The Tuesday Girl

Tuesdays Are for Me: Chronicles of the Midweek Girlfriend

At 59, I’ve re-entered the dating pool (again) —and let me tell you, the water is lukewarm, a little murky, and there might be something floating in it.

Still, I persist.

What I’ve come to realize is that while I’d like to be…I am not the Weekend Woman. No, those coveted Friday-to-Sunday slots are clearly reserved for women who have—how shall I put this?—secured their position through performance-based loyalty.

Weekends, I’ve come to suspect, are for the women they’re already sleeping with. The ones who have “earned” that premium calendar real estate by crossing, or uncrossing, a threshold I, apparently, have not.

I, my friends, am a Tuesday Woman.

For six months, I dated a man—handsome, wealthy, incredibly charming. Think bald Clooney vibes, retired and an actual Mercedes. We had great conversations, laughter, huge chemistry, connection… on Tuesdays. Maybe a Thursday if he was “free.” But never—not once—Friday, Saturday, or Sunday.

One night, over dinner (Tuesday, obviously), he dropped this gem: “Dating apps are like a slot machine. Every time I open it up—boom! Another desperate, attractive woman appears. It’s addictive.”

He said this with a straight face, in between bites of ahi tuna, like he was describing his morning Wordle habit.

And here’s the kicker: I’m not desperate. I’m not struggling. I’m high-value. I’m attractive, thin, smart, emotionally available (with occasional sarcasm), and I have my own income, my own home, and my own plane ticket. I didn’t sleep with him, not because I’m prudish, but because I wanted to be sure.

Apparently, Tuesday is the testing ground. It’s where they date the “possibilities”, the maybes, the intriguing women who have the nerve to set boundaries. And weekends? That’s for the women who’ve already said yes, who’ve locked in their slot on the calendar and in the bedroom.

It’s like a weird Hunger Games of attention and availability. Only instead of arrows and dystopian jumpsuits, we’re navigating “seen at 4:32 PM” text receipts and second-tier date nights at mid-tier Italian restaurants.

But here’s the twist: I like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are honest. They’re quiet enough to hear the truth, and calm enough to see someone clearly. I’ll keep showing up, mascara on and heart open—not because I need to, but because I want to. Because the right man, the one who sees me for the amazing, self-sufficient, whip-smart woman I am, won’t need a calendar to decide I’m worth his weekend.

So no, I’m not giving up. I’m still dating. I’m still hopeful. And guess what?

I’ve got a date this week.
It’s on Tuesday.

Of course.

Yours in faith and fun, and still blessed to be…

Free and Roaming

Reflections on Five Years of Change and Growth

I am remiss. I love this blog. I love everything about it and I’ve virtually ignored it for almost 5 years. I’m ashamed and sad and all sorts of other passing emotions I cannot put a finger on but alas June 30th is a big anniversary and that prompts me to start…yet again. So here’s a 5 year rapid rundown.

We lost our precious Jazzy

God delivered me when I didn’t think it possible. Ten years ago I thought my life was over and it was really just beginning. In the past 10 years I’ve won, lost, gained, lost, loved, lost, and I’m still standing. I’m tired of building character and I often feel like it’s “my turn” but ultimately I’m not in control. God is in control and he has delivered me back to the land of health and solvency.

Fighting Covid and it’s economic effects was an 18,800 kilometer ordeal. I started in Costa Rica where I had finally moved full time to my adorable condo in Playas del Coco. I sold my Rolex and installed a stunning kitchen…I was all set. I headed to Orlando to a conference where I was confident I could build a new career based on the training I received at ITMI. It was a hugely successful trip and I managed to cobble together a years worth of profitable work between over the road tours and a coveted Guest Speaker position aboard American Cruise Lines. I was stoked to say the least. After a disastrous stint on the Yangtze River in China as a Cruise Director I was dying to get back on the water. My recovery was almost complete…then…Covid. I did not see my condo again for over two years and I only went back to prep it for sale. More loss.

