I started blogging to share my experiences in caring for a dementia-stricken parent; a lot of what I write is from my book project, “Another cookie, please!”.  

Since becoming part of a wonderful blogging community called….For The Love Of Blogs, I’ve been able to think beyond past sadness and enjoy contributing writings that are fun and creative.

Well, at least I try….

                                           

Sometimes, my thinking cap manages to get twisted but, what the hell, maybe someone will smile when they read my posts. 

                  
Had a brain fart while driving to work this morning about…Blind Dates; the good, bad and even horrors of such encounters.  I now ask you to share your stories, don’t spare any sordid details either!  I want to read about how you were overtaken by numbness when Mr. Groady knocked on your door, his appearance bringing on instant nausea.

                                                 

Me?  Well, I had the brief misfortune of meeting only one creature during my dating years; all it took was one whiff of something coming from his mouth that smelled like rotting chicken and it took me about a half hour to come up with some malady and I ran home…and hid.

That’s it…short and not-so-sweet for today but I look forward to hearing your most awful, yucky, disgusting, Blind Date stories.

                                           

                                                   

I’ve witnessed quite a few tragedies over my years, standing as a tearful observer as the world came tumbling down on the lives of others.  Twenty five years ago, I joined millions of television viewers who watched in silent horror as the Challenger and its crew disappeared into billowing clouds of smoke; I watched the agonized faces of Christa McAuliffe’s family as they stared towards the heavens in shocked disbelief.  And I cried along with them for their loss. 

It was the world’s first high-tech catastrophe to unfold on live television. Adding to the anguish was the young audience: School children everywhere tuned in that morning to watch the launch of the first schoolteacher and ordinary citizen bound for space, Christa McAuliffe.

She never made it. 

McAuliffe and six others on board perished as the cameras rolled, victims of stiff O-ring seals and feeble bureaucratic decisions. 

That damned “malfunction,” due to a faulty, inexpensive, O-ring in one of two solid-fuel rocket boosters, brought tears and shattered the notion that NASA — which put men on the moon — could do no wrong. Seventeen years later, a second space shuttle, the Columbia, disintegrated during re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere over Texas, killing all seven crew members.
                                              

But it’s the Challenger that prompts the question: Where were you when the space shuttle disintegrated over the Atlantic Ocean at 11:39 a.m. on Jan. 28, 1986?

I’d like to read your comments.

                       I’ll be outside, camera in hand…waiting.