The Farm on Oak Creek
  • Season of the Raven
    Book 1 of the Servant of the Crown series
    Season of the Fox
    Book 2 of the Servant of the Crown series
    Lost Innocents
    Book 3 of the Servant of the Crown series
    The Final Toll
    Book 4 of the Servant of the Crown series
    Caught Red-Handed
    Book 5 of my mystery series
    Winter's Heat
    My award-winning first novel
    Summer's Storm
    Book 2 of the Graistan series
    Spring's Fury
    Book 3 of the Graistan series
    Autumn's Flame Cover
    Book 4 of the Graistan series
    A Love for All Seasons
    Book 5 of the Graistan series

    Book 1 of the Lady series
    Lady in White
    Book 2 of the Lady series
    The Warrior's Wife
    Book 1 of the Warriors series
    The Warrior's Maiden
    Book 2 of the Warriors series
    The Warrior's Game
    Book 3 of the Warriors series
    Almost Perfect
    My only Regency Novel

    A Children of Graistan Novel
    Perfect Poison
    A Children of Graistan Novella
    An Impetuous Season, a Western novella
    An Impetuous Season, a Western novella

It’s Official

On Tuesday the recorded divorce decree landed in my inbox.  It was a bittersweet moment for me.  While I mourn for the man I loved for 28 years, I don’t miss the man he became in the last five years of our union.  Frankly, his trashy little hotsy-totsy girl is welcome to him.  (Now, doesn’t that just sound like something a sixty-year-old would say? //**)

So, here I am, officially single and sixty.  Which brings me full circle back to my teen years and the idea of dating.


I hated dating when I was a teen and I can’t believe I’m going to enjoy it anymore 44 years later. You see, I’m so not a girly-girl.  I can’t wear make up due to allergies (and I don’t really want to anyway). I don’t dye my hair and rarely manage to get it cut.  =:-0  Use a blow dryer in the morning?  NW!   I’m doing good to remember to brush my teeth.  Pedicure or manicure, waste of money.  My hands are always in something, um, interesting, from jalapenos to cheese to the interior of a just slaughtered turkey.  As for my feet, I like to wear sandals when I can and there’s a lot of dirt out here, among other things.  Dresses?  I have a few but lack the stockings one needs to wear on one’s legs in such attire.  I do save a few pairs of jeans aside–my “good” jeans–for dress up wear.  Frankly, I’m styling if what I’m wearing  isn’t also wearing a coat of fresh turkey poop.  Or eggs.  (NTS: It is better to make two trips from the nest to the house than to try and tuck eggs into your pockets.  Better still, go back to the barn for the bucket you forgot the first time. SHID.)

My Twenty-something niece is trying to coach me on this.  She and her sister are both “on the market”.  She is pushing me to sign up on the dating site  SMH  Then again, WTH?

I have only one caveat.  If I have to go back to all the angst and difficulty that comes with examining another human being as a potential mate, something that I think teens do so much better than I can–I mean, they have angst nailed!, I will only agree to do it if I don’t have to learn how to text the way the younger crowd does.   I don’t think I can handle learning a new language.  VBG!


//**: nudge, nudge, wink, wink

OMG: Oh my God

SRSLY: Seriously

IDTS: I don’t think so

=:-0 : Surprised face, or in my case hair standing straight up

NW: No Way

NTS: Note to Self

SHID: Slap Head in Disgust

SMH: Shake my head

WTH: What the Heck

VBG: Very Big Grin




© Denise Domning, 2023