Common Sense: A Blog by Mary Worth

Grief takes a surreal turn.

2006-10-16T00:55:00.000-07:00

In my last post, you will remember that I had prudently decided to put only half the roses on my darling Aldo's grave, in order to preserve the good reputation I have worked hard to create and maintain here in Santa Royale. I was thinking I would keep the other flowers for myself, or place them on the tomb of an unknown soldier, or something.

But, as I placed the flowers on Aldo's grave, I suddenly noticed the dates on my Aldo's headstone. It said "1935-2096"!! I was shocked! First, because my Aldo barely looked 50, and yet he was actually 71 years old! And then I noticed the second date. "2096"--I thought to myself, it might be a clue that my Aldo isn't really dead!

I had just about pulled myself together again when I was startled to see that Aldo's grave was right next to that of his late wife Elise! I was stunned. It just didn't make sense. My Aldo was visiting from out of town. That's why he was staying at Hal's condo. So why would Elise be buried in Santa Royale? Quickly, to cover my discomfiture, I put the remaining roses on Elise's grave, and I went over to join my friend Toby, who had finally stopped whining about her guilty feelings.

I noticed as I approached her that she was again wearing the powder blue suit. I looked down and saw that my own outfit had turned back into a mournful deep violet.

Toby asked me, "Why the hell are you putting red roses on Aldo's grave? Do you want all our work to save your reputation to be for nothing?"

And I answered her, "You see, Toby--Aldo gave me flowers. It was my turn. But we have much bigger worries. There's something fishy going on here. Something twisted and evil."

And Toby said, "Come on. We can figure it out while we sit around the Charterstone pool sipping mojitos." So we headed home. But I still have an uneasy feeling about the questionable goings-on in that cemetary!

In life, only death and flowers are clear-cut.

2006-10-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

After my Aldo's all-too-brief funeral, that insensitive clod Ian Cameron said, "All right, that's over! Guilt expunged! Time to head back to Charterstone for the Fall Pool Party!" Naturally, that brat Toby whined, "But Iiiii-aaan! I don't feel any cloooo-sure yet!" Ian gave her a shove toward the car, to hurry her up, saying, "You will. It takes time. Get in the car. That party starts at 5 and people expect me to be there to pontificate."

Just then, we passed a roving cemetary florist. You see them all the time at cemetaries, at the most convenient times. I was drawn to him, not because of his weasel-like appearance, but because he so fortuitously had a bouquet of a dozen red roses thrown in carelessly on top of his regular stock of cheap pink carnations.

I bought the roses from the weasel-florist. As I did, Ian became grouchy. "What's she doing?" he demanded. "It's 3:30! It's a half-hour drive, and it takes at least 45 minutes for Toby to wedge me into my swimsuit! We're going to be late!" With a cruel look on her face, Toby said, "I don't know what she's doing! But damnit, I killed a man to preserve her reputation, and now she's going to go and throw it all away!"

I ignored her. As I walked toward my darling Aldo's grave, I thought to myself that death, just like flowers, is clear cut. But life is not. Sure, some people called my Aldo's attentions stalking. But can three chance meetings and one phone call really constitute stalking? And sure, some people might call me a whore if I had given in to lust and screwed Aldo's brains out, but is a good reputation that important?

I was about to put the full dozen red roses on Aldo's grave, but then I remembered something: a good reputation is the most important thing in the world! After all, I left New York because my many indiscretions with men had left me with an indefensible reputation!

No one at Charterstone knows about my disastrous engagement to bubble-gum manufacturer-come-philanthropist Drum Greenwood. Even though I claimed that I was giving my body to him only to secure his donation to a slum-clearance project, some unkind people still called me "Mary Whore!" I had to engineer a car wreck and fake amnesia to restore my good name.

Then I was wholly taken in by that "black widower," Edwin Penwhistle. He was almost as sexually appealing as Aldo Kelrast, and I would have married him and performed unspeakable sexual acts with him had the police not tipped me off in time!

I won't even mention the details of my failed relationships with the vigorous, wealthy athlete or the elderly Shakespearean actor. They are just too humiliating.

I can't ruin my life here at Charterstone the same way I ruined it in New York--with multiple, ill-advised, lust-driven flings with men! No! I must stay pure and true to my darling Dr. Jeff Cory, because everyone knows he is physically undesirable and therefore that our relationship is chaste and pure and true.

So, I gave Aldo only half the red roses. That way it just looks like a gesture of friendship, and I get to save my good name. Never let it be said that Mary Worth doesn't learn from her mistakes.

By the by, when I returned to the car, I noticed that Toby was once again dressed in her salmon pink suit. I looked down and saw that my suit had turned partially back to its former orchid purple jazziness, but was streaked heavily with black patches and shadows. What do you think that means?

Death be not proud.

2006-10-09T14:25:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally got those nattering nincompoops out of my apartment.
Afterwards, I was in such a hurry to get over to Hal Kane's place that I foolishly forgot to change out of my red outfit. When Hal opened the door, he threw his arm over his eyes and screamed, "My retinas!" But, after he recovered his eyesight, we had a lovely conversation. Hal Kane is a younger, thinner, non-mustachioed version of my Aldo. If he packed on a few pounds and traded his jeans in for Sansabelt slacks, he would be devastatingly hot.

Unfortunately, Hal didn't seem too troubled by his cousin's death. His attitude was very dismissive. "Yeah, he's dead, inner demons, what have you, memorial service, come as you are, yadda yadda." I wanted to punch him in the mouth.

So, on Sunday, Ian, Toby, Wilbur and I got together in my apartment to dress for the funeral. Ian and Wilbur chose somber dark suits, but Toby and I agreed that brighter, sportier colors--orchid purple for me and salmon pink for her--would help to give the impression that we don't have anything to feel guilty about. Of course, that's a lie. Toby and I murdered him, and we both know it.

On the drive to the funeral, the most bizarre thing happened. My outfit changed from a jazzy orchid purple to a dark, somber black-violet! When I got out of the car, I saw that Toby's salmon pink suit was gone, replaced with a suit in a grayish shade of light blue. It was as if our clothes were like the telltale heart, broadcasting our guilt to all and sundry!

I was overcome with grief when I saw the headstone with the name of my beloved on it. Of course, Wilbur and Ian--those beasts!--could think of no one but themselves. During the service, they whispered disrespectfully about how they didn't want to speak because they hated Aldo. Ian even had a strange discourse with a nearby tree about the matter.

I wanted to talk to someone who loved and respected my dear Aldo as I did, so I spoke to Hal Kane. I thought it was so puzzling that he had buried Aldo here in Santa Royale, and not beside his wife in his old home town. Hal said, "Eh, didn't wanna spend the money." I noted that he must have put a rush job on the headstone to have it ready on so short a notice. Hal replied, "It's plastic," and gave it a kick to demonstrate. I wanted to give him a kick in the groin, but I restrained myself. Then he said I shouldn't worry because the service would be short. He didn't want it to take longer than ten minutes!

