WORD- noun- a unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds or their written representation.

I lost twenty-five thousand words. They disappeared and are nowhere to be found. It is a sad thing to lose that many words, to have them vanish into thin air like a cheap magician’s trick.

EQUAL- adjective- as great as, the same as

So I guess I was wrong about Senator Al Franken. I guess according to several accounts he used his position as an entertainer and then as a politician (aren’t they the same thing?) to touch women inappropriately. He has denied the allegations for the most part but did apologize for placing his hand on one woman’s behind while taking a photo with her. (So, why exactly did she let him leave it there?) He also brought up the irony that our President has bragged on tape about his advances towards women, and that a man who preyed on underage girls is campaigning for the Senate with the full support of his party and the President. Never mind the irony, Senator Franken has said he will step down.

I suppose some see this as a victory. Personally, I’m still hung up on the whole irony of it all. Our President has had several women accuse him of sexual misconduct, and we can listen to him talk about grabbing a woman by “the pussy,” and yet he’s still President. Senate candidate Roy Moore from Alabama is leading in the polls, never mind that he has been accused of having sex with teenage girls when he was in his thirties. Our President said it would be better to have a Republican molester in the Senate than a Democrat. Moore has also stated that Muslims shouldn’t be allowed to serve in Congress, that homosexual conduct should be illegal, and that former President Obama wasn’t born in the U.S. He sounds like a great guy, just a peach of a man—he’s leading in the polls, so I guess the folks in Alabama don’t mind child molesters, racists, or liars.  Remind me, please, to stay clear of Alabama.

Senator Franken’s voting record speaks for itself. Personally, I think it shows a man who cares about equality and fairness, speaks to the idea of democracy and the good of our country. Am I sorry to see him step down? Yeah, I am. Did he make some bad choices? Yeah, he did. But in comparison to our President and to candidate Moore, well, there is no comparison to be made. Is all sexual misconduct created equal? No, it most certainly is not.

So if Senator Franken is stepping down, in all fairness, shouldn’t Moore stop his campaign, and our President step down? Common sense dictates the answer is “yes,” but there’s nothing common here, and no sense in any of this.

CULPABILITY- noun- guilt or blame that is deserved

I’m about to make myself very unpopular—not that I was popular to begin with, so I guess I shouldn’t care, but still, I could just keep my opinion to myself, but there is no escaping the conversation. Sexual harassment is the topic of the day, and it is impossible to turn on a television, pick up a newspaper, magazine, or smartphone without news of someone being sexually harassed, molested, accosted and abused, by someone famous.

I get it. I was an actress once, a long, long time ago. I was subjected to sexual harassment, although I didn’t see it as harassment, more as an expected annoyance—men (and women) in positions of power seem to feel it is their right to impose themselves on those they deem in a position of lesser power. At the time I ascribed to the “it is what it is” philosophy, but I never allowed myself to be victim to the harassment.

So I have to wonder, why would any woman put herself in a position where sexual harassment becomes something more than just an annoyance? Take Harvey Weinstein—first, let’s be clear he’s a pig—a woman has an interview with him, she arrives at his hotel, and is told he is waiting in his room—maybe a little red flag begins to wave? But wanting to meet with the powerful, influential, possibly career-making Hollywood powerhouse she goes to his room. He opens the door wearing a bathrobe. At this point, a big red flag should be waving, but for whatever reason—oh yeah, that whole I want to be a famous actress thing—she enters the room.  When he asks for a massage or asks if she wants a massage, wouldn’t that be a cue to get up and leave? But from many accounts, women stayed. Why? Oh, because it was Harvey Weinstein and he had the power to make a career, so they chose to stay, chose not to get up and leave, chose to suffer the indignities he forced upon them…because…he had the power—in their minds— to make or break their career. So it would seem, to me anyway, their career was more important than their self-respect and pride.

