“A really, really, bad pick-up line…”


Tina Nelson

It was a chilly and bleak November day in Minnesota.  Normally, I love bleak days but on this particular day I wasn’t especially happy with my life.

Too many people who should be nice to me…weren’t.

Too many people who should appreciate me…weren’t.

Too many people who should love me a lot…or even ‘just a little more’…don’t.

And the worst part about this was that I couldn’t understand why.

If I actually thought that the problem was with me, I would have done something…anything to change the situation.  But it wasn’t me.

I had spent many hours soul searching and many hours asking questions…trying to know what it was that I was doing wrong…or not doing right.  But no answers…so no solutions.

So I got into my car and took a little drive down to River’s Edge Falls, a wonderful little park in the heart of Minneapolis, to watch the icy, cold water race fiercely over the rocks and then crash down to the bottom.

It was always a soothing place for me to visit but unfortunately, I found I was coming here more often…needing more and more comfort.


The park was beautifully deserted.  Good.  Mondays are like that.

I could just lean against the ancient stone wall and watch the water crash down…over and over…the rhythm so relaxing and the deafening noise somehow comforting and calming.

I knew I would get my focus back…re-charge…decide the correct path and take it.  I’d figure it out…I always did.  I wasn’t born yesterday.   I had some life skills.

“Hey there little lady, how would you like to come with me to those bushes over there and warm me up on this chilly day.”

The man’s voice was mean and angry.  His words slurred.  Could I feel a tiny prick of a knife in my back…?  No matter.

As I slowly turned, I reached into my inside jacket pocket and pulled out my loaded Smith & Wesson .38 Special revolver that I always carried…because…why not?

And then I shot him through the heart.  Twice.

No one heard the shots as I watched him fall to the ground…left hand still clutching a very sharp-looking steak knife.

“Fuck …you…” he croaked as the blood flowed quickly out of his heart and in seconds he was dead.

“Apparently not…” I said and I walked back to my car.

The End



“Did I just say “kidnapping?”


Tina Nelson

When you are hopelessly in love, you will do anything.

You have no control.

You are ruled by your ever demanding heart.

You ignore the rights and listen to the wrongs.

You BEG your friends at recess to help you.

Did I just say “recess”?

You show off your most attractive physical feature (in my case…my legs) by not wearing corduroy pants under your pink dress when it is terribly cold outside even though your mother told you that you’d better wear them…or else.

Did I just say “corduroy”?

You brag about a lifestyle that doesn’t exist…except for the “pancakes” part.

“Did I just say “pancakes”?

And when all that fails…you lie.

“So, Jimmy…and you too, Wesley…my mother has said I can bring two friends home for lunch today and I have picked you guys because I know you are the best of friends…and I want to be your best friend too!”

Seeing the doubt in their eyes, you recklessly continue…

“My mother makes the best pancakes in the world!!”

And so on that Spring day in 1950 at noon, me, Jimmy (dearest love of my life) and his best friend, Wesley walked, ran and skipped the seven blocks from Cherryhill Elementary School…where we were all first graders…to my house where my mother was waiting for me to come home for lunch.

She had a tuna fish sandwich with soft Wonder white bread (it was 1950, after all) an apple cut in slices and a glass of whole milk (to build strong bones) waiting for me…just like she did every day since that was my very favorite.

There was no pancake batter sitting on the counter waiting to be added to a sizzling, hot skillet.

There was only one plate on the table…not three.

Suddenly, Jimmy stopped skipping and burst out, “I can’t go to your house!  If I don’t come home for lunch, my ma will kill me!!!!!!”

And then, Jimmy, the love of  my life, turned and ran like the wind down the street towards his house.

“I’m still coming!” said Wesley to me.  “I love pancakes!”

So Wesley and I slowly trudged the one more block to my house.  Okay.  Okay.  Only I trudged.

We dragged ourselves up the back stairs of the duplex where I lived.  Okay.  Okay.  Only I dragged.”

“MOM!!!” I shouted as I banged open the back-screen door.

“I brought my friend Wesley home for lunch…can we have pancakes?  I sort of promised.”

Did I just say “sort of”?

I walked further into the kitchen and sat down at my place at the table.

Wesley stood shyly by the door…not knowing where he should sit…a scared smile starting to appear on his little black face.

“Did I just say “black”?

My mother came out from the living room where she had been “hoovering” while she waited for me to come home for lunch.

Did I just say “hoovering”?

“Oh, hi mom.  This is Wesley.  I invited him and Jimmy Preston (the love of my life, although I didn’t say that, then) home for lunch.”

“I told them we could have your fantastic pancakes.  Jimmy changed his mind and went home.  But Wesley didn’t.”

“Hello…um…Judy’s mom.”  Said Wesley who didn’t know my last name or unfortunately…as it turned out later…his own phone number.

