YOU DON'T COUNT

My phone rang yesterday around 2:50pm. My oldest son was on the other end of the line. I was finishing up some errands and he had just arrived home from school. He recounted a story to me about a visit he had with the neighbor when he got home from school. He had walked over to his home as he saw him shoveling the six inches of snow that fell and thought he may be able to help him. The neighbor declined the assistance as he was a few scoops away from being done, but engaged in some conversation with him. As a mother I felt proud that my son had been so thoughtful as to offer his assistance. When he was done telling me about their conversation, I said, "You know... there is this widow that actually lives at the same address you do. Perhaps you should consider giving her a hand. I know her driveway needs to be shoveled." There was a pause. "What? No. You don't count."

"What do you mean I don't count?"

"You can't keep calling yourself a widow."

"Why, he is still dead. I AM still a widow."

"No...."

"Yes. And the widow would really like her driveway shoveled."

ATTENTION LADIES

As the title indicates, this post is for the ladies only. So, if you are of the male variety... move on. I guarantee you DO NOT want to hear what I have to write here. But, I find the message very important... so I am drawn to writing this. For those of the male variety out there who are curious what exactly the message is, let me just start with that, then you can turn away... and not read any further. Lesson: Take a day to take care of you... you will thank yourself.

Enjoying my extra time to take care of life, my girlfriend and I left after putting my kids on the bus and made the two hour drive to attend the temple this morning. We made a day of it and stopped half-way home for lunch and some shopping. My girlfriend indicated that while we were shopping she needed to stop at a certain specialty shop to look for certain undergarments. I thought that would be fine and knew where this particular store (let's just call it VS, for somewhat obvious reasons) was located in the mall. So, after lunch we headed over there and I commented to her, that perhaps I should have them measure me while we are there, as I was somewhat suspicious that I was not wearing the correct size of undergarment (let's just refer to this as a 'b' for simplification). With the weight that I had gained I had picked up some new b's over the years - in a larger size than I had once worn - and for years assumed it was correct. For some reason in the last week-and-a-half when I have not been in such a rush dressing in the morning, I began to wonder if I was perhaps wrong??

We made our way to VS and my girlfriend inquired on the location of specific b's and then we headed for the dressing room. Once there I asked the associate working if she would mind measuring me... just for my curious sake. I was right... I had been wearing a size too small for all these years. I hopped in a dressing room and was pleased with the results of the larger sized undergarment. I looked fabulous. I tried on a different style... I still looked fabulous. Who knew such a simple thing could make such a difference. I debated. If I loose weight I won't need the larger size. But, in the meantime I could look fabulous.... I decided to hit the clearance rack and look fabulous without spending a fortune.

I have to say, I do look fantastic. I keep checking myself out in the mirror. I can't believe I have gone all these years not looking as great as I could have! In fact I may not need to lose as much weight as I thought I did... I somehow look slimmer with things all in line. So, ladies... do yourself a favor... get measured and get fabulous.

MAKING A SPECTACLE OF MYSELF

I mentioned a couple days ago that watching me.... is painful. At least when I am functioning in life on my "own". When the Lord is not using me, and therefore not making me better so I am usable... it is truly a painful experience. I have come to find that if there is a way to draw attention to myself in a negative way, I seek after these things. Not intentionally, mind you. For instance, my last day of work I was walking up the stairs from the lobby and I tripped on the step and fell on my face. It made quite the racket and the receptionist jumped. But, when she turned and saw that it was me, she just shook her head. That is a move she has seen too many times before from me. There was another associate in the lobby who was startled, but relaxed once I rolled over onto my back laughing at myself. I felt it appropriate that I would go out that way. I have made that move in front of numerous visitors who were patiently waiting in the lobby over the years.

I have a new way of drawing attention to myself these days. A couple days before Christmas I had returned with the children from Christmas shopping. My oldest, with an agenda I am sure, announced that he would be happy to clean out the car. I was grateful as we had accumulated quite the amount of garbage in there. I called a friend to pick me up and went to his home to wrap gifts. Christmas Eve we were going to dinner with friends and as we got ready to run some last minute errands before heading out of town, I realized I could not find the keys. I questioned my oldest regarding where the keys were. A blank look spread across his face and despite the hours spent that day, Christmas day, the day after Christmas, the week after Christmas... we never found the keys. So, celebrating my free time to take care of such inconveniences, I spent unemployed day two having the car towed about 45 minutes away to our closest Subaru dealership. Apparently, my car is full of security features, one of which is a feature within the key that requires having the car in a Subaru shop in order to make a copy (or a key from scratch).I didn't spend the extra $130 on the little push button thing to lock / unlock my car.. perhaps that indulgence will be for when I am employed again.

