I have no doubt we all know at least one relationship with a nagging woman.  Look up the word nag and you will find nothing positive in the definitions or descriptions; words like anxiety, complaining, faultfinding, annoying, unrelenting, torment are what you’ll find.  Having been in a number of terrible relationships myself, I know the signs of abuse, and nagging is a form of abuse.  Women can be just as guilty of abusing their significant others as men.  In fact, emotional abuse can have far more damaging effects than physical abuse.  Nothing good comes from nagging.  

Recently I had been hearing questions about the lapse in posts on my blog.  One thought perhaps I had writer’s block, another asked if I didn’t have anything passionate to write about.  My little hiatus had little to do with either really, although it would be a whole lot easier to chalk it up to either of these excuses and leave it at that. 

There were a few silver slivers buried within the dark brown and a few more wrinkles then I recalled, but otherwise he didn’t look any different.  As with all such encounters I suppose, it was completely random and unexpected.  I frequent this place often and had never run into him before.  We shared a relationship at one time.  My life was a chaotic mess then. So was his.  Our relationship changed the course of my life.  Now, nearly a decade later it seems like a lifetime has passed yet at the same time only a matter of days.  I must say I am relieved to find that my heart doesn’t race at the sight of him as it used to.  It seems time really does heal old wounds and sore hearts. 

Margarett Mahotiere, right, wipes her tears after handing the microphone back to Pastor Renaud Dumont at the memorial and prayer service to honor the the victims of the earthquake in Haiti at the First Haitian Baptist Church in Manchester on Saturday, Jan. 16, 2010. Mahotiere lost her mother and her sister, all of the family that she had, in the earthquake. 

It always starts small; accusations, name calling, raised voices, a shove.  It rarely comes out of the blue without warning.  It's all about low self-esteem and stress.  Sometimes the person who seems most in control is really the person most out of control. 

I did not vote for you. My reason had nothing to do with your skin color. My reason had everything to do with your lack of experience. When you won the office I chose to stand behind you, just as I did at first with George W. (I never voted for him either, by the way). I was full of hope that you would prove me wrong. My first disappointment came Wednesday night when I heard you answer a question that any experienced, good statesman would have known to AVOID AT ALL COSTS. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things most people would say it was a little misstep in an insignificant scenario, that there are bigger things to get upset over. I think the reaction and fall out shows that this is far from insignificant or little. For me, it is a peek into the true character of the man we have all placed our hope and faith in.

Let me start by saying that I am a white woman in my 40's. My boss would say that makes me a little crazy in and of itself. I live in Cow Hampshire (also known as New Hampshire) which doesn't have the minority population that many other states boast. In fact, in my high school 25 years ago, there were 3 black siblings in a school of 500. People might believe that would put me in a position to not speak on the subject of racial issues as it is not something I deal with and face on a daily basis. I say sometimes being on the outside looking in has it's advantages. Besides, I do live in this country and I do love it passionately and that does make me qualified to speak my mind.

If you have ever worked in customer service, be it retail, restaurant, health care, or over the phone, you’ve heard the phrase "I’m a good customer" more times then any other phrase combined. The question is what makes a good customer?

Here we go again.  Besides the state of the economy, the news lately is full of stories, speculations and commentaries regarding a certain celebrity couple who had a physical altercation resulting in bodily harm and charges being brought against one.  More than the circumstances regarding this event, the comments from people in the media, people carrying a fair amount of weight with their faithful followers, have caused me to grit my teeth in frustration.  Rihanna has been crucified by the media for choosing to remain with her attacker.  These people obviously have no qualms about randomly casting stones. 

I encourage anyone who is in love to stop for a moment and think "what if".  I have no doubt that the first thought one would have is "he (or she) would never do that to me".  I would hazard a guess this famous couple would have said the same thing a month or so ago, probably right up until that terrible evening.  My guess is the second thought most of you would have is "I'd leave in a second".  Would you really?  Would you be able to look your sweetheart in the eye, see the pain and torment there, hear the desperate words of apology and promises that it was merely a moment of weakness and they would do whatever was within their power to make sure it never happened again, and still say you don't forgive him/her?  Yes?  Then aren't we cold hearted? 

When I was about 13 I graduated from reading Nancy Drew mysteries to raiding my mother's collection of gothic romances. I'm not talking about those smutty "hysterical" (as I called them) romances, I'm talking about stories of mystery and intrigue wrapped up in a bow called romance.  I particularly liked Victoria Holt and Mary Stewart novels, although at the tender age of 13 I didn't always understand Ms. Stewart's references to Shakespearean plays and French phrases. Still I loved the mix of mystery and romance.  I explored places like the Scottish Moors, the French countryside and the Greek Isles.  I dreamed of someday going to these places and meeting my own tall, dark, handsome and brooding soul mate just like the women in these stories.

My S.O. and I went to the movies last night. Being fans of Clint Eastwood movies (all of them) we decided to go to his newest, "Gran Torino".  It has been a long time since I've been to a movie where no one in the theater moved or spoke as the credits began to roll.  There was complete silence as the images we had just witnessed sank in.  There was not even applause.  The silence spoke volumes.  It had me thinking the rest of the night about character and what defines character.