Wednesday, January 22, 2020

No Thanks Needed


Decided to sit at my desktop and write. Here goes.

Came home from work, riled up 'cause today did not go as planned. Or as I had planned it in my head.

New manager moving their stuff into old manager's office and well, I wasn't feeling good about it. New rules, new implements (I like the old implements, they were working just fine thank you)  and my stomach started getting queasy midday. Work life.

Anyway, come home, husband is home, news is on, dinner is leftovers. We start talking about my not so planned happy work day and he gets up and he starts coughing and sneezing, and I'm watching the news and hearing him as he leaves the room and then, there it is.
I see him in the hallway not really moving and just coughing and kind of swaying.

Off goes the news. I'm up and leading him into the bathroom where he thinks he is going to vomit.

Ok, this is where my anxiety normally kicks into high gear, surprisingly though it did not. Nurture-nature mode swooped in and I stroked his back (while his head was over the toilet) no he didn't throw up, and I lead him upstairs and tucked him in bed, made sure he had a glass of flat ginger ale. And this is why I don't throw out ginger ale even though it's over a week old and flat. Comes in handy.

He's all tucked in, calm and cozy, and I tell him "no worries, I'll lock up, just rest". He looks up at me and says "thank you". That startled me. Maybe it was because he said it through his cpap mask; sounding muffled and childlike and earnest. He didn't have to thank me. This is marriage. This is being a caring wife, right? 

Or being a human, right?

I told him you don't have to thank me, but he insisted: "you're a good woman".  I prayed while pretending not to. I kissed his forehead gently and said "you're a good man and I love you". 

As human beings this is what we were created to do. Help each other. Lend a guiding hand when another human is sick and swaying. And not just for the people we love. For every human who needs a hand.

Every single one.

Even the new manager at my job. Time to change my attitude and help them get tucked in. Maybe I'll bring in a big bottle of ginger ale to the office tomorrow. They may need it.




Tuesday, December 17, 2019



I was blocked on Twitter by one of the most revered, respected angel investors and start up founder.

Honestly I didn’t believe it at first. I thought, no way does this man with over 500k followers know or for that matter ACTUALLY care about my comment I posted over a retweet of his. Unbelievable.

Ok, let me be transparent, I did not retweet with a compliment.

My words were snarky, yeah I was grouchy, no excuse, but I was and I implied he was a very rich man playing philosopher.

I tried to apologize but it was too late.

I was blocked.

Mind you, I don’t follow him, his tweet popped up because someone I did follow liked it or whatever.

The point is: I shouldn’t have been snarky. Me and snarky go way back. To childhood. A defense mechanism I’m sure.

I say I’m a Christian, then pop goes the snarky!

Dear Lord, help me with my sarcasm. I really mean it.

Dear Lord help me with my sarcasm. It was useful growing up in a male dominated household, but my word, I’m an Abuela now and there’s just no excuse to be snarky to anyone, even famous, wealthy strangers who may like philosophy. Or be an actual philosopher.

I’ve been blocked in real life so I wasn’t hurt as much as I was so angry with myself for taking a cheap shot at someone, merely because it popped into my head and to be honest, NOT remembering he’s a person, probably a husband or father, and he has feelings.

That’s what upset me. I upset him.

It’s insulting to God to snark at any image bearer, whether rich or poor, in sickness or in health, till death do I part.

This isn’t some not so clever take on traditional wedding vows. These are the vows I made to God.

And I broke them.

I asked God to forgive me.

I prayed for the man.

I begged God to help me make better decisions when it comes to my words.

All day today my mind was in reflection and prayer.

How my words angered someone so much, they felt the need to block me.

That’s not me.

I’m your cheerleader, I’m the lady people talk to when they are so low they feel invisible.

Knowing he will never know how truly sorry I am is maddening, but well you know ..well well well, look who showed up, the consequences for my bad decisions. I deserve the never knowing.

But if you ever read this, mister, I am truly sorry.



Tuesday, August 27, 2019



It’s been awhile. Everything good?

I’m ok. Fine. Sort of.

I’ve been wondering why I don’t know how to write code, or why I dropped out of college, or why I’ve never developed a start up.

It’s so weird following these tech billionaires or millionaires on Twitter.

Reading their tweets on venture capitalism and I just finished my work day listening to people tell me that they don’t have any food to eat.

It’s like sitting on two sides of the world, but I’m right here, a plane ride away from start ups and venture capitalism and marketing, and entrepreneurial worlds.

I fall down rabbit holes and follow people that I have absolutely no clue what they’re talking about and they have absolutely no clue what it’s like NOT understanding what they’re talking about.

Social work versus start up.

I don’t think they really understand that there’s so many people with shitty jobs and they can’t afford healthcare and they can’t afford food.  Sometimes I’m one of those people.

People like me, we’re not complete idiots; but we’re not technologically savvy or educated or gifted.

I have dipped into some intense  communities. They’re fascinating.