Again celebrating my new found time, I left the dealership with my new key and headed for Sam's Club. I manually (OK - by manually, I mean I pushed the button from in the car since I don't have a little remote any longer) locked the door and headed in to do some shopping. When I came out I put the key in the lock and unlocked the car. Upon doing so my car alarm went off. HONK..HONK..HONK..HONK..HONK.. I quickly got in the car and started it - which luckily turned the alarm off. After one more errand with the same results I called the dealership wondering what I was doing wrong. Nothing. Apparently that is just one more security device the vehicle has. For as long as I put off spending $130 on a remote... I won't be able to avoid making a spectacle of myself every time I get in the car.

I have gotten used to it now. But, I just shake my head in awe. It is so me. So painful to watch me trying to function in life. Sometimes I think Chris must get a kick out of watching my insanity!

REALLY?

I just had a weekend to myself. Kinda. Well, more to myself than I have had in my entire life I believe. It was weird... but so nice. I had so many thoughts and so much to blog... but my lack of internet access was a bit of a hold up. It was a milestone trip for me in more ways than one... stay tuned.. I'll share.

I returned home and it was great to see my kids. I get so used to them being around, I didn't know what to do with myself solo!! My daughter informed me that I needed to get water. Oops... I never did that. I had gotten a couple jugs - but they didn't last while I was gone. I immediately inquired how Kyle was. She informed me that she had refilled one of the jugs with tap water - and so Kyle didn't know. Brilliant. I gave her a high five for that quick thinking.

Unfortunately, I didn't think to check and see if we still had a bottle filled. We didn't. Kyle didn't eat breakfast this morning. He sat playing with his oatmeal stating it was too hard to eat when he was so thirsty! really? Dude!!! Drink the tap water! It is OK!!!

INVINCIBLE SUMMER

Sometimes when you need a good thought for the day, may I suggest you pull out the chocolate? There are so many reasons for pulling out the chocolate - such as the advantage of increasing your serotonin levels.

But, sometimes you need the mental wellness that comes with it. It may take several attempts to find the perfect thought... just keep eating until you open the perfect one. I like this thought for today:

In life's winter, find your invincible summer.-Linda, New York, NY (Dove Chocolate)

I HAVE CREATED A MONSTER

I have written before about my 'changes' that I made after Chris' death. My youngest was five when all these changes took place. They have become normal and necessary parts of his life. Culligan water is a staple. He panics when we run out. We are out right now, and hopefully I will remember over lunch hour tomorrow to stop and pick some up. My son is very thirsty tonight. I have seen him in the kitchen repeatedly looking for water. No matter how many times he looks... we still only have the water that comes out of the faucet. It is past bedtime. I am actually finding a few minutes to relax this evening. I heard him in the kitchen grumbling about how thirsty he is but that there is no water. I assured him that he could drink the water from the faucet... he will be OK. A couple minutes later I heard the microwave running and heard him getting ice. I asked what he was up to and he revealed that he had a great plan! He was heating the water in the microwave to kill all the germs. Then he would put it on ice (I didn't have the heart to tell him the ice is made from water from the faucet). He even was planning to do some extra so he could have water in the morning! I commended him for his fantastic plan. He quietly asked that I would please get water tomorrow so he had something to drink. I'll try. I promise I'll try. In the meantime, thankfully he has some ingenuity.

SHAGGY

2009... a blind mouse

Like I never used dressed up for Halloween as an adult. But, like this is my like third year. Like, why the change? Like, I don't know. Like, perhaps it is just like finding new ways to have fun.

IF I WERE TO BE ARRESTED...

If I were to be arrested, what would happen to my kids? Who would take care of them? This is just one of many questions you have as a widow. Where there is no back-up (spouse or ex-spouse) around to help out… what happens, especially when I don’t even live close to my family.

