LET ME CLEAR MY THROAT - VOCAL CHORD SURGERY

May 30, 2012 4:30am. Woke up, got dressed quickly - the Quiet One was driving me to the hospital for vocal chord surgery. Dr. Ivey would remove a polyp from the right side of my vocal chords. This little polyp has created big problems for me, my singing, my livelihood, AND my finances...so it had to go. We were almost at Columbia Presbyterian when I realized...Holy crap, I forgot my insurance card. We were already 20 minutes into the 30 minute drive. I waited for the Quiet One to reprimand me, to say, 'Really, Judy? Come on...' But I really should call the Quite One - the Patient One - the Noble One. His response to me was, "Do you really need to go back?" I nod yes. "Okay, let's go back." He wasn't upset in the least. The Quiet One dropped me off. He couldn't stay because he had just begun his new job and was required to work. I was happy for him with his new job, sad for me because he is my rock for everything. "Goodbye sweetheart, you're going to be fine! Finally you can put this behind you...I love you & I'll see you later." At the hospital, I filled out all the paperwork. I said a huge prayer. No, I prayed probably four times. And I even posted things on facebook via my cell phone just to keep myself occupied. I began to feel slightly nervous. When my name was called, I walked right in. I was given the prestigious hospital gown, and the nurse asked all the necessary questions. And then they put in an IV (intravenous line through the veins). I HATE them, they hurt, period. The anesthesiologist introduced herself to me, and asked if there was anything else she needed to know. "Yes, absolutely...please make sure I don't feel a thing...please bring me back to conscsiousness and know that in the past anesthesia makes me VERY nauseous. Whew. Now I feel it. Yep, there are the butterflies. Now I'm nervous. Dr. Ivey, my surgeon & laryngologist, came over to see how I was feeling. She has been an AMAZING doctor from day one! She not only has given me fantastic treatment, but she's also been honest & is the only doctor I've ever had who gave me her email address and cell number...she's awesome! "Judy, I just want you to know that in order to do the surgery, we will be putting a breathing tube in your throat, so you may be very sore afterward, but you'll be fine." I understood...that idea was a little scary, but the vocal chords move when you breathe, so I would assume they had to paralyze that so they could work. 7:15am "Judy, they're ready for you." The nurse gave me the option of being wheeled in to the operating room, or to walk. I chose to walk. It made me feel healthy; made me feel empowered, made me feel strong & independent. Hey, whatever it took to feel comfortable before the surgery. The room was BRIGHT!...almost as if I was walking into the light. The room was also slightly cold and all the equipment was incredibly high tech. The surgery was set for 7:30am, so I knew it would be any minute now. The anesthesiologist said, "Okay, Judy, I'm going to give you a sedative to relax you...and then shortly after that, I will put in the medicine so you can sleep..." I looked around and saw about 4 people in the room. Dr. Ivey was in her operating apparel, and she asked, "Anything you want to say before we start? Any questions?" I looked at these strangers whom I was trusting with my life...I had this sensation that this problem was finally being corrected & I suddenly felt terrified AND grateful. So I said the two words that mattered the most, "Thank you!" And I noticed Dr. Ivey was holding my hand and smiling. Wow. What doctor does that? Her holding my hand helped so much. So I breathed in deeply and with absolute trust, I closed my eyes.... Time? What time is it? I woke up with an expected sore throat. I was in a recovery room. It was quiet. Anesthesia is incredible!! It rids your body of a sense of time, place & feeling. I don't recall if I woke up on my own, or if someone woke me...but I have a feeling it was the latter. I didn't mind the sore throat at all - I expected that, but it was the nausea. I HATE being nauseous. I'd rather be in pain than be nauseous. A nurse approached me, she took my vitals and asked how I was feeling. Since I was not allowed to speak, thanks to my iPhone, I texted my sentences into the Notes app, and this would be my form of communication for almost a week. When she read my response, she got the doctor who immediately gave me anti-nausea meds. Thank God. I felt tire, but not as bad as I thought I'd feel. Another nurse came over and once she heard someone tell her my name, she immediately recognized me. She didn't tell me, but I could tell by her body language: the eyes suddenly gush open & there's an excitement in their arms, lol. She was as kind as could be. And she read my lips pretty well. She was kind enough to call my friend, Brenda, who was scheduled to pick me up. She wheeled me downstairs and told me it was a pleasure to "talk" to me. And I was in Brenda's car & on my way home. 11:00am... Brenda wanted to walk me upstairs. "No, I'm fine, Chica." (Chica, to me, is what I call my closest friends). I turned the key, and was thankful the bathroom is so close to the entrance. And I ran to the sink & threw up. Darn. I hate hate hate hate hate throwing up! I took off my clothes & changed into my favorite t-shirt & sweats, and took a nap. When I woke up, I heated up soup...and then I learned quickly, that I really couldn't chew a damned thing. Oh, no...I couldn't tell what it was. When I walked over to the bathroom again. In the mirror I made a discovery: I stuck out my tongue and was horrified to see it point to the right!!! It was so swollen & puffy, but it curved so badly to the right. Dr. Ivey didn't mention that!!! So, as I ate the soup, i could chew, but I couldn't swallow...ugh, sucks! And what was even worse than that was the fact that for the next two weeks - everything I ate tasted sour! The first few chews of any food tasted genuine...and just before I would swallow, it would taste SO bitter, so acrid. When I emailed the doctor, she said, sometimes the tongue is compressed so much, the nerves atrophy and lots of things happen - change of taste can be one of the side effects. Well perhaps this side effect will be effective in being some kind of weight loss aid. Now is the hard part - the recovery - the silence for a week - the feeling of isolation from socializing...but it's done. Thank you, God, I'm alive. The polyp was removed - And one week later, this is what I saw: Vocal chords slightly swollen but NO POLYP! First photo is before. You can see the red bump that's made my life miserable. The photo underneath is one week after surgery! Hooray!

