2010~ Let's Shut this Year Down....Thank Ya Jesus~ Things are Looking Up

The year is coming to a close and I am realizing I have really been blessed. I am pleasantly surprised with how well it ended up when it started out so shitty.

Last January was a new start for me, after a suck-ass holiday season in 2009. Newly single, I adopted the "fake it until you make it" philosophy and set out to have a bit of fun in 2010, all the while inside my head mourning the future I thought I'd lost with Romeo. I was busy enough to fool everyone and myself that I was okay. Ok, my BFF Cora knows better than that (sorry sweetie). I had a setback a few weeks later after deciding to see Romeo again and thinking things for us might turn around, only to have it dawn on me after one particular dinner out together last March, that he wasn't returning my hugs as wholeheartedly as he once had, and his non-committal talk was as non-committal as ever.

He'd moved on. It hit me right there during that date, and it was like a slap in the face. But also a spotlight was shining from above (God?) directly on the situation and showed me what was going on, blaringly obvious for the first time since we'd begun our breakup months before. It told me my only option was to discontinue our "friendship" totally. No contact. No emails. Nada. It was tragic but it was the second time I'd done this with him and it was the only path I could walk down to salvage my self-respect and dignity. I am immensely proud to say I have not seen or spoke to him since last March. Thank ya Jesus.

After a month of wallowing in pity, I decided to get out there and date other men. See my past blogs for my little adventure into internet dating. Like an episode of What Not to Wear, I tried on a lot of different types of men. I booked my free weekends solid with new-guy meetings. It was comical. I didn't like half of them upon first sight. I had things in common with a few of them, so I kept it friendly knowing I had no spark with them. I actually liked a couple guys more than a little, but found they were not ready to stop the dating game to find out more about me.

Ah, lessons in love, er in like...priceless. I don't regret a bit of it. Those few months gave me new confidence, and funny stories to tell my friends, and other things to think about so I would NOT think about he-who-must-not-be-named. Thank ya Jesus.



All this time I partied and traveled in an attempt to divert my attention from my despair, I had been talking with a friend I'd reconnected with on Facebook- a boy I once knew as far back as elementary school, when we both wore plaid pants and had bowl hair-cuts. We had gotten together a few weekends and had some super-great times, enjoying an easy rapport due to our common backgrounds. But he knew (cuz I told him) I was an emotional wreck and not to be counted on for much. So just our texts, IMs, and an occasional drunk-dial kept us in touch throughout the first half of 2010. As I began my little dating spree in late Spring, I didn't even mention what I was up to, but I suspected he was doing the same. There was mutual adoration and friendship between us. He was always there to talk to if I needed a male perspective.

Toward mid-summer he and I reunited at a high school reunion barbeque in our hometown, and now this amazing man is my boyfriend. I don't even mind calling him that, even though we seem too old for those terms- BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND. (Will you GO WITH ME?? Check the box YES NO ) We've known each other most of our lives, with a little 20 year break there in the middle, so "boyfriend" is ok with me.

My awesome boyfriend, whom I'll call Sinatra (for his blue eyes) is one big reason for the second half of Twenty-Ten turning the tide. Thanks to Facebook (meh, hate to give FB too much credit or it's already inflated head may pop off and float away) and our old classmates' grand efforts to keep us all coming back home again, we were able to rediscover each other. And the time I spent away from him, but knowing he was quietly there in the background, was the perfect recipe for me to know what I needed and wanted FOR ME. He patiently watched and I am lucky that he waited. It was a time for big growth for me.

Now we are such integral parts of each others' lives. Our kids are happily becoming more comfortable with each other and with us as a couple. They are delighted to see us in love. We are a modern family already and even with some distance between our homes, we make it work and are moving forward with our future together.

2011 will hold exciting adventures for all of us.

Thank ya Jesus.

The Bigger Picture

I recently have pissed somebody off and even though I feel justified in what I did, they do as well, but I don't find the arguement worthy of a long-term stand-off. But that is what it seems we have here.

I have watched this person grow bitter and defensive over the last few years and I have grown more and more concerned that I am losing them. They are important to me and I am surely losing them. They are losing themselves too, but I can't show them that. That is up to them to realize on their own.

I don't feel they have a support system in their lives where they can afford to lose another person close to them. I feel guilty avoiding them, but I have because I sometimes feel uncomfortable and judged around them. I don't want to keep taking steps back to make it easier on me, only to realize this person is no longer within sight.

I see the Bigger Picture and that is that People Need People. BUT we need to accept people for what they are in our lives and not expect everyone to be exactly like us. I can appreciate some of my friends' oddities and laugh with them about how different they are in their daily trappings and routines. It's okay. How interesting people are and how enlightening it is to open my mind and see a different way. I love to tell stories about my experiences. I love to listen to others' life's journies and ask them questions about them. I always can find something in common with a person, even it is just something they like to eat that I like, or a place that we have both been. I am happy to meet them and appreciate them for enriching my day.

I don't feel I need to give my time on this earth to negative people. Defensive people who feel no one understands their lives and that most people have it easier than them. We all manage what we have. We all sacrifice. I can only listen so long to a story of something bad happening to a person but then hearing them not doing all they can to improve that situation. Blaming others. Pitying themselves.

I can tolerate ups and downs. I have been there. I understand feelings about life and love and anything changing from one minute to the next. I have been there. I am a good talker and listener and do not mind trying to figure things out. I have been blessed to have people in my life who have done that for me.

I want to pay it forward. I try to make my life better by making good decisions and doing the best I can, but I also want to offer myself to others, things I can do or say, or by just listening, to give them hope. If they want it.

If a person doesn't want to hope, or doesn't know what they want, they will eventually be alone. And not just physically alone, but lost-alone. No higher being to believe in or ask for help. No friends who are really there to hear all the details and offer a shoulder to cry on. No family around them to offer unconditional love. The walls will be up to protect them, understandably, but inside those walls it will be lonely.

I pray that I can still be there to help them out. I am not one to give up on a person. I typically stay for the long-haul. I value the people in my life, especially the ones who have made me who I am. I will try to always be here for them, if they want me.

Holiday-Schmoliday...I need a Break!

Why am I feeling restless this holiday season? Why do I feel so unorganized? Something is going on, and I don't like it. We made it through the tough months of fenagling the start-up of school, religious ed class, piano and volleyball practice and games. Almost every night was something after school and on weekends. I think the fast-paced daily routine is now a bit of an addiction for me. I am craving the busy-ness and don't feel right unless I'm running ninety-to-nothing. But even as I still am running errands and scheduling back-to-back activities, I don't feel right either.

