It's definitely love.

With the Vegan Citrus Sparerib Cutlets, of course. The orange "chicken" and pepper "steaks" were nothing to write home about.

So, how was my weekend with the boy? Fine. We did manage to tame my overgrown shrubs and flowerbeds. (Totally not a euphemism, by the way. Though I have used lawn and garden-related euphemisms in the past, this time it's a straight up reference to shrub trimming. Heh.) He suffers from a stereotypical male problem--the inability to distinguish between a "flower" and a "weed," but...we managed not to come to blows. (That's not a euphemism, either.) We ate Indian food. We had a slightly unpleasant encounter with a jerk police officer. (Not that interesting a story--the guy was just a dillweed. Heh.) I took him to a park he hadn't experienced yet, and we walked among the rock chasms. It was nice.

This week he is working the closing shift at the restaurant every night, which sucks. His brother and I are alternating picking him up, but other than that, I won't see him until the weekend.

Okay now...in reply to the "you like him" squeals in response to my last post, yes...I do like him. More than I thought I would. I admit it. But...

There's always a "but," isn't there? The fly in the proverbial ointment?

BUT...I still don't think this is really a long-term relationship, and I'll tell you why. Skipping over the few petty things he does that irritate me--'cause those certainly aren't deal breakers, and I'm sure he could come up with an equivalent list about me--here it is in a nutshell: it seems he wants to have kids.

How do I know this? Because he has, more than once, asked if I'd like to have kids. With him. No ambiguity there.

Now, a desire to have children (whether or not it's being urged on him by his mother, which I suspect may be true) is a perfectly normal desire for a 39-year-old man. However, as I have told him, more than once, if that is the case, then that 39-year-old man needs to get over his preference for older women and try a little harder to find some interest in the younger ones. 'Cause this particular older woman AIN'T HAVIN' NO BABIES. I'm 46 years old, and that ship has sailed.

Now, technically, I don't know that it has literally sailed. Aunt Flo still makes her regular visits, and I haven't tested my FSH levels to see if the machinery is truly starting to shut down, but the fact remains that most women of my age can only get (and stay) pregnant with some difficulty. And I absolutely DO know that I am not spiritually or emotionally up for later life first-time motherhood. My knees are creaking, my dollar store reading glasses are getting stronger each year, I'm staring down the barrel of 50--I think that's the universe's way of saying "how about a nice cat and a good book, instead."

So, I tell him this, quite clearly, he says he was just kidding, and he doesn't really like babies, anyway--"expensive, noisy, messy, every day wah,wah,wah"--but then he brings it up AGAIN. Part of me thinks the nicest thing to do would be to break it off now, and send him on his way before HE gets any older. But then another part of me says "fuck it." I've been honest with him, he's a grown man who can make his own decisions (at least in theory--in actuality he's in many ways an overgrown boy), and I'm having fun. I deserve some fun, at this point. If he really wants to father a child, then HE needs to man up and make the choices necessary for that to happen.

So, MY plan is this: we continue to enjoy each other's company for as long as we enjoy each other's company, and if, at some point, he wants to stop seeing me and pursue someone who will eagerly have his children, then...no hard feelings. Or, conversely, if I want to stop seeing him and pursue someone with no desire to have children, then...no hard feelings.

We'll see how well this plan works, I guess, huh?

If a picture's worth a thousand words...

I took down the picture of New Guy from my fridge. I thought about how I would feel if a guy I was dating had a picture of his ex on HIS fridge, and the answer was...not so good. So I took it down. I needed to do it anyway, I suppose...it has been a year (exactly a year on May 28th, but who's counting?) since he left.

Just for the heck of it, I put a picture of Hot Med up in its place, to see if he notices. Hee.

And okay, okay...I guess I should take the New Guy picture off the piano, as well, right? Sigh.

I've been having weird anxious dreams this week. First, I dreamed that I went to see New Guy, but with Hot Med in tow, for some reason, and I just really wanted to talk to New Guy alone for a bit, but I couldn't explain to someone with limited English skills that I was "seeking closure," and then, before I even GOT any closure, New Guy was parading out his hot new girlfriend and it was all just horrible. Heh.