But they were young and vulnerable and afraid. So what? They still chose to stay in a room with a man who marginalized them, made them feel victimized and uncomfortable. They could have gotten up and left. They could have chosen not to meet a man in his hotel room for an interview, but the lure and hope for a break in the elusive, and rarified world of show business was too great to use common sense and have the nerve to stand up for themselves. There are allegations of rape, and those must be taken seriously and no woman should suffer so much as an unwanted hand on their person, but women who knowingly, willingly, allow themselves to be taken advantage of with the hope of furthering their career, I have no empathy or sympathy for. I was there. I had men of power attempt to assert themselves on me, and I chose to get up and walk away. Leave the conversation.

There are the politicians.  The list of politicians accused of sexual misconduct is endless, and at the top of the list sitting in first place is the President of the United States.  Once again it is men (and I have to believe women) of position and influence asserting power over those who have no power.  I am quite certain there are cases when the sexual conduct is consensual, and times when it is not, and there are times when a woman placed in a position that is questionable could walk away but chooses not to. When the choice is made to tolerate abuse it should be seen as such—as a choice— and not something to complain about years down the line when guilt or shame override the truth that a choice was made.

Senator Al Franken recently became the focus of sexual misconduct. I was rather disappointed and bothered by what he did. I saw the photo, it was crass and rude, demeaning to the woman, who since she was asleep, had no say in it being taken. It was obviously meant as a joke, Al’s stupid grin made it obvious that it was a joke, a poor joke at best, and at worst stupid, but not criminal. And from what his accuser says, he also stuck his tongue down her throat when they were rehearsing the act they were doing together (and why exactly didn’t she slap the shit out of him)? Still, I have to wonder at the “victim” calling him out now—for something that happened in 2006. Leeann Tweeden is a radio show host, and in answering why she went public with Senator Franken’s misconduct now, she said it was to show solidarity with all the women who have been coming forward. Really? I have the feeling it was to get air time, get in front of cameras, what better way to get publicity than to publicly accuse a former comedian and now senator of sexual misconduct? He wrote her a letter of apology for the photo and says his account of the rehearsal is different from hers, but still apologized. So far, she is the only woman to claim Senator Franken of sexual misconduct. In my mind, it is the predators, the Moores, Spaceys, and Trumps, the men who have woman after woman (or men) coming forward, these are the true abusers we should be bringing down.

The media’s focus on sexual misconduct has been directed to politicians and the entertainment industry—the pretty, powerful, camera ready among us—but what about the secretary, the single mother working to provide for her kids who is marginalized by her boss who knows how much she needs that paycheck? Where is the outrage for these women? Where is the media coverage of the average, the frumpy, fat, unattractive victims? There isn’t any. No one wants to hear about ordinary people.

In the conversation that is going on, I never hear anyone give any responsibility to the women involved. But as feminists, we need to take responsibility for our actions. We need to accept culpability and learn to understand why we marginalize ourselves, why we allow ourselves to be taken advantage of. And it is inexcusable to wait ten, twelve, fifteen years to bring our accusations to light. To say we were too embarrassed or ashamed or afraid is no excuse. We need to try and understand our own reluctance to stand up for ourselves. But we must also take responsibility when we are guilty of allowing ourselves to be taken advantage of. It is quite different to be a victim, someone powerless, without a choice, than it is to be someone—who for any reason—makes the choice to be marginalized and used.

Women’s disregard for themselves and other women is painfully obvious when you consider how many women voted for our President after hearing him say it is perfectly acceptable to grab a woman “by the pussy.” “When you’re a star they just let you do it. You can do anything.”  So said our President, and apparently, he’s right.


DEBATE—a formal contest in which the affirmative and negative sides of a proposition are advocated by opposing speakers

When I was in high school I competed on the debate team. We would show up for a debate and be given a controversial topic and told the side for which we were debating. It was an exercise in critical thinking and it was interesting when one of us would have to debate for something that went against our own personal beliefs.

