His English IS better in person.

Okay, I won't keep you all in suspense.

I was nervous as all heck, for whatever reason, but I sucked it up and headed off to "Barstucks" to meet Hot Mediterranean. (That would not have been my choice of venue, but I decided it wasn't worth haggling over.) He was sitting outside when I pulled up (it was a lovely day), and as I walked up, he smiled a big smile and said, "Oh my god, you are so beautiful!"

Well, can't complain about THAT.

We went inside to order. I asked for iced tea (I rarely drink coffee) and he followed suit. "You like iced tea?" Yes, I replied...I love it. I drink it all day. "Oh my god, me too. I love it." (You're going to hear this refrain a LOT.)

So, we sat and sipped our tea and made small talk. He IS easier to understand in person, thank goodness, though I'm not sure he always understood what I was saying. But that didn't keep him from saying "Oh my god, me too" a lot. Heh. For instance, at one point I mentioned that I was a vegetarian. "Oh my god, me too...I love the vegatoes." I'm pretty sure he didn't know the full connotation of "vegetarian" though, since later in the evening he offered me both chicken soup and a steak. But I'm jumping ahead.

Let's sum up what I discovered (or think I discovered--there's probably a pretty wide margin of error here): he's been in the country for about a year, though his brother has been here for years, his sister and nephew just moved here last week and are living with him in his one-bedroom apartment. He works as a cook in a restaurant, but doesn't really like it--he wants to start his own handyman business, which is what he did in Albuquerque, where he lived briefly, and presumably what he did in Lebanon. He doesn't have a car right now, so he rides the bus, and wants to move to a bigger apartment in Brookside (my old neighborhood), which is more pedestrian-friendly. He also likes beer ("oh my god, me too...I love beer"). He loves my dog ("oh my god, me..."), my cats ("omg, mt"), America in general and Tulsa in particular. He wants to make me tabouli soon. ("Oh my god, you love tabouli? I make for you. Tonight? You want?")

He's an enthusiastic guy, to be sure. He loves my hair, my boots, and the earrings I was wearing. He also loves...a general gesture in the direction of my body, with a repetition of "beautiful". Take that to mean whatever you like. And, oddly, though it reads a little sleazy, in person it came across kind of sweet.

And did I love his...general gesture in his direction? Well, he is a good-looking guy, but I have to say...he is apparently really photogenic. Good-looking in person, but not quite as hot as he came across in his pictures. Not that I'm accusing him of touching them up, or anything...he just photographs well, I think. He has a big smile, which helps...as does posing on a beautiful Mediterranean beach. Heh. He also doesn't really seem all that much younger than me, though he is, by a few years. I didn't have a "oh my god, I MUST HAVE HIM" reaction, but I definitely didn't want to run in the other direction, so...we're okay there, I think.

So, we finished up our tea, and decided to walk up the street a bit. We stopped in at a pool hall/bar and got a beer (Newcastle. I ordered first and he again said "the same."), which we drank outside on the sidewalk patio. We walked some more, then went back to my car. It was getting a bit chilly at that point.

I offered to give him a ride home, so he wouldn't have to mess with the bus, and he loved that idea, of course. I knew his sister and nephew were there, so it didn't seem particularly risky. Plus, he's not a really big guy, and I have brass knuckles, so...) I met his sister, Rima, and his 6-year-old nephew, Ali.

His sister was very friendly...she's been stuck in the apartment most of the week she's been here, and she's very bored. There's really nothing nearby to walk to, and "this apartment is not so nice." Hee. (It was a very typical off-white walls, tan carpeted, boxy south Tulsa apartment, to be sure. Not much furniture.) Her other brother had taken her to the library, and she enthusiastically showed me the books she checked out. She has a degree in Chemistry from a university in Beirut, hopes at some point to teach, and would like to get a second degree in Physics. She wanted to know if there was a demand for science teachers--well, certainly there is, but there might be quite a few certification hoops to jump through. I suggested she look into doing some private tutoring, and she liked that idea. She also wanted to know where she might acquire a kitten--in Beirut she worked with an organization that feeds homeless cats and tames kittens for adoption. My kind of girl! She asked how I would rate her English--I gave her an "A." She was very excited--turns out her older brother gave her a "C+", and her sister-in-law a "B." I said, "well, compared to your brother here..." and we all laughed.