Hal muttered something about Aldo being "at peace with his lovely Elise," which I thought was a nice sentiment, if a little callously stated. I felt like weeping. Then Hal asked if anyone else wanted to speak.

I will tell you the rest later. I can't see the screen through all the tears.

Time for some backpedalling.

2006-10-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

Just as I was about to beat Toby senseless, I had a thought:

My darling Aldo is gone. Nothing can bring him back to me. I know, because I tried in vain for several years to resurrect my late husband, Jack Worth, and ended up pissing away a lot of good money on voodoo priestesses who claimed they could help me out.

I, however, am still alive. And I will need to keep living here in the Charterstone Condominium Complex. It would not be a good idea to alienate my neighbors. If I do, they might not come to me for advice anymore.

So, when Toby began to weepily blame herself for Aldo's death, I decided to do a 180 and take a hard line. "We didn't buy him that bottle!" I told her. "We didn't make him drive drunk!" Then I decided to toss in a whopper, just to make it clear where I stood. "And we weren't that hard on him!"

I was sure everyone was going to jump all over me and point out that, just a minute ago, I had blamed them all for Aldo's death. But fortunately, just at that moment, Toby began to bite her nails, and everyone was so busy shuddering in response to the disgusting sound of that vile nervous habit that they were distracted from my dramatic volte face (or voltafaccia, as my late husband's friend Lucky Luciano would have said).

Toby whined that she felt bad about "maybe" being "indirectly" responsible for Aldo's death. I wanted to slap her and scream, "There's no 'indirect' about it, you stupid twat!" But that would have been counter to my plans, so I kept quiet. It would've been fun though.

Then Ian Cameron said that he felt just as responsible as Toby did! And Toby said that the intervention had been intended to help Aldo too! It was then that I realized I would never be called on my lies because the whole room was filled with revisionist historians.

Toby said, "Who knows? Maybe his unrequited love for Mary was all he had going for him!" Of course, this is patently ridiculous. Aldo also had his devastatingly good looks, his irresistible charm and joie de vivre, and his overwhelming sexual magnetism. On top of which, he exuded the scent of red wine and aged salami. Divine. He could have had any woman he wanted.

I was struggling with my natural urge to contradict Toby and make her look stupid, but just then, Dr. Ian Cameron did the most amazing thing! He suddenly grew into a giant hulk of a man with the proportions of Andre the Giant! (Another devastatingly handsome actor, I might add.) Perhaps he had an accident similar to that of Dr. Bruce Banner. Those academics are constantly in danger of mutating into some sort of horrible He-Man.

Since Ian and Toby were obviously all-too-willing to delude themselves about their part in Aldo's murder, I went to work on Wilbur Weston. I said, "We did not cause Aldo Kelrast's death!" Of course, that was all it took to convince that weak-minded idiot.

But naturally that blonde drama queen kept on blathering and shrieking about how Aldo's death was all her fault. I decided that the only thing that would shut her up would be a glass of nice, refreshing lemonade...laced with a few drops of pentobarbitol. As I served, I told Toby I wanted her to listen to me because I was not going to tell her even one more time. I gave her the stupid party line about how the medical examiner listed Aldo's cause of death as "drinking and driving," not "death by intervention." Fortunately, Ian and Wilbur helped me to convince her. I can't stand the idea of listening to her talk about this over and over again for months or years. I need to forget my dear Aldo forever, or my heart will be torn apart by longing and regret!

Lucky for me, those deluded apes Ian and Wilbur are convinced that they were "within their rights" and that they "had" to intervene to make Aldo stop "harassing" me. It was perfect! I picked right up where their stupidity left off, and I said that the intervention was the first time that Aldo got the message.

Then, just for a little extra flair and drama, I added, "But Aldo couldn't handle the truth!" I just love Jack Nicholson, don't you? He bears a striking resemblance to a much, much thinner version of my own late husband Jack.

By the end of that exchange, it was plain to see that the pentobarbitol was having the desired effect. Toby sagged into an armchair as I shared with them Aldo's confession that he was drinking the night his wife died. This too had the desired effect. That pedantic puke Ian Cameron immediately pontificated that Aldo had a "history" of drinking while under stress. Would one call a single past incident a "history"? I guess creative writing professors are masters of invention.

Well, it looks like my reputation is safe. I wish they would hurry up and go away now. It feels like they've been in my apartment for days, and I would really like to change out of this red outfit. It is starting to hurt my eyes.

Toby vs. Mary Worth: Hand-to-hand combat.

2006-09-27T00:11:00.000-07:00

The police came to interview me about the "intervention" we held for my poor Aldo before his sad, tragic death. Naturally, Dr. Ian, Toby, and Wilbur Weston insisted on being there too. The policeman knew my reputation for honesty, so he asked me all the questions, but the others kept interrupting him to twist the facts to make the "intervention" sound more like a friendly coffee klatsch. No doubt they are covering their asses, trying to get their version of the "truth" on record before Hal Kane and the rest of dear Aldo's relatives try to sue us all for intentional infliction of emotional distress and wrongful death.

Luckily for them, the police officer had a callous disregard for the life of my precious Aldo! "Oh well," his tone and manner said, "just another drunk driver." You could just tell that he was happy my angel Aldo was dead, so that he would not again have the opportunity to endanger innocent motorists.

The cold, cruel bastard!

Little did he realize that my tender Aldo bunny would never, ever have driven drunk if my friends had not so viciously abused him!

That dippy bitch Toby declared, "I can't believe he's dead!"

I shouted at her, "You heard what the police officer said, Toby! He's dead! Christ, what will it take to drive that fact into your thick head?"

Then I jumped up from my chair, and I shouted, "Your cruel intervention caused Aldo to drink! Drinking and driving lead to this tragedy!" I lunged at her, intending to claw her eyes out. That bitch killed my little Aldokins!

Naturally, Toby is in denial about her role in Snoogy-Woogy Aldo-Boogy's hideous death. As she tried to ward off my clawing finger, she attempted to direct the blame away from herself, wondering defensively, "But did our intervention push Aldo to drink?"

Like we don't know the answer to that question is, in her mind, a big fat NO.

But that bitch's day is coming. I vow this before you all: I will kill that golddigging whore for what she did to my little Aldo flower. My Aldo-Waldo honey pie deserves no less.

Time to place the blame!

2006-09-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

Toby Cameron, Aldo's death is your fault! Many times I asked you, "Should I throw away my pristine reputation and give in to the temptations of the flesh? Should I cast off my respectable suitor in favor of an ardent lover?" And each time you said, "No! What would happen to Charterstone if you weren't there to serve as our flawless moral touchstone? What would happen to me, if you didn't need a gossip-collecting, power-walking sidekick anymore? Mary, you must resist! Scrape Aldo Kelrast off like dog doo from the sole of your jaunty little orthopedic ankle boot!"

Why, oh why did I listen?