I am sure the ‘right’ answer here is that I should not get arrested, so I should not have to worry about it… but sometimes… that is not as easy as it sounds.

About three years before Chris passed I was driving along a highway in a small neighboring town. I was driving very slowly looking for a particular house number. After driving up and down through the town a couple of times, I ended up with a police officer behind me. I was certain he was going to ticket me for my slow speeds. Imagine my surprise when he instead accused me of being over the speed by ten miles / hr. Was he kidding? He had to have the wrong white van. But – none the less a ticket was written. After getting the ticket I happened to find the house I was looking for, finished my business and headed home. I told Chris about the ticket when I got back home. He guessed accurately that the person who wrote my ticket would be the brother to the husband of the lady whose house I was just at (did you follow that?). When I discovered he was right – I was sure to mention the ticket next time I saw my friend. She said she would talk to her brother-in-law regarding the ticket. I was told to re-schedule my court date. I requested the re-schedule and waited. I heard nothing. I waited. Nothing. I called and asked if a new date had been set. They told me it would be coming in the mail. Nothing. I called again. They told me the same thing. Nothing. I finally gave up. I don’t know how these things work… so I assumed my friend’s brother-in-law had seen the error of his ways and dropped the ticket.

Fast forward three years. My husband has passed. I received a letter in the mail stating that my license will be suspended in 30 days due to failure to appear in court. That is it. No info on how to contact the court, appear in court. Nothing! I call the court office. I leave a message. No one returns my call. I call again and again. No response. I call the town’s ‘emergency’ number. I leave a message. Finally, I get a call back. Court is on Thursday. I ask where. They give me an address. I show up at the address on the day at the time I was told. No one is there. My cell phone is dying. I start making phone calls to any person I know that knows anything about the town I am in, hoping someone can help. I finally reach someone who is able to tell me I am in the wrong location. They have built a newer building outside of town. I arrive before court is over and I am the last one called up.

The judge has no mercy. He doesn’t care about my story. If I want my case to be heard, I will need to reschedule. If I reschedule I will have my license suspended in the meantime and with that comes not only the loss of a legal right to drive (hello… single mom with kids here), but I will have to pay additional fines to get it reinstated. With all the frustration of the situation, I inquired if he could tell me what happened three years prior that caused me to not be notified of when my court date was. He looked at the paperwork he had and said it appeared the notice was returned. I asked what address it was mailed to. He told me. Their clerk had sent it to the CORRECT street address in the WRONG town. Well, it seems the judge’s wife is the clerk and he didn’t want to hear anything about her being wrong. And since the cop that issued the ticket was his buddy… a buddy that would never issue a ticket unless it was deserved, I was out of luck. I pulled out a check book and asked how much he would like to take from the widow and the fatherless. I wrote the check. He gave me a receipt. I left.

Fast forward three weeks later. I am driving to see Chris’ cousin. I am on a road I have never been on before. It is a country road by appearance, no lines on the road – just trees around. I am driving about 50mph. I look in my rear view mirror… a cop. I pull over. He informs me the speed limit is 40mph. He goes to issue me a ticket, only to discover that my license has been suspended. They are taking me in! I have the three kids in the car with me. He doesn’t care what my story is either. He calls for back-up so they can tow my vehicle. I plead with him to call the judge. I paid the fine, and I am certain I made a big enough scene that the judge will remember me. I should not have my license suspended (unless a certain clerk is again unable to perform the duties of HER JOB!!). I frantically search my purse for the receipt the judge handed me. I can’t find it. I am overwhelmed with emotion. Fear. Frustration. Anger. The cop requests us to get in the back of his vehicle. The kids are crying. My youngest who is playing his Nintendo DS asks through his sobs if he can take it with him. I tell him of course. Take everything you want out of the car with you. The kids start walking towards the police car while I am one by one helping them gather their stuff. I glance behind me to see my youngest sobbing and staggering with tears down the middle of the road. I chastise the ‘arresting officer’ that the least he can do, if he is going to take me in, is assist so that my son doesn’t get hit by a car in the process. He jumped in to help. We squeeze into the back of the car. They kids comment that there are not seat belts. I comment loud enough for the cop to hear that they aren’t concerned about us or our safety. OBVIOUSLY. We sit in the back of the car waiting for back-up to arrive so they can stay with my vehicle until it is towed (ain’t that nice of ‘em). My mind is spinning, wondering what I am supposed to do. I say a prayer. I search my purse one more time. I had it. I knew I had it. I never clean out my purse. The receipt HAD to be in there. It was!! I found it!! It was probably the tenth time I looked – but I found it!!! I started screaming for joy. I believe the officer was relieved as well. We were released. I left with just a speeding ticket, a very strong distaste for ‘justice’, and a realization that getting arrested is not easy when you are a single mom!