But is there really light at the end of the tunnel? What no one warns you about is that the tunnel doesn’t end—it branches, twists, and multiplies into an endless maze of choices. There are no signs, no maps, no whispers of which path leads to peace and which one dead-ends in chaos. You stumble down one, hopeful, only to realize it’s the wrong one—and the journey back? It bruises you. It humbles you. But it sharpens you, too. You gather wisdom along the way, sure, but it never quite arms you for the next crossroad. Every decision still feels like a shot in the dark. It all feels like guesswork—wild, desperate, deeply human guesswork. And yet, somehow, amid the confusion, you learn. You learn to stop sprinting toward an exit and start standing still. You breathe. You begin to live in the now.

And that? That’s the key that unlocks everything.

Quarantini

In this unprecedented time there are plenty of uncomfortable jokes to go around.  It’s interesting to watch people turn to humor when nothing is certain.  It reminds me of people that laugh at inappropriate times but are unable to help themselves.  We must keep an air of lightness or we will be bawling balls of sniveling helplessness.

I relocated to my sister Sally’s about a week ago before the band on non-essential moving about was initiated.  Fortunately we have 2 acres, 4 dogs, 1 cat and a lot of projects and spring cleaning to be done.  One of our projects is to go through my Mother’s photo albums, a bitter-sweet project at best.

Only one week in we are becoming reflective.  Thinking about our parents and the way we were raised.  I recently posted on Facebook pictures of a home in Midland that my parents built around 1960.  Sally and I were looking at those pictures and I asked where my nursery was as I was born during the time we lived at this house.  She pointed it out and told me it was the library.  I have faint memories of dark wooden bookshelf and dark red carpet; she confirmed this was correct.  She noted that brother Scott’s and her bedrooms were located on the front of the house with views strictly facing that direction.  She recalled climbing a bookcase to a tiny porthole where she and Scott would watch the parties.  She said the house was specifically designed so that kids were in a separate area of the house with no view of the events.  Reference movie: The Help.

My parents were not bad people and at the time I don’t think they were that unusual in their “kids speak when spoken too” attitude but it sure does make for semi- well adjusted adults.  I still long for past camping trips and long conversations about the future but they always were and remain completely theoretical.

Don’t get me wrong, we have all done well in our lives.  Scott particularly chose what I refer to as the “gold watch” route.  Now he lives with Stacy in an ideal location, healthy and retired, enjoying life.  Meanwhile, Sally and I chose the entrepreneurial way.  Apparently we enjoy struggling and constantly relying on creativity and the ability to work and rework and rework again when things do not go smoothly.

This is one of those times.  For the first time in the last (and very difficult) five years I had a full calendar of work for 2020.  Embarking on new projects all the way around including student travel (something I thought I would never do) and being a guest speaker aboard American Cruise Lines.  Remaking myself once again into an historian on various topics and as always an entertainer.  I hunger for learning and experiencing new ways of life and I am hopeful that this screeching halt of tourism is just a bump in the road.

Just a little note for those of you bored enough to read my ramblings and those of you that cannot believe you watched the entire Netflix series “Tiger King”.  May your brains rest in peace.

Blessings!  Polly

 

Here I sit in Kingsport Tennessee

 

8390517JWA9330

I’m spending time on the blog today, something I have neglected terribly.  I’ll backtrack later on my 2018 travel season.  But for now, I would like to tell you a little about Kingsport, Tennessee and the surrounding area known as the Tri-Cities.

I arrived Sunday to see my brother Scott and sis-in-law Stacy.  They picked me up in Charlotte, North Carolina which is 3 hours and 17 minutes away!  I fly into Charlotte because I try and refuse to fly any airline but Southwest Airlines.  They must like me or really need a dog sitter.  We drove back and stopped for dinner at a groovy place in Johnson City, Tennessee called White Duck Taco Shop.  We all had different tacos.  I recommend the Thai Peanut Chicken or the Shrimp Diablo (have water handy!).  The restaurant is located in the historic and newly fancied-up Tweetsie Railroad Depot; adjoining the Yee-Haw Brewing Taproom.  The Duck offers skee ball, bocce ball, and plenty of outdoor seating with a fire-pit.