Thanksgiving week flew by as I worked most of it. Even though the girls were gone that week with their dad, I didn't get much done. I'm buying gifts willy-nilly and not sure what all I've bought. Not smart. Money is tighter than ever this year since I have vacations planned for the Spring. I told the girls if they didn't see much from mom this year, they should appreciate the things they get from others in our family and realize the Spring Break ski trip will be a delayed Christmas gift. They seemed to understand that. Don't get me wrong, these two little girls are getting a nice bunch of Mama/Santa gifts. But I thank God for their wisened ages and their own Christmas Spirit! It really is nice to have kids with who you can finally reason.



I am starting to get the idea that it is imperatively necessary for me to slow down and breathe. Take in the Christmas Spirit and count my blessings. Stop with the material-driven commercials and constant holiday-related commitments. So many others are struggling more than me. My kids have birthdays this time of year and are lucky to get gifts from their friends to tide them over until Christmas Day. They have their extended family around them to enjoy all sorts of celebrations with over these next few weeks. They are ok with how things are. Their biggest concern right now is when I'm getting the Christmas decorations down from the attic.

I am so grateful for my family and my friends and my boyfriend and my job and the cozy roof of my home. I want to show them all appreciation with gifts for the season. But it is more important to let them know how much I love them. And it's equally important to keep myself calm and thoughtful during this time of year.

Ahhh, that's better...I can smell the sweetness of Christmas already.

Preserving my 8 year old's Innocence

The Tooth Fairy made an appearance at our house last night.

We went through losing the first eight front baby teeth when Chillgirl was 5 and 6 years old. My youngest daughter is about to turn 8, so it's been a while since the last visit.

Both my girls got their teeth very early (starting @ 4-5 months old) and began losing them by age 4 and 5. They have kindergarten snaggle-tooth photos to prove it. At those early ages, the Tooth Fairy is a given. A pretty princess-like fairy flits down in the middle of the night and carries the stinky tooth away, leaving change behind? Hot Dang! That's a deal! They couldn't wait to get to sleep on those nights.

Now my oldest, Lil Lady, has lost all hers (heck, she's still got 12 year molars coming in- which must account for much of her current bitchiness, right?), and Chillgirl has finally got some more wigglies happening to the larger back teeth. The right side lower tooth rocked its way out on Tuesday at school. She came home with a little plastic tooth necklace with her stinky tooth inside and told me it fell out in Art. Yay!

She was up late that night, way past her bedtime, and I mentioned if she didn't get to sleep the Tooth Fairy wouldn't come. Yes, stellar parenting skills aren't they? Finally the house quieted. And Mom/Tooth Fairy fell asleep.

I get up Wednesday morning and began my usual morning routine, rousing the girls with first gentle nudges and normal-voiced suggestions of getting up and dressed, and then being ignored so onto the ever-escalating raised voice, to the all-out yelling and threats. At about the same time I realized what I'd done (or not done) Chillgirl pops up from my bed (where she ends up every night) and runs off to her room, because she remembered the same thing I did.

The Tooth Fairy! What'd she leave me? Huh? A pouty-faced sweet little girl comes back in my room..."My tooth is still there." More pouting.

And I, in all my motherly-wisdom, say "Well, you must've gone to bed too late for her. Maybe tonight." Pout. But all in all she took it pretty well for an almost 8 year old.

So last night she made sure she was in bed early, and fell asleep on time. I was on-point and did my Tooth Fairy Thang and all was good.

This AM she was brushing her teeth and getting dressed when she remembered and ran into her room to check. She came back in all pouty-faced again and said "Nothing"...with a crack of a smile in the corner of that precious face as she pretended to look sad.

Chillgirl: "Just kidding! I got a dollar!" (big toothless smile)

Then she proceeds to rub the dollar on her face.

Me: "Don't rub that on your face! It could be dirty with germs!"

Chillgirl: "Mom, it's not dirty...it's from Heaven."

DUH MOM!

Zoinks! Almost blew my cover.

Smart little Chillgirl!

New Love, New Neuroses

An article I read recently likened new love to a "mental health crisis", like a drug addiction or obsessive compulsive disorder. In addition, there are cooky little pheromones and hormones causing us to run around obliviously attracting mates who are biologically compatible with ourselves.

"Pheromones are chemicals capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual" (medterms.com)

Creepy, huh?



Crazy in love?

I can buy that.

I can attest to the notion that LOVE FEELS GOOD.

And who doesn't like the brandy-new kind? You want more (read: all) of the person you love. I mean all the time. To be newly smitten gives off that constant internal high, the flutters in the stomach, the feeling of amazement and wonder as to why a person is so right for us, and where have they been until now?

New love can also be distracting and flustering when it occupies so much brainpower that you walk around in a lovely fluffy mental cloud all day long. Personally, I go through my day wondering what this person is doing. Or thinking. Or who he is talking to? Or is he thinking of me? It's a wonder I get anything accomplished.

The newly dating period is euphoric. Long talks on the phone, asking tons of dumb questions like what cereals do you like and would you rather wash dishes or fold clothes? It is never boring, even when investigating the mundane. You marvel over how compatible you are with each other. You make others around you nauseous with your constant idiotic grinning and love pats and kisses when they are subjected to the two of you together. It just feels all happy and tingly to sit near each other and touch as many body parts as is publicly allowed.

What? Why is that so wrong?



As if a halo of starry sparkles and aromic potpourri is following us around, and everyone must know it.

After a while, the comfortableness sets in and the brandy-newness wears off. This is still a good stage. You are still feeling pretty special and blessed to have a partner to share every thought with and be inseparable with. You get used to being loved by someone daily and being a focal point in their life and them being one in your life.

Real life situations arise, like staying over with each other and running out of toilet paper, or dealing with each others' exes/kids/parents/jobs/etc. Reality is good. Reality is what lets you know this one is possibly THE ONE. Without a healthy dose of reality, a new couple cannot be prepared for the future. Somebody's bubble is gonna burst.

All the important and unimportant questions have been asked. Talk-time is over. Now its time for action.



In a Jack-from-Will&Grace-style...aaand BACK TO ME. I will fess up and admit this next part is truly all about me...

The action phase is where I get a bit looney-tunes. My own issues with this area begins with the fact that I'm a chronic planner as well as my tendency to ask questions about a future that hasn't happened yet and expect coherent answers like, yesterday.

I get it stuck in my head what I want it to look like, like something I saw on a cheesy rom-com, and I want to know NOW if that is gonna happen. Just tell me now, honey, how will the next 5 years go? Because if it's something I don't like, let's not waste your and my time. This gets me in trouble. This gets me labeled a control-freak, a nag, a neurotic.