DID GOD JUST POKE ME???

With all my recent health issues, I've been on top of everything. I've been current with all my doctors, tests, etc. So far, other than the darn chest pains, I've been doing great!

So this past Thursday evening around 5:45pm or so, I was watching television, preparing to go out, when...OW! OW! What the hell was that?! I felt like I was stabbed in my lower right side of my body. The Quiet One was with me. "What is it?" We both kind of laughed because I jumped up as if someone invisible hit me. I thought nothing of it...until about an hour later, when I began to feel throbbing, and some cramping. But there was no blood, so I just thought maybe something I'd eaten simply didn't agree with me. When I got home, the Quiet One wanted to stay with me. He knew I was in pain, and as much as I acted like I wasn't, he knew. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I wanted to wait it out until morning. I never woke him, but I tossed and turned all night...the pain was intense enough to keep me wide awake. He made me promise to go to the doctor first thing in the morning. And that's what I did.

Friday morning.
My doctor's office opened at 11am, and I was the first one there. I was also the only one there. Apparently he was on vacation. I almost cried when his assistant, Iris, informed me. I've been a patient of his for almost 20 years now and Iris is the BEST! She immediately asked me what was wrong. I told her of my symptoms, and I also mentioned that I had an early show that evening and two shows on Saturday..this needed to be taken care of TODAY! I saw her rapidly get on the phone and call in a "favor". Next thing I know she gave me a prescription to get an ultra sound. I had 45 minutes to drink at least eight glasses of water. When having an ultra sound, apparently they want to see you with a full bladder. So I arrived at 1:30 for my appointment, anxious and REALLY needing to pee. I don't mean the typical, "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now...Pee-Pee Dance" It was beyond difficult to hold it any longer. So I filled out all the necessary paperwork, handed them my insurance card (thank you, KTU) and waited. Five minutes...15...20....Oh, my God, if my bladder blows up, we'll have a new problem all together. Finally, I spoke up and told them I had to be called or I was gonna die. The woman at the desk was kind enough to say, "Okay, go to the bathroom and just let a little out." Huh? A little?! Don't she know I gotta go? Asking me to urinate just a little was like asking me to hold a door to a dam that had broken. I had visions of Niagara Falls, running water faucets - big time! Then finally, my name was called.

