Author Archives: Sandi LoConti

Match.Com

Posted on by

Someone's experience with online dating via Postsecret.com

Many months ago, my sister got it in her head that I should find someone.  I should go up on Match.Com because that’s where she met her husband, and that’s where someone else met their husband and that’s where someone else met their husband and so on and so on.  Those of you who know me know exactly where this is going.

Though well intended she vowed to make it her mission that I should be just as happy as she and Honey were.  Love that about her, hate that about her.  Making me a social experiment (apparently she had someone from her church all picked out for me) let alone a mission just stuck right up in my proverbial.

But as quiet and lovely as she is, she can be relentless.  I signed up. For the absolute bare minimum, just to see what all the fuss was about. OMG what a mess.  My profile, while witty and true to who I am including a smart ass remark, won’t ever do me justice.  I have energy that can fill a room; you can’t put that on paper (this from a writer).   It just doesn’t translate well.

And neither do the 469 men who viewed my profile.  Seriously 469 men viewed my profile and not one emailed, I take that back the guy in the camo outfit did email.  Can you say delete faster that my eyes could focus on the shed in the background.

I can’t say for sure what percentage of the 469 wore black socks with their sandals, or were over sixty and still had their ponytails, or had pictures that were clearly from the 70’s in their profile.  Are these people serious?  The profiles could be nauseating to read, or infuriating to read.  For instance, one guy, no picture had a 500 word manifesto of she should be this and she should be that and the final line said, I’m looking for the “she” version of me.  Who are these people?

And the names they come up with: LovinspoofulXX, UrMomWillLuvMee, lovebeinginluv, preludeXXX, and skywalkerXX.  The XX are actually numbers on the site indicating that several people have chosen the same name.  I can’t.  I just can’t.

First lines are meant to entice you into reading their profile.  Hello all you busty ladies. Someone shoot that guy.  Time shows the way; could we get any more mushy?  Needy much?  I have no patience for this mass market schmaltz or the blatant disregard for women as people or the crybabies or the obvious lack of truth in any of it.

Needless to say, I cancelled within minutes.  That leaves you the ability to continue visiting the site to check matches until your final expiration.  Not likely, never again will I submit to anything like this where you get sucked in so your self-esteem can get batted around by the daily matches, winks, views, favorites, and emails received.  Because for me there weren’t any.  For a split second you begin to think it’s you.  It’s not me, this is a numbers game and I am not a number.

There was one final email that came through on January 2.  I had long ago cancelled this subscription so I didn’t pay any attention and frankly it seemed just a bit suspicious.  There was a reminder from Match.com that you have an email.  Ok I’m curious so I click on the “go to email” and guess what?  You have to subscribe to read your email and there is a 20 buck special for the New Year.  Of course you do, but I’m still curious.  So I pay the 20 bucks and there he is, all 5’2” of him, stating he is athletic though clearly his pot belly doesn’t indicate that, from India with broken English even in his profile.

I could not have laughed harder.  I paid twenty bucks for the best lesson I’ve had in a very long time.  Be well Match.com don’t call me I won’t call you either.  The single only profile I’m sorry I didn’t get to read while I was a subscriber for twenty minutes was this one:

I know like I know that I am happy where I am, doing what I’m doing.  The more I expand what I do the more people I meet.  The more people I meet the more friends I have.  That’s the only numbers game I want to play.  Got that everyone?

 

I Know Like I Know 2012

Posted on by

I guess I’ve got a way of looking at things that’s a little different than most. So many of the people I’ve talked to recently are soooo glad that 2012 is over.  They swear it was the worst ever.  I had this, I had that.  I couldn’t wait for this year to be over sadly wishing it so.

Someone I know has a friend that reminds them never to wish time away. I agree, so as I look around at the end of 2012 all I see are little moments, momentum and mostly healing.

Beginning in January, with an Angel in the audience of Wicked, we were touched by a stranger that set my sister’s true healing in motion.  Here was another person who knew her pain but had the courage to walk up and let her know you will be ok, you will always have him and you can go on.  Keep your touchstone it will move you forward when you are stuck. This courage was transferred to my Sister when she became mentor of the year of firsts for her friend Linda.

In the same day, my dearest friend suffered a skiing accident that provided an epiphany of sorts that set her on the road to growth, of both those broken legs and the spirit she had put aside.  Then my summer sister came to the end of her chemo sessions and triumphantly had her “port” removed shortly before coming to the Cape for a wonderful little vacation.  There,we three women talked and laughed and walked and read and ate and cooked and enjoyed each other’s company.  We created a calm and healing three days that restored me from all the burdens I had been carrying on their behalf.  I could let it all go, they would be fine.

Finally healed from a long resistant infection my mother acquiesced to cataract surgery.  Miracle of miracles she can see so beautifully now she’s picked up, after so many long years, her love of books.   My friends Linda and Corrine would also battle infections that were potentially life threatening through to the end with grace and kvetching and bitching and moaning and gratitude and relief.  They are both in good places now with only the usual aches and pains of everyday life.

My people are fine. For all their little inconveniences, neighborhood disputes, crazy kids and work and struggle they are fine.  They are thriving, I can tell by the intensity of bitching going on.  It’s been greatly reduced, quiet even.  Is that gratitude in the air?  Nah, just a temporary lapse in things to bitch about; or a full on awareness that I don’t suffer bad energy any more.  They will bring good momentum in spite of themselves.

My little moments happened on my deck, on Sunday mornings, in convertibles, lunching with good friends, on my walks, reading my books and writing my tiny little blog.  My big moments happened when I became one of two Aunts to a little puggle named Chevy, when I had coffee with my Father during a Hurricane named Sandy and when the transformation of my home was completed.