SPRUCE UP

I have mentioned before that when life isn't fun, ya have to have fun accessories. Perhaps life has been fun, or I have been too busy to think about it - 'cause I haven't bought any new accessories. But, my friends did convince me that I needed to pay attention to my look and freshen it up some. So - that was my evening... color, trim, and eyebrows. I am certain it was worth the $100 (or so I keep telling myself). But really... it took WAY too long. How am I supposed to keep this up? How am I supposed to have the time for such indulgences?

Before

Pick a color... hmmmmm..

getting started

In process

Eyebrows too!

Ta-Da!

TIME, TIME, TIME

Is it possible that I would ever NOT be a single parent again... during the years the hands-on daily parenting exists?

Don't read that line as if I write it with some sort of longing or loneliness. That is not the case. I am honestly just curious. Because in order to re-marry... I would have to date. And I have learned that dating takes TIME, something a single parent has very little of. And beyond dating, if one were to look to build a relationship that could lead to marriage... well that takes even more TIME. What single parent has TIME? And when you have time, is dating the way you want to spend it? There is so much to do in such a little amount of time.

YES, I AM BETTER

Parent Teacher Conference was tonight. The news... sadly, was not so different than what past years has been. It is usually a very draining evening that has me in tears by the end - because I feel overwhelmed and unsure of how to make things better.

As I was headed out this evening, I stopped by the Guidance Counselor's office to discuss an issue. He is very familiar with my situation, as he has changed positions in the school and as a result has been the guidance counselor to one of my kids for about four years. He is very familiar with the oldest and all the history that goes with it. He asked how my evening was, to which I reminded him that I had just finished parent-teacher conference... and the news... was much like news I would have received a couple years ago. I thought we were going to be past this. BUT, I am NOT crying! The Counselor smiled, and acknowledged that at the very least I was handling it all better.

The child may not be better, but I am better.

And, on a positive note... said Counselor has offered the kill the kid for me~! (darn, there we go again with that killing kids thing that is going to get me in trouble!)

DEFINE GET SOME EXERCISE?

This is what I fondly refer to as "Conference Weekend". It actually kicked off last weekend with a Broadcast from Salt Lake for the women - and wrapped up today after eight hours this weekend of being able to hear from the Prophet and Apostles. I enjoy it - but it can also be a challenge to keep the children engaged. In between the last two sessions of conference today - the kids were crowded around the laptop watching videos of babies laughing. I cringed, because I thought this was the worst way to spend their time - when they would be sitting for another two hours after just a little longer. I sent them outside. Told them to run around the block and get some exercise. I picked up my video camera this afternoon to show my friend something on it... and found this. I guess they didn't go around the block. And sadly, I was even HOME when this took place.

KILL THE KID OR KISS THE KID?

I know kill sounds harsh. I am not sure where that phrase came from - but I can say it just fine. Writing it... now I feel like a bad person for even thinking I am going to kill my child (not that I actually thought that - just thought / said the phrase). Well, except for the time that my husband and I considered the advantages and disadvantages to killing our seven year old before he reached an age of accountability. We thought we could sacrifice our salvation for his... you know. It was not looking good when he was seven, what would the rest of his life bring?

In all seriousness, now having written that, I feel as if it could be used against me in some court of law. Like some freak accident will happen, and the words of my blog saying I thought about killing my child will be spread all over national TV. So, let me just clarify... there is not a piece of me that would hurt my child in any way... but sometimes... oh sometimes, I just don't know what to do with these kids.