I wish people would more often be forced to debate the side that opposes their own personal beliefs. It is a wonderful way to at least try to understand an opposing viewpoint. I always enjoyed debating when given my personal viewpoint, but it was the most interesting and educational when I had to debate for an issue that went against my own personal beliefs.

I find myself debating against myself when it comes to the recent furor over taking down confederate statues. The taking down of the statue of Robert E. Lee is a perfect example where if I were on debate team I could argue either side.

I don’t believe we should take down statues that are a reflection of history. No one should try and rewrite history. We can’t erase the facts of slavery and the Confederate South and their fight to maintain ownership of slaves. And while the Civil War was not fought only about the issue of slavery—the issue of maintaining The Confederate States of America and the matter of secession, something that was not recognized by the Northern states because of the fear that secession would lead to a nation of several small countries and the United States as a Union would be lost was reason for the war.  But it can be argued that the issue of slavery was at the very core of secession, at the very core of the reason for the Civil War. So the question becomes do we keep the statues that honor the men who fought for the right to own slaves? Do we keep standing statues that honor the men and the states that held slavery dear? Robert E. Lee was a huge believer in the right to own slaves—he went to war defending that right—should we celebrate a man who The New York Times, on June 4, 1865, said should be tried for treason?

I don’t know. I do know as a white woman, I have no interest or desire to see a statue honoring a man who held the belief that ownership of another human being was something to go to war over, to succeed from the United States, to cause the death of thousands. I can’t imagine were I a black woman, how I would feel seeing a statue that honors a man who held the belief that a woman could be sold to one man and her child to another—a man who went to war to defend something so vile.

People who want the statues to remain, the monuments to the Confederacy to remain where they are, claim that we shouldn’t tear down history. They say that we shouldn’t try to erase the past. I agree. We shouldn’t try to erase the past, but should we allow statues and monuments to stand in honor of something our nation went to war over and fought against?  The North won. The South lost, and with it shouldn’t statues of men who were heroes to the ideology of slavery be removed?

Perhaps there is a compromise—perhaps let the statues remain but change the text on them to reflect their role in defending the horrors of slavery, and let the statues be reminders of wrong and not right, be disdained and abhorred, be seen not as monuments but reminders of a sad time in history.

Except, the racists and the white supremacists will still see them as glorious testaments to what they lost…and that alone would support my argument to tear them down.

JOY- noun- the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good.

Monday night I went to see The Dixie Chicks in concert at The Hollywood Bowl- it couldn’t have been a more perfect night. My kids were with me, a rare treat to have them both together at something more than just dinner. The venue is a favorite, the weather was perfect, the Chicks were giving their last concert of the tour and they didn’t disappoint. It was a sold out event, every one of the more than seventeen thousand seats was filled. At the concert’s end, not one person got up to leave, everyone chanting for a good five minutes for more, before the Dixie Chicks came out again to play an encore. And when it was over, really over, after all the clapping, the cheering and adulation, a huge mass of people got up to leave.

My son reached out and took my hand. He took my hand in his in the same way I have taken his, maybe a thousand times before, gathering it in mine to keep him safe, to keep him close, but this time it was my son taking my hand leading me through the thick sea of thousands all going in the same direction, a enormous herd of people making their way out of the Bowl. My son held my hand and guided me, never letting go until we got to his car.

A car, full of his friends, waited a few blocks from the congestion of the Hollywood Bowl while my son stayed with me waiting for my Uber to arrive. He could have left me there to wait, his friend was waiting too, the two of us having taken an Uber to the concert from opposite directions, but my son waited with me and when my Uber driver pulled up he double checked to make sure it was mine, and then opened the door for me and told me to text when I got home.

He did and said all the things I have said and done a thousand times before. It was an amazing role reversal that filled me with joy. The simple caring he showed without forethought, without prompting, it was a simple act of love.