My brother Scott gets wound up once a week at the prospect of beer and whiskey night at Stir Fry Cafe where on Tuesday they have craft drafts starting at $2 for a pint and whiskey shots starting at $5.  Wednesdays and Saturdays feature half-price sushi!  Yummers!

Lunch specials can be had any day at The Main Street Pizza Company where we had a small salad and a slice for a very reasonable price and it was mighty tasty.

We had to walk off all of that food so my brother and I took the pup Jazz to the The Kingsport Green Belt for a nice and reasonably easy morning hike.  Lot’s of Eastern Bluebirds, woodpeckers and waterfalls.

eastern bluebirddowny woodpecker

My journey here continues for many more weeks.  Looking forward to telling you all about it!

Wishing you a Happy New Year from Free and Roaming.

Blarney

Just a quick post today to tell you about some secret gems.

When you plan your time at Blarney Castle…

Remember to visit the cave.

And the gardens…

And walk beside the river…

Free and Roaming wishing you a blessed day from the Blarney Banks.

Birds of Costa Rica (no Polly parrot jokes allowed)

Click photo to visit gallery

When I first moved to Costa Rica a few months ago I was astonished at the sheer number of little parakeets flying around town.  They wake me every morning with their silly chatter, they fly in large flocks, the drop nuts and mangos on my head and in my pool.

See pictures and learn more about this pranksters…click here.

 

 
Image result for macaw images freeMy friend Camilla and I headed south for adventure last week.  We were shocked at how many Scarlet Macaws we saw flying, usually in pairs.  Nineteen in all in 2 days!  A pair was even flying along side the car.

Learn more and see pictures on the Costa Rica Guide.

 

 

 

Image result for swallow tailed kite free image

 

One of the most interesting birds we saw was a Swallow Tailed Kite.  Check out the Wikipedia page here

 

 

 

 

Cherrie's Tanager

 

In Costa Rica we have an abundance of Tanagers including the Cherrie’s Tanager, the Blue Grey Tanager and many more!  Perhaps you would like to take a bird tour.  Check out tours here.

 

 

I’ve only seen Grey-headed Chachalaca in Nicaragua and Costa Rica.  Check out this interesting video and notice the parakeets cannot keep their chatter even out of a video highlighting the Chachalaca!  Great video of a couple of Chachalacas.

Image result for chachalaca costa rica

My friends…this is just a tiny sampling of what my beautiful home, Costa Rica, has to offer.  I highly recommend a visit.  If you need help with a glorious itinerary please feel free to contact me.

I head out tomorrow to fund my Costa Rica life with my wonderful job that I truly love.  The rest of this year I will have the fortune to travel to Alaska, Ireland, The Carolinas, New England, to the beautiful Sierras in California, New York’s stunning Hudson Valley, Nashville and the Smokey Mountains, and will spend the New Year at the Rose Parade!  I don’t take a minute of this for granted and I know that I have been blessed greatly.

Blessings to my readers and please subscribe.

Polly

Figs in Heaven

The world lost a magnificent creature a few months ago.  I have been unable to face it, write it, talk about it but rather pushed it away.  It’s time now to honor him with a little remembrance.

His name was Marley.  He came to us by accident as most of them do.  We got a call and Dan said, “hey why don’t y’all come over and take a look at this little puppy we found before we take it to The Animal Defense League”. Click here for information or to donate

Under a bar stool was a smooshy little sleeping yella baby.  Too much skin, big baggy eyes and a broken toe, he already had my heart.  There was no way this little seven pound bundle of sweetness was going anywhere but home with us.  The first few hours were pure bliss.  We watched him as he slept (he was cutest when asleep) and waited for him to wake so we could watch his floppy little ears when he ran around the yard doing his bunny hop.  This is the beginning of the story of the ten thousand dollar free puppy.

1931232_43955860027_5382_n
“Baby Marley”

A check up at the vet was first on the list.  The vet said, “Wow!  Did you see the size of these paws?” (later to be known as Marley’s “big ‘ol bunny feet” equal in size to my 7.5 women shoe size).  Over the next 60 days he gained a half pound a day, every day and it did not stop there.  At his heaviest he topped off at one hundred six pounds but that was after the consumption of an entire seven pound bag of cat food and the bloat that followed ($3000)…I digress.

