged me not to give up. I fortified my case with mantras such as, “I have a broken picker”, “I am a loser magnet” and “I end up with the wrong men.” I had a negative internal monologue going with regard to my past relationships, and the volume increased as my marriage collapsed. I took inventory of my romances, and told myself I made bad choices. For whatever reason, I created a story that I stuck with for many years, and I went on my merry way.

Fortunately, over time and with a lot of work, I developed a fresh, healthy, positive perspective, and realized that what I had been telling myself simply was not true. I do not have a broken picker; I do not attract losers; and I did not fall in love with the wrong men. Yes, I have had my share of heartbreak and disappointment upon the unraveling of intimate relationships, but it was not a mistake for me to love these men. The truth is, I have been in love with wonderful men: intelligent, funny, handsome, kind, sexy, spiritual, ambitious, creative, and talented men who greatly enriched my life. I am grateful to recognize and celebrate the love I have experienced, and I truly hope there is another great love in store for me.

Dream A Little Dream



Nearly three years ago I had a dream so vivid it felt prophetic. In my dream, I was deeply in love with a man, and he with me. I had apparently known him for a long time, but we had only recently reconnected and entered into a romantic relationship. He was very familiar to me, but in the dream I could not see his face; I could just feel his loving presence and my deep love for him. Everywhere we went, our mutual friends would say, “I always knew you belonged together,” and we were mystified that no one had previously suggested we should be a pair. We laughed about being so oblivious, because it was so obvious we belonged together.

When I woke from the dream I literally felt like I was in love. I felt connected to something I had not experienced in a very long time, and it was wonderful. I felt inspired and had a huge burst of creativity. For a while I considered the possibility that the dream was prophetic (it felt so real). I made a mental list of men I had known through the years and tried to remember if there were any clues in the dream that I might have overlooked or forgotten. No one came to mind, but the love I felt in that dream stayed with me for several months.

The love dream came to me after many years of being intentionally single and quite happy. Although I was happy, the dream switched on a longing for love and intimacy and I decided I was ready to pursue a romantic relationship. I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to meet anyone in the workplace. Most of my local women friends are considerably younger than I, and I didn’t think it likely they would be introducing me to any potential romantic interests. I decided I would try online dating (again), but life had something else in store for me.

Shortly after making the decision to pursue love, I had a freak accident which resulted in a fractured left hip, requiring major surgery and months of recovery. When I came home from the hospital, I required around-the-clock care which was lovingly provided by my friends and family. It was not the love I had dreamed about, but it was love to be cherished, just the same. At this point, healing my body was my primary focus.

The love dream was put on the back burner, but not forgotten.

Three Years Later…


love is always the answer

More than three years have passed since I set up this blog, with the intention of writing on a regular basis, and clearly, that did not happen. I do not feel the need to dwell on why I did not follow through. I would much rather write about the topic that has dominated my thoughts for the past few months: LOVE.

Love in its many forms has been a powerful force in my life since the beginning of this past summer. Love is always present in my life; but not with the clarity and intensity that I have recently been experiencing. Do you know when something is happening to you that is different from your normal day-to-day events? Have you had those connect-the-dots experiences, when suddenly you see things so clearly, and you feel liberated and inspired? I am going through this extraordinary process now and I intend to share some of my experiences here.

Stay tuned!

Here we go!


For as long as I can remember, probably back to elementary school, I have been told that I “should write.” I have always enjoyed writing, and for years I kept a journal, but the comments about me writing usually came from me telling a story about my life, verbally, not from anything I had written. Now that I think about it, it strikes me funny that so many people have suggested that I “should write.” Was it a nice way of telling me to shut up? How did they know if I could write well? Well, all of that is neither here nor there, because now, for once, I am going to do what I have been told I should do, and I am going to write.  If you are among the many people that has insisted (for years) that this is what I should do, I hope you will be happy I finally listened to you, and you will enjoy reading what I write. So…here we go!

P.S. I am still trying to figure out how to use, so please be patient.