My youngest is the culprit lately. Crabby, crabby, crabby. And I can not figure out why. Possible reasons:

1. His dad's birthday - makes us all a little on edge
2. He is tired because he is up listening to his ipod into the night instead of sleeping.
3. School has been in for a few weeks now, and he is still adjusting to the early mornings.
4. Football season is getting old and starting to wear on him.
5. He is right, I am the worst mother ever.
6. I am dating someone... (I will fill you all in one of these days) and for the first time in years, he is having to share me like never before
7. He is getting closer to those teenage years, and is turning ornery early
8. He is spoiled rotten

So, depending which of these reasons are correct, should determine my response. Does he need hugs and kisses and time with mom? Or, does he need some quiet time in his bedroom and doing extra chores?

Sometimes, I get sick of being the only parent and having to figure this out on my own.

ANYONE HAVE TIME TO READ A BOOK FOR ME AND PROVIDE ME WITH A CLIFF NOTES VERSION?

On March 10, I posted with a reference to a book I was reading.

I was on my way to the doctor office last week with my son and I grabbed the book to bring with me, figuring there would be some spare time while I was waiting.

My son looked at my book and inquired why I was bringing it. I explained I was hoping to get a chance to read a little. With a very puzzled face, my eleven year old questioned the fact that I was STILL reading that book. I informed him, that yes, in fact I was still in the process of reading it - I don't get much time to read for enjoyment. He responded by grabbing the book, flipping to the last page, looking at me in complete disbelief and informed me it was only 133 pages. He could read that in an hour!

I grabbed the book back from him, and made no comment. Yes, it is pathetic... Six months later and I am not done with the book.

EVER BEEN TO A CEMETARY?

Visiting a cemetery was a new experience for my niece and four nephews who were recently in town.

The youngest in the clan, Zach, age 4, had a couple priceless comments:

Zach recognized the crosses on the stones as the cross he sees on the St. Luke's hospital near their home. He went down the rows saying solemnly as he pointed to each cross "Died from the hospital...died from the hospital" It was cute how after a while he then stopped and said, "Hey, do you know who died ON a cross? Jesus!"

When he saw a stone ...with an etching of Jesus he said, "Oh, and that's where they buried Jesus."

VROOOOOMMMMM

I know this is not the best photo... but if you look at the yellow part, you will see there is a part that has a larger seam. There is a reason for that.

I pulled out a saw for the first time about a year after Chris passed. This is my favorite one. I know I don't represent women well when I say I don't know what kind of saw it is. I usually call it the "vroom" saw. Now, I don't just call it vroom... I say vroom at the same time I pull my hand from high to low as if showing how to work the saw.

I like it. I can cut stuff that I need. I hope I never have to change the blade, because I have no idea how to do that.

But, the first few times I used it, I expanded the seam in the yellow plastic. I don't know how that happened, but I am certain Chris rolled over in his grave when it did.

DO I STINK?

My lawn mower broke about a month ago. I decided to forget it and just hire a service to take care of my lawn.

I pay my bills.

I am nice.

It's a stinky economy... don't people want to make money?

I told him how often to come.

Did I mention I am nice?

And I pay them.... on time?

Do I stink?

Why won't they come mow my lawn?

And what will I do about it? Do I need to fire the poor man, and find a new one. If only I wasn't a widowed single mom who is working lots of hours these days... maybe then I would have time to fire people and find new ones.

Instead... My grass is starting to look like I feel.

HE SAID the comments...

I Am Happy Today Because She Accepts My Dating: Part 3

July 31st, 2007

Sorry, folks…busy, busy weekend (and Monday): Play practices, outings with the girls, church, multiple after-hours incidents at work, incessant calls from press representatives wanting interviews about my date. (“Wake Up, Bangalore!” wouldn’t take no for an answer.) The comments have been piling up, so I thought I’d take my lunch hour and respond to a few of them here.


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Kate: Joy is me when I knowledge each gifts of Jobber’s Odd Lot live in forever with Happy DElight, so the snow is in the gentle flowerss of the cherry tree about the blossom not dead freezing it.

For those of you who are new here, Kate is referring to the origin of the title of these entries.


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Kate: Grettir, it is time to admit once and for all that Keira Knightley is NOT in your skill set — SORRY — I meant age set (and that is NOT an insult). Legal or not… Jennifer Aniston? She is SOOO not Kate Beckinsale. Or Claire Forlani.

For those of you who are new here, “Kate” is really Jessica Biel, who can’t quite accept the fact that it’s over between us!