There was some contest that promised as its prize; $10,000 and a Handyman for a Week.  I never entered the sweepstakes but thought, yeah that’s all I need.  Yeah, 10k and a handyman for a week, let me keep that out there. This is the point where my sister says, “Of course you did”.  Months later a flyer on my door, a revelation from my Mother that you should have this while I’m alive, and my bathrooms are complete. (Of course they are.)  Add to that the fan that hangs on my deck, the newly tiled foyer and my handyman turned good friend and this was a banner year on Stowe Lane.  Everywhere I look in my home I am happy.  Two wonderful compliments came our (meaning mine and my home’s) way recently, “your home is so three dimensional” and another friend walked in for the first time and said, “I knew it would look like this”.  Nothing makes me smile (MMS) more than being comfortable, safe and surrounded by the history in my home and sharing that history with anyone who enters.

Sadly we lost Gramma Velda this year, and the only man Nicole really knew as a father, and Linda lost her Burt, and Mick lost his Sassy.  We said farewell to adults, and dogs and children we didn’t even know but who touched our hearts quite deeply.

Yet I believe this was a wonderful year.  For all that can ever go wrong, nothing that couldn’t be surmounted ever did.  For all that did happen, silver linings and happy endings are making their way into our hearts.  Good health is being restored and strengthened, community is being fortified, and work is meaningful and thankfully abundant.

Healing can take many forms, it can happen without your ever even realizing it, it can happen slowly, it can happen with epiphanies and it can happen when you least expect it.  But it can only truly happen when you can finally see it. I know like I know that I am blessed to be among you and wish you continued momentum, little moments and the vision to see the proof that healing is always right before your very eyes.

“Some people see scars, and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing.”
― Linda Hogan

 

 

 

Farewell Sassabeana

Posted on by

Sassy LoConti crossed the rainbow bridge on Christmas Day 2012.  She was a brave little girl who survived Katrina while pregnant with five pups.  She gave birth at a kill shelter in Georgia but was rescued, pups and all, by Ruth and adopted into the LoConti family along with one of two surviving pups, Tootsie.

She had three or four bouts of cancer and her Dadda took good care of her even if it meant a huge financial sacrifice.  She did the best three legged walk after each surgery, ever.  She damn near killed me when she took off after a loud mouth duck at the Manse Barn pond because I was too stupid to let go of the leash.  Yeah one day before leaving for the Cape I slammed down on my shoulder.  She came over to me and just licked my face, making it all right.

I knew I couldn’t take you with me but I never once thought you could be in any better hands than with your Dadda.  You needed each other and you took good care of each other.  Never did I forget you, never will I forget you.  Go in peace little girl, your fight is over, now you can rest.

Les Mis

Posted on by

We have long ago forgone the extravagant gifts at Christmas for time together.  We realize the significance of time more than most so my sister’s gift to me for Christmas was two hours and thirty eight minutes of Les Miserables, the movie.  Yeah, us and all the Jews.  They, who relish the movies on Christmas Day, were none too happy that we were invading their bastion of tradition in droves.  To the point of sold out showings, everywhere.

My sister went early to get the tickets.  She knows I am a fan.  Don’t think the folly of the hundreds spent on seeing this show four times on Broadway is lost on me.  I don’t care.  Each time I saw it I was moved to tears and brought to my feet as if it was the first time.  So expectations were high, well not so much as the trailer and the coming attractions and commercials brought goose bumps and welling in advance.

I could not have had a better seat, last row, and last seat all the way to the right of the screen.  No one in front of me and several fans in the same row.  Make no mistake this is a movie for fans.  The reviews have been mixed but the fans turned out in record numbers for an opening showing…on Christmas Day.

Tom Hooper’s direction is fabulous, his innovation in recording the singing live while filming is perfect even if all the notes aren’t, yes Russell we’re talking to you but who the hell would expect Javert to be able to sing anyway.  I love Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean, and Ann Hathaway’s one take wonder of “I Dreamed a Dream” started everyone down the path of smeared mascara and sniffing.  I didn’t risk tissues for this movie but had a trusty faded bandana to weep and snivel into, so clever am I.

Yes, that was Colm Wilkinson as the priest who saves Jean Valjean from going back to prison.  He is my all-time favorite Jean Valjean, ever. And I did see him (twice) on Broadway, so the nuance of him setting Jean Valjean on the path of righteousness was a brilliant cameo pick in my mind.  Too much, have I said who cares enough yet?

I thought the casting was perfect, each bringing their acting/singing abilities with them toward a musical as much acted as sung.  I love the firsts, the technology, the live singing, and the true to the original feel of a movie make of a beloved Broadway show.

To say I was a mess at the end of this movie is an understatement.  My bandana could be wrung out. Whatever the critics say the hell with them.  The audience applauded the finale, and I must say I didn’t know how Tom was going to get Hugh into the final number from…well you know, but he did.  I loved this movie, I loved sitting in a dark theater knowing my sister was right next to me, keeping an eye on me as I brushed the tears away.  I will own this movie and watch it over and over finding something new to love each time including the memory of a Christmas spent with my sister.

 

 

 

Fall on Your Knees

Posted on by

When I hear that line from the Christmas carol Holy Night it sticks in my throat every time.  I cannot sing that line for the emotion it brings no matter what language I hear it in it still overwhelms me.

So I’ll let Andrea Bocelli sing it for you and we can be a mess together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9egij7D5seI

Merry Christmas I wish you all the blessings of the season and even more in the New Year..