Hot Mediterranean offered to make me something to eat, but when he began pulling things out of the cabinets/refrigerator, I realized he didn't quite understand "vegetarian." His sister did, however, and filled him in. "Oh!" I declined the food offers, we watched a little TV (he pressed the remote into my hand--guess he's not all that chauvinistic. Hee.) His sister proudly pointed out that he did all the cleaning and the cooking himself, and a couple of times chided him for not speaking English. "You need the practice." True dat.

I decided it was time to leave, which disappointed him, I know...but I wanted to stop at the grocery store and get home before the brewing thunderstorm hit. He walked me to my car, tried to get me to agree to "tabouli tomorrow night," but I made him settle for a "some time this week." As enthusiastic as he is about everything American, I can see him instantly deciding he's "in love" with an American girl, and...I'm not ready for that.

So, is there potential? Well, I don't know. He seems very sweet. He definitely liked me. But he also seems a bit...if I say "lacking in sophistication" do I come across as a pretentious snob? 'Cause I don't mean to. But he does seem a bit...simple in his tastes. If that makes sense. And not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just...not really ME. (You know...I like smart and complicated. Sometimes to my detriment, admittedly.) I am fully aware that my perceptions may be coming from his rudimentary English skills, though, and perhaps there's more to him than it seems at first glance, and certainly there are cultural differences to take into account, so...I'm not making any snap judgments. I promise. I do plan to see him again, and see how it goes.

There you have it. And that was certainly long story...long, wasn't it?

And edited to add: there was an email waiting in my inbox this morning, thanking me for the evening, so the boy's got some manners, it seems. That or his sister told him to. Hee.

Only in Oklahoma

Friday we had thundertorms. Saturday we had a blizzard, complete with thunder and lightning. (Well, Tulsa only got 6-8 inches of snow, with limited visibility, but the western part of the state had it much worse.) Sunday afternoon I was sitting outside on a patio, drinking wine and basking in the sun. (58 degrees.) Today should be in the 60s, and there's barely a trace left of all that snow. Just the remnants of a few pitifully melted snowpeople.

I'm used to wacky weather, but this? This is NUTS.

Tonight I am meeting Hot Mediterranean for coffee. A date arranged completely via email. He did try to call once, but I missed the call, and couldn't bring myself to return it. I am hoping that, in person, with the benefit of facial expressions and body language, that we will be able to at least communicate a little bit. I mean...I dated a man with severe aphasia for several months, surely I can at least get through coffee with this guy. Right? RIGHT?

Maybe there will at least be some good blog fodder. I'm doing it all for you, folks. You're welcome.

Hot Mediterranean?

This week has been kind of boring. Hence the lack of posts, I suppose. But it might be getting interesting! I'll explain.

A few days ago I broke my own rule and actually paid for a month of "catch.mom," lured in by the dangling of a "you have new email" message. I SWORE I would never do that again, but I did. And, of course, it was from a guy in Wisconsin whose profile was excellently written, but whose ensuing emails were, shall we say, NOT. When I expressed my indifference to long-distance relationships he insisted that he might be moving to Tulsa. When I asked him why he might be doing that, he disappeared. As I figured. Ah well, no harm, no foul, right? Well...$34.95 foul, but whatever. I left my profile as it was, but didn't do any searching of my own.

Then, a couple of days ago, I got another email. This one from a very good-looking guy who grew up "on the Mediterranean" not far from Greece, who's been in the U.S. for about a year. He's 7 years younger than me and likes to work out. He admitted that his English wasn't great yet, and that his brother helped him with his profile. I couldn't figure out why a good-looking much younger gym rat would be interested in having coffee with ME, but nevertheless, I said hello in return. He further revealed that he actually grew up in Lebanon, and responded with his phone number and personal email address if I would like to call.