The ultrasound technician seemed short with me; not mean, but borderline rude. When people are that way, I remind myself that it's possible it's been a hard day for them. It doesn't mean it makes it okay, it just keeps me calm enough to not say the wrong thing. She was pressing down on my stomach with the instrument, reminding me how badly I still needed to go. Then she began to huff and puff. Then she got quiet. Uh, oh. Something is wrong. I know it. She asked me to empty my bladder and return. So I did, and once again she seemed irritated but it was different. "I have to get the doctor to look at this." So the doctor came over, and they both began to deliberate and describe all the things they thought it could be. Um, hello, I'm right here. Talk to me!!

"Ms. Torres, it is?"
"Yes."
"It looks as if you have a rupture in your ovary. It could be a ruptured ovary, an ectopic pregnancy, a ruptured cyst, or a tumor. But you have too much fluid & a little blood in your pelvis, so we can't really see well enough to determine."
"So I guess I won't be doing any show tonight, huh?" (always keep a sense of humor in times like these)
"No. There will be no shows tonight. I'm sending you to the hospital right now for a CAT scan. You may need emergency surgery."
I thanked them, and hugged the ultrasound technician...first time I saw her smile all day. Maybe that's exactly what she needed a hug, showing appreciation from someone!

As I dressed and returned to the waiting room, I began to make the slew of phone calls that would have a domino effect on so many people. I HATE canceling shows. I hate it. I end up letting down so many people. In a regular office job, you can call your boss, and tell him/her you're sick. A few people at work may have to work a little harder to make up for your absence, but it's okay. In the past, with my job, when I called out sick, I got threats for law suits. Calling out sick in this career, disappoints the managers, the road managers, the promoters, the clubs and most importantly- the fans. It's a big loss money-wise, and I can do nothing about it. The doctor gave me the proper paperwork, and I began to walk to the hospital a block away. I called my road manager and began to call my family, the Quiet One, and anyone else I could think of that I knew would be affected. Iris, from my doctor's office, called my cell phone to tell me she had notified the doctor on call at the hospital. I am so grateful to her. If she had not done that favor for me, and got me to take that ultra sound, I have to confess I know I would've waited until Monday so I could do my shows.

At the hospital, I had a deja-vu. Last time I was in this emergency room, I had optic neuritis, went blind in my right eye, and spent a week in the hospital before finally being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I prayed so hard, "Lord, thank you for putting me in the right hands. Thank you that we now know something is wrong, and whatever we need to do to fix it, will be done. But please, I don't want surgery. Please." The feeling of uncertainty was just too familiar in that moment. The Quiet One was rushing to get to the hospital, and my relatives kept calling to see if I was okay. In the meantime, I did what everyone does in the emergency room: wait, wait, wait all the while in pain, pain, pain.

I was called into a room where my vitals were taken. My blood pressure was through the roof - something that had NEVER happened before. No fever. And I was brought immediately to a room and asked to undress & put on a gown. The room was freaking freezing, with an enormous spotlight hanging from the ceiling. All sorts of unknown instruments were sitting on the table, and it was a bit scary. After almost 20 minutes a nurse walked in, set up an i-v & took urine and blood samples. Ten minutes later a doctor came in and did a quick pelvic exam and told me we were going to set up for a CAT scan.