But it is not merely Toby's fault! It is also her husband's fault. Dr. Ian Cameron's love of power made him so eager to assert his authority that he didn't stop to question whether an intervention was really necessary! And Wilbur Weston didn't care who got hurt--all he saw was another opportunity to dole out some of his pathetic, careless advice! And then there was his cousin, Hal Kane, who so recklessly sublet his condo to Aldo without bothering to make sure that Aldo's psyche was prepared to be in such close proximity to a woman of powerful charms such as myself! And I think it is no coincidence that my chaste paramour, Dr. Jeff Cory, left town just as Aldo Kelrast entered it! If he had stayed, Aldo might never have gotten the idea that I could some day be his!

But of course, the last ingredient in this poisonous stew was...me. Yes! For the last few months, Charterstone has been one big poisonous Mary Worth Stew. And, unlike my famous tuna casserole, that is one nasty concoction with a very bitter taste!

Oh, it was wrong of me to lead Aldo on! He was right! My words said no, but my looks, my tone of voice, my body language, the way I kept showing up in the Charterstone parking lot, the way I kept my phone number listed in the telephone directory--all these things screamed YES!

That day I brought him to my apartment--it was just the day before last, though it seems so long ago now--I knew he thought we were finally going to consummate our burning passion for one another! I saw the huge erection that was pressing against the front of his electric blue Sansabelt trousers! I should have predicted the crushing humiliation he would feel when, instead of candlelight and soft music, he found my living room full of angry neighbors!

Worst of all, after the intervention, I had that terrible premonition that Aldo would drive off a cliff and kill himself! I should have done something! I should have called the Santa Royale Mounted Police! They might have stopped him! But no--I had to sensibly pooh-pooh the idea that extrasensory perception might have some validity! And my Aldo paid with his life!

I have never felt such anguish! I would kill myself, except I am pretty sure I have counseled against suicide on past occasions.

Oh God, what have I done?

2006-09-24T18:21:00.000-07:00

The morning after the intervention, I agreed to join Toby on her power walk. I was wearing a very attractive sport suit in fire engine red. Toby looked uncharacteristically dumpy in a lavender purple sweat suit. We were in my kitchen, carbo-loading, when my telephone said, "Ring! Ring!" I answered it with my trademark greeting--"This is Mary Worth, how can I help you?" Because I help everyone, sooner or later.

It was a police officer on the phone. He said to me, "Mary Worth, we have a bit of a problem here. Do you know someone named Aldo Kelrast?"

I said, "Umm, yes, officer...he was in my apartment last night." I sounded guilty because I feel terrible about the way we treated my poor Aldo. But I'm afraid the officer thought my words and tone made it sound like we had been in my apartment alone, making hot monkey love!

I was about to correct myself when the officer said, "After he left your apartment, did you know he got in his car and drove away?"

I answered, "No, I didn't see him drive away. I got into the shower after he left, and after that, I had to do a load of bed sheets. I didn't have time to be looking out of windows." Then I cursed my words. Surely now he thinks I was cleaning up the effluvia left behind by an evening of hard, pounding vaginal intercourse!

Then the officer told me, "We found the wreckage of a car just off a cliff on the Santa Royale Scenic Highway. There was a man inside. The car had a Charterstone parking sticker on the windshield, which we could just make out amidst all the splattered blood and gore. Since he's from Charterstone, we figured we should contact you before we try to find his relatives and all that other business. Sounds like I made the right move, considering your...special relationship with him. I'm sorry, Mrs. Worth. Aldo sustained very grave injuries..."

I barely heard what he said next. I heard someone screaming, "What? Oh, no no no!" And, as my world faded into black and ecru hues, I realized that the person screaming was me.

The officer asked if he could come over to discuss the matter further. I agreed that he could, but I felt like a robot. I was numb and hollow inside. As I hung up the phone, Toby asked me what was wrong. And I had to tell her the truth--that my Aldo, my beloved Aldo, the man who wanted me more than life itself...that he's...he's...

I flung myself into Toby's arms, my whole being wracked with the agony of true love lost.

Fleeing from women and naysayers!

2006-09-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Harold Horst called me up this morning to ask me out to lunch. Naturally, I told him no, and that it was best if we don't socialize too closely. Harold rather obtusely replied, "But we've been friends for 30 years! You gave the eulogy at my life partner Tim's funeral!" Men. They just don't understand the strict code we women must live by in order to preserve our reputations.

But I digress. Harold then told me, "I have some information that I know you would like to hear, Mary Worth!" And I said, "You know I don't like ugly rumors. The trouble with them is that they're usually true!" And Harold said, "Yes, well, this one is definitely true." And I said, "Oh, all right, I can see you want to tell me, so just get it over with."

Harold then told me that the other day--a few hours after the intervention the Camerons held for my Aldo--he saw Aldo Kelrast driving down Santa Royale Boulevard, "chug-a-lugging" Johnny Walker Gold Label whiskey. I said, "It wasn't Blue Label?" and Harold said no, it was definitely Gold Label. I wonder why Rita Begler reported him drinking Blue Label? I'm surprised she would get her liquors confused--no novice, that one! Maybe she was still feeling the effects of whatever the dentist dosed her with. Rita said it was powerful--and "tasty," though I don't see what that has to do with anything.

When I asked Harold why he didn't call the police and report Aldo for drunken driving, he said, "Well, he seemed to be driving just fine. He used his turn signal. Drunks don't do that." I said, "Well, my Aldo is a considerate man." Harold said, "He's an unusually skilled man, too. At one point, we were next to each other at a stoplight, and I saw him fixing a problem with his turn signal with one hand while he used the other to tip his bottle of Johnny toward his mouth."

Harold reported that next Mr. Kelrast rolled down his windows and started to beller at him. Some of you no doubt remember that Harold has a red convertible and likes to drive with the top down. Aldo shouted to Harold, "Do you know anyplace I can get away from all women?!" Harold shouted back, "Try Fire Island! It's lovely this time of year!"

Aldo seemed intrigued. "What about naysayers? Do they let any naysayers onto Fire Island? Because I need to forget about them, too." Harold assured him, "Fire Island is a very tolerant community. My dearly departed life partner Tim was fond of saying, 'Anything goes at the Fire Island Pines, even nude sunbathing.'" Then Aldo asked, "Will my love of revelry and levity be appreciated there?" Harold answered, "Fire Island is a party place. Anyone who likes to drink and joke around will fit right in."

Aldo said, "That's the place for me, then! Is it in Santa Royale?" Harold informed him that it is, in fact, in New York. Aldo then held up two bottles of liquor--his Johnny Walker Gold Label and his Bombay Sapphire gin--and scrutinized them before concluding, "These won't even last me to the state line!" Aldo said he was going to have to find another liquor store to stock up. He thanked Harold and drove off, screaming, "Fire Island or bust!"

I am very, very concerned for my Aldo. I want all of my friends and acquaintances to know that, if they see or hear of news of Aldo, they should call or write to me immediately!

Drowning his sorrows in gin.

2006-09-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

I received a phone call from my friend Rita Begler this morning. She told me that she had been spending some time at the that newest branch of that chain of locally-famous liquor stores, Wines Liquors. When I asked her what an alcoholic was doing in a liquor store, she assured me that she was just helping her friend Petronella Wines put sale prices on all the inventory. She and Petty met in AA, and I guess Petty is having a hard time of it, seeing as booze is her family business. Rita swore to me that she had not had a drop to drink, even though Rotgut Rye whiskey is on sale for $5.99 a gallon.