Move on, “Kate.” Move on…


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apaperbackwriter: Okay, I am now reading this soap opera. But the characters are unbelievable. I mean, really — an eligible male remaining single in UTAH (hello, people — marriage capital of the world!) for 4 years?! No, no, no. You must give your audience a reason. He’s an ex-convict? He’s missing half his face? Or — dare we suggest such an abberation — he’s a democrat?

Actually, I think being a facially-challenged Democratic ex-convict would make things easier. (And there’s the added benefit of being able to claim the “single male facially-challenged Democratic ex-convict” exemption on my Utah state taxes.)


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brent: I will note with some impatience that it is tomorrow now…

Please keep in mind that all references to time on this site are based on SPT (Single Parent Time). In SPT, the day doesn’t begin until the kids are bathed and in bed and the first load of laundry is in the washing machine (roughly 23:00 MDT).

So, as long as I finish it by 06:30 MDT the following morning, it still counts as “today” in SPT.


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chronicler: Oh to be a fly on the wall at Chilis! Well, there were probably of few of them, but they don’t or won’t talk.

Who needs flies when you have sisters with bugs? From what I can tell, Kim’s four sisters arrived at Chili’s an hour before we did, wired our booth for sound, and were staked out in a van in the parking lot by the time we arrived. Meanwhile, my two younger sisters, having chloroformed two members of the kitchen staff, embedded wireless microphones in the guacamole before they sent our plates out.

Fortunately for us, the excessive amount of surveillance equipment in the room created so much RF interference that nobody was able to pick up a word we said.


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Christine: Chili’s is her favorite? You both need to get out more.

I agree. Chili’s is so bourgeois. I would have preferred Chuck E. Cheese, but I usually save the ball pit for the second date.


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Deborah Gamble: Kim is “hysterically funny”? We laugh at her jokes because we are family and it is the polite thing to do. Kimmy? Funny? Who knew?

Well, not funny ha ha. For instance, I thought her retelling of the classic “A Libertarian, a supermodel, and a marmoset walk into a bar…” was pedestrian, at best.

I was referring more to her delightfully droll take on life, which is both straightforward and oblique, modernist and postmodern, prosaic and piquant. Her wry observations on the day-to-day struggles of the single parent household had me in stitches for most of the afternoon. And when she started doing her spot-on impersonation of former German Chancellor Helmut Kohl trying to put his kids to bed, I almost wet myself.

I’m just saying, maybe it’s the audience…


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Kim: It is quite evident we have scared this poor man. He must be feeling stalked to have said the things he said.

That’s not true. I would have said the things I said even if Ms. Gamble hadn’t been peering over my shoulder as I typed. As I mentioned to you earlier, I’m sure there were many people who were disappointed with my description of the events, but I think the level of expectation had been set so high that I could have written Pride and Prejudice and people still would have complained that it lacked romantic tension.


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Jack: And? Once again, still not saying much.

I was thinking of your “So many words typed and so little said” slogan. I wanted to see if the inverse was also true: “So few words typed and so much said.”


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chronicler: You must be the most agreeable guy on the planet and to think someone threw you back is beyond me.

Don’t kid yourself, I’m a crotchety old coot. As for someone “throwing me back,” I’m not sure I like these fish metaphors. People might jump to unflattering conclusions about my kissing.


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ames: Thank you, Kim, for making Grettir’s first date in a LOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGG time a positive experience. We now have ammunition when trying to convince him that “getting out more” might just be a positive thing.

If by “getting out more” you mean “every four years,” then I agree. It’s like the Olympics: The subject of worldwide anticipation, heavily covered in the press, and everyone always feels a little let down by the host country’s performance.

HE SAID part 2

I Am Happy Today Because She Accepts My Dating: Part 2

July 28th, 2007

The Details (or Lack Thereof)
As I rule, I do not divulge details of my love life on this site…since, as a rule, you cannot divulge details of something that doesn’t exist. But even if I had a love life, I still would not, as a rule, divulge details of said love life on this site. I am, if nothing else, a man of discretion.

In this case, however, discretion has nothing to do with it. In fact, the young lady in question has specifically requested that I divulge the details of the date. There’s just one problem: I can’t remember the details. Honestly, the whole thing was a blur.

So, for what it’s worth (which ain’t much), here’s the general sequence of events, though I’d never swear to any of it in a court of law.