It was the same joy I felt when my daughter, seeing me on the ski slope, frozen, halfway down the mountain, side-stepped up the mountain, a good hundred feet or so, to see what was the matter. When she found me paralyzed with fear, the afternoon ice suddenly making the slope I’d skied all morning seem an impossible task, she comforted me, talked to me, assured me I could make the run down the mountain, that she would stay by my side. She comforted me in the same way I would have comforted her as a little girl. Later, sensing I was embarrassed by my episode, she never made mention of it, never belittled me or made fun. She took care of me.

It is a moment as a parent you never forget – that switch from being the caregiver to the receiver. It is a moment that fills a parent’s heart with joy, to see your child give to you what you have always given to them.

It lets me know that when I truly am old, truly in need of caring, of being looked after, my children will be there for me, caring for me, as I have cared for them. It is a comfort and joy.



VILE- adjective- wretchedly bad, highly offensive, repulsive

No one can stop talking about Donald Trump. He is at the tip of everyone’s tongue. I guess it’s no surprise, he has said and done some things that are worthy of discussion. He is anything but subdued or bashful.  There are people who really like the guy as a candidate for President…I mean, I understand how someone might see him as entertaining on a reality show where he can showcase his enormous ego, it’s entertaining to watch a character who is bigger than life and believes his own bullshit. But the notion that anyone with half a brain could support him for President…well it is mind boggling. Completely, utterly mindboggling. I simply don’t understand it.

Maybe, because I have a daughter, and having a daughter means it’s my job to keep her safe from abuse, it strikes a chord. Donald Trump is abusive to women. We’ve heard the tape, his idea of locker room humor, his carefree unabashed banter about grabbing a woman’s crotch because, well, when you’re a celebrity, you can do anything! Women will just let you do anything!  Obviously, he has a great deal of respect for women, it just oozes from him…that tape certainly would have you think so, right?

The Donald respects women? How? How has he ever shown respect for a woman? If you’re willing to ignore it, brush it off as locker room talk, justify it by saying, he didn’t know he was being recorded, he would never ever say such a thing if he knew he was being recorded…

But he did know he was being broadcast to millions of listeners when he was on The Howard Stern Show. He knew exactly what he was saying when he was talking about his daughter’s body, how he’d helped create her, how she is a “ten” how he’d date her, if, you know, he wasn’t her father…

Are you kidding me? Who says this kind of shit? I’m serious. Who says things about their own daughter like that? It’s downright creepy. I could go on and on quoting the things he’s said- we’ve all heard them by now, so why bother? But what I am curious about, what really troubles me, are the people who support him, who don’t care about the things he says. The people who don’t care that he calls women “pigs” and “disgusting” and scores them from a one to ten. How can he have even one woman support him?

I have to believe there is something wrong with a woman who can overlook the vile things he’s said and say she supports him on the basis of his business acumen. You can’t just overlook and dismiss the things he’s said.  Words matter. What people say, matters!  You can’t just overlook the words that flow from his mouth, over and over again, words that denigrate, dismiss, belittle and demean, words that should be paid attention to, seen for what they are, words that should scare us all. Donald Trump scares me with his words, because I have a daughter, and it is my job to keep her safe from men like Donald Trump.



RESPONSIBILITY- noun- the state or fact of being responsible, answerable, or accountable

I just adopted a dog from my local animal shelter. He’s ten, almost eleven, so not a young dog, an older dog, a dog that lived with a family for all those years only to be taken to the pound because the family dynamics changed. I could go into details how those dynamics changed, but it doesn’t matter, the bottom line is, it became inconvenient to have the dog- he wasn’t causing anyone any harm, there was no danger or threat of danger, he simply became a bother, an inconvenience and difficult to manage, in their minds.

They asked around, tried to place him, but no one wanted him, and no one could understand why they were giving up their ten, almost eleven-year-old dog. I was asked if I wanted him and I said no, I already had five dogs and a husband who probably didn’t want any more, but I had no idea he would end up in the pound. Had I known he would end up in the pound, I would have taken him in a heartbeat.