Anyway, the point is that Rita saw Aldo Kelrast--my Aldo!--come into the store right after he left our intervention! She says he bought a bottle of reasonably priced Bombay Gin ($32.99 a bottle) and then asked if they sold "sippy cups" so that drinkers don't spill while they are driving. Petty Wines told him that they did not, and cautioned him that drinking and driving is a very bad idea, as she knows from personal experience. She showed him her artificial arm.

But my Aldo was not to be dissuaded! He told Petty to "put my gin in a paper sack, so the world will know that I'm a sad sack!" Petty and Rita expected him to stick out his tongue and laugh in the commonly accepted manner of those who are amused by puns and wordplay, but he did not display any signs of mirth whatsoever. He simply sighed and said he was going to enjoy his gin and drive around for awhile.

Rita reported that Petty then removed her artificial arm and waved her stump in his face, and cautioned him that he did not want to suffer the same phantom pains and taunts of children that she does!

Undaunted, my Aldo slapped down his $34.97 ($32.99 with tax) and went out to his blue Oldsmobile. Rita says that she and Petty were so depressed by the sight of a morose Captain Kangaroo look-alike driving drunk that they almost fell off the wagon. Fortunately, they caught themselves just in time, and went on a five-day "bender" of back-to-back AA meetings. On top of all that, you will be sorry to hear that poor Rita has had to have dental surgery. When I asked her why her speech sounded slurred, she told me it was because her "trick molar" was acting up again. I counseled her to get to a dentist right away. After all, one cannot take too good of care of one's teeth!

Oh, my Aldo! This is what I've driven him to! What was I thinking?!

On a positive note, now that my heart is broken and I spend every waking moment worried about my sweet, depressed paramour, I hardly have any licentious thoughts at all.

A lifetime of regrets.

2006-09-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

That is what Toby and Ian Cameron's intervention has left me with. I will go to my grave in despair over what my friends have driven that poor, sweet man to do.

Apparently, immediately after their cruel little "party" at which Aldo was the "guest of honor," my admirer ran out of my apartment, got in his car, and drove away! He didn't even bother to pack his things, just left them in his cousin's apartment. He must have been under a tremendous amount of distress to do something so rash!

My friends are adamant that they did the right thing, but I am sure we could have handled it better. Who knew that my reckless, histrionic exaggeration of Aldo's actions, which made him out to be a vicious stalker, could backfire so badly?

I know this will make me sound like a whore, but maybe Aldo and Jeff and I could have worked out an arrangement whereby I would be allowed to go out to dinner with both of them. Jeff and I could continue to dine at "The Bum Boat," and then on the nights when Jeff has to work late, Aldo and I could have dined together at "Delicious Pursuits."

That sort of plan may smack of wanton slutitude, but obviously, as a widow of good standing and impeccable reputation, I would not be having sexual relations with either of those men--though, in one case, I might desperately want to!

Or, if that plan proved to be too modern for Jeff, we might at least have worked out an amicable arrangement with Aldo in which he might learn to stop meeting me in the parking lot at the end of the day. I read an article recently in the Clarion, written by a brilliant man named Michael Patterson. He said that, in dealing with a troublesome neighbor, he found it immensely helpful to divide the lobby with a line of masking tape. Perhaps the Camerons might simply have helped me divide the Charterstone parking lot in half with a masking tape line?

But we shall never know! I keep thinking that this whole thing might have ended less painfully. Now I am sure my Aldo is planning to do himself a harm! Probably he will drive his Oldsmobile off one of the cliffs on the Pacific Coast Highway. As his car smashes into a hideous lump of twisted steel, he will no doubt scream my name in agony. Oh, the humanity!

The Camerons chase my Aldo out of town!

2006-09-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

With metaphorical torches and pitchforks, no less! Why not stone him too, while you're at it?!

::sigh::

I know my friends mean well. They want to save me from myself, save me from ruining myself all for the sake of a few fumbling, sweaty, fervid moments of sextasy.

But did they have to be so cruel to such a darling man? After all, what did he do that was so terrible?

I recognize my own part in this persecution. After all, I too recklessly exaggerated when I said I "never knew where he was going to turn up." After all, he really only met me once in my garden, two or three times in the parking lot, and called me up once on the phone. Now, if I felt nothing for Aldo, or only friendship, these acts would seem very like the actions of my other Charterstone neighbors.

But proximity to that man puts me in very grave jeopardy. I am at risk of throwing my inhibitions and my high-waisted panties to the wind and sitting on his face in an expression of unchecked passion!

I know he feels I betrayed him. I am so sorry his spirit and his heart have been broken. I wanted to cry when he spoke of his loneliness. I longed to take him in my arms and press his face to my bosom.

I wish it could have been some other way. But alas, I am a victim of my own perfection. I cannot tolerate a blemish on my public reputation, even if it means that I must suffer the deepest private anguish.

Oh, Aldo. I weep for what might have been.

Battle of the Titans.

2006-09-06T08:56:00.000-07:00

As the more learned of you know, the Titans were a race of giants in Greek mythology, born of Uranus and Gaea, who ruled the earth until they were overthrown by the Olympian gods. The Titans were gigantic in size and power.

Obviously, my Aldo and Dr. Ian Cameron fit this description to a T.

The surprise that I had waiting inside my apartment was an intervention that my dear friend Toby had organized! She knew that I would never have the willpower needed to resist Aldo's carnal appeal, so she gathered up all of my friends to help protect me!

As we entered my apartment, Aldo cried out, "Oh Mary, how could you?!" My heart broke into a thousand pieces at that instant. I barely had it in me to close the door. Fortunately, Toby and her formidable husband took over. Toby announced that they were staging an intervention on my behalf!

Naturally, Aldo did not want anyone to come between us and our animalistic passion for one another. He insisted that he was going to leave! But Dr. Ian used his large, strong hand to grip Aldo's meaty bicep and insisted that he sit down. When Aldo refused, Dr. Ian rose up to his full, commanding height and struck Aldo powerfully upon the shoulder, insisting that Aldo sit down!

Watching two such attractive, substantial men face off in a physical fight caused me to know new heights of lust! A fantasy sprang unbidden into my mind, a most vile yet compelling vision of throwing myself between the two men, and having them turn their focus onto me, rending my garments and then throwing me naked into that chair, taking their turns using my body for their own wanton, filthy desires! I had never been more aroused in all my life.

Alas, the physical confrontation ended almost as soon as it began. My Aldo naturally did not wish to cause trouble. He is so obviously a man with a gentle, compassionate soul, no matter what vicious rumors are spread about him. He sank into the couch, across from me, and listened patiently as Wilbur Weston interrupted the heated emotional tension of this tableau with tedious and unnecessary introductions. I wanted to kick him in the shins for ruining the moment. Fortunately, Dr. Ian and Toby understood the dramatic potential of keeping the tone as confrontational as possible! They shouted at Aldo, telling him over and over in no uncertain terms that I did not want him to bother me anymore!