(Side note: I completely understand why a Middle Eastern man might want to be somewhat vague about that in his profile, in these, the post-9/11 years. I'm sure there are many people who would write him off immediately for that, sadly. And it is true that Lebanon is on the Mediterranean, near Greece. It is also true that Tulsa has a sizable Lebanese community, that I have friends of Lebanese descent, and that I love falafel! Hee.)

Now, at this point, I remembered the saga of Sauntering Soul and her Hot Brazilian. She wasn't enthusiastic about their first meeting, either, but that turned out okay, so...I decided I would call. I was a bit nervous about the possible language barrier, and it took me a couple of days to get up my nerve, but last night I gave him a call.

Oh, my. To say English is his "second language" would be generous. He is very good at saying "ok--no problem," which he said a lot in response to my oft-repeated "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch..." I think we might be having coffee on Sunday afternoon. Maybe? No mention of where, though. To the best of my knowledge. Or exactly when. It's also quite possible that we'll be running away to join the circus tonight, or are we simply going to elope to Las Vegas on Monday? I HAVE NO IDEA. I am, however, pretty sure that he has to work tomorrow.

I had thought I would email him today, tactfully express my confusion as to our plans, and let him get his brother to help him respond. But I don't know. Maybe I'll just let things sit, and if he's truly motivated, he can find a way to communicate more clearly and get back in touch. What do you think? I'm sure you have opinions. Heh.

But there were no naps.

It was an action-packed weekend, for sure. Here we go.

Friday night, first a quick work-out, the fourth of the week, then dinner with Mr. Short Term, followed by MSNBC on his couch. It's not even a "real" relationship, and we're already predictable. Hee. (We were going to go for another walk, but it started raining.) He did tell me there's a possibility that he might be rearranging his work situation in a way that would allow him to travel less and actually maybe settle in somewhere. I just nodded to acknowledge I heard him, but made no commentary otherwise. I don't presume that this decision is in any way connected to wanting to spend more time with me. I will continue to presume this unless or until I have some reason to think otherwise. Seems like the wisest plan.

Saturday morning, up and at the housecleaning.

Saturday afternoon, readers' club. I went all out and took a bag of Doritos that I bought with my own two hands. Sorry, readers...there was no time for cooking. But it was a "two flavors in one bag" bag, including the tasty "Zesty Taco"--that should count for something, right? I drank some wine, gorged myself on deviled eggs and pecan bars and left very much wanting to take a nap. But there was no time.

I stopped by the liquor store to get beer for the evening's activities. And to allow the liquor store owner to properly debit my card for my last purchase. Earlier in the week, I bought some beer and they accidentally charged me $0.96 instead of $9.60. I didn't realize it until the next morning, so they told me they'd fix it the next time I came in, and thanked me very much for my honesty. I couldn't just let it slide--how guilty would I feel every time I went in there? And I LIKE this liquor store. They have a dog, and some parrots, and an aquarium, and enough plants to fill a greenhouse. I can't rip off (even accidentally) people who bring their dog to work! (He's a handsome beast, too...a huge brindled Great Dane.)

I was home long enough to feed the cats and take Pudge out, then it was off to a baby shower/party in a far south suburb. It turned out to be a smaller gathering than I was expecting...low-key and nice. A little awkwardness when it came to present opening time, though. Several small items had been purchased from the official registry list. I noticed mom-to-be's face looked a little confused a couple of times--apparently their 8-year-old daughter "helped" with the scanning of items for the list, and a few things got on there that weren't necessarily planned. They were little, inexpensive things at least, so if they aren't exactly what they wanted, it's no big deal. Thank goodness she didn't scan something big and expensive and completely inappropriate. Hee.