Ok, ok, I've never heard a mate of mine call me those things but I am imagining this is what their internal alarms are blaring when I start asking "when?" BEEP-BEEP! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! RUN AWAY! Poor guys.


In my current sorta brandy-new relationship, a lot of things will have to take place before we are able to reside in the same town, let alone the same house. My past history with men has always been that of allowing long courting periods as long as there is a goal in sight. I went 4 years dating before I married my ex-husband. I stayed in my relationship with Romeo for almost 3 years, always assuming our lives would merge Eventually. Well, that one was a shocker (to me) and it ended abruptly with the realization that Eventually wasn't in his plans. Sooo, in my current situation, I'm hesitant to go on blind-faith that Eventually will arrive as planned in my regimented little mind. At the age of 40, I feel I don't have years to "wait-and-see" how things will flush out.

Yes, I know. Breathe. I am trying. I have talks with myself all the time. Come on, give the guy a chance. He's saying all the right things. He's doing all the right things. He loves me. He tells me he loves me. He loves my kids. He loves where I live and isn't asking me to give up my life and move. He fixes stuff around the house (bonus!). He makes me laugh. He loves my kids. Oh, did I say that already?

Yeah, I think it is wise to take a breather on my usual mental hyperactivity and hang on for the ride with this one. He's worth it.

All Clear in the Boob Department

The pain of my breast biopsy was almost gone three days later, when I called into my doctor for the results. I was supposed to hear from her after 48 hours, but seeing how it was Friday, and the biopsy was done on Tuesday, I figured my results were laying in a pile on her desk and her office staff had jammed up her schedule so she was not able to look at them.

In my humble opinion, taking a few hours a day to look at test results and then make the promised phone calls to nervously-waiting patients who are contemplating how they could possibly make it through chemo while they still coach their 7 year old's volleyball team is not too much to ask, right? I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but as a Lady Doctor, I'd be pretty damn adamant with my office staff to allow this important time in my schedule.

When I called I got the doctor's nurse line, and had to leave a message. More waiting. Finally I got a call back. From the nurse. "Everything was fine.", she said.

Wow, she went to school to learn to say that.

So I had to ask, "It was benign?" "Yes, yes, the results were benign, follow-up mammo in six months.", she said quickly. Did she have somewhere else to be? I hope it was calling other 85 ladies waiting at 4pm on a Friday to get good news. I assumed the actual doctor was making the NON-good news calls. She better be.

Thanks, Lady-who-is-not-My-Doctor.

Thanks.

Breast Biopsy...Not My Idea of a Good Time

Did the breast biopsy, and I can honestly say, I'd rather get a root canal. You saw the picture I posted in my last post. Torture chamber, yessiree. Laying on my stomach with my boob through a hole so they can xray it while they are probing it...lots of pulling and prodding. Under that table there was a world of busy going on, and I was powerless to stop it.

Initially, I only had pain from the prick of the needle which numbed the incision spot, about like the needleprick from your dentist for a root canal or cavity filling. But the position I was made to lay in on that damn table had my neck and back in spasms by halfway through it. This is no massage table, people. No hole for your head to hang in its natural position while your back and shoulders are massaged into bliss. Imagine laying on a chaise lounge on your stomach, sunbathing, but with your left arm above your head, and your head staying sharply to the right. For an hour. When I sunbathe, I move around alot. Not comfortable to keep one position on a flat surface. Apparently no one's told the mammogram/biopsy people this. I finally had to turn my head awkwardly to the left just to keep from screaming out with the cramp in my neck. This didn't help at all. Here comes a cramp beginning on the other side.

I had my iPod music going and tried to doze off but they were pulling me this way and that and machines were making noise and they were flashing xrays the whole time. When they got the tissue they needed, they went to look at the xrays again, and did a few more to be sure they had the right spot. They put in a titanium marker to denote the place for my next mammogram. That stays with me. Finally I was released from the vise and my incision was patched up. I was bleeding through the gauze but I was made to do another standing mammogram in the next room to be compare to my originals. More bleeding, on the machine, on the floor, on my robe. Surprisedly, I did not get sick at any of this. I should get a medal. Oh, guess I did...a titanium one.


This Stereotactic Biopsy/through-the-hole-in-the-table procedure was done because there was no obvious lump to sample, so they had to go in guided by the multiple xrays. When it was done, I was sent home with an icepack and more gauze to try to stop the bleeding. Only Tylenol for the pain. I wandered out of there in a daze. Such a weird experience.

The worst after-effect is my neck and back still aching from the odd position and a tender spot on my breast. My chiropractor did what he could for the neck and back. Ice has helped too. My only other post-procedure woe is waiting to hear from the doctor on the results. I'm sure that I'm not the most important thing on her docket, but hoping for today or tomorrow.

First Mammogram...Another Encounter with My Mortality

Next Tuesday I'm going back to my local hospital for a procedure. Two rounds of mammography in the last two weeks have shown tiny dots the radiologist is calling "calcifications" in my left breast.

This began with my first mammogram screening, which was advised after my annual woman's check-up in June. Now that I'm 40, this is what we do. Got a call back for more films, to check some things. I've been told by many people this is normal since they had no previous exams to compare to. No biggie. Last Monday I went back. The tech showed me on the previous film what they were looking to re-check. She did several more pictures, squeezing even tighter and more concentrated on the offending areas. The radiologist then came in and explained the left side showed some dots that aren't "textbook-looking" (as in obviously something to be worried about), but aren't what they'd write off as nothing, so they must, to be safe, do a biopsy to pull out the tissue and test it. So this is what I will be doing next Tuesday morning:

(from Bing Health)

Stereotactic biopsy This type of biopsy uses breast X-rays (mammograms) to pinpoint the location of suspicious areas within the breast. For this procedure, you generally lie facedown on a padded biopsy table with one of your breasts positioned in a hole in the table. You may need to remain in this position for 30 minutes to 1 hour. The table is raised several feet, and the radiologist performing the procedure sits below the table. Your breast is firmly compressed between two plates while mammograms are taken to show the radiologist the exact location of the area for biopsy. A small incision — about one-quarter-inch long (about 6 millimeters) — is made into your breast. A radiologist inserts either a needle or a vacuum-powered probe and removes several samples of tissue to ensure an adequate sample. The tissue sample is sent to a pathologist for analysis.





Yeesh, not fun. This picture looks like a torture device imposed on women in the 1700's when they were suspected of witchcraft. At this point in time, I will worry about getting through the procedure, and just resting in the aftermath. My gynocologist explained she will call me "in about a week" with the results. I fully expect to be in the 80% mentioned below:

"Being told that you should have a breast biopsy might make you anxious. But consider this reassuring fact: In the U.S., 80 percent of women who undergo a breast biopsy learn that they don't have cancer."