God made Marley so cute so that nobody would kill him.   They say a dog will not defecate where they live.  After nights of no sleep we conceded and bought a crate.  The next battle was at two a.m. each morning which one of us would hose out the crate and who would hose off the puppy.  These horrible sleepless smelly nights lasted until our buddy Redneck Jack said, “I’ll show ya how to put a puppy to sleep” and threw him out the back door.

Bubby (my favorite nick name for Marley) managed over the next several years to rack up an enormous amount of vet bills.  He commonly would get things stuck in his big baggy eyes.  One time he had to see a specialist (doggy opthomologist…cha ching!).  After about $1500 worth of tests it was time for the diagnosis and treatment.  The Doctor said, “Marley has……..big baggy eyes and gets things stuck in them”.  Well thank goodness we paid for that.

One of the many good things about Bubs was that he was very trainable.  Obviously driven by food he would do almost anything for a bite of kibble.  I was even able to train him to be a great protector of the chicken flock although he still loved a romp right through the middle of them causing them to fly and cackle.  He watched over them, ate almost all their eggs before I could get them, and learned to smell their vents and predict when they would lay an egg.  No, I’m not kidding.

I spent many years in the demonstration business and had lots of “product” around the house.  I represented a company called Honey Stinger.  Marley managed to get hold of a box of chocolate bars…he ate them all then went for three bags of energy chews.  It was a long night pumping him full of huge amounts of hydrogen peroxide at the vets urging.  He finally blew and it was a cacophony of chocolate, foil packages, peanut butter, minty something and plain ‘ol bubbly puke!  Disgusting.  He felt like a million bucks and wanted dinner shortly there after.

Marley was gross!  Commonly had floor length drool out of both sides of his mouth with various stuff in it.  He would sit under the dining table at dinner and fart.  He cleared rooms at large parties with his gaseous explosions.  He regularly smelled of things you could not even explain and his belches seemed to come from somewhere other worldly, like maybe the depths of hell.  Having said all that, he was one of the great loves of my life and brought me more laughter and joy than just about anyone or anything.  His sweetness was overwhelming.

Seems to me this post is getting a little long so I will bullet point a few of Marley’s other brushes with death.

  • Cat food incident
  • Ate a water bucket and hose
  • Ate his weight in chicken poop
  • Ate a few raw not so fresh dead animals
  • Ate a LOT of chicken feed
  • Got a crab caught between his toes
  • Fell in the bay over the sea wall
  • Got kicked in the head and knocked completely out by my horse, Friggy
  • Got ran over by a golf cart (not just once)

It wasn’t all bad you see.  One of the things we most enjoyed doing together was standing by our beautiful fig tree, me with a glass of wine and him snuffleupagosing under the fig tree for ripe fruit.

Sweet Marley with the “cuuuurrrrrly hairs” left us at age 10 or so.  He lived a wonderful life and gave us so much joy.  My prayer is that they have Figs in Heaven.

fullsizeoutput_109
Doesn’t know he has peanuts on his head.

 

Heading “Home”… Love 3.1

As I prepare my bags, my brain and my body to head to Texas tomorrow I wonder…am I ready?  It all starts to make sense now, my love for this boat.  No coincidence that “it” is a “she”.  She protects me from what would be, those with whom I could come into contact and the pain that they may bring.  She is my Mother, my sister, my protector, my shelter. Sometimes she eats me alive, devours my energy and throws me into my bunk exasperated yet I feel connected to her.  I know I am safe within her.

But…here I go.  Back home to the people that love me.

Sally is waiting in her warm and beautiful home with sweet wet dog noses and yummy food, a sisterly hug and kind words.  No judgement, no ridicule, a sweet taste of my father who thought I was smart and beautiful.

Leslie waits with a heart bigger than anything I know.  Love flowing over from her depths.  Open arms, open home, therapies and healing.  Scents of oil, wine, and ever something simmering.  Coffee and booze on a cold winter day and fat burning machines sucking it out while we fill it back up.  Always something new, something fun, something healthy and a full on dose of how wonderful am I!