The Date
So, there I was at Chili’s at 12:55pm.

Chili’s Greeter: How many in your party, sir?

Me: WHAT!?!

Chili’s Greeter: I’m sorry, sir. Did I startle you?

Me: NO! I’M FINE! I’M JUST A LITTLE NERVOUS, THAT’S ALL!

Chili’s Greeter: How many in your party, sir?

Me: TWO! THERE WILL BE TWO IN MY PARTY! ME AND SOMEONE ELSE! THAT MAKES TWO!

Chili’s Greeter: Is the other member of your party already here?

Me: I DON’T THINK SO! IT’S A GIRL! I’M SUPPOSED TO MEET A GIRL HERE AT ONE O’CLOCK!

Chili’s Greeter: Do you know what she looks like?

Me: SHE’S CUTE! AND SHE’S A GIRL! SHE’S A CUTE GIRL!

Chili’s Greeter: Well, would you like to wait for her in the bar?

Me: NO, THANK YOU! I THINK I’LL JUST SIT HERE BY THE DOOR AND LOOK STARTLED EVERY TIME SOMEONE COMES IN!

Chili’s Greeter: Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.

Me: THANK YOU! DID I MENTION SHE WAS A GIRL?

I was as stiff as a board. In fact, when she walked through the door (at one o’clock, on the dot) I could swear I made creaking noises as I stood up and walked over to say, “Hello.”

We took our seats and I stared blankly at the menu while I tried to devise something to say that wouldn’t sound stilted. I think it came out:

I am most pleased that with you I am undertaking this excursion. I have hopes that it will bring you pleasure also?

Since Chili’s is her favorite restaurant, I deferred to her superior knowledge of the menu. So when she raved about the Southwestern Eggrolls, we ordered some as an appetizer.

Here’s the description of the Southwestern Eggrolls:


Chili’s Southwestern Eggrolls
Soutwestern Eggrolls
Smoked chicken, black beans, corn, jalapeno Jack cheese, red peppers and spinach wrapped inside a crispy flour tortilla. We serve it with our avocado-ranch dipping sauce.

Sounds innocent enough, doesn’t it? But a more accurate description would be:


Chili’s Southwestern Eggrolls
Soutwestern Spinach Eggrolls
Spinach, smoked chicken, spinach, black beans, spinach, corn, spinach, jalapeno Jack cheese, spinach, red peppers and spinach wrapped inside a crispy flour tortilla. We serve it with our avocado-ranch dipping sauce.

Warning: May contain spinach.

Allergen Warning: Manufactured in a facility that also processes spinach.

Each eggroll had thousands…thousands, I tell you…of small shards of cooked spinach and on the very first bite I could feel one of the spinach shards adhere to my front teeth. So, for the next ten or fifteen minutes I had to carry on a conversation while simultaneously trying to dislodge the spinach in the least conspicuous way possible.

I think my side went something like this:

Can you tell me additional information? That is of great interest to me! What an occurrence! I am incredulous! Mmm, hmmm. Mmm, hmmm. Do continue the tale! I am intent to hear the rest!

For the first half hour she probably felt like she was on a date with someone with Tourette’s who shouts out random entries from German-English phrase books while obsessive-compulsively touching his front teeth every 1.7 seconds.

But after that first miserable (for her) half hour, I was finally able to settle down to the point that I could at least approximate normalcy, and the whole afternoon just sort of opened up.

It was, quite simply, the best first date imaginable, but it was entirely thanks to her. She was absolutely charming, infinitely patient, hysterically funny, amazingly insightful, endearingly self-deprecating, extremely thoughtful…you name the superlative and I’d second it.

As for the claim that she talked “way too much,” nothing could be further from the truth. She talked exactly the right amount, which sometimes meant filling in enormous gaps in the conversation left by her date who couldn’t construct a meaningful sentence to save his life.

Besides, the more she talked, the more I could just sit there and stare at her…which, quite frankly, is something I would like to have done for the rest of the day.

To be continued...

HE SAID

As much as I would like to give credit to the one who wrote these words.... I fear his technical apptitude may allow him to determine that I posted a link to his blog from mine... and I would greatly fear he would presume I have never recovered from our encounter three years ago... On the contrary. I certainly have... but this is too funny not to share. So... Here is Grettir's side.