(from a good webpage on this: http://www.bing.com/health/article/mayo-127182/Breast-biopsy?q=breast+biopsy&FORM=FFF)

Hang in there with me friends, more to come...

Back to School for the Kids, Back to Crazytown for Mom

The dreaded end of summer. I love the new commericial for that Easy Button store, what is that Staples?, where the kids show the moms the back-to-school supply list, and the moms who are all busy (in the kitchen like, icing a cake- wtf?) all faint at the sight of it. That stupid school-supply list is such a pain in the ass, I do feel clammy when the stores start printing them and putting them out. Our tax dollars apparently go toward the school's teacher's lounge's widescreen TV and the fish tank in the school lobby, because it's not going toward pencils for the kids to write with.


Aside from gathering all this ridiculous stuff needed for the kids' first day of school (4 large glue sticks-- for each kid? What the hell are they gluing over the course of the next 9 months? 100,000 popsicle sticks to build their own lockers?), its time for new backpacks, tennis shoes, and blue jeans. Texas has a "tax-free" weekend, where sales tax is waived if you go out to the stores with the throngs of other idiots trying to save 8.25% on clothes that are marked up 20% higher than any other weekend of the year.

Blue jeans can wait. Seriously. It's 102 degrees in August and September and kids here do not need to wear blue jeans. As sweaty and dirty as they end up by the end of the school day, they should probably continue to wear their summer clothes until the holes in them are so large and the stains are so dark that they go straight into the rag pile.

Backpacks? Debatable. I have at least 3 perfectly capable backpacks that my girls have laying around with play stuff in them, and a few scuffs on the outside or bottom of them. But to send them to school with the same backpack as last year? Oh, the horror! Jansport has a great business going, advertising the fashion side of backpacks. You don't want to be caught dead with last year's styles. Chillgirl claimed she NEEDED one with two zippers. Not one zipper, Mom, two. I never got a clear answer on why this was necessary. I chalk it up to 2nd grader fashion-sense. Lil Lady was so thrilled with her new backpack choice, she walked around with it on, acting out how she'll say hi to her friends when she gets to her new middle school.

Speaking of middle school...My kid will be going to middle school this year. Lil Lady can't possibly be old enough for this. How did I let this happen? She's only 11! Oh wait, that's middle school-aged. Dammit. Her entering middle school causes anxiety for her mother. I try my best not to let it show, but I had many ups and downs during my "junior high" (as we used to call it) years. High school was bad too, but I'm avoiding those worries for 3 more years.

Middle school is when boys notice girls and stop being their friends and start "going with" them. When the boys are not going with the girls, they are being mean to the girls, popping bra-straps, starting rumors, calling them names. It's when girl start watching what they wear and what others are wearing. Brand names matter. Trends are the be-all and end-all of a girls' existence.

And then there are the Mean Girls. Oh yeah, boys are bad, but girls are worse in middle school. This is when cliques are solidified, lines are drawn, and lunch tables are discriminatory. I remember. One night you are at a slumber party having a grand ole time, and the next Monday at school you are a pariah who is being scorned for your pajama choices. I fought with girls in junior high. I mean fought, as in slapping-around scuffles. I don't even know who the heck I thought I was back then. I'm a mild-mannered middle-aged woman with a slight case of road-rage, and at worst passively-aggressively huffing or rolling my eyes in a slow-moving line at the grocery store. Back then, I was on the defense, hardened by too many stupid girl-on-girl rumors gone wild and losses of a BFF over a poorly-chosen outfit from an off-brand store. Lil Lady knows none of this. She is envisioning a continuation of 5th grade and I am praying that is exactly what we'll get. But with Facebook, text messaging and cell phone calls, I feel the rumor-mill will be rampant and the girl fights will continue on as they have for centuries.

So I'm off to yet another big-box store for the oh-so necessary Pocket-Folder-with-NO-Brads- two in red, two in blue and four Non-perforated Spirals, as my summer-restored sanity is slowly on the decline.

On the first day of school, my babies will be up with the sun and headed to their new little social circles and classrooms. Learning about life from their teachers, classmates, and cafeteria-worker ladies. Homework struggles, after-school activities, the TAKS test (don't get me started on that piece of trash) and parent-teacher conferences are in my near, and no-doubt insane future.

My own lessons in Eat, Pray, Love...

I've been mulling around a blog idea since I've had so much on my mind, but haven't been able to put anything into concrete thoughts or sentences. One major theme from all these musings that continues to pop up is I'm Growing Up.

I have been through teenagerhood, when I thought I knew everything. I went through my twenties, when I didn't know a whole lot of anything. I made it through my thirties, when I began to question everything.

Now I'm just barely into my 40's and I recognize the fact that I have learned from all those other eras, and that I could possibly be in the actual prime of my life.



I'm smarter now for my kids. I stay on top of their well-being and safety and mental roundness and general childhood experiences. I want them to remember these years as ones full of playing "school" or "store" with their friends and cousins, riding bikes with friends up and down our street, and challenging the neighborhood kids in a footrace. I think they will remember experiencing new things like snowskiing, Broadway shows, UT football games, and waterslide parks. They will look back and be happy and grateful I let them try to find where their talents lay, in dance, gymnastics, volleyball, music, acting or art. They have come through a divorce with bumps in the road, but an overall sense of peace knowing their parents each love them and we still are able to be friendly when they see us together. They can take pieces of each of these memories into their adult lives and tell people, "I had a good childhood".



I have learned in my career that I do not want to own a business but I want to be respected and asked for my opinions when a topic comes up on which I have years of experience to contribute. I would like to work for someone strong enough to make smart business decisions but not pompous enough that he or she cannot ask the trusted employees for help. I have learned I don't like to gush my appreciation for a good work environment or advancement in the company's ranks, but I will work hard to show my employer I am thankful for the fact that I don't hate to come into my job every day. I learned that I LOVE to travel on the company's dime. :)

Speaking of travel...I learned that I will continue to accept invitations to or plan excursions to any place in the country or world where I can see something I've never seen before. I don't even have to know much about where I'm going because by the time I leave I will know more. I want to see mountain ranges, and beaches, and ancient ruins, and beautiful stained-glass-filled churches-- any of the wonders of the world. On a smaller scale, I will plan to visit more sleepy towns I can walk around instead of drive, more islands with gorgeous sunsets and hard-working townspeople, and countrysides or farmlands with seasonal colors bursting from crops or trees I don't get to witness at home. And while I travel, I will eat...just about anything and everything.