Of course it is a lie! Oh, I long to throw myself into Aldo's embrace and succumb to his filthy manly urges! Thankfully, I have friends who will save my reputation for me!

But Aldo--oh, my Aldo--he took it so hard. He pressed his fists to his forehead as he doubled over in anguish. You can see, I'm sure, that it's utterly ridiculous to believe that such a sensitive man could have murdered his wife. My Aldo is a lover, not a fighter.

More later.

Laying a trap for an unwary suitor.

2006-09-01T11:31:00.000-07:00

I told you all the other day that I was inviting Aldo into my apartment to have a rational, sane conversation about the situation between us that is quickly becoming rather heated.

I was not being entirely honest about what I have planned for Aldo once we are inside my apartment.

I'm not going to reveal what my plan is, but it might just be the plan that Toby was alluding to last weekend. She isn't quite as dumb as she looks.

I can only hope things proceed according to plan.

Sanity will prevail!

2006-08-31T12:19:00.000-07:00

When I returned home from my volunteer work, I was dismayed to find Aldo Kelrast waiting for me on the well-manicured front lawn of the Charterstone Condominium Complex, of which I am the unofficial "queen bee." I thought to myself, "Here we go again!" and I prayed for the strength to resist Aldo's powerful sex appeal.

It was then that I noticed Aldo looked different. His ordinarily handsome features were marred by an angry grimace. His biceps were bulging as he gripped the back of the wooden bench there in the courtyard. I was momentarily afraid he might rip several boards off the backrest and bludgeon me with them! His normally bewitching eyes were glassy and fixed on me with an angry intensity. He resembled Lou Ferrigno more than he did Robert Keeshan.

He was a sexy beast, and I longed to throw myself into his powerful arms. But I was determined not to let myself succumb! I gathered myself and coolly said, "Aldo, we meet again." I think I succeeded in hiding my yearning for him. In fact, I think I may have sounded a little evil. I must admit, this whole situation makes me more than a little angry.

Aldo was angry too, but alas, he was angry at me! He shook his finger at me and told me that he likes a spirited woman, but that I had to stop playing hard-to-get!

Oh, I died a little inside, to think I had upset my dream lover!

I insisted that I wasn't playing hard-to-get, and I don't think I am. I know I can never be his! Propriety forbids it! This is no game. But Aldo became quite heated in his remarks. He assumed a judo stance and accused me again of playing games! I thought he might give me a quick karate chop to the neck, thus rendering me unconscious. A vision of him carrying my limp form upstairs and laying me out upon his big bed shook me to my very core!

I felt my loins grow hot, but I begged Aldo to calm down. I suggested we should sit down and rationally discuss the situation. Yes. I think there is no better way to dissuade a persistent admirer then to spend some time with him, trying to make him see reason.

I am sure that I will soon be able to go back to my chaste matronly widowhood without unwanted licentious fantasies plaguing me every moment of the day.

A fugitive from lust!

2006-08-30T08:58:00.000-07:00

I can feel my willpower beginning to fade. I will soon be powerless to resist Aldo Kelrast's considerable manly charms. Every day when I put on my snappy hospital volunteer outfit, with its fashionable surgical green short-sleeved jacket and its yellow-and-black striped "bumblebee" knit blouse, I imagine how seeing a woman in uniform must inflame Aldo's desire. I fantasize about him rending these garments from my body, throwing me down on the perfectly manicured front lawn of the Charterstone Condominium Complex, and entering me with one powerful thrust!

I dread going home. I tell people that I don't know what to expect, but I do. I can expect Aldo to greet me at the door with his insistent advances toward me. I say his attention isn't flattering anymore--that it's something else entirely. And it is! It's beyond flattering--it's bewitching! I am falling under Aldo's wicked, wanton spell!

When he meets me in the parking lot, just the scent of him sets me aquiver--a potent combination of Old Spice and cured meats. The scent of Wild Turkey on his breath makes me long to taste his whiskey-flavored tongue in my mouth.

I owe Toby an apology. I lashed out at her the other day because I am really angry with myself! A respectable widow should have more self-control! I should be thinking of my devoted, loyal, chaste companion Jeff, who is pure and noble and good! Yes! I must turn my thoughts from unbridled sexual ecstasy and focus upon the more virtuous joys in life--the smile of a child who has been cured of illness, the delight of those on whom I bestow my apple cake and wisdom, and the respect I have earned as "the first lady of Charterstone." Yes, that will help me get through this trial!

Toby makes a vague plan.

2006-08-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

After I finished crying the day I slammed the door in Aldo Kelrast's face, I invited my lovely but vacuous neighbor Toby Cameron over to share a slice of my special apple cake. Naturally, I couldn't eat the whole cake myself. After all, I do not have the appetite of Elly Patterson or her increasingly hefty spinster daughter.

Anyway, as I served the cake, I bragged to Toby about how much in love with me Aldo Kelrast seems to be. Toby naturally assumed I was complaining and that I had adopted her ridiculous belief that Aldo is a stone-cold killer. I insisted that I believed he was harmless, but that I wanted him to cease and desist his amorous advances toward me! I did not tell Toby the real reason--I am afraid that my willpower will be strong enough to resist him for much longer!

Of course, Toby let her overactive imagination take over, and she went completely off the rails, insisting that Aldo is not to be trusted, and that if Jeff were here, he would beat Aldo senseless to protect my virtue. I told her that was plainly ridiculous. Aldo is a powerfully-built, forceful, beefy young man, and my Jeff is not only older than him, but a pacifist whose passionate devotion to golf, to the exclusion of all other exercise, has caused his muscles to atrophy.

I wanted Toby to stop this anti-Aldo line of thought, so I told her that I did not need Jeff to rescue me from him. I also tried to deflect her crazed desire to use me as a vehicle for her rabid persecution of Aldo by telling her that I must be overreacting to the situation.

Of course, it didn't work. When a woman as dim as Toby gets an idea into her head, she runs with it until she either gets tired, or it slips her mind, or she is distracted by some shiny trinket. She put her hand on my arm and told me that she would help me figure out a way to deal with Aldo Kelrast!

Again, I tried to explain to Toby that I don't think Aldo is a psychopath--that my problem is that I cannot resist his animal sexual magnetism when he is pressing his suit so fervently! But that Toby's thinking is as wacky as the stripes on the top she was wearing. She told me she thought she had an idea. I thought to myself, "That'll be the day."

Sure enough, Toby did not tell me a plan. Instead, she pressed me for more gossip about Aldo's past. I told her that Aldo did not murder his wife--that he was simply passed out in a drunken stupor when she slipped and fell in the bathtub. It was all very innocent, I told her. Naturally, that empty-headed idiot Toby did not believe his story. She likes to think the worst of everyone. It gives her more to gossip about. No doubt she gets far more pleasure out of spreading the "Aldo Kelrast is a wife-killing stalker" than she would out of "Aldo Kelrast is a poor bereaved widower who has a minor drinking problem." I find this is typical behavior for vapid trophy wives.