I Am Happy Today Because She Accepts My Dating: Part 1
July 26th, 2007
All right! All right, already! Yes, it’s true. I went on a date. Yes, a date. Well, it was really just lunch…and we met at the restaurant…and she was there under duress. But it was lunch…with an unmarried female…in public. That counts, doesn’t it? Is everyone happy now? Can we all move on?



No, apparently we cannot. At least not until after the debriefing. But we got home late again tonight, so I’ll warn you right now that I’m not going to have time to finish this tonight. You’ll have to content yourselves with just the events leading up to the date for now.

The Background
Some people may find this hard to believe…OK, people who don’t know me may find this hard to believe, but even though I have been divorced for almost four years now, I have not been on a single date in that time. There are many reasons for this…none of which I’ll go into right now…but suffice it to say that I have been waiting for the right combination of opportunity, motivation, and energy before I made my move.

Now, I know people are going to ask what I mean by “the right combination of opportunity, motivation, and energy,” so let me give you some examples of situations that might have accelerated the dating process:

1.Jennifer Anniston moving into the ward.

2.Finding accommodations in an apartment complex that also serves as temporary housing for stewardesses.

3.Keira Knightley finally returning my calls.

4.Global nuclear annihilation.

I am as shocked as anyone that none of these very plausible scenarios panned out. (I had my money on #3.) But if fate doesn’t intervene, what can you do?

The Setup
Well, for one thing, you can get set up on blind dates by well-meaning friends. But I learned very early on that if you say “no” to one blind date, you have to say “no” to them all. Otherwise, you end up with this…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: I heard that Blind Date Facilitator #2 is trying to line you up with someone.

Me: Yes, she is, but…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: But when I tried to line you up with , you said “no.”

Me: Yes, but…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: Well, if you’re going to let Blind Date Facilitator #2 line you up with someone, then you have to let me line you up with .

Me: But I’m not letting…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: I can’t believe you’d go out with someone that Blind Date Facilitator #2 wants to line you up with, but you won’t go out with someone I want to line you up with.

Me: But I’m not…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: You know, I heard that Blind Date Facilitator #2 once lined someone up with an ex-convict. Is that who you want to go out with? Ex-convicts?

Me: No, of course not, but…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: Well, if you won’t let me line you up with , then you probably deserve to go out with ex-convicts!

Me: Now, wait just one minute here…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: You’re not good enough for anyway! I can’t believe I even considered lining you two up. You’re not worthy to kiss the ground walks on.

Me: I don’t think I’d want to…

Blind Date Facilitator #1: See if I ever try to line you up with someone again, you…you…EX-CONVICT DATER!

Then, the following day…

Blind Date Facilitator #2: I heard that Blind Date Facilitator #1 is trying to line you up with someone…

So, my answer is always, “No, thank you.” But this time, my friend Debbie (who, unsurprisingly, played a Jewish mother in last year’s production of Fiddler on the Roof) wouldn’t take “No, thank you,” for an answer. I don’t remember the exact course of our conversations last week, but they went something like this.

Monday
Debbie: I want to line you up with my sister-in-law. She’s flying in this week for a family reunion.

Me: No, thank you.

Tuesday
Debbie: She’s really cute.

Me: I’m sure she is. No, thank you.

Wednesday
Debbie: You can at least go out to lunch with her.

Me: No, thank you.

Thursday
Debbie: Why won’t you go out to lunch with my sister-in-law?

Me: Because, trust me, she has better things to do with her time than go on a date with me. No, thank you.

Friday
Debbie: You’re just being dumb. Lunch isn’t going to kill you.

Me: I’m not being dumb and I never said it would kill me. I just said, “No, thank you.”

Saturday
Debbie: Look, she’s only in town until next Wednesday, so if it turns out to be a lousy date, you never have to see her again. Will you at least think about it over the weekend?

Me: OK, OK! I’ll think about it.

Monday
Debbie: She’s really looking forward to your date tomorrow. She likes Chili’s. What time should I tell her you’re going to meet her there?

Me: But I didn’t say “yes!” I said I’d think about it!

Debbie: Well, it’s too late now. How about one o’clock?

Me: But…

Debbie: One o’clock it is!

So, there I was at Chili’s at 12:55pm.

And that’s where we will pick up the story tomorrow…