I have learned I can be alone sometimes and I now appreciate these times. I have settled into ignoring the pull to jump on the phone or make plans to visit someone for every free moment. I can enjoy a solitary bikeride and gazing at the quiet scenery, or a long ride in the car with my favorite music blaring and the windows down, or the prayerful moments at church where I thank God for all His wisdom in bringing me so far to this place in my life. I can be at home straightening up or doing laundry and not even have the TV on, and listen to the silence, or I can take the dogs out with my headphones on, lost in thought, for a long walk. I actually take note of these instances because they were so rare in years before now, and I snuggle into them and feel at home.

And I have learned a few things about men. And a few things about my needs with men. I know all the "types" now and which are good for me and which are probably trouble. I don't feel comfortable with the overly-manicured metrosexual guy, but would like my man to own a suit and dress shoes. I need him to have an education and know something about the world or have an interesting take on it. I like a man who can talk to me, and not only by texting or email or Facebook. It seems to be rare to get a man to open his mouth and speak his mind. All the electronics today are giving men permission to turn more inward and not have much to say. I need a man to rebel against this urge.

I demand that a man at least attempt to open the door for me, even if I beat him to it. I don't need him to pay for me all the time, but he can try to reach for his wallet. I would like him to be active, and busy with his own activities but be interested in mine as well.

I have fear of a man who has not committed to a wife or children at our age as of yet. I have reasons for this, which anyone following me can refer back to, but I think I have been through all this damn growth because of my commitments and my failures of those commitments, and because of the love I have for my children. I have talked to men who have not been there yet, and I immediately get the sense that they just don't KNOW...and therefore, cannot know me. It may be shortsighted or prejudicial, but it is my experience, and that is all I have.

I am sure to have another 40 years or more to live. Wow, another lifetime. Just think of it, more decades of knowledge to revisit these current lessons and revise, edit, ignore, or laugh at them. I am happy for now, and I am looking to the future with a soothing serenity.

How TxCris Almost Bought the Farm, Thanks to a Carrot

Yesterday at work a terrifying thing happened. I nearly met my Maker for lunch.

I was in my office kitchen making my salad for lunch as usual, and chomping on a raw carrot while I chopped up my veggies.



As I finished my carrot, the last piece got lodged in my windpipe. It felt like it was in the front of my throat, like I could touch it through the skin at the base of my neck. Faaack...I could breathe but it was uncomfortable...and soon my throat and chest began cramp up, in painful little spasms. I sat there a minute gulping and waiting for it to move. So I'm thinking I should try to drink water to dislodge it. So I take a swig.

The water felt like it did not go down my throat, in fact, it plugged me up, as in like a trapdoor closed on my airway. Literally-- no air. So I got up, coughing, and tried to spit it out in the sink and by now I'm wheezing and gasping for breath. Breathing in was impossible, my eyes teared up. I'm pacing and in panic-mode now.

I went in the bathroom and tried to make myself vomit, but that didn't help, and still I was barely getting air through. I was figuring out that the throwing-up tube and the breathing tube are separate and just because when your stomach is churning and throwing up makes that better, it does nothing for a stuck carrot in the windpipe.

Next I try to bounce my stomach region on a chair in the breakroom, but it was too lightweight and moved without forcing any air. Its amazing how your mind starts groping for Oprah and Today Show episodes for procedures on choking. But then I kept thinking of those 20/20 stories of people who weren't so lucky and didn't make it when help was only a person or a phone call away. So I'm starting to think 911. Would they even make it to me before I blacked out? The nearest fire station is half a block away. Would any of the EMS dudes be hot? (just kidding on that last one, but I did think that later on) This was all going through my brain in nano-seconds.

My co-worker finally heard all the ruckus from the front of our office and called back "Are you ok?" and I managed to croak "No!".

She came walking back toward the breakroom, not sure if I was kidding, and I was pacing around gulping for air, and then I just backed into her and grabbed her arms to wrap around me and she instinctively gave me 3 squeezes. It didn't force the carrot out but the water came out and I spit and could breathe a little better. Thank the Lawd!

I still could feel the carrot and it still hurt and I was walking around forcing myself to cough and leaning over and trying to vomit and nothing was moving that damn thing. I was able to breathe, just not comfortably. My co-worker stood there mesmerized at what the hell was happening, but also amazed that she was able to perform under pressure. "I'm always the panicky one!" she said with a proud smile. Told her thank you, and I do thank God I wasn't alone.

After a minute of us staring at each other and wondering what to do next, I felt the stupid carrot miraculously move down on its own and I could breathe normal again.

Bizaare. I really feel had an inkling what it feels like to drown. It's horrifying.

Here's a description of the Heimlich if anyone's interested in saving a life if they see this happening to a loved one:

If choking is occurring, the Red Cross recommends a "five-and-five" approach to delivering first aid:
■First, deliver five back blows between the person's shoulder blades with the heel of your hand.
■Next, perform five abdominal thrusts (also known as the Heimlich maneuver).
■Alternate between five back blows and five abdominal thrusts until the blockage is dislodged.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on someone else:
■Stand behind the person. Wrap your arms around the waist. Tip the person forward slightly.
■Make a fist with one hand. Position it slightly above the person's navel.
■Grasp the fist with the other hand. Press hard into the abdomen with a quick, upward thrust — as if trying to lift the person up.
■Perform a total of five abdominal thrusts, if needed. If the blockage still isn't dislodged, repeat the five-and-five cycle.



If you're the only rescuer, perform back blows and abdominal thrusts before calling 911 or your local emergency number for help. If another person is available, have that person call for help while you perform first aid.

If the person becomes unconscious, perform standard CPR with chest compressions.

If you're alone and choking, you'll be unable to effectively deliver back blows to yourself. However, you can still perform abdominal thrusts to dislodge the item.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on yourself:
■Place a fist slightly above your navel.
■Grasp your fist with the other hand and bend over a hard surface — a countertop or chair will do.
■Shove your fist inward and upward.

Man, I am blessed. I almost died eating something healthy that's supposed to prolong my life. Take-home lesson here, folks-- Chew Your Food.

Cautionary Tips from the Trenches on Online Dating

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What Would Weight Watchers Do?

I weighed in today 1.6 lbs up from last week at my Weight Watchers meeting. I expected this because my class ring on my right hand was not loose. That's how I gauge how puffy I am on any given day. Today, all day, it was tight. Boo. I was down last week 2.8 from the week before. Yay. But I lost some of that ground this week. Boo. Could Weight Watchers help me figure out what went wrong?