He did end up in the pound. His people took him there and left him. I have to wonder what went through his mind when his people walked away and he was put in a cage with a kennel full of dogs barking their distress, their anxiety and frustration at being caged around him. He’d never been in a shelter, he’d lived his life with a family, he’d learned to go potty outside, not chew on shoes, to sit and stay and sleep on his bed and be a good dog. He was used to being told he was a good dog, he loved nothing more than a walk on a leash, so he had to wonder at being in such a strange, loud place. He had to wonder when his people would come get him and bring him home. I’m sure in his mind his people were coming back, after all he was their dog, and he loved them and they loved him, so of course they would come back.

Because of the weekend and the holiday he spent almost four days in the shelter and when I went to get him he was lying on the cement floor whining, a low, soft, plaintive whine that brought tears to my eyes and anger to my soul. His former owners are Christians, devout Christians that love Jesus and praise him daily, and the hypocrisy of their love of God and their dismissal of an animal that loved them is something I don’t understand. Maybe the Bible doesn’t talk about animals and what we owe our pets- because we do owe them, we owe them responsibility and love, and an animal shouldn’t be discarded because it becomes inconvenient.

If there is a God, I think He would want us to treat our pets with respect and love and not as property, but as loving, giving beings that depend on us and need us. Pets shouldn’t be dismissed, abandoned, or treated as disposable items. Our pets should be family, and we should treat them with love and respect. There is nothing loving or respectful about dumping a ten-year-old dog at the shelter and walking away, never looking back. It is a very un-God-like thing to do.

As for the dog, he’s happy now, in his new forever home.


GREAT- adjective- wonderful, first rate, very good

So Donald Trump wants to make America great again? I guess that implies America isn’t so great now? I don’t know, I think America’s pretty great, but I’m not one of those cheerleader types, jumping up and down and cheering on America, cheering how it’s the greatest country in the world and everyone better look at us like we are. I’m not a crazed flag-waving America fan who disdains the rest of the world and thinks we’re better than everyone else. A lot of Americans do think they’re better than everyone else. How else do you think we have the reputation as the Ugly American? We’re inconsiderate bozos so much of the time when we travel outside our bubble of American idealism. Too many people don’t seem to get it, we’re pretty much the new kids on the block, there’s a lot of history that came before us, and if we were smart we would start thinking globally. It grates my nerves when I hear some moron spout how we should think of America and not think globally, I mean come on people, wake up! We’re all connected in this day and age- we have to think beyond our borders.

But back to Trump, and his, making America great again. So, what’s he looking for? When was America great in his narcissist mind? Does he hold a penchant for the good old day of segregation? It wasn’t until 1955 that the Supreme Court said segregated education should end, never mind that ten years later 75% of schools were still segregated. Does Trump long for the days when women couldn’t vote? That right wasn’t ours until 1920. Does he long for the ghettos of discrimination that were created in the first half of the nineteenth century? Maybe Trump thought America was great when black baseball players had their own league? It wasn’t until 1947 that Jackie Robinson broke that racial barrier. So was America great when Matthew Shepard was beaten and tortured and left to die, gays having little or no protection under the law? It was just last June the Supreme Court gave gays the right to marry, and yet Kim Davis became something of a hero for the religious right when she refused to give out marriage licenses to gay couples, and that was in September 2015. When exactly was America so great that we need to get back to that greatness?

America like every other country in the world is flawed. Yeah, I think it’s the best country to live in, we have wonderful freedoms many don’t, our country is rich in natural resources and we have wonderful diversity of nationalities.  Our government was formed by, and for the people, and is the gold standard of a democracy, but that doesn’t give us the right to think of ourselves as superior, as the big daddy, top dog, best of the best, because that’s the attitude of a bully, and America shouldn’t be a bully, or led by one, and if Donald Trump isn’t a bully, well then I don’t know who is.