The marching band parents community, the reseller community, the extreme couponing community. The self - help community, the “crush it” mentality community, the vegan community. Well I am vegan. So yeah, that’s an intense community but I really like it, cause I’m weird and love animals.

Now it’s the VC, start up, tech community.

Each community I dip into, it’s obvious very early on who are the icons, gurus.

The most retweeted, revered. It’s bizarre how each community has these incredibly famous people in their field, and the average worker like me, has never heard of them.

Even extreme couponers have their princesses, I know who they are now.

So far the tech VC start up world is the richest, most heady bunch I’ve ever read.

I don’t think they are spiritual, they don’t seem to be,  I’m guessing of course. Surmising by their tweets. They sure do love money, while pretending not to care about it.

It’s funny.

My generation from the seventies, we like money.

We honor God, but we sure do like money.

We don’t pretend we don’t like it, that’s why we refinanced our retirement to send our kids to good colleges so they could like money and live better than we did.

Why didn’t we just get some tech genius to teach our kids to write code, become a founder of a start up and skip the degree and debt?

Why didn’t I know about start ups? I kind of knew.

Just didn’t pay attention, our kids wanted to be actors, teachers, singers, makeup artists... and that’s what they chose. And that’s what they do.

I don’t even know if I could, I would even want a start up.

Who am I kidding? Of course I’d want one, then I could sell it, makes tons of money, save all the neglected animals and live my best life.

Now, does anyone here know how to write code?

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Two Princes


Hey you........I haven't blogged in about a year or so, therefore, if anyone is reading this.....well you'll have to forgive me, 'been kinda busy. I am writing something far more difficult than this blog. I mean really hard. 

Two Princes. I love this song. It's catchy and well....what happened to the Spin Doctors anyway???? Two Princes. 

I've had more than two princes in my life. 

Ummmm by the way,  I am in the middle of getting divorced. 

Yup, strike 2, but you ain't out...

It's easier than I thought it would be..second divorce. No kids together, no property settlement, no hard feelings (I think), just hire a lawyer and get the papers, and BAM, in 90 days we're divorced.

I thought each man I married was a prince. Therefore, I probably acted like a princess. Did I? Yup, I think so.

As each marriage ended I think, crap Maria, get a grip. Maria you suck at relationships. Maria, what the hell do want?

I'll tell you what I want. A regular guy who's a real prince. One who can put up with my moods. One who understands my panic attacks, one who isn't afraid to venture into conversation with my sometimes sick, twisted mind. One who likes the fact that I am a complicated, vulnerable, compassionate, demanding, whiny, witty, self-deprecating perfectionist.

Tall order. Few men can take me on. Probably even fewer princes. I get that.

So what can I do? Change who I am? Hell, no. An inauthentic me would be far worse. I'd get bored. Treat my prince like crap. End up leaving yet another prince.

Well, as this divorce comes to it's close, I realize, I'm no princess. I'm screwed up. And that's okay. We all are.

Oh and by the way, first prince has come back into my life. After 16 years of divorce, this prince knows he's got what it takes to deal with this princess. FINALLY MARIA.

Go for it. Love of my life at 19 years old.

This one wants to call me baby. So go ahead now. 




To be honest.

Writing is what I love. 

To be honest, I am not writing honestly most of the time. That's why I didn't write for a year.

Until I am completely honest in my writing, I am not a writer.

You know, next post, I will be honest.

Stop worrying about who is reading this, cause who cares anyway? 


Probably have adult ADD. 

To be honest.



Saturday, May 18, 2019


Hey, Judd Apatow, forget about This is 40. 

Think about This is 58.

My husband's best friend has been dead for a month now. Today. One month ago, this man was my husband's best friend, making plans to visit us and now he is dead and his ashes are sitting in an urn somewhere. We're not sure where. We're not sure why.

He wasn't sick. He shouldn't have died. He wasn't addicted to drugs. He wasn't a drunk. He wasn't in a car crash. We're stunned and numb.

This is 58. 

We watch the national news. We are bombarded with commercials warning us about our impending death. Heart disease, diabetes. Foreboding commercials for crash-proof retirement. 

We cannot afford to think about retirement yet. Divorce and remarriage and college debt for our kids screwed that up for us.

This is 58. 

Our backs hurt for no reason. 

Sex isn't everything. It helps, but it ain't everything.

We think our grandson is amazingly beautiful. 
He is the most adorable baby, ever. 

This is 58.

We watch The Dodo on YouTube. Alot.

We are so sick of all the sickos running around our planet.

We like Ray Donovan and The Kominsky Method and Tiger Woods and Bob's Burgers and Netflix and sports and sports and sports.

We did not vote for the current president. 

We miss the 80s. 

We see we what we don't have and we see what we want. We have to hustle to keep up. 

But we don't feel like doing anything. We just want to hit the lottery and pay off all our debt and move and be free.

This is 58. 



Tuesday, April 30, 2019


Been about a year since I’ve written anything.

I will catch up soon. Just hate typing on my iPad.

Miss my keyboard.