What I didn't tell ole' Weight Watchers, especially the little old guy with the white hair who checked me in and was sure to point out my "gain" on my tracking booklet with his pentip, is that I turned 40 last Sunday AND swam/biked/ran a triathlon.


My heartrate monitor watch clocked me at burning over 1600 calories during that one hour and 44 minute race, and so I did not track my food for the day. I figured it being my birthday, and doing that kind of excercise gave me a free pass for the day. I didn't go out to eat after the race, I ate at home, and even smuggled a 94% fat-free popcorn bag into the movies in my daughter's little purse (what?) so I didn't overdo it. And when I say not overdoing it that was only until we had frozen yogurt after the movie and I added taboo chocolate candy mix-ins to my strawberry/banana/cake batter frozen yogurt. Hey, it was lowfat yogurt! And chopped up Snickers. And white chocolate chips. And maybe some almonds. I kinda went crazy, so I kinda forget what all went in there.

Still, it only weighed like 3 ounces on the Yogurt Experience (shameless plug- in Round Rock near the Outlets, you gotta try it) scale, if that. It's not like I won any free yogurt for having the heaviest weight and get my name on the YE whiteboard. My yogurt cup felt a little like I did at the WW meeting last week- happily underweight.

So anyway, I didn't mention all this to little old white-haired dude giving me that "sorry you sucked this week" look at my WW meeting today. Nor did I bring it up when the meeting leader asked if anyone did a 5K in any way this past week, since apparently that was the most recent WW challenge- to WALK a 5K in a week.

What should I have done? Oh hi, ma'am? Yes, I did. Umm yeah, it was a 5K on the end of a triathlon that I kicked-ass on and beat my 2 years ago personal best time on. Um, and I RAN it, yes, even the hills. Yeah, and I trained almost every day before that, with several runs and walks totally well over a 5K.

Oh, and ma'am? Did I mention I GAINED 1.6 lbs this week? What do you make of that? Shrieks and gasps, I'm sure. So, I didn't want to confuse/discourage/annoy the others in the WW meeting, and I kept quiet and sulked instead.

My triathlon friend and I are convinced it's water weight, and we are surely right, based on how much we drink before, during, and after a race like that. Or our marathon bike rides we do on other weekends. We are always puffy as hell after them. It's hot as hades out there and you MUST drink and drink and drink water, or your body will revolt and/or possibly quit. As in die. We both do WW and know we can't eat double just because we get in a good work-out. No reason to sabotage ourselves, so I am perplexed, other than my birthday-frozen-yogurt-fest, as to what my body was trying to say today on that scale.

Again, I did not speak up and spew this paradox onto the room, but I need to figure it out. It's a riddle best worked on by myself, with myself. Me and my Body will have a talk and come to some sort of agreement. I don't need that "you suck" look each week after I've busted your ass, literally, and have you, Body, show up 3 days later looking and weighing all puffy. If you, Body, can figure out how to eliminate faster, let's say in only 24 hours, then I will keep taking your ass, literally, to YE for sweet, happy yogurt treats. Deal?

The big 4-0....and all I've learned so far.

I've learned a ton during my 40 trips around the sun. I don't think the lessons have been anything special in the larger scheme of things, but since I've been happier in the last few years than ever in my life, I am gathering that I actually did LEARN from all my experiences and have steadily made improvements in my choices and the general direction I'm taking in life. I'm hoping that bodes well for my next 40 years.

Ah, but starting at the beginnning, well almost the beginning, at least as early as I can remember....I learned to tie my shoes, color inside the lines, and that boys who chase you on the playground probably like you. I learned I loved gymnastics and running as fast as I could, to try to beat those boys, probably because I liked them. I learned my best girlfriends sometimes got jealous and wouldn't be my best friend for a while. I learned some of my friends got along with each other and some just got along with me. I've been able to keep friends for many, many years because I figured that one out.

I learned I liked boys and liked having a boyfriend, even if it was in name only, and we rarely were in the same space together, but wrote tiny love letters and passed them through our friends.

I learned I would be shorter and smaller than all my friends, and wouldn't need a bra until well into junior high. I learned that wasn't a bad thing because the boys popped girls' bra straps. A lot. I learned to wear shorts under my Catholic school uniform skirt because those same boys would fall down and try to look under our skirts.

I learned that older boys in high school liked the freshman girls but not for long-term. They were bored with their same-ole, same-ole girls and dabbled with the fresh meat. I learned they quickly bored with me and took off back to their junior or senior girls. I learned that the upperclassmen girls disliked me on the spot because of this. I finally learned to stop taking the taunts from those bitchy girls and fight back to save my own sanity. Eventually I learned to not date the older guys because they were not worth all the trouble.

I learned there was a boy who could love me because we were friends first and he respected me because he was brought up right, and was that kind of boy. I learned what it was like to depend on someone, and trust someone, and enjoyed my senior year with him and my other life-long friends.



I learned what I wanted to do as a major/career and which college I would attend to pursue that goal. I learned that I was ready to live on my own as soon as my parents left me and my roommate in our new apartment for the first time. I learned to keep my old friends close, but to make an effort to meet new ones and expand my circle of friends beyond my hometown.



I learned that fraternity parties were dangerous, and mixing alcohol was very, very stupid. I learned that skipping ONE class wasn't the end of the world. I learned not to put metal in the microwave. I learned that turning off your heater when you leave for Christmas break isn't smart when it freezes and the pipes burst, spewing water all down the inside of your closet and flooding your apartment with 4 inches of water. I learned how to pay bills, use a credit card responsibly, and balance a checkbook.

I learned to love another boy, who also was an old friend first, and who became my best friend and boyfriend for those college years, until we both outgrew each other (it happens at age 21) and then I learned heartbreak, and lost myself for a while, not knowing myself and because of that, not knowing what I really wanted in a man.

I learned to trust again from a nice boy who wasn't going the same direction in life that I was, but who listened to me and made me laugh and who didn't ask much of me. I took a job far away from anyone I knew and learned I could live really on my own, although I learned I did not like being truly THAT alone. Evenutally I learned this boy would stand by me and was never jealous or intimidated by my successes, and he came from a good family, and I thought he would a good husband and father. I learned I was finally ready for marriage and to begin my adult life.

I learned what family is. I learned how to build a household and make a home and be part of my own family, our team. I learned what real responsibility is, and became the person to handle the business of our little family.


By this time I was close to 30 years old. And it was then that I learned to fully and completely love someone. My babies. My little girls. They taught me I was able and willing to live my life totally beholden to them, without question. And I learned my goal in life is to be the best possible guide to a good life for each of them.