I asked the daughter if she was looking forward to having a little brother. "I don't like brothers." Ah, I explained, but you have a very BIG brother (14 years older) and this will be a very LITTLE brother, and YOU will be the boss. That seemed to cheer her up. Heh. (Yes, for those of you keeping track, that would be a 22-year-old, an 8-year-old, and soon, an infant. This nest may never be empty!) She was also very, very proud of a beautiful fluffy blue pillow she sewed for the new arrival. She's a very creative kid. She painted a beautiful floral still-life recently for her mom. I'm thinking of commissioning her for some new art. I have a few of her original works, but mostly from an earlier, more primitive phase. I'm particularly fond of a rainbow made with Fruit Loops, hanging under fluffy cotton ball clouds. She's way past that now, of course.

Sunday morning, church. You know how they say a smile is contagious? And I always think "they" need to shut up and stop telling me to smile? Well, maybe "they" ARE right. There was a family visiting church, and their oldest son had the most radiant smile I have ever seen. He was apparently developmentally disabled in some way, but he was just so happy to be there. Everything he looked at made him smile. And every time HE smiled, everyone else smiled. We should all be "disabled" like that.

After church, and post-church choir practice, I decided that I needed Indian food, so I drove south and went to my favorite Indian restaurant for the lunch buffet. My favorite sharply-dressed waiter was there--the one that always at least pretends to flirt with me. I'm sure he's just angling for bigger tips. (It worked, by the way.) Then I stopped at the Big Box Mart down the street for cat food, and made my way back north.

I couldn't stand the dead stuff and layer of leaves covering my flowerbeds one more day, so I did a first pass on cleaning those out. Much better!

Then I did my evening animal duties, sat down on the couch, and thought I might never get up again. If it was up to me, I'd still be there.

(Did I neglect to mention that I was suffering with terrible monthly cramps for at least half the weekend? And the spring pollen was making my eyes itch and my cheekbones hurt? And still I was a whirling dervish of activity? Consider it mentioned.)

So, what did YOU do this weekend?

A clumsy person's worst nightmare

I am so shocked and saddened at Natasha Richardson's passing. One minute she's walking and talking...then she's in a coma, then she's brain-dead. For a person who's more than a little accident-prone, it's sobering. Man, oh man.

Rover has returned home, in the form of a little wooden box of ashes, to take his place beside his old buddy, Payday. (There are several other buddies there, too, of course...but he and Payday were always particular friends.) It always gives me a sense of closure when the cycle is complete...but it makes me sad again, too. Not that I haven't been sad every day since it happened, plus all those days when I knew it was coming, but you know what I mean. Sigh.

Two of the younger kitties are now on monthly heartworm preventative, thanks to a friend who insisted on "sponsoring" them. Say it with me now...awwwww.

The new mediterranean deli near my house has an awesome vegetarian platter. I'm just sayin'. Cabbage roll, dolmas, falafel, tabouli, hummus, tzatziki, pita bread. Yummy. I hope they stay in business.

Not a peep out of Mr. Short Term this week. I'm trying to keep myself from giving in and calling or emailing him. Damn it, he should be the one to initiate contact sometimes. Gah.

Mr. Not-Quite-Divorced, with whom I have the ongoing email "relationship," has asked several times how I'm handling my grief, did I bury or cremate, etc. SOME guys are good at that stuff, it appears...even if they've never actually MET you. Heh.

I watched the new sitcom "Better Off Ted" last night. It was quirky. I liked it. It will probably soon be cancelled. That's the way it always works.

I have a baby "shower" to attend this weekend. Actually, it's a co-ed party celebrating the impending arrival of an...unexpected bundle of joy, but there will be gifts. I have no idea what I'm giving. I usually default to books, but their older daughter is very artsy, and quite a reader; I can't imagine there's a decent children's book that doesn't already live in their house. They're registered at Target--I'll find something. I'm guessing they didn't save much in the way of baby things from the first go-round, seeing as how there was a vasectomy, and no plans for any further procreation. PSA: did you know that, given time, a vasectomy can reverse itself? It's true. Did you know that the doctor who performed the original procedure may give you a second one for free? It's true. They're a little shell-shocked, I think, but excited, too.

I've exercised two whole times this week! Aren't you proud of me? Heh.