Also, for some reason, Toby is insistent that Aldo's dashing, romantic pursuit of me must stop. I think she likes to think of herself as the only "hot little number" in the Charterstone Condominium Complex, and she feels my feminine allure somehow diminishes her own. Perhaps she is worried that her husband, the pompous but learned Dr. Ian Cameron, might also fall desperately in love with me?

Toby then revealed to me that she had a plan to make Aldo stop "harassing" me. I will reveal it at a later date. I'm not sure I understand it all. You know how silly young blonde golddiggers can be. It's hard for them to express themselves clearly.

One thoughtless mistake can change your life forever (Part 2 of 2)

2006-08-24T09:43:00.000-07:00

This is the lesson I learned from Aldo Kelrast the other day. I wish I had learned it sooner--if I had, I could have avoided making a regrettable social gaffe.

I left off in my last entry describing my proper refusals of Mr. Kelrast's attentions toward me. However, as in our previous encounters, he refused to desist in his pursuit of my love! Indeed, he alleged that my rejection of him was based in fear, and that he wanted to show me there was nothing to fear from falling into his hot, meaty embrace!

Oh, dear blog, I thought, how does he know so well the inner reaches of my psyche? Yes, I am afraid! Afraid of the wild, untamed lust that tugs at my loins! Afraid of losing my pristine, chaste reputation by acting on it! Afraid that Jeff might be so despondent upon the loss of my companionship that he might take his own life and die in some squalid Third World hovel!

But no--Mr. Kelrast referred to a different sort of fear. He worried that I had heard the terrible rumors about his wife's untimely death. I assured him that I had given those rumors little credence. After all, despite his faults, Aldo Kelrast has the same gentle, soulful face that Robert Keeshan had in his prime, and I am sure that it reflects the same pacifistic, humanitarian soul within.

But then Mr. Kelrast informed me that the rumors were true! I was shocked and horrified, yet delighted all at once, for as you know, I love to hear the secret, sordid details of the lives of others. I thought to myself, "Maybe this is my chance to redeem a murderer with my homespun wisdom! That's something I've never done before!"

This is where I made my fatal mistake. I let Mr. Kelrast see my interest in him and his story by encouraging him, through my querulous expression and eager mannerisms, to go on with his tale. I fear I may have seemed emotionally slutty at that moment.

Mr. Kelrast eagerly took advantage of me. He related his all-too-banal tale to me. He claims that on the night of his wife's death, they had a terrible argument. He says that his wife was furious with him for loading the dishwasher improperly and folding the towels in a manner that caused them to look unattractive when hung on the towel rack. Mr. Kelrast asserted that he was so distraught that he began to drink. After consuming a liter of vodka, he passed out in his red plaid La-Z-Boy recliner. When he awoke in the morning and ran to the bathroom to vomit, he discovered that his wife had slipped in the bathtub the night before and broken her neck. The mere memory of this tragedy caused my handsome admirer obvious anguish. I believe it may even have brought on a headache.

I assured Mr. Kelrast that all husbands and wives fight about those issues. It is quite normal for a husband to be incompetent around the house.

Mr. Kelrast clearly took my concern as a chink in my armor, as a crumbling of my resolve to remain properly faithful to Jeff. He assured me that if he were my special friend, he would always be attentive! I began to think of how inattentive my late husband Jack was, always gone at work, and particularly inattentive in the bedroom. I could see in Mr. Kelrast's gleaming, beady eyes a desire to pleasure me for hours and hours upon end!

I was undone. My heart began to beat fast. My breath came in pants. Little beads of sweat broke out upon my forehead. And I felt a tingling in my special lady place that I haven't felt since that time Jeff tried to cup my breast during our goodnight kiss. (Of course, I did the proper thing and slapped his hand away. Heavy petting is strictly forbidden prior to a formal engagement.) I began to think about how wonderful it would be to spend my retirement getting what Toby calls "moustache rides" every night after dinner!

NO! My sense of propriety rebelled against these unseemly thoughts! In my discomfiture, I turned on Aldo and lashed out, telling him he could never pay me those attentions because we would never have a relationship! I slammed the door in his face and fled upstairs.

I threw myself down upon the bed and sobbed. It's no use! I cast my lot with Jeff Cory, and I must accept that I am bound for the rest of my life to a kind, wholesome, respectable doctor who is a terrible kisser. I mean really terrible. He presses his teeth against mine, and it dislodges my dentures every time. But such is life.

My patience stretches only so far... (Part 1 of 2)

2006-08-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

...before it gives way like the elastic in my favorite, well-worn girdle (circa 1954).

The other day, I did one of my occasional volunteer shifts at the local hospital. As some of you know, I volunteer there to cheer up patients by dispensing little homilies as they are needed. On that day, I remarked to one of the doctors that it was heartening to see a child overcome an ailment. After all, I primarily volunteer at the hospital because it makes me feel good. I said to someone, who I took to be a tall, thin male doctor, that the healers of the world were fortunate for the work that they do. Then I turned to face the person, but it turned out to be a tall, thin, mannish female nurse. This was fortunate because I felt like making some emotional remarks about missing my wonderful Jeff. The mannish nurse of course knew all about my torrid romance. No doubt she is jealous. I am sure that her looks are a great detriment in her search for a "friend."

After that, I drove around town and indulged in dreamy fantasies of my darling Jeff. I was so caught up that I didn't even stop to scold the homosexual Boy Scout leaders I saw standing at the bus stop with two of their young charges. It was probably too late for those boys anyway--they were already holding hands and skipping gleefully down the sidewalk.

It was a rude shock when I got out of my car and found Aldo Kelrast waiting for me in the parking lot of the tony Charterstone Condominium Complex. It seems that man practically lives in the parking lot! I shouted, "Oh no! Aldo!" in surprise. This was the wrong thing to do. First, a lady always modulates her voice and reins in her temper. Secondly, my use of his first name seemed to ignite the passions within. I could see the flames of lust dancing in his gorgeous, beady black eyes. He put his firm, warm, meaty hand on my arm and asked in that wonderful, throaty voice of his, "Mary, I hope you have some time for me!"

Well, of course he hopes that! I am the most desired resident in all of Charterstone, except for Toby Cameron, but she appeals to those with prurient interests and low taste. (After all, what is a gold-digging trophy wife if not a whore?)

I tried to protest, as a proper widow who already has a steady platonic male companion must do. But Aldo insisted! He blocked my path to the front door and said with violent feeling, "I refuse to believe you prefer to be alone, Mary! I know you want to be with me too!" I was shocked. I tried to speak again, but he cut me off, saying, "Your lips say no, but your eyes say yes!"

I almost fainted right there on the spot! How did Aldo know of my secret longing for him? Could he look into my crystal blue eyes and see straight into my burning soul? Did he know of my wild fantasies of tangled limbs and sweaty sheets?