“Hello, Wesley! said my mother, giving Wesley one of her big, friendly smiles.  My mom was always happy and friendly.  Everyone loved my mom…and her pancakes.

She walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for Wesley.

“You can sit here, dear.” she said.  And as Wesley walked over to sit in the chair, she moved over to the kitchen counter, reached up to take down her big “pancake” bowl, grabbed it and then paused…as she looked at the two of us sitting at the kitchen table.

“Your mother knows you’re here, doesn’t she, Wesley?” asked my mother.

“No, ma’am” said Wesley politely.  Then he slowly tilted his head to the side…perhaps wondering for the first time if his choice to have pancakes this day was not a good one.

Here is the part where my mother swears a lot, drops the pancake bowl and somehow keeps smiling…

Here is also the part where Wesley’s unknown phone number complicates things…

“I think there is an eight and a six…” offered Wesley hopefully.

And further… no one at Cherryhill is available to answer the frantic calls made by my mother…since they were very busy looking for the missing Wesley.

Soon there were a lot of policemen and police cars…but no sirens.

“Did I just say policemen”?

I saw Wesley’s mother.  She looked like she had been crying but my mom was hugging her so I guess everything was all right.  No one was hugging Wesley or me.

The front-page headline of the paper the next day said:

“6-Year-Old Boy Kidnapped By Best Friend.”

The smaller headline had a quote from Wesley.

“I just wanted some pancakes!”

Jimmy Preston (the love of my life) moved at the end of first grade and I never saw him again.

P.S.  We never got any pancakes.

The End







“I just ate less…”


This whole series of posts (and I believe there are only six) are generally for older women (over 60) who want to lose less than 50 pounds.  I imagine it would apply to all women…but if you are younger, you can try it also.  It will just work quicker…

This is NOT a guide to eating healthy or a guide to “healthful eating/living”.

This is simply how I have lost almost 14 pounds in 6 months (beginning last October) and am still on track to lose 11 more pounds by November.

So, if you need to lose 100 pounds or if you are looking for emotional guidance as you lose weight or if you believe you can actually lose 15 pounds in 2 weeks…STOP READING!!


For everyone else…

One day last month (May) I was chatting with my 46-year-old daughter.  I am 75 going on…

I mentioned to her that I had lost 13.5 pounds since last October.

She actually stopped what she was doing…she was eating a piece of her excellent homemade cinnamon roll…and looked at me.

I was really surprised because she normally doesn’t pay much attention to anything I say…you know how busy these young people are…

“How did you do that?” she asked me…in a TRULY interested voice.

And…she really wanted to know…

“Well,” I answered slowly, “I just ate less…”

“And I tried to walk a little every day.”

“Huh.”   She said thoughtfully…and I was so encouraged by this outburst of interest and excitement that I thought that maybe I should share my weight-loss process with others.

My goal here is to tell you what happened to me and I don’t see why it can’t happen to you.

My blog is mainly for publishing my short stories…not for giving out weight-loss advice…but this is really good stuff…so I hope it works for you (it will)…and you can also search around and read some of my short stories if you wish.

So, as my delightful 11-year-old granddaughter said recently before giving a very impressive speech to a large group of people, “Let’s just dive right in and get started.”


“I just ate less…among other things…”

Happy Valentine’s Day…

…to ME!!!

And before you start thinking…”Oh that’s pretty pathetic…selfish…nutso…let me explain.

Even though I am still at 132.2…RATS…and have not (yet) returned to the glory day of January 25, 2020 when I weighed in at 130.6…I AM ALSO NOT AT 141.4 which was my weight LAST February 14…

SO…now what do you think…pretty swell, huh?

I thought you might agree…and I hope you also agree that I deserve a treat…one full-size Hershey bar that has been living in my top drawer for months…waiting just for me.

wp-1581695998455.png  Have a nice day…


“I just ate less…among other things…”


So it just now occurred to me…that beginning October 1, 2020… if I wanted to “flee”somewhere…I could not.  And I’m talking FLEE!!

I would not be able to quickly get on a plane in Minnesota (or any other state in the USA for that matter) and just immediately…right now… “GO”.

Let’s just say that someone was chasing me…for whatever reason (not the police of course…let’s be very clear on that)…and I needed to get on an airplane and fly to Stockholm or Helsinki or Reykjavik or…or…Detroit.

I wouldn’t be able to do so.  I would be trapped!!

I would be standing at some ticket place and the ticket person would…ever so politely… say to me, “Can I see your real ID, please?”…and I would say…panicked, of course, because someone is chasing me (not the police, of course)…

“WHAT THE FUCK  do you mean, REAL ID?” I would shout.

And I would drag out my driver’s license and credit card and wave them around in the air and start to breathe faster and faster…because of course I was panicking…

And the ticket person would send some kind of ‘eye’ signal to someone else and I would be asked to either leave or ‘come with them’.