Anne is there with the kind of love to ground me, to show me what is Godly and what is not all while letting me think it is my idea.  She shares the love of her family as if I am one of them and her children have my heart.  Her husband is my guide, my professor, my disciplinarian and has more “sticktuitiveness” than anyone I have ever known.  He never makes me feel like it was hard to decided to love me despite the difficulty it could have caused to him.

A guest told me recently that the only good “pain” was cham “pagne” and I agree, Dom preferably (I know you know I’m talking to you).  Now a new chapter is beginning.  My heart is warm and I feel it opening.  I am cautious and scared and probably a little difficult but it doesn’t seem to matter.  Don’t ask because I’m not talking about it yet.  Just pray for me to make wise choices and to only have to do this one more time in my life.  My spirit will not survive another like the last.

On this night of the Super Duper Moon I send to each of you God’s Love, Divine Love, One Love.  I pray for you to overwhelmed by Peace and Love.  I can’t wait to get home to all of you. My 3.1 loves.

Living on the Road – Part 2

So, I pulled the trigger, moved out of the house, moved everything to storage and I feel…nothing.  Realizing I am so disconnected with “place” is a strange feeling as if I was meant to live as a vagabond (great!  more therapy).  I thought I would miss the sweet house in Boerne but I do not.  It was easy and it feels natural and this is how it started.

I closed the door to the storage room on a Thursday afternoon.  It was much larger than I wanted but time constraints and advise from those who care said don’t stress over it.  I wanted so badly to minimize but found myself still connected to some “stuff”.  I tried selling a bunch of stuff on the garage sale sites but twenty meet ups and less than $200 later I realized it was not worth it.  I hauled truck loads of stuff to the battered women’s shelter.  A much better choice for me.

I flew out that Friday morning for my home away from home Placencia, Belize.  I spent a few days reading in my hammock decompressing from work and moving.  Good friend Valerie met me a few days later and we did a lot of nothing!  We pretty much sat right on this beautiful little porch at the Tradewinds Hotel, drank beer, laughed and went swimming when we got too hot.  We did eat at a few of my favorite spots.  Mojo Lounge and Bartique is my new fav!  Click here to check out Mojo.

water-view-from-cabana
Waves lapping so close to our porch!

Back to work via Houston where I was met by bestie Anne and family.  I immediately realized that I have over-packed pretty dramatically.  I “moved into” a summer suitcase (medium-sized roller) and a winter suitcase (very large roller) and sent the winter suitcase with Anne when she came to help me move.  While in Belize I donned less than half what I brought.  Now in my Houston hotel room with everyone waiting I have to make some quick decisions about what to keep and what to pack up and send with Anne.  It was ridiculous and I made some poor decisions.  Not life changing poor decisions, just poor wardrobe decisions.  The best decision I made was to pack my back scratcher!  Out of all the things I have with me that is my most practical.

At work I wear an unflattering uniform so now I have a seventy-six pound suitcase and a carry on that include no uniforms (I am fortunate to be able to leave my work clothes on-board).  Since I am always in uniform on the boat I begin again to feel ridiculous about all of this crap I am carrying around with me.  My inner minimalist is begging to be freed…maybe I should check my suitcase.

All-in-all it is going well.  People think I am a little crazy but most of them envious.  No mortgage, little debt (only the new property in Boerne which will be paid off next year), and few ties to anything or anyone.  I remain vigilant in the work that I love, in prayer, and in trying to take care of myself physically and mentally.

I am now in Michigan in my cousin’s beautiful little cottage.  The fall colors are starting to pop and the weather is perfect.  I have a full winter wardrobe to choose from and have worn less than a third of it.  Downsizing again!  Sending home clothing in a box to my awesome sister who is handling my affairs while I remain voluntary homeless.  She is the rock on which all of this pivots.  Without Sally, none of this works.

There it is dear readers.  God is working in my life in many ways.  I ask that you hold me up in prayer as I do you.  I ask God for the grace to make the right decisions, for the strength to live right, and for my heart to be open again to love.  Blessings to all of you for a happy and healthy season.