Twenty minutes later, I'm transferred to a different room, where I'm given a nasty orange concoction, and told I have to drink the entire thing. "You have to have a full bladder when you go for the scan." AGAIN? I have to hold it AGAIN?! Ughhhhhhh!!!! But I nodded my head. The Quiet One arrived, looking so handsome. I wonder if he knows how great it was to see him. I hope I made it clear. He's a good man. Here it is, Friday night...he could be anywhere but in the hospital. He is so supportive, kind, considerate and he makes me feel tremendously loved. About 10 minutes later, a gentleman came to let me know he'd be coming to get me for the scan in ten minutes....an hour and fifteen minutes later, I was desperately searching for someone to permit me to use the bathroom. I finally found a nurse, who gave me a look with major attitude, "Oh, no you're NOT using the bathroom!" I looked at her like, "Oh yeah? Watch me!" I won. She laughed and said, "Okay. But I didn't give you permission." I was finally brought to the CAT scan room, where I was asked to drink more Ghetto-Chemical-Tang again! Hey, you have to do what you have to do.

I was brought into a room that gives the Alaskan temperature competition. I was injected with iodine, contrast, I had been asked to drink chemicals that probably made me glow in the dark. I had been poked and prodded, I felt like an animal...just about. But I have to say that everyone was kind to me. Forty-five minutes later, the doctor came to let me know that the good news was I won't need surgery. He told me I had a ruptured ovarian cyst, and because it had already ruptured there was nothing left to do but bear the pain (he gave me meds) and allow my body to heal itself.

It was raining outside. It was close to eleven at night. I was in the hospital for about eight hours! The Quiet One brought me home. My stomach was throbbing, and my insides were distended... or should I say it appeared extended out to the next corner. So, a small ovarian cyst came into my life, ruptured, and made my life for the last 72 hours painful, uncertain and scary. The Quiet One said that God poked me, and is trying to tell me to slow down. Hm. Now there's a thought. God poking me. LOL. He poked a bit too hard, I think. But perhaps he's right. I've been running around taking care of everyone, worried about everything and neglecting my well-being. So, thank God! I didn't need surgery. Thank God the promoters were not angry and the fans understood. Thank God it wasn't more serious. Thank God I have a wonderful family, the Quiet One, and great friends who were all ready to do whatever necessary to be by my side. Thank you, Lord, for poking me...did you have to poke so hard? A ruptured cyst...who would've thunk it? Wow...a small thing gave me a big pain in the...

The lesson, ladies and genlemen, is that when you have pain, listen to your body. That small pain that pokes, prods, throbs, stings, whatever...is trying to tell you that something is simply not right. Listen to it, and don't make God poke you!!! LOL. Heres' a link in case you'd like to know the symptoms for future reference: http://www.medicinenet.com/ovarian_cysts/article.htm

WHEN IT'S REAL LOVE, WHAT THE HELL DOES IT LOOK LIKE?

Because of a wonderful woman named Irene, I cannot blog about how GREAT it was to perform my last show in My Big Gay Italian Wedding, with Lainie Kazan & Nikki Blonsky. I'll never again have hair 3 feet high, or be able to "tawk" with the accent. I was just getting comfortable with the character, and Ms. Irene came along and blew it away. Hurricane Irene ruined everything, but when I see that I made out without losing power; that I had no flooding; that I experienced no damage or loss, I realize I have NOTHING to complain about. Hurricane Irene did give me one interesting thing though: an entire weekend with the Quiet One. It's been over due, but I guess I've wanted to be sure this was real, and not some summertime fling that we all read about.

It appears the Quiet One has quietly come into my life to teach me so many things about myself. And especially to "unteach" me about some of the concepts I had learned as a young girl. The Quiet One has me thinking a lot about the things I was raised to believe and about what I REALLY believe about myself.

When real love shows up, what the hell is it supposed to look like? What does it feel like? And if it does show up, what the hell do you do with it? I know you're thinking, 'girl, if real love showed up at my door, I'd be ALL over that!' But I can tell you firsthand, that when your youth is full of drama, you are indirectly instructed...and I've paid a LOT of money in therapy (yes, surprise I was in therapy, lol, many years ago) to learn and understand my childhood.