I'm sure I had more to say, but I can't at this moment think what it was, so...Liz out.

Weekend update. Warning: some of it's sad.

So...how was my weekend? Well, sit down, and I'll tell you all about it.

It was a busy weekend, fortunately. I was glad to have plenty of things going to take my mind off...other things.

Let's back up to early last week. You may remember that my cat Rover was diagnosed with heartworms a while back. Well...he'd been struggling, and struggling, and it had finally gotten to the point where I needed to think about making THE decision. So, early in the week, I called and made him an appointment for Friday afternoon, which I had off. I initially asked for a consult with the vet, with an eye to making the hard call if they concurred with my assessment. By Friday morning, it was clear no consulting was needed. He'd been retaining fluid in his abdomen for a while, and the swelling was just...out of control. He looked like he'd swallowed a soccer ball, poor baby.

Through it all, his appetite had never waned. Boy was HUNGRY, all the time. (Probably in part due to the prednisone he was taking.) And he never lost his appetite for snuggling and purring. Thursday...he stopped purring, but did eat four whole cans of Fancy Feast. (Nothing but the best at that point.) Friday morning...he stopped eating. I knew it was time.

So...he's gone. It was as sad as you would expect. At the last possible minute, though, as the sedative began to kick in, just before THE injection came...he started purring. The vet tech scritched and scratched behind his ears, and I rubbed his belly, and he purred for me one last time. I was so happy...in a devastatingly sorrowful kind of way. But I was hoping for one last purr, and I got it. Then he slipped quietly away. I'm beyond sad, of course...I'm crying now as I'm typing.

I had rehearsal scheduled for Friday night, which I thought would be a good thing. Take my mind off my sadness, and all. Our director had emailed to let us know we would be meeting at her house, as they were (finally) painting the building, and the fumes were pretty bad. Hey, I thought...they're painting. Maybe we're actually on track toward getting the building turned into a theatre! Maybe we can actually schedule this play! Umm...not so much, as it turns out. She plied us with wine, cheese, ice cream...and then broke the news that there are even FURTHER delays, and the rest of this season has been officially cancelled. We'll still do the show, but we'll do it NEXT season. November at the earliest. GAAAAHHHH! (I know, Julie, it's not your fault. It still sucks. Heh.) I think she thought we were all going to turn on her, maybe burn her at the stake, but...we just all accepted the news like the good little theatrical soldiers that we are. What else can you do?

So...I left the meeting, checked my phone, and noticed that Mr. Short Term had called. I had emailed him earlier in the day to see if he wanted to try to get together this weekend. He hadn't left a message, so I called him back. Him: "Didn't you get my message?" Me: "I didn't see a voicemail--did you leave one?" Him: "I emailed you earlier." Me: "Remember how I said I was leaving work and email access early today so you should CALL me?" Him: "Oh, well...I'm in Kansas City." Me: "Oh, okay." Him: "So how was your day?" Me: "Well, I had to put my cat down (which I had also mentioned in my email, which apparently he didn't actually read) and then my play got cancelled, so...not so good." Him: "Oh. Well, I'll be back in town in a few days. I'll call you. Got to go." WTF? Apparently he's not so good with the extending of sympathy. Why are men like that? New Guy never wanted to be around me if I was sad or upset about something. Grr.

Saturday was Cat Lady Lunch today, which was nice. THEY know how to be properly sympathetic about the loss of a perfect kitty. (He was, too...never did anything wrong. Got along with everybody. Perfect. Sniff.)

I made a phone call to my friend who directs the "Fridiron," leaving a message to the effect that I would be available this year after all, if she still needed me.

I ran a few errands (including buying myself several forms of comfort food at Whole Foods) and then decided I was just too drained to haul myself out of the house again for the "Nensa" meeting.

Sunday morning, church.