Is the Donald aware that job growth in our country grew the most under President Clinton? There was an average of 242,000 monthly job gains during his eight years as President. Does he know four out of five Presidents that saw the greatest gains in jobs were democrats? (Kennedy, Johnson, Carter, and Clinton). I would guess not, and he probably doesn’t care, maybe jobs and the economy aren’t as important as building that damn wall of his. Is that what he means by make America great again, go back to a time before immigration? I’m pretty sure America was built on immigration, and while illegal immigration is a valid issue, his statements regarding Mexicans and Muslims have been tantamount to hate speak.


From what I can see, Donald Trump has done anything but make America great during his campaign. He has managed to bring out racism, and white supremacy, he has managed to alienate an entire religion, demean an entire race of people, incite violence, encourage bigotry and hatred, demean women, and create a spirit of distrust and fear.


I think America will be great again when Donald Trump is out of the political picture and someone with the experience and knowledge of what it takes to be commander in chief is in office, and then maybe we can see about making this world of ours great.



LOSS- noun- the state of being deprived of or being without something that one has had

Loss comes in many ways, we lose the games we play, the bets we make, the chances we take, and sometimes what someone sees as a loss, feels like a win to someone else. The sketchy, no nothing boyfriend who breaks up with his too good for him girlfriend may seem like a loss to the girl and a huge (crack open the champagne) win to the girl’s parents. Someone who completes a marathon and comes in last place may feel like a winner simply for having completed the race. Losing is subjective. Losing weight, shedding toxic relationships, losing bad habits, there are so many losses that are good for us. We need to learn how to be good at losing, so to be good at winning. We need to have losses to give us motivation to succeed. We learn from losing far more than we learn from winning.

Then there are losses that devastate- someone dying too young, or someone falling victim to addiction, someone giving up on life- painful, gut wrenching losses, the losses that shatter our world and change everything. The loss of a marriage, a family torn apart, children being bounced back and forth like ping-ping balls, the loss of stability, of family and home, these are the losses that wound and cut, and so often feel insurmountable. And yet…

Most losses we can come back from, regain what it is we lost. A job, a house, even relationships can be found again, or new ones made. The pain of some losses, even the most painful ones, lessen with time, the old adage, time heals all wounds, ringing true.

One of the hardest things to lose is trust. Often trust is broken in an attempt to save the other person pain, and worry. Lying about finances, an illness, a job lost, lies that come from a desire to save someone pain and worry, and misguided and wrong as they are, it is still possible to see beyond the lie into the intent- good intentions sometimes leading right down that path to hell…and sometimes we have to realize we are the reason for the breach of trust. Insecurities, and jealousies conjured up out of thin air, sometimes gives reason for lies to be told us, if only to avoid confrontation.

But sometimes trust is ruined simply because someone decides to lie for no reason other than to hurt and maim, to deceive and mislead without any misguided good intent, with nothing but selfish reasons and deliberate hurt the objective. How do you ever forgive? Is it possible to forget? Or is the loss that comes from intentional, willful, breach of trust too much to overcome?

I don’t know…

HANGOVER- noun- the disagreeable physical aftereffects of drunkenness


I have a hangover. It’s my first in a long time – I can’t really remember my last hangover, that’s how long it’s been. It’s not horrible, I did have a moment during my kickboxing class where I thought my stomach was going to give me cause to run for the restroom, but I managed to get things under control. In spite of the three Advil I took this morning the jumping was a bit hard on my head. All in all, I’d say it’s a mild hangover, enough of one to make me ask myself what I was thinking drinking seven different wines, sake, and ale, all paired with a seven course meal at a trendy upscale Japanese restaurant. It was my treat to my husband on his birthday. I rarely get the chance to surprise him, or buy him dinner, he’s always the one buying dinner, doing and giving, it was nice for a change to be the one taking charge – literally, my credit card has never been so busy in one evening.