When you come from an alcoholic and abusive home life, you are mistaught things. You learn that you do what you have to in order to survive. And that means being "a good girl" no matter what, blaming yourself for things that are not even your fault. You learn that you have to walk on eggshells. When you have witnessed your mother being horrifically, unspeakably abused - right in front of your eyes - and she repeatedly takes the stepfather back, you are taught the wrong thing. You are taught that if you want love, it's supposed to hurt. You are taught that you are not a queen that is adored - you are a peasant, a slave, to be walked on. AND, when you grow up in that environment, you learn that no matter how bad he treats you, you grow up believing that if you wait a little longer, he just might change...so you HAVE to take him back. Oh, I learned so much about dysfunction - I'm almost an expert! My mother eventually did have the courage to leave, she apologized to us for all we'd gone through - for that I admire her tremendously, but years of seeing that stays with you for a long time...the pictures, memories, sounds of screaming and such are etched forever into your brain - and so that's what I learned.

With my father, because our relationship was on and off, throughout the years and I really felt that my father favored my brother over me, I worked very hard to try for his attention and his affection. And what that taught me was that with men...I was not first...I was second. If I wanted love, I had to fight for it and I didn't need to be a priority as long as I was in the picture at all. So what did I end up with? Dysfunctional men who never put me first, who were abusive, neglectful and quite frankly, really messed up.

Oh, the horrors I allowed myself to endure with love. The men who've stepped on my heart. And though I was never physically abused (I made sure to promise myself that NO man will EVER hit me), I was indeed emotionally abused, neglected, cheated on, yelled at, forgotten about, stood up etc....

So I did all the work in therapy to learn all of the above. I have prayed to God for EXACTLY what I wanted from a man emotionally. It is important to me at 43 now, not to make too many more major mistakes. I have cried myself to sleep, yearning, aching to have a man by my side who loves me, adores me, needs me, enhances my life...who treats me with respect, who honors who I am and what I stand for....so when it shows up, what does it look like? I don't know...because as a child I never really saw my father or my stepfather LOVE my mother, show her affection or tell her how pretty she was...I didn't have an EXAMPLE to follow.

So the Quiet One walks into my life - a different nationality, 11 years my junior. He was so quiet...he's not quiet anymore, by the way, lol. But here he is, quietly loving me, talking to me, listening - truly listening to what I say. He does things for me before I need to ask. He repairs things, he cleans for me, he cooks for me...he may not be rich, but he makes me feel like royalty!!! Here is the word that best describes him: genuine. He's genuine - he's the real deal. He's already met the family & 2 of my 3 brothers have requested him on Facebook, lol. He has rubbed my feet, even if I don't ask. He is affectionate, considerate, and he was a PRINCE to me when Grace died. His number one question to me was, "What can I do for you?" One time I was upset with him about something, and I brought it to his attention (I no longer stay silent and say 'nothing'). With my exes, they probably would've said, "Oh, my God..here we go! Then he would've told me I was overreacting and we would argue. What was Quiet One's reaction? "I'm sorry, hon, tell me what I need to do to make it right." Que, que??? What? I almost fell - I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. LOL. Now perhaps men would criticize him but he's not a wimp at all. I've seen him when he's assertive & aggressive, and I can promise you, he's all man, lol!

So now I have all I want in a man, and I don't know how to accept it. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. It sounds strange, but I'm so used to being second, being mistreated, etc...now I have it...and it feels great, but EXTREMELY scary. It's like when I'd lost 63 pounds - I was SO excited...for the first time I almost weighed less than 200 lbs. And then this extreme panic set in, I still don't know why, and before I knew it, I self-sabotaged myself and gained some of the weight back. I won't do that here...no way. The Quiet One and I have reached a new level in our relationship, and well, I'm struggling with whether or not I should give it a shot or not.

So when love, real love, comes around...what does it look like?
Could you handle it?
Would you know when it comes around?

My mom used tells me all the time, "Real love doesn't hurt...real love isn't difficult...real love doesn't have drama." And here I am with real love. No hurt, easy, no drama. I really hope this is it...that he's the one. I don't want to get hurt again...and that is what scares me most...to give myself & my heart to someone who, God forbid, won't cherish it properly.