Finally heard back from the "Fridiron" director--I'm always welcome, of course, though there's a big cast again this year, and she doesn't know how many songs I'll get. Of course. Sigh. Still, it's something to do. I also offered the use of my "flat baby" (who starred in a previous year as Jayden James Federline--hee) as whichever oddly named Palin child we choose, figuring after the recent election cycle, there's bound to be plenty of Sarah Palin parodies being written. Her: "Oh, I was hoping Flat Baby could come back!" Bwah. (For those of you who don't know what a "fridiron" is--and replace the "f" with a "g"; I just don't want it googleable--it's a nonpartisan song and skit-based parody of political events and pop culture, both local and national.)

Sunday afternoon, wine and snacks and gossip (always gossip) with my former employer and co-workers from a long-ago job. (We were all laid off together--it created a bond. Hee.) We sat in the sunroom and rejoiced in the beauty of the lovely spring (again, thank goodness) day.

Sunday evening, watched the Amazing Race, fell asleep on the couch soon after.

So, that was my weekend. Highs and lows. I hope yours shared the highs and avoided the lows.

Sorry to disappoint

But there are no really good stories from the speed-dating. Once again, while it was not at all unpleasant, it was ultimately unproductive.

It started out a bit ragged...for some reason the usual venue was closed when the coordinator got there to set up. She freaked out, then started across the street to beg another bar or restaurant to take us on short notice. Fortunately, the place right across the street was willing, but she was understandably a little late getting things ready, and the layout wasn't super-organized.

So, we all sat the bar and chatted for a bit. Since it was a last-minute thing, there were no free appetizers. Bummer. I talked for a while with a couple of other women, both of whom knew each other from their Sunday School class. Then I chatted for a bit with the pleasant fellow on my other side...but it turned out he was there for the 29-42 group, and I was going with the 39-52 folks. Oh, well.

Then off we went. There were only five couples in my age group. The younger age group was larger, and they seemed livelier. Of the five possible guys, one was a retread from the last event I attended. He didn't pick me then, so I sure as hell wasn't going to pick him now, so...four guys. Not great odds.

The conversations all flowed pretty well. I didn't feel any immense attraction to any of them. The one guy I found somewhat physically appealing was kind of a goofball. He sat down and said instantly, "So, tell me all your deepest darkest secrets." My response: "Hey, that's what my blog is for!" "You have a blog!?" Then we veered off into a discussion of Facebook, which he recently joined, and that's kind of where we stayed. Him: "Facebook is so smart...how do they know all these people from my past? 'We think you might know...' It's crazy." Me: "Well, they just cross-reference the information you gave them when you filled out your profile." Him: "Oh." He seemed kind of disappointed, and I wanted to say "No, I mean...it's MAGIC!"

One other guy said he was also an actor. Me: "So how come I don't know you?" So diplomatic. He hasn't been in town all that long, and he usually works at theatres I don't work at, so our paths hadn't crossed. We did have some mutual friends, though, so we talked about that, mostly. He mentioned having been in a particular show last year that I didn't see, but remembered getting a pretty scathing review. I did NOT bring that up. Give me some credit. Heh. He had seen the show I did last year with sciatica. He "thought I looked familiar."

Then there was an oil and gas title attorney who just moved to town, and who lives in and LOVES the part of town I hate the most. Him: "Everything I need is close by. There's no reason to ever go anywhere else." Me: "I can't think of any reason to EVER go to that part of town. There is nothing there I need." (Again with the diplomacy.) Him: "I hear that a lot." Hee.

Who else...oh, an oil and gas engineer who likes to play golf. Yawn.

And, of course, the aforementioned returning player. I had to remind him that we'd done this before, and then he talked at length about how that last time didn't work out so well for him. I bit my tongue and did NOT say, "Maybe you picked the wrong girls, dillweed." The instant the bell rang, he jumped up and started off, then, turned and said, "I'm not being rude, am I? I did hear the bell?" Yes, dude, you did. Go.

So, that was that. I then went down the block and had an entertaining meal at one of my favorite restaurants, with a couple of the other participants. The two Sunday school women, of course. We compared notes on the guys, and filled in some gaps for each other on the information we had managed to pry out of them. And...that was that.

