Eccentric Life Continues In Full Force; My Wonderful Thanksgiving Slightly Marred By a Rude Woman; Conversations With Men and With Myself; Eccentric and Fellowship Defined; Loss Opens Eyes

Anything remotely resembling normal is not occurring in my life. I suppose eccentric might  be the best word to describe it – beats out weird, although that is a synonym. Eccentric is unconventional, uncommon, abnormal, irregular, aberrant, anomalous, odd, queer, strange, peculiar, weird, bizarre, off-centre, outlandish, freakish, extraordinary idiosyncratic quirky, singular, nonconformist, capricious, whimsical; French outré, avant garde; informal way out, far out, offbeat, dotty, nutty, screwy, freaky, oddball, wacky, cranky, off the wall, madcap, zany; British informal rum; North American informal kooky, wacko, bizarro, in left field. ANTONYMS ordinary; conventional.
I did one ordinary and conventional thing however, I had Thanksgiving dinner at 4 and according, to an article in the Atlantic, that is the most conventional time. So there! So there! So there! I walked to Max’s – yes and it is about seven blocks away. I did take a taxi home but walked there. It was nothing short of fantastic and interesting as well. Larry was playing the pano and we had a charming chat. I thanked him for what he did because it added so much to the atmosphere and the sense of fellowship, companionability, sociability, comradeship, fraternization, camaraderie, mutual support, mutual respect, mutual liking; amiability, amity, affability, geniality, kindliness, cordiality, intimacy; social intercourse, social contact, association, closeness, togetherness, solidarity. Larry was most grateful for the compliment, and probably the tip. (Hahahahaha) But then an interesting interaction took place. A woman and her two adult children were sitting at an adjacent table, a huge one with many seats. We chatted – an aunt had invited all to this event but they were gathered elsewhere apparently. Over an hour later they all arrived. I looked at them most pleasantly and casually commented:
Me: Hello, that was rather impolite leaving these poor people waiting. 
One young woman took umbrage at my remark and called me a bitch. What did I do? I asked my marvellous waitress to have me moved to another distant table, which was promptly done. I then enjoyed my dinner and spoke to Larry. It turned out perfectly. Of course the rude people are going to continue to be rude but someone stood up for that charming threesome. In retrospect I should have asked the three to join me. This graciousness, this asking to be moved rather than endure further insults and be uncomfortable is new to me and most gratifying to myself (and others, I am sure). 
You: But you made that comment, would you do it again? 
Me: Yes I would. It was the truth and those three people deserved respect and support. One cannot let rude people rule the world. Bad things happen when they do. Look at WWII – Jews gypsies, and handicapped people were being killed by Germans who were acting rudely. It took a long time for the United States to enter the war, effectively telling them that they were rude. Britain and the Commonwealth countries were telling them early on, in 1939. History lesson is now over. 
So my dinner was peaceful, satisfying, and was absolutely delicious and I got leftover turkey to take home so I can have turkey sandwiches today. I am happy, happy, happy. 
Then home to a late night conversation with the man in Afghanistan. He promised to talk to me when I woke up but it did not happen. He probably was out on patrol being shot at – poor guy, He wants to be there for me but things keep getting in the way – like wars. Those pesky wars, they always get in the way fo things. My father was missing in my life for the first six years because he was off killing Germans, a period of time known as WWII. Actually I was better off not having in my life. If one types Secret of My Success into the search engine of this blog you can read the story of it all. I wrote the story two years ago while in London. It was a fascinating journey, writing that story. If you do read it you shall learn what I learned while writing it. It was amazingly insightful and one without the benefit of psychiatry. (hahahaha).  
This morning proved unusual with a text arriving from a man who was (perhaps is) pursuing me. 
Me: But I am taken. 
He: By whom? The Sultan of Dubai? 
Me: No silly! Not yet anyway. 
Me:  wonder how he knows about the Sultan? When we were corresponding I had not even met the Sultan.   
Alter Ego: Perhaps he reads your blogs? 
Me: Oh, I never thought of that. I suppose so – I mean anyone can. He didn’t before but you never know 
Alter Ego: You never know. 
So that is why writing this blog is strange – it is at the core of my eccentric life. Instagram, I suppose adds to it – but it is mostly this blog that distinguishes my life from others. Although I considered giving it up – it has become a way of life. It doesn’t hurt anybody – no one is forced to read it. I basically (as told to me by Wise Man) write for myself. I had no idea what I was getting myself into in January of 2017 when I first began: London and Beyond. 
Sone people close to me do not read it. Personal Driver does not, for example. Also some ‘romantic’ interests in the past did not. I am not sure whether old friends read it because I do not see or email them. I am not self conscious about  my writing because I simply do not know who reads it. I really do write for myselfI know who follows me on Instagram because of the likes but this social media following is a mystery to me. I am thinking of making some changes to that but it is waiting until after Christmas and my return from London. 
I experienced a loss and it was a learning experience. I lost both of my credit cards, it was crippling.  Plans could not be made, it was a total drag. But then magically one was efficiently sent to me. I now so appreciate the freedom this gives me. I took it for granted before but now it seems a privilege, the ease. So sometimes one has to lose something in order to truly appreciate it. I suppose it is true of many things in life. I so love my freedom because of the constraints of a controlling and critical third husband. He is dead now – after two expensive court proceedings to obtain a divorce. Timing is everything, she laughingly says. But the separation and divorce could not be delayed – the man was killing me, killing my spirit. He is gone but his influence is still felt – not on me but his family. But that is not my problem, there is nothing I can do about it but try to serve as a good role model to oppressed people. 
Me: Get out and get away from those narcissists. 
They: But I cannot! What would I do without them. They will miss me. 
Me: Trust me, those narcissus only need themselves. .They will blame you and not look at their own actions. But that is their nature. My third husband never could figure out why I left him. I told him, wrote him a note when I left and spelled it out. But he was incapable of seeing his role in it. But do as you please, it is your life.  . 

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