HE'S GOOD WITH HIS HANDS TOO? Oh, my!!! (Blushing)

Looks like my career may be at a crossroads for the first time in a LONG time. The next blog will most likely be called "Changes"...major changes it looks like. But I don't want to blog about it, until I have certain questions answered. If I don't have the answers, I surely will not be able to answer the ones you'll be left with as well. But...but...but...my career is GREAT nonetheless and I'm excited to see new things develop, and very curious to see how I will be proactive about things in my life!

So the Quiet One and I went out on another date. We were invited to one of his friend's barbeque. We arrived and the sun was BLAZING!! It can always be a little awkward when you go to a party not knowing a soul. The tendency is to cling on to the date who brought you there in the first place. But thankfully, I am normally a bit of a social ladybug, and I enjoy breaking the ice.

At the backyard barbeque there were about twelve people or so, and you could tell that everyone knew everyone else. I began introducing myself to everyone and gave the hostess orchids - orchids last 2-3 weeks longer than a bouquet of roses, and are exotic too...nice!! I ate right away because I hadn't eaten since the morning, and we all began to make small talk. For the most part, everyone's eyes were sincere, and I was VERY grateful that no one treated me like "Judy Torres"...but there was one young woman there who gave me a strange "vibe"' not a bad, catty one, just a vibe.

As the day progressed, I played a little psychology game that I learned in college, and I find it to be a GREAT way to have people laugh, especially in party situations. I did discover later on, that the woman who gave me the strange vibe actually has had a crush on the Quiet One for many years. I can't blame her, if I just kew him as a friend, I'd have a crush on him too. After a few hours, I began to get a headache, and I think it was due to lack of sleep and too much sun beating my brow! So, we left and when Quiet One walked me upstairs, he noticed how warm it was in my apartment - yes, he came in, lol. You naughty-minded people, it wasn't like that. Anyway, he asked me about my air conditioner.

Ah, that one little thing I had been procrastinating about. Last year I purchased an air conditioner large enough to cool off my entire home, and it took three men to install it for me. For obvious reasons, I could not possibly put it back into the window alone. He asked to see it, so I placed the air conditioner on a towel and dragged it to him. Yes, I know, I know...it is a ghetto thing to do, but hey, it was remarkably heavy and I didn't want him going into that room, lol.

So I helped him lift it to the window sill, and he told me he'd handle it from there. And handle it, he did!!! I watched him not just install it, but he was quite the perfectionist about it. It was more than heavy, and it was SO hot. The beads of sweat began to trickle down his forehead and down his back, and I watched as he meticulously placed, and pushed until it was perfectly set. He screwed it in (pun intended - just to make you smile & NO it's not what you think) - But hey, I am human...I do have my own thoughts and fantasies...a girl can dream, right? I thanked him profusely. It was wonderful and such a relief to know that I didn't have to sleep one more night in humidity.

Fastforward one week later...
The Quiet One heard me complaining about my printer. I told him I needed to get it fixed. Of course he wanted to take a look at it. And of course, I didn't fight him about it either. He was on the floor, removing parts of the printer, getting black ink on his hands...and not even 10 minutes later, he said, "Okay, print something." And I heard the musical sounds of the printer telling me it was back in business.

Yes, yes, I know...it sounds all so simple. To you, perhaps you may think 'that's what a man is SUPPOSED to do', but to me, first of all never take anything for granted, and secondly, I live alone. Anything and everything that needs to be repaired, replaced, purchased, lifted, put away, etc..is always up to me. And it has been hard. I've lived on my own since I was 19. I'm 43. You do the math...it's been a long road, lol.

Dating the Quiet One has made me rethink so many things about my life, what my ideas about dating are. Dating him has made me wonder if I've been a bit wrong about what I thought I needed versus what I really need. I've looked back and thought of the men in my past - the dazzling smiles, the suits, their charisma...yes, it was all good looking and loud...but for the most part, it was fake. It was temporary. It was only for show. It was only so they could gain what they wanted. Yes, we all put our best feet forward in relationships, but how much of it is essentially who we really are.