My embarrassment turned to fury. How dare he intuit that I am not the proper dowager I present myself to be? I cruelly informed him that his pursuit of me was futile, and I pointed out that my treatment of him could not be enjoyable. But, to my surprise, he said that he prefers the chase most of all--that it is the best part of a relationship!

Well, I must admit that took the pleasure out of most of my fantasies about Mr. Kelrast right then and there. After all, I think the best part of a relationship is a cocoa nightcap with a cunnilingus chaser--if the parties are married, of course.

My disappointment only fueled my anger. I shouted at him, and even used one of the Italian words that my late husband, the financial genius Jack Worth, learned during his financial dealings with the Gambino crime family. I screamed at him to stay away from me, but then I felt regret because I didn't want him to stay away! I wanted him in my arms, in my bed! Having a man who looks like Robert Keeshan fall madly in love with me was my most cherished girlhood fantasy. But I had no idea it would actually happen to me, so of course I settled for the next-best sort of companion: a doctor! Jeff was a respectable choice. But oh, I long not to be so respectable! I would cast Jeff off in a second if I would not be shunned as the most wanton widow who ever lived! Everyone knows that a respectable widow cannot have more than one male companion after her husband's demise without running the risk of tarnishing her sterling reputation--and that of her late husband as well!

Aldo told me he could see I was afraid. I wanted to shout, "YES!" Because I am afraid--afraid of my feelings! He said he wants to show me there's nothing to be afraid of. It was then that I screamed, a primal, incomprehensible scream of frustrated sexual need! I need him, I want him, but I can never have him! Yet he persists in pursuing me! Oh, I thought, what will I do? I longed to tear off my surgical green jacket, throw myself into his arms, and make a lubricious display right there in the courtyard!

To be continued.

"Gentleman caller" ruins my big dinner plans!

2006-08-10T07:32:00.000-07:00

As you all know, I have a very full, active social life. That is part of why I did not join my friend Jeff on his mercy mission to Cambodia. I just have too much on my plate.

Speaking of what is on my plate, after my startling meeting with Mr. Kelrast, I went inside and put my groceries away--and then I made my world-famous tuna casserole! I am quite a good cook, even if I do say so myself. I am sure that if I ever decided to make my recipe for tuna casserole public, gourmets everywhere would be fighting for the rights to publish it!

Every time I make my casserole, it's a special occasion. I was planning to celebrate by setting the table with my fine china, lighting some candles, dimming the lights, and breaking out my best amontillado (sherry is wonderful with fish!). Even when you are dining alone, it is can be an occasion. I was just about to sit down and say grace to thank God for making me the world's best chef when the phone rang.

It was Aldo Kelrast, wanting to ask me to dinner! I became very annoyed. I have not minded his attentions so much until now but interrupting my big plans with my tuna casserole is just not acceptable! I told him I was not interested in pursuing a personal relationship with him. I reminded him that it is best for me not to socialize too closely with single men while Jeff is out of the country, so I am staying at least 50 feet from all the single men I know until then. Mr. Kelrast was undeterred. He promised me that in our relationship, if we should have one, he would do all the work!

I have to admit that my mind momentarily drifted to naughtier thoughts. My late husband Jack was a very lazy man. He worked hard as a financial wizard, but he did not want to expend any energy at all at home. This laziness extended to activities in the bedroom. If I wanted marital relations, I had to 1) admit it, 2) initiate the proceedings, and 3) be on top. Of course, these things are all very unladylike, so Jack and I only had marital relations about half a dozen times during the course of our marriage. I suspect this is why Jack and I remained childless.

Anyway, I found myself beginning to fantasize about how nice it would be to have a vigorous partner who looks like Robert Keeshan when I came to my senses. I was being mentally unfaithful to Jeff!

I admit that I took my anger out on Mr. Kelrast. I yelled at him for interrupting my dinner. He asked me if I wasn't lonely eating alone. Of course I am! But I couldn't admit that because it would give Mr. Kelrast the idea that I wanted his company. So I lied and said I was going to read a good book. Then he asked me which one. I felt so conflicted! On one hand, I wanted to chat with him! On the other, chatting with him would be cheating on Jeff! So I snapped, "If you must know, it's the classic Far from the Madding Crowd!" That was my late husband's favorite book. He was a bit of a hermit when he wasn't at the office.

Immediately, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. I knew that this revelation would lead to a deeper intimacy with Mr. Kelrast. And I was both thrilled and terrified by that!

I am getting over-excited just recounting these events. I need to go lie down and use my "neck massager" to relax myself. Maybe I will tell more later.

A woman needs a man to feel safe.

2006-08-06T15:02:00.000-07:00

It's just true. I have been skittish about everything since Jeff left. Even though he doesn't live with me, I feel that I am safer just because I have a special man friend in the neighborhood.

I am sure that is why Aldo Kelrast makes me nervous. That, and those silly rumors Toby told me about. After all, in the past, when other Charterstone residents appeared beside my car, I did not freak out. When other Charterstone residents asked me if they could help carry my bags, I let them. When other Charterstone residents asked me to lunch, I went. But now, even though I am pretty open-minded, I can't even take a joke! I was actually reduced to spilling my groceries all over the floor in fear when I finally got into my condo!

I wonder how many times I will have to turn down Aldo Kelrast's overtures before he gets a clue?! I can't have anything to do with him, platonically or otherwise! I already have a man friend--Jeff! Aldo seems to think that the only way that is a problem is if Jeff finds out Aldo and I have been having lunch together, or if Aldo was carrying my bags for me. But it isn't! If I let another man put his hands on my bags, it would be bad enough that I WOULD KNOW ABOUT IT!

Then again, I do find a man in a bow tie devastatingly attractive!

A bow tie and a smile.

2006-08-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

When I returned to Charterstone with my groceries, I was startled to see Aldo Kelrast near my car. I am afraid I let out a most unladylike shout. After all, it is very abnormal to see a resident of Charterstone in the Charterstone parking lot, isn't it? Maybe not. But I was distracted by thoughts of my special apple cake.

Mr. Kelrast offered to help me carry my groceries. Of course I refused. Just because Jeff is in a foreign country does not mean I am going to let some other man put his hands all over my groceries. I am not that kind of woman! So I insisted on carrying them myself, even though I must admit, it was a struggle. My special apple cake takes a lot of ingredients.

Then Mr. Kelrast puzzled me by saying it was "my turn." He looked almost sinister, in his bow-tied Robert Keeshan sort of way, as he said it. I asked him what he meant. He said that since he sent me flowers, it was my turn to do something nice for him. I rather unkindly asked him if he was joking, and he assured me that he was. "A little levity never hurt anyone!" he said.

I don't know about that. It sounds like a very decadent philosophy of life.

I will tell you all the rest of our conversation tomorrow. I am very tired. I had to hold those heavy bags of groceries all by myself during my lengthy conversation with Mr. Kelrast in the parking lot. I wish Jeff had been here, so he might have helped me carry my groceries. Maybe I should have let Mr. Kelrast help me. But a lady cannot have two knights in shining armor at one time! Or can she?

Excuse me, I have to go change out of my sensible pantsuit now. My conservatively-cut underpants are uncomfortably damp.