I don’t know what would actually happen…since I have never flown anywhere…ever…so airport protocol is not  item #44 on my ”REMEMBER THIS” list.

I also have never felt the need to flee…but…NOW…if I want to flee…I can’t.

And this is when my quirky claustrophobia begins to kick in…

Normal claustrophobia means no elevators, no packed rooms with no visible red EXIT signs, no large gatherings out of doors with me somehow stuck in the middle and NO FLYING.  …or caves…yikes…

AND THIS IS THE QUIRKY PART of my claustrophobia…I also have to be able to move WHERE I want…WHEN…I want…which is why we can’t vacation on an island.  I can’t get there anyway…but still…if I could…think about it.  A person can only leave when the airline people…say you can.  So…choices…always choices.

I am choosing…TO FLY (somehow securing some really cool drugs) over not being able to flee…when I  want.

…where the hell do I get a Real ID anyway?

Two things:  You are 1.  Now beginning to understand me…or…2.  Now beginning to understand my insanity.

Have a nice day…




“I just ate less…among other things…”


I am…on behalf of myself…as a citizen of this world…so very sorry that our president is Donald John Trump.

I will vote next fall for a man or woman of high moral character.  I will choose a person who is compassionate, intelligent, understanding, honest and fair.

There are snapshot moments in time that historians often look back on…to define a particularly bad or good period in history.

I hope that we are not having a snapshot moment right now…one that signifies a time when people looking back will say or think “Oh…so that’s when it all started…” and are then filled with sadness or regret.

Vote love not hate.  Vote compassion not cruelty.  Vote equality not injustice.  Vote for the truth not for lies.  Vote for intelligence not stupidity.  Vote for an open mind and a kind  heart not for closed doors and  judgement.

Tell others…

Have a nice day…

“I just ate less…among other things…”


I can’t believe it…my heart is breaking…it’s done.  I knew it was coming, but still…

It seems like only yesterday that everything was in front of me…a plan…a ritual…even dreams…

But now…IT’S OVER.

It started out so brilliantly…I was so full of hope and joy!

First came the crisp autumnal breezes blowing orange and red tinted leaves past  my window…and then…white flakes of snow fluttering down.

There was Domino’s Pizza every week!  And…dessert…with no regrets.

There wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you.  Some mornings I would wake early…so excited to be with you that day.

It was all part of the experience…and I loved it.  I’ve been down this road before.

I laughed.  I screamed.  Sometimes I was so still…I hardly breathed.  And yes…I even cried…once or twice…just a tear or two.

But even so…week after week…the joy was there… the promise…ALWAYS THERE!!!  ALWAYS!!

But now…GONE…GONE FOREVER…………………..well maybe not quite forever…

But at least until the 23rd of April……….NFL DRAFT DAY!!!!!!!    


Have a nice day…

*Okay…I’ll probably listen to all the recaps on the radio…but that’s it.







“I just ate less…among other things…”

“Put me in Coach, I’m ready to play!”


I am sound asleep…dreaming ‘God knows what’ and at 8:00 a.m. my radio comes on to wake me.  Perfectly normal…so far.

My radio is tuned to a “Sports Talk Station”…because I love sports and I hate loud, jarring beeps.

However, I don’t always wake up right away…

Sometimes I am mysteriously drawn into whatever sports discussion they’re having…like last night…when my unconscious brain made some alterations to the conversation…

“Its a really close game…there are only 13 seconds left…the coach is looking down the bench…looking…looking…”

“ME!  ME!” I shout.  “PUT ME IN! I’M READY!  PUT ME IN, COACH!”


He doesn’t hear or see me in my green & white basketball uniform…frantically jumping up and down!!

Because, of course, I WAS DREAMING!!!

So I slowly struggled to wake up…but I was also trying to get back into that great dream…but I failed.

So then I wondered…what I would have done if he had turned to me and said, “Okay, Nelson.  Get your butt out there!”


Have a nice day…


“I just ate less…among other things…”



I named him today, after…

…he tapped three times on the patio door that I…apparently…was not looking through at the time…

or he would not have felt the need to tap…three times…

…to remind me that it was 9:30 a.m. and it was time for ME to put out some bread/rolls for HIM…


Meet my new friend, Sam.

Have a nice day…




“I just ate less…among other things…”


I uttered this phrase a couple of weeks ago…because I was put in a situation that totally slammed me.

Shook me to the core, actually.  And..I more or less successfully dealt with it.

But tonight…through the quirk wanderings of one’s mind…I remembered it again and it made me frown…

And I thought…I hope to God that when I am experiencing my last breaths on this planet Earth…that I am not filled with regret at all the things I should have said or all the things I should have done…the right way.  Because it will be fucking too late then.

And…trust me…I am not talking about my excessively, irrational fear of flying…which is a story for another day…so sad…

Have a nice day…