The next night I dreamed that I went to pick Hot Med up from work, as planned, but he was there with a frumpy blond girl, who he had decided was going to be his new girlfriend, instead of me, and I was really pissed off that he was dumping me after I had driven all that way to give him a ride, and he just laughed, and then I was REALLY pissed off, and then I tried to warn the frumpy blond girl that he was a dog, and she said she didn't care, and then I woke up and felt a little ooky all day. I mean, I know he flirts with all the girls at the gym, and I really don't care, since he assures me that he tells them all about his beautiful girlfriend, but what if he DOES decide to go out with one of them, and see what I mean about it being easier when they're just your plaything? Hee.

Then last night I picked him up from work, after not seeing him for a couple of days, and he literally RAN out to the car, jumped in and started kissing me, and there was no frumpy blond anywhere in sight, so I guess he didn't find anything he liked better at the gym, after all. Of course...he didn't bring me a take-out box of rice this time, so...

Maybe she'd just been there and gone already. With MY rice.

I'm kidding. I'm really not THAT crazy.

Anyway, I'm ready for a nice, long holiday weekend, at least some portion of which I will spend with Hot Med. Maybe we can finally get to work on those overgrown shrubs. And he wants to cook breakfast for me at some point. Sweet.

Happy Memorial Day, everyone!

I think I'm in love.

With these. (Was that not what you were expecting?) Seriously, I tried these for the first time last night and I love them so much I want to marry them. I've been looking for a culinary love ever since Whole Foods stopped carrying the barbeque "beef" skewers I was so fond of, and...this may be it. Before I can make an official declaration, though, I suppose I should try the pepper "steak" and the orange "chicken." I like to make an informed choice.

In other news, I had a fairly interesting weekend--not all of it "interesting" in a good way.

Friday night, the first night I was planning to pick up Hot Med after the late shift, I got there a little early (the restaurant was hosting some sort of party, so they were a bit late closing), so Hot Med insisted I wait inside and drink some iced tea. As I was turning off the car, I had trouble getting the key out of the ignition. The switch has been a little sticky for a while--I puffed some graphite into it, and that helped, but...I'd probably been living on borrowed time for a while. So, I waited and waited...finally he was done, we got in the car and...nothing. The key turned, grudgingly, but the car wouldn't start. So it turned into a whole embarrassing ordeal in the parking lot, with the wait staff all trying to help figure out the problem. Finally, the boss came out, assessed the situation and made the obvious suggestion that, since I drive a manual, we simply push-start it. (I swear, I was getting ready to suggest that myself. Hee.) I hadn't popped a clutch in a long time, so he said "let me in there!" It didn't take long for the gaggle of guys to get it rolling, and it started right up. "Thank you, Boss, thank you!" (That's a Hot Med quote. It was so cutely enthusiastic that his boss and I both cracked up.) Hot Med was worried about me driving home, and wanted me to stay at his house, but I pointed out that I would be fine until I turned off the car, and I'd rather be at my house with the critters if I was going to be stranded for a while. So I dropped him off, then went home with my generous portion of take-out steamed rice. (Which he insisted on preparing for me. He had even sprinkled some freshly ground pepper on top, having noticed that I grind it onto nearly everything. The boy doesn't miss much, in that way.)

Saturday morning I used one of the "up to four" yearly tows I get from my roadside assistance, and had the car taken to the mechanic I found recently who is open on Saturday. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to get to it before they closed, so I arranged to borrow a car from my parents for the weekend. While waiting for the car to arrive, I talked on the phone with Hot Bro, who wanted to know if Hot Med and I wanted to join him and his wife downtown at the arts festival I had told them about. I explained the car situation, and that I wouldn't be mobile again until later in the day, and he was very concerned that I not feel obligated to pick up Hot Med from work that night if it was too much trouble. He was very concerned that I not feel "imposed upon." I assured him that I had OFFERED the rides, not been ASKED FOR the rides, and that I in no way felt imposed upon. Nice of him to be concerned, though.

My parents tag-teamed a car over with my sister and her husband, and we decided to hit the mall and have lunch while they were in town. I invited Hot Med along--so yes, he has now hung out with my family twice. They think he's charming. Well, most of them do--I'm not sure my father is so crazy about him, after he began choking and gagging at the cigarette smell in the borrowed car. ("You Papa should no smoke. Maybe make dead." I couldn't agree more. I've been trying to get him to quit for years.) But my sister thinks he's "cute and funny," and my mother finds him quite a "character."

I dropped him off at work that evening at 5:00, and picked him up at closing, without incident. Thank goodness. I was also gifted with an enormous to-go box of brown rice, which I stretched through three meals. (Once with butter and honey, once with cheese, once with soy sauce and green onions. I