My 30s began with Motherhood in full swing. There were some rough patches. I learned that I was beginning to find myself and wasn't always happy with the choices I had made. I tried to figure out what to change, and made mistakes, but I learned from them. I learned to take care of me, for once. My babies were growing up and not as needy, so I learned what to do to lose the extra weight I'd carried after having them, and that I loved biking and running. This time with myself allowed me to examine what I was doing, and if I was happy. I learned I was not. I learned that I had a desire to see more of this world and to have friends who shared some of the activities I enjoyed.

I clung to my girls as I knew I couldn't live without them, but I had learned that their dad and my's time was up. I arranged my life so that the girls wouldn't be uprooted or jossled around, and that they knew their parents loved them even though we no longer lived together. I learned a failed marriage and a broken home made me very, very sad.

I learned I could be happy and love again, then with Romeo. I was able to have the travels I wanted, and the friends I wanted, and the confidante and best friend I'd been missing for so long. It also gave me the time to understand so much about my adult self-- the opinions and standards and needs and limitations that have grown within me over all of these 40 years, but I ended it on my terms and for my own peace of mind.

So now I am hitting this new milestone. A half-way point? Possible, but not probable. I am proud to have taken in all these lessons and have come out as a 40 year old with solid convictions, and physical and emotional strengths, and life knowledge. That sounds like a superhero, but I am most definitely not that.

I'm just a girl, who happens to be 40, and has learned to love it.

Alone on an Iceberg, er...blog.

I'm not sure what I thought I'd be doing on this blog when I started it. I thought I'd put down funny thoughts and stories and make my few readers laugh with me or when I'd throw out a problem perplexing me, have someone offer advice. But now I feel like I'm avoiding it. Like I wanna whine and bitch, but don't want anyone to know how NOT-together I have it. I wanna blog for me but this forum forces me to publicize my wailings. I guess it's good for me to get it out of my head and into the light. I'm not one for airing my dirty laundry with just anyone, but the essence of a BLOG is to do just that.

Blog...what a stupid word.

Blog. Blog. Bloggity-blog, blog, blog...blaaaahhhhhhgggg....ok, I feel ready now.

Nothing really joyful is going on right now- only a lot of things to worry about, and wallow in, and mope around about. I am about to turn 40 in a two short weeks, but I'm in good shape for my age (except for my GD eyesight which has the nerve of betraying me by getting weaker), so that's not it. I guess what's weighing on me is that I have a big, effing question mark to stare at which is called "the next 40 years" of which I have no control over and don't have a clue how it will turn out. As a young person, like everyone else, I assumed I'd have my shit together and set in place at 40. Married, kids growing like weeds, work, friends, and stability and travel plans on the horizon. A nest egg to add to and depend on for those upcoming Golden Years.

I have a lot of these things, so I shouldn't be all piss and vinegar. My work is solid even in the most unsolid of economic times. My friends are awesome. I have several to choose from when I need a shoulder, or an ear. My nest egg is holding steady, maybe even growing, and since I have the stable job, I haven't dipped into it. I've traveled. My house is my own. I can buy myself or my kids things we need and even things we want. We have health insurance. We have dental insurance. Both kids have Nintendo DSes and bikes and new shoes and the cutest Walmart, Kohl's, and Target clothes you ever did see. These are the good things I have, and I recognize I am blessed.

For myself, finding a life partner is that current blackhole in my future. I was supposed to have that deal already wrapped up by now. I envy my friends who have stayed with their first loves, although there aren't many of them left. Either that or the "marrieds" are staying far away from me out of fear I have something contagious. I don't feel I even know what my type IS after my few experiences in my recent foray into datinghood. I'm starting to resent Match.com for dangling guys with alleged potential in front of me, and who I can clearly see have "viewed" me, but who apparently aren't interested no matter how high my "match percentage" is to them. Trust me, I've tweaked my profile and winked at guys in efforts to start something going, but the pickin's, they be slim.

Even the few good ones I've talked with or met I have a hard time mustering up the interest to keep it going, and apparently they feel the same. Bachelor #4 went away out of sheer neglect. That and the fact that chatting with him was about as exciting as watching paint dry. I'm starting to feel I don't want to meet my future love this way and I should maybe take a break from all the online action. The Austin area is teeming with divorced dads and I'm bound to bounce off of one without even trying. Yeah, sure. Eventually.

I also am tired. Tired every day. Plain ole' worn out, physically and mentally and emotionally. All 3 wrapped up in one big ball of apathy- and that ain't good. I drudge through my weekly routines and commitments and haven't been feeling the joie de vive, not like I think I should. I am happiest out on my bike, especially riding with friends, but all my other priorities limit me to only get rides sporadically. My kids need me and they are verbal enough to tell me that, and I feel a mountain of guilt if I take off for my own joy at the expense of theirs.

My kids' JOY is my other worry. My oldest, Lil Lady, is hitting puberty and has a mouth on her that can cut through cement when she's unleashing the angst upon her mother. She saves it up all day at school, when she doesn't understand a math theory, or her friend tells her she doesn't like her outfit, or she has to stay at the Y-afterschool for longer than she'd like...she saves it, and before we've even made the full 3 minute ride home from the Y to our house, she's begun with either hitting her sister, or telling me everything I do and say is wrong and it must mean I don't love her. She is quick to pull out the "you don't love me" when she's feeling particularly wronged. We go 10 rounds before I finally wise up and stop responding to her tirade and giving her the satisfaction of ignoring everything around me to concentrate on besting her. I finally wise up and shut my mouth and ignore her, and after trying to goad me back in and failing, she literally deflates and my sweet Lil Lady comes back to me. She still calls me "Mommy" and likes to chat about things like shaving her legs, growing out her bangs, and her future career (she's always trying to nail down her future job). When times are good, we love to snuggle on the couch and watch Modern Family and CSI together.

Then there's Chillgirl, who never knows when her sister will start to scream or hit, and because she's the littlest in the house, gets the brunt of her sister's tirades. Its quite possible (Lil Lady's counselor thinks so) that even though I divorced their dad when they were 4 and 8 years old, Lil Lady thinks the addition of Chillgirl was the beginning of the end of our marriage. She truely may believe that having a sister come into the picture complicated things between her parents beyond repair. I've told LL many other reasons why her parents are not living together, but she says she began her admittedly drama-filled persona at about 4 years old, coincidentally when her sissy came along.