Watching the Quiet One put up my air conditioner and repair my printer has been a real eye opener. He's made me see that all I really want in a man is for him to CARE about what I NEED to be happy. And I'm not high maintenance...if I want a purse, I'll buy a purse. If I want shoes, I'll buy shoes...I need a man to LOVE me, to ADORE me, to LIFT me up...I need to feel like someone's favorite person. That's it. And so far, the Quiet One does that for me. He's got a gorgeous smile that is so freaking sincere, even if you smacked it off him, it would still be there. His eyes are genuinely sweet, his voice is soothing and he's just a real guy. I think of Sex and the City..and I think of when Carrie was dating Aiden, the furniture designer. He was handsome, sweet, sincere...he was a relationship guy. He allowed Carrie to be her ritzy self, but he never tried too hard...he just was there, ready to love her. Okay, let me stop...I feel like going to On Demand and watching a few episodes.

You know when you have something wrong with your home...something very small and because it's not major, you allow the problem to continue? You know that little stain on the carpet, or that small crack inte ceiling. Well, I have had a little problem with my bathroom door not closing all the way. Since I live alone, it's not a big deal, right? But when people come over, suddenly I remember, damn, I gotta get that fixed. Well, The Quiet One obviously noticed this and two days ago, he came over - tools and all....sexy!!...and fixed my door. I went inside and closed the door. And I had tears in my eyes. I know, I know...I'm a sensitive one, I really am, but wow...that door was an issue for a LONG time.

We've been dating just over a month now. The Quiet One has stepped into my life and put up my air conditioner, fixed my printer and repaired my door...he's also made me feel special and seems to be fixing my ideas of what I'd want in a partner. He is GREAT with his hands...watching a man fix something is very very sexy! What can I say? Oh, have I mentioned he's a great kisser. He lets me be me. The Quiet One is the first man I've worn the least amount of make up with. He says I am sexy no matter what I wear, make up or no make up. I hope he really means that because there are mornings I wake up looking like some indigenous creature raised in the jungle, Unga Unga!! So, if you're single, take a second look at what you THINK you want and ask what it is you NEED...you may find your answers VERY surprising! Hm...is there anything else I can find that needs fixing?? LOL...Thank you, Quiet One...you've been such a blessing!!

THE QUIET ONE TURNS OUT TO BE THE YOUNGER ONE

Lots of wonderful things happening in my life lately. Last week we announced the arrival of my newborn niece, Kassidy! I was offered a role in My Big Gay Italian Wedding, which I am SO excited about because theater is a secret passion of mine that not too many know about! The role literally landed on my lap, thanks to Kim Sozzi...don't know what she said, but I think she's a little angel in my life. And the song I recorded with Tony Moran, I Wanna Spend My Lifetime Loving You, is just about ready for release....and looks like the Quiet One is also a gift.

It was Memorial Day Weekend, and he asked me out on a date for Saturday. He showed up with a very pretty bouquet of flowers (that's a sweet, gentleman thing right there, and they are still alive today!) I let him know that I generally am the type of person who loves doing new things, trying new things, and I love nature. It was a gorgeous weekend...and so when he came to pick me up, we decided to drive to "my cliff". It's not really mine, but it sure feels like it. It's a small scenic view on the Palisade Parkway...but if you are willing to walk far enough, you can literally walk to the edge of a cliff...it's my favorite spot in the world. It allows me to feel like I went somewhere, even when I can't afford the time for a vacation. I love the beautiful view of the Hudson River, the height of the cliff and I love that if I go at the right time - I can see the hawks scout their last meal of the day.

