• About me


    Theresa Lode is a story teller, connector and Bichon Goddess. (Just ask Daisy about that last one.) Prior to motherhood, she was a parenting expert, a boast she can no longer claim. She began her writing career in an 8th grade typing class when she discovered writing was more fun than typing.
    Curious? Want to know more? Read on ...
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Just sharing the love

So, I put this ad on craigslist under “housing wanted” and tell about what a nice family we are….excellent credit, solid employment history…blah, blah,blah.

The fun thing about craigslist is one never knows what kind of nut cases one is going to attract.  Of course, there are the usual responses from real estate vermin agents.

But before I tell you…first, a helpful hint.  If you use craigslist at all, be SURE and use an anonymous email because there really are some scary people out there.

Okay.  Back to the responses I received.

One was from a sweet girl named “Rachal” who helpfully offered, in broken English,  a website that looks suspiciously like…well, you know….

The next one was from “Love.”  She and her young, energetic husband have a house that is big, clean and perfect for FUN !!!

There’s a sparkling pool and grill to sizzle your steaks.    “You’ll love living with us!!” she said.

Uh-huh.  Or as they say in da UP…you betcha, hey!

Thanks,  Love.  I think we’ll keep our steak sizzling to ourselves and continue looking for other opportunities.


The Cart

“OOOOOOH!!!!  Look at this,” I squealed to Jay.

“Oh-oh.  You’re on the internet again,” Jay said from the kitchen.

“What else is new?” I replied.  I felt a little hurt.

“It’s Craig again, isn’t it?” he asked.

Now I was hurt.  “I told you I’d stop cruising Craigslist,” I replied.  And I had.  Sorta.  Let’s just say I cut back on my rendezvous with the dear boy.

I was flirting with my other temptation: Amazon.  It started innocently enough….books, books and more books.

Then, like the spider to the fly, I was lured deeper into the parlor.  Household items.  Kiss My Face soap at a deep discount.  Wireless routers!  Vitamins!  And did I mention books?

So when I told Jay that I was on Amazon, I heard a deep sigh.

“Now what?” he asked sensing his budgeting efforts were about to be thwarted once again.   Jay, a CPA, has elevated the lowly budget to a high brow work of art.

He has created spreadsheets and detailed projected spending analysis’ that would bring order to the messiest finances.  That is, if you follow it.

“Well, I was thinking…..”

Jay appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“You know how pesky it is when we go swimming or to a blue grass festival when we have to unload the car?””

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I was thinking….”  Oops.  I said that already.

Some women get tempted my cute young guys.  I get tempted by anything that suggests it could simplify my life a little.

“Look,” I said:


Look at the lines and curves on THIS puppy!

“You know how irritating it is lugging all that stuff from the van?  Get a load of this puppy!” I gushed.

No more banged up calves from those chairs thunking against us.  Nor more feeling like our family has become a camel train of coolers, chairs and bags of sunscreen.  (Especially when the camels are reluctant.)  Nor more HEADACHES for crying out loud! “

I went for the juggler on that one.  Ever since my crap should became a crap shoulder anything that promises deliverance from a headache gives me more spending leverage.

I pictured myself, cool…collected…no varicose veins, confidently navigating the swarms of unenlightened sweaty baby boomers in orthopedic shoes lugging their burdens.  They would longingly look at me pushing my Cart with its 10″ collapsible lug wheels.  I’d toss my head back and say breezily, “It holds up to four, did you hear me, FOUR lawn chairs.”

Even the young guys would be nudging each other while watching me stroll town square.  One would mutter, “Duuuuude, that is one hot mother…..”  I’d give them a playful little finger wave while my 48-ounce cooler merrily bumped along.

Right in the middle of my daydream, Jay interrupted me.  Dang him, anyway.

“How much is THIS thing going to be?”

I told him.

“And what is it going to be next month?  Your little quest to make life easier looks like a heck of a lot of work and costs a lot of money,” he said.

I made a little squeaking noise.

“Last month it was the Nu Wave Oven you found on craigslist that took two hours to clean,”  True.  The chicken was tasty but the clean up was a bug a boo.

“At least I sold it for the same amount I bought it for…”

“And then it was convection/microwave oven that made the exploding noises when it turned?”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know it would do that….and besides I sold that too for the…um…close to what I paid….”