By the way, Professor Cameron, I do not think it is a very nice thing to do, spreading the vicious slander about "Kelrast" being an anagram for "stalker." Mr. Kelrast is understandably taken by my beauty. That's all. But I am sure he understands there can never be anything between us. Oh no, that's not what I mean to say at all. That makes it sound like there will be nothing between us, not even clothes, as we writhe sweaty and naked in his bed, moaning in ecstasy.

Now I really must go change.

Roses? For me?

2006-08-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

When I returned from my sewing circle, I found a box of red roses waiting for me on my doorstep. Naturally, I assumed my wonderful friend Jeff had found some way of sending me roses from Cambodia. Imagine my utter shock when I read the card and found that they were from Aldo Kelrast!

The note said:

"Dear Mary,

I am returning the favor of flowers with more of the same! One good turn deserves another!

Aldo Kelrast"

I am more than a little stunned! I gave him those flowers as an act of compassion. I hope he knows that and did not send these flowers in a misguided attempt to woo me. I am taken! One single male friend is all a childless widow with a reputation for modest propriety is allowed! I am worried because of how he chose to address me as "Dear Mary." That is a very bold declaration of affection, don't you think?

Of course, I did put the flowers into a vase and display them prominently. Surely Mr. Kelrast will know that I am accepting these roses as a gesture of kindness only, right?

Time to go to the grocery store.

Innocent until proven guilty.

2006-08-03T14:31:00.000-07:00

I told my friend Toby about my garden encounter with Mr. Kelrast. I told her how insistent he was that we should have lunch or dinner together. I told Toby I was sure this meant he must want to be "more than friends." After all, single men and women cannot have a meal together with a purely platonic interest in one another!

Toby asked me if I discouraged him. I told her that I did, and then admitted how flattered I was by his attentions. Mr. Kelrast is at least 15 years younger than I am, and yet he seemed taken with me at first sight! I could feel how he was devouring me with his eyes. I could tell he was imagining what I would look like without my clothes on. What I did not admit to Toby was that this turned me on. Robert Keeshan is the man I used to fantasize about when my late husband and I were having marital relations. Mr. Kelrast bears more than a passing resemblance to that devastatingly handsome actor, now sadly deceased.

I told Toby that Mr. Kelrast said I remind him of his late wife. Toby then warned me to stay away from Mr. Kelrast. Neighborhood gossip has it that Mr. Kelrast may have been responsible for his late wife's death! She died in some sort of household accident while only she and Mr. Kelrast were at home, and they were reportedly having marital troubles. Of course, I do not believe there is any truth in this rumor. Who could possibly be unhappy to be married to a Robert Keeshan look-alike? Such a woman would have to be insane.

I myself choose to believe that people are innocent until they are proven guilty in a court of law! Giving creedence to idle neighborhood gossip often causes rumors to fester into facts! There are a lot of terrible lies going around in this world. Toby says that the awful thing is, half of these lies are true! But I am sure that the lies about Mr. Kelrast are real lies, and not true lies. I think that's what I mean to say, anyway.

Excuse me now. I need to change into a sensible pantsuit before I go to my sewing circle.

My charming new neighbor.

2006-07-30T21:40:00.000-07:00

The day after I said goodbye to my friend Jeff, I decided to get to work on one of the many tasks that prevented me from accompanying him on his trip. In other words, I decided to go out and admire my flower garden. While I was out there, I met an interesting man named Aldo Kelrast. He came to my aid when I poked my finger on some thorns. It was a particularly troubling injury because, instead of blood, electrical bolts began to shoot out of the puncture wound. Fortunately, Mr. Kelrast's deeply flattering remarks caused my injury to heal almost right away.

Mr. Kelrast is a very friendly man. He is staying at Charterstone and is subletting his cousin Hal's condominium. He introduced himself and asked me to call him Aldo right away, and also suggested that he hoped we might become friends. I told him I had been thinking about my absent friend Jeff, and he expressed sympathy for my present lonely state. Then he told me I looked very pretty in my rose garden, and he told me I remind him of his late wife, who was also a plant enthusiast. He seems to be grieving terribly for her, so I gave him two red roses as a gift. I hoped this would soothe his pain.

Then Mr. Kelrast asked if he could take me to dinner to thank me for the gift. I told him I could not go out socially with any friends of the male persuasion, even platonically, while my friend Jeff is abroad. A widow of good social standing cannot act in the manner of a "loose woman." But Mr. Kelrast did not seem to understand. He suggested we might have lunch together. I tried to make him understand that my seclusion from all single men, and/or all men not in the company of their wives, must be complete until Jeff returns.

Sadly, Mr. Kelrast seems not to understand the finer points of social intercourse, and he told me that I shouldn't stop living while Jeff is away. I really did not understand what sort of point he was trying to make. I tried to explain to him that while Jeff is gone, I will be spending all my free time and energy thinking about him and fantasizing about him. Mr. Kelrast seemed not to understand that I could never do something so immodest as dine with a man on a friendly basis outside the company of my special but platonic male companion.

I am afraid that my attire might have given Mr. Kelrast the wrong idea. I chose to wear a sleeveless black shirt and a sporty madras skirt that I must admit was above-the-knee. I am worried that perhaps this was a vulgar display of flesh and that it may have suggested that I was "advertising" for male attention. I have resolved to put away my more "come-hither" outfits and dress conservatively while my friend Jeff is away.

I find myself wondering, however, why younger men are always throwing themselves at me? First there was Jeff, who is a good ten years younger than I. Now Mr. Kelrast is presenting himself as an ardent suitor, and he looks to be no older than 50. Is there something about my dress or appearance that screams "whore"? Please advise.

Out of sight, but not out of mind.

2006-07-30T12:25:00.000-07:00

As some of you undoubtedly know, my longtime friend, Dr. Jeff Cory, has gone on a medical mission to Cambodia. Of course he is doing important work, but I can't help being disappointed. While he is gone, I will have to maintain a certain proper seclusion. I will not be able to go to the "Bum Boat," nor will I be able to socialize with anyone of the male persuasion, unless he is married and accompanied by his wife. This may sound like a very rigid sort of rule to all you young ladies out there, but I assure you that it is very important to guard your good reputation. You do not want to be known as the widow who lunches with just any man who moves into the Charterstone Condominium Complex, no matter how exalted its residents invariably are.

So, I will be spending a lot of time secluded in my garden, tending my flowers and constantly picturing Jeff's face in my mind.

Jeff did ask me to accompany him on his trip. Naturally, I had to decline. A childless widow living alone on a modest pension has a lot of responsibilities "on the home front." Also, I was concerned about how it would appear for me to be seen traveling in an exotic foreign country with my longtime escort. I do not want Jeff to get the wrong idea about the kind of girl I am. Remember ladies, the only safe sex is the kind you have after a man puts on...a wedding ring.

I am a little concerned, though. Jeff said that he would be back in three months, but only if things went well. But what if things do not go well? Who will I have my wholesome nightcaps of cocoa with then? Best not to dwell on the negative, I suppose.