But I shouldn't underestimate her sissy. Chillgirl looks at me with those big brown eyes and will still throw me a goofy face, even in the midst of a meltdown by her sister. This kid has a million funny faces to show me, like that poster of little cartoon faces showing all the different emotions they use with kids in therapy, and she will make me smile even when I've got steam coming out of my ears. Now Chillgirl is not always totally without fault. I sometimes can watch the gears moving behind those eyes and she's fully aware of how to passively-aggressively ef her sister up. And when karma works its magic, she gets her back. Oh yeah she does.



This is not to say these two little girls don't love each other. They usually play happily together and watch out for each other at school. I've walked into the Y and caught them laughing together and I've listened in the house and heard them playing "teacher/student" or "store clerk/customer". Its hilarious when they role-play. I think about growing up with a sister and she was definitely my target when I wasn't in the mood to be nice to anyone, so I keep telling myself this is all normal growing pains. This is the last week they will be at the same school at the same time together. Ever. I'm sad about that, so why shouldn't they be?

These being my biggest concerns in life, I look back on this buh-buh-blog and realize I have so much. I am in control of my own happiness now.

I now know why I started blogging in the first place.

Clarity.

Lessons in Humility: "So It Goes"...

Firstly, I want to thank the guru of love who came up with the splendid idea that single people should go online and post pictures of themselves, write about themselves, and basically only represent their absolute best, yet probably untrue selves to show the world. Put on display for others to view if they are looking for someone of the same age, or proximity, or "he likes felines too/he's a middle child too" (really?).

I do see the value in this form of what I'm loosely calling "dating". I have already met some nice guys. I would not have the opportunity to know so much information about a man I might meet in a bar, or at one of the kids' ball games, or in passing during my day. I cand reply or delete at will. That I get. Unfortunately now I have the eerie feeling that everywhere I go, there are men from Match.com around me, and I'm paranoid they are looking me with quizical looks on their faces which could mean "where have I seen you before?" and me doing the same. It's really an odd sensation that surprises me I'm out in public these days.

Daily on my email I am confronted by the never-marrieds, the divorcees, and the widowers who are supposedly my matches. Some are only 86% my match...WTF is that, you ask? The guy will be "athlete and toned", but he'll be agnostic. Or he'll love dogs, but never wanted kids. Uh, ok..hello, Match? Have you even LOOKED at my profile when you sent me this prize of a man? I have two kids. Count 'em, two. So if this freak doesn't want kids, then I'm going to venture a guess that he doesn't want me. The other bathos bit of knowledge is that MY profile is being sent to THEM as a possible match. I cringe to think of them looking and answering Match's question "Does she interest you? YES/MAYBE/NO" and then them going, "eh..." and moving on to the next female 30-45 on their list.

I've had six weeks of feeling like a piece of candy, stepping out of the limo, to meet my next prince, or frog as the case may be. The four guys I've actually met have probably been good catches/matches for some woman out there, but I'm not sure Match got it right for me. These guys emailed me, based on what they saw on my profile and I answered them if I liked what I saw on theirs.

Bachelor #1: Decided to talk to him because he ran and cycled and did triathlons, and because I needed to get off my ass and meet someone finally. He was 50 years old but I didn't want to rule him out, so I gave it a shot because I knew I'd have plenty to talk about with him. We had a nice lunch but when he mentioned he had a granddaughter a year older than my youngest, I was pretty much out.

Bachelor #2: This guy was my age, divorced with kids close to my kids' age. Good job and liked things I liked. I met him for coffee and it went well but then after that, nothing much more. It was a bit dry from the start, and I hoped we'd talk more but he only emailed and texted and it never got off the ground so I stopped answering him. He'll be good for someone a lot less chatty than me.

Bachelor #3: He was a lesson in what NOT to do. He emailed and I replied and we already were making each other laugh by then. He called and we talked for 3 nights before we met and it was plain ole fun. We met at lunch and the great repoire continued. He asked if he could kiss me when I was leaving and I told him no. Then I got in the car and he leaned over and kissed me anyway. More calls and opening up about our exes and kids and families. It even worked out for him meeting me out at a live-band event with our kids there, and all went well. He kept saying how great I was, and we talked of a Friday night date the next weekend when we were both kidless. But then as that work week began he seemed a bit stressed about work and issues with his ex and daughter, and less talkative and then he said I wasn't talkative but I didn't think I was acting any different than the week before. I had made the last call on that Tuesday to him during the day to chat as we'd done the few days before. I was so stupid to ask what we might do that Friday night, and he said he hadn't even thought about it yet. But we ended the call in what I thought was good spirits, but he didn't call again that night or the next day or the next. I wasn't calling him again so I wouldn't appear stalkerish. I later thought about our last conversation and me asking about Friday on a Tuesday--that DID seem geeky and a bit desperate. Ugh. Rookie mistake.

Friday came and my BFF Cora and I already hashed out that this guy was a jerk and not considerate enough to check in with me after 3 days of no talking to either cancel the date or confirm it. I still had hope because he had been such a fun guy and I thought we had something starting. But noon came and went and then I began to think, well this is just RUDE. At 4:30pm, he calls. Starts right in with what a shitty week he's had and that he wouldn't be good company and he just needs to stay in tonight. No big surprise for me, but how do I handle it? Act shocked and/or pissed, or cool and aloof? I chose cool and aloof. Told him jokingly not to blame me for his female bosses irrationality and his ex-wife's bitchiness. That I'd been "nothing but nice"...ha...ha...ha...<<<< this was said jokingly but is typed sarcastically, as in, WTF, you are in a bad mood so you prefer to go wallow in it over going out with a cool chick (that'd be me) and having fun and forgetting your troubles? He said we'd have to "try again", and I said alright I'll talk to you later VERY non-chalantly. But in my head I was saying, Hey dude, go EF Yourself....that's what I wanted to say, sure, but nah...HE AIN'T WORTH IT. Girls! Did you hear me on this one? NO GUY is worth allowing them to pull this crap, especially when you are in the "getting to know you so you better fake the nice guy crap to me for as long as you can" phase.

Too many other profiles to scan...

Bachelor #4: So far-so good with this guy. Experienced as I am now, after 3 other whole meet-n-greets, he's doing everything right so far. No, its not fireworks and sex-talk quite yet, but he's interesting, likes skiing and cycling (BONUS!), is unattached from his ex by 6 years, and has a child who he puts first. We emailed quite a bit before talking on the phone, where not overly too much was shared, but a date for coffee was agreed upon. An email the day before the coffee-date was sent by him to check in with me and confirm the coffee-date, and the coffee-date happened as advertised. That went well, an hour, not too long, and we left each other with only a hug. I worried that couldve been it but by the time I checked my email a few hours later, he'd written a "Follow-up" letter to say thanks for meeting him and hopes to get together soon.

Yay Mr. Nice Guy...you're doing great!