So the Quiet One and I stood on the cliff and talked literally for a few hours...originally I thought we'd walk the trail, but it seemed pretty natural to stay there...and that's the most striking thing about him...he's very easy going and it feels natural to just "be" with him. We brought a couple of slices of pizza with us and found a rock because when we first arrived there was a couple there using my cliff to work out an issue in their relationship. I figured I'd let them borrow my cliff. Once they left, it was literally ours and ours alone...not one human showed up for hours, and when they did, it was just to take a photo and they were gone as quickly as they'd shown up. We talked about our past relationships, our mistakes, our desires...and he'd told me about some unfinished business in his life. Unfinished business can really make it difficult for a relationship to really have a chance. So we decided we'd take things slow...slow is always good. If you go too fast, you miss the details.

Afterward, we decided to go to the movies and saw the Hangover II. It was the first time I had heard him laugh out loud, and I loved listening. Laughing is a release, it's letting it all out...and listening to him laugh was adorably cute. I found myself laughing out loud pretty hard myself, and I realized it had been ages since I'd seen a comedy. I am a drama-suspense-Oscar Nominated-movie kind of girl, lol. We held hands the entire time, and he was stroking my knee. Normally that would irritate the crap out of me, but it was wonderful. In fact so wonderful that I had to have him stop, Too soon for those kind of feelings.

We ended the evening with dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, and I have to say that the Quiet One has wonderful and intelligent things to say. He's not so quiet. I guess he was right when he said he is only quiet when first getting to know someone. I really love the tone in his voice...it's very soothing, and he's got the most innocent smile. And you know in every relationship there will always be a challenge, right? Okay here's our issue... Correction. Here's MY issue.

I asked him, "By the way, how old are you?"
"Why? How old are you?"
I told him I was 54...and he was silent for a second and then I laughed. I thought if I said 54 first and then told him the truth that I was 42, it wouldn't hurt so much, lol.

I'm older than he is.
He's younger than I am.

Ah the age old question: "Is it okay for an older woman to date a younger man?" As long as he's of legal age, the answer is simple...YES. It is just fine. However, because I'm in this wonderful music business that is forever trying to tell me that I'm old, ancient...no longer marketable, etc...my age is, well, on my mind. If a man is older than a woman, no one even thinks to say anything about it. But if it is a woman dating a younger man, well, heads will turn! And before she can even speak, she's being called a cougar. I know your question: Well how big of an age difference are we talking about here? Okay. Ready? 12 years - I am 12 years his senior. (No pun intended). 12 years older than him. I have 12 years more life experience, 624 weeks, 4,380 days older than him. So, does it bother me? If I were 35, perhaps not. But I'm 42, turning 43 on June 13th...does he realize how older I am? I just found my first gray hair on the left side of my head a few months ago, and I had NO NO NO NO idea that the pubic hair can go gray too!!! OH MY GOD!! Whyyyyyy????!!!!

We had a long discussion about it. I told him that in a few years I will be menopausal...as in hot flashes, vaginal dryness etc...I will not be able to bear children....and that eventually my boobs are going to give in to gravity...does he realize what he's signing up for? In addition to that, because I have multiple sclerosis, I would have to plan having a child if that's what we wanted to do. And then it really hit me. Holy crap!! He's the same age as my youngest brother...he could date my sister!!! Oh, I need to sit down!! What was his answer? "Your sister is not you!" The Quiet One insisted that he does not care at all about the age difference. I informed him that I don't have a problem with him being younger than me; I have a problem with me being older than him. I also told him that if this were to become serious, I'm looking for the one...not Mr. Right Now. I told him that I don't want to worry about pressure to look younger to ensure that he won't have some torrid affair with a younger woman years down the line. He just laughed at me. Yea, I'm sure I sounded pretty ridiculous, but those are my genuine concerns.

He walked me to my door. He told me that he thinks Im' beautiful, sexy. He told me he doesn't care about my age. I should mention that he is divorced with children...so in that aspect he has more life experience on me, lol. The Quiet One also told me that he feels there could be something very special here, and he's okay with the age difference. He said he wants to be with a woman who will make him happy...and he kissed me. And it was wonderful...very wonderful. Too wonderful. Whoo. Okay, stop. Good night. The Quiet One is a wonderful date...and a good kisser!! And I seem to have "Demi-Moore-itis!"