“Hey!  I know!” he said.  Why don’t you buy The Cart and then…..” he made a dramatic leap, “You could write a book about this new thing you found that brought peace and ease into your life.  How it saved money and delivered you from headaches!  You could call it:


He framed the words with flourished hands.

Hey!  That’s not a bad idea. (Shiny Object Syndrome is just things that shine…sometimes it’s just an idea.)

“Now what are you doing?’ he asked.

“Did you see my notebook?” I murmured.

So many things.  So many ideas.

Thankfully, we can to an agreement (meaning: I got my way).  I ordered The Cart.

It’s even got a special little pocket for small things like….like….notebooks.  Truly this was destiny.  I have a new book idea I’m working on.


The other man in my life

I tried to stay away. Really I did. But the allure, the thrill….it was calling me.

It started quite awhile ago. In the bedroom….isn’t that where a lot of trouble begins? The frustration! The dysfunction! Oh! The utter madness.

And when I read this quote, something snapped in my resolve.

“From now on, ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I shall not put.” Sir Winston Churchill

It was time to draw a line in the sand. The war drums were beating ominously in my head. (Oh, wait…I think I was just waiting for the ibu to kick in.)

I called Jay at the office.. I felt a twinge of pity for the man, being tax season and all.

“This is Jay!” he answered. I could hear him clicking away on his keyboard. I wished he didn’t sound so chipper.

“I’m sorry you have to hear it this way.” No sense in starting with a preamble. He knows me and saw this coming a long time ago.

I heard him sigh. “Yeah, I should’va known last night was it.”

“No more! I’m going back! The bedroom will be empty when you come home tonight! I’m putting stuff in a suitcase even as we speak!”

Silence. I could feel that familiar guilt feeling arise.

He spoke in a small-ish voice, “The bed too?”

Cursed internet. Cursed connection! Why did this have to happen to us? It all started so innocently. A few peeks. A few rendezvous.

“Of course not,” I retorted. “I…..”

“It’s him again, isn’t it?  Craig,” he spoke in an even tone.

“CraigsLIST” I responded quickly.  Who cares about Craig?…I just love his list; it’s so dreamy!  I find fulfillment….affirmation that I have something to offer the world-like an old TV that’s missing the remote…..or the thrill of getting a new kitchen table at a dirt cheap price.  All the things important to a woman.

“Oh, that’s just great.”  I knew he was thinking about how he had threatened to put a “Craigslist” filter on my computer but I had promised him I would behave and not wander back into his, err, its arms.  I’m sure he was full of regret

But, nonetheless here we were again.  I was busted.

I nearly purred thinking of all the enticing items: Like New! Living Room Set- 300/obo. Or…Lillian Davis Chest of Drawers- $150. I had no idea who the heck Lillian Davis was either, but it sounded like a good deal.

But back to the issue at hand. The dysfunction in the bedroom.
“I’ve HAD it with those STUPID dresser drawers!” I said with a little more fury that I intended.

“They never open smoothly and the stuff on the top of it rattles when I have to wrench the darn thing open to put away laundry!” The night before, I had nearly upended the hurricane lamp sitting there trying to put way away some socks. Yes, putting laundry away was becoming a violent affair.

The computer clicking on the other end of the line ceased.

And I continued, “Haven’t you noticed that your clothes have been getting stacked on the shelf in the closet instead of the drawer?”

Jay…being a “go with the flow” sort of guy, had not noticed.

“Someone’s coming tonight to pick them up. Cash.”

“So, I guess that means you and Craig have some more rendezvous coming up, huh?” he said.

“Um, yeah.” Now I was really feeling guilty. I hadn’t even told him about the love seat that some dude named, “Billy Bob” had hauled off. He had come with his younger, yet larger, sister to pick them up. “She’s got a strong back,” he drawled through a missing tooth.)

At least I replaced the kitchen table and chairs before the old set went out the door.

But those had been really annoying me too and I decided that after 20 years of marriage, these petty annoyances were something that I would…well, it was something up with which I will not put.

And, Oh!  The thrill of watching the taillights disappear from my driveway while I’m counting the cash in my hands is simply intoxicating.

So the clothes are in a suitcase; big deal! Those don’t have to be wrenched open so I’m a happy girl. For now anyway.

And Jay’s a good egg about these things; he knows I’ve snagged more than a few good deals. Even earned a few bucks to supplement our income. But there is always the issue of finding a truck large enough to bring home the loot.

Hmmmmmm. Maybe I should look at the vehicle section too….

Oh my! Look at the time!


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