I logged in this morning and decided to go ahead and say "yes" on the actor and the goofball. So far...no one has said "yes" on me. I can't say I'm either surprised or disappointed. I'm just hoping they don't offer me yet another freebie. I'm a miser--I can't turn down FREE.

And...life goes on.

I should hang a banner.

"Mission Accomplished."

I am, at long last, the owner of a pair of purple sunglasses. They're not exactly what I had in mind, but they're cute, they're purple, and they were only $12.99 at Target! The cashier asked if I wanted to wear them out, but I wasn't really listening and thought she was just asking if I wanted to put them in my purse instead of a bag, so I said "yes." When she offered to cut the tag off for me, I realized what she was saying and my immediate (unspoken) reaction was: "Are you crazy? Purple sunglasses with THIS outfit?" I may have a teeny bit of a problem. Heh.

Yesterday was a good day all around--I also redeemed a free burrito at Qdoba, hung a few of my "chicken plates" on the wall above the stove, finished reading the book I started the night before, watched the Amazing Race, and sat around the house in shorts and a t-shirt because it was just that warm. Yay.

I plucked another book off my "borrowed" stack to start on, and took great delight in noticing that the colors of the cover coordinated EXACTLY with the bookmark I've been using. (Copper and teal.) Every time I pick up the book and pull the bookmark out, I am momentarily content. If you don't understand that, well...then you must not be OCDish with a thing about color-coordinating, is all I can say.

Saturday was mostly a "lay around the house in my pajamas" day. (Weekly housecleaning aside, of course. And the laundry went out on the line to dry. Yay, spring! Sorry to keep rubbing that in, all you folks still in the snow.)

Friday night was spent in the company of Mr. Short Term. We actually had a very lovely "date." We went down to the Riverparks and took a long walk, hand-in-hand. Yes, it was 9:00 p.m., but we didn't even need jackets, 'cause it was just that nice. (Sorry.) Then we stopped at the grocery store for veggies, pita bread and hummus, and went back to his place and nibbled and drank beer and cuddled on the couch. I've decided the deal with Mr. Short Term is that he wears blinders much of the time. When he's working, he's WORKING, and I'm not sure he even remembers I exist. When I pop into his field of vision again, then he thinks, "Oh, HER. I like HER." And he's all sweet and affectionate and all about ME...until he goes back to work and forgets I exist again. Heh. Well, it beats the alternative, right? Someone who thinks about me all the time, but treats me like crap in person?

So, doesn't that sound like a nice weekend? Too bad the whole thing was blown to hell when I had to drag myself out of bed this morning, an hour earlier than my body was expecting, and in the DARK. Gah. Double gah.

Speed-dating tonight, folks! I'll try to have some interesting tales for you tomorrow.

My house is haunted.

It's true. I seem to have a ghost. But I think the ghost is a cat. I keep hearing noises, noises that sound specifically animal in origin, but when I look in the direction of the noise...there's nothing there. Once it came from behind the shower curtain. A couple of days ago I heard a specific "cat messing with a plant" noise...but I was staring straight at the plants, and there was nary a cat in sight. Yesterday I came home to find a cluster of cats in one corner of the room, staring intently at...nothing. A couple of their tails were puffed up. I hope it's a friendly ghost, at least.

It is so beautiful and warm here I can hardly stand it. I'm sorry for those of you who haven't experienced the freakish early spring thing this year, but it's something like 80 degrees here. Crazy. I've got the A/C running in my office.

Either tonight or tomorrow night I'll be seeing Mr. Short Term. Other than that, it's an unplanned weekend again. Then the following weekend is going to be jam-packed. I'm all feast or famine on the weekends here, it seems.

I haven't heard anything further from Brandon Walsh. I'm okay with that. At least I know not to take it personally. I could have done with a bit more "you're intelligent and beautiful and nice" though, just to prop up the old ego. Heh.

Monday night is the rescheduled speed-dating round you've all been waiting for. Theoretically, at least. It's been rescheduled three times now...maybe third time's the charm!