I hate hangovers, and will do everything and anything not to get one, but last night’s dinner was so good, and perfectly paired, the restaurant was a bit heavy on the pours- seven courses and seven alcoholic beverages is a lot, someone forgot to tell them each glass didn’t need to be full. I didn’t finish all that was given me either – I had an idea that I was getting a bit tipsy, confirming my suspicions when we got up to leave, and I could hardly walk without swaying side to side – the five inch heels I was wearing didn’t help. I tried to prevent the inevitable headache by drinking a lot of water and taking vitamin B before bed, but a headache greeted me this morning and my stomach protested my overindulgence, the hangover my punishment for a fun evening that was perhaps a bit too fun.

I’ve only had a handful of hangovers in my lifetime. I remember them – like the first one. I was just fifteen and sleeping over at a friend’s house. Her parents were having a party and a punch was being served out of a huge punch bowl. My girlfriend and I snuck our way in and served ourselves some punch. It tasted like pink lemonade, absolutely delicious! And deadly – we both paid the price the next day.

The most embarrassing came after a high school party. I was a junior and after my boyfriend told me he couldn’t go out with me, took up an invitation from my best friend to go to a party. It was one of those huge open parties kids would throw, (and probably still do) when their parents are out of town. My girlfriend drove, first driving to a seedy part of town where she convinced someone to buy us alcohol. We chose Slow Gin, a drink that tastes very much like cough syrup. (we were young and stupid) When we got to the party, my boyfriend was there, dancing with another girl. Naturally, I got drunk, then slugged him -I’m sure it it all seemed reasonable at the time. He and my best friend tried to get me home, I really couldn’t walk up the stairs to my bedroom, and I guess I was making quite a racket. My mom came out, asked what was going on, and my boyfriend didn’t think to choose his words wisely. Frustrated, and probably a bit drunk himself, he blurted out, “The f***ing bitch is drunk.” Naturally, he was asked to leave, somehow my mom got me to bed, and when I woke the next morning, my head pounding and my stomach lurching, there was a note by my bed that read ‘This too shall pass.’ It was all she needed to say, a moment of parenting I’ll never forget. She knew my hangover, my actions, were punishment enough, the phone ringing off the hook all day with my peers recalling my actions at the party (I’d forgotten about slugging the boyfriend), it was all enough that I didn’t get drunk again for years and years.

My husband and I shared our worst hangover ever, together after our wedding night. We had a lovely, lavish wedding and a waiter followed us around all night refilling our champagne glasses- all night, filling our glasses with a lovely champagne and we were so distracted, so busy, we failed to notice how we didn’t really eat any dinner, too busy socializing with guests, but we did drink champagne from our wedding flutes, all night drinking champagne. At two o’ clock in the morning, back in our hotel room with a few friends we realized we were famished, and found an all night burger joint. Someone was sent to bring back hamburgers, which we ate with French fries, me in my wedding dress, grease dripping onto the satin dress that was once my mother’s. The combination of greasy burgers and champagne was not a good one- we both woke up sicker than a dog (And just where did that expression come from? I’ve never seen a dog as sick as the both of us.) Thank God our plane to Greece was not leaving until the next day, I don’t think either one of us could have made it that day. When we got to my parents’ house to open gifts, my mom opened the door, took one look at me and said, “Honey, you’re green.”

I’m sure I’ve had others, not many; I rarely drink more than a glass or two of wine with dinner. Looking back, I have to say the ones I remember are all memorable for good reason. Life lessons learned from the first two, the after wedding one coming on the heels of a fabulous celebration, and now this small little one, my happy birthday overindulgence. I hate hangovers, hate them, but more times than not, the night that caused them was a great deal of fun. (I’m quite certain if I could remember it, punching my high school sweetheart was wonderfully satisfying).

Tonight I’m drinking sparkling water.