Enjoy your own feast or famine.

Belated Weekend Update

Are we too far past the weekend for an update? Well, too bad. Here it is, anyway.

Let's see...Friday night. Went to Mr. Short Term's place, drank beer, ate veggies and fruit and guacamole and chips, and pretty much fell asleep on the couch watching MSNBC. We are exciting! (And we were tired.)

Saturday morning, cleaned the house.

Saturday afternoon, met "Brandon Walsh of 90210" (hee) for lunch at my favorite restaurant. He was very sweet. "You're even prettier than your picture." He's smart, easy to talk to, we have a lot of similar philosophies...I wish he was 10 years younger. Was there physical chemistry? Well, none that would knock your socks off (you know, like New Guy), but none of that "omigod, never in a million years" gut reaction, either. I just...wish he was 10 years younger. Heh. We had a nice time, and he gave me a little hug in the parking lot. I left having decided that I would be willing to go out again, thinking if nothing else, we could have a nice friendship. Oh...and he did pass the sweet-and-sour test...though just barely. He ordered fried rice.

Stopped at Whole Foods on the way home for the ingredients to make my world-famous goat cheese and sundried tomato dip--this time I added artichoke hearts, too. YUMMY.

Saturday evening I went to Readers Club, toting with me a whole bunch of finished books to return to their owners. Yay! I brought home a couple of new ones to add to the to-be-read stack, and I also brought home some oh-so-delightful chicken plates (no, not plates on which to eat chicken, though I suppose you could--plates decorated with chickens), and some cute little cloth napkins. Our hostess and her sister-in-law were downsizing the contents of their kitchen cabinets. (Thanks, George! And Megan!) I heart my new chicken plates. And my napkins. (And the Ethiopian-style stewed lentil leftovers that went home with me, as well, and became an entry in the Facebook Breakfast Chronicles, for those of you playing along at home.)

Then I went home and crumpled into a heap on the couch.

Sunday morning I sent a quick email to Brandon Walsh, thanking him for lunch, it was nice meeting him. Polite.

Went to church, and then met up with my parents afterwards to go to lunch, and then the mall. (Two new bras, two new tank tops, courtesy of my mom. Whoo hoo.) Then we went back to my house to pin Pudge down and trim the eagle talons he has been blessed with at the end of his feet. Only drew blood once! (Poor Pudge. And damn those black toenails.)

And...I think that was pretty much it. Settled in on the couch, watched Amazing Race.

Monday I expected to hear back from Brandon Walsh--at least a little "it was nice to meet you, too" email. Nothing. Likewise on Tuesday. I started to get a little pissed off, on general principles. I thought he was a nice guy! We talked about the importance of mutual civility! He knows I dislike rudeness! Aarggh!

This morning I got an email...apologizing for the tardy response. He's been thinking about me every day, wanted to call rather than email, which he finds impersonal, but had been working late nights (no reason to doubt that, for the record, he told me his schedule...I don't know when he would have time to date even if we did decide to, frankly), I'm very beautiful and intelligent, he wants to see me again, BUT...he has concerns about the age difference. So do I, Brandon, so do I. Sigh. So...I emailed back that I shared his concerns, but that if he wanted to go to dinner again at some point, I would be happy to do so...maybe we can be friends. (I'm trying to think if I have any female friends I could fix him up with....hmmm....)

Mostly I just wanted to hear from him because I am SO TIRED of these guys that disappear without a trace. SO TIRED. It's so easy to be relatively polite these days--we have email. If it's too difficult to do the face-to-face "I didn't feel a connection" thing, you can do it painlessly via the interweb. I've done it myself--I'm all for avoiding awkwardness whenever possible.

So, that's that. I'm still having a hot-and-heavy email "relationship" with the almost-divorced guy. I think it's a good litmus test, actually. If emailing with him is more fun than an actual face-to-face with a guy....then that's NOT the guy. Right? Right.

In the meantime, I just need a few more Mr. Short Terms, to keep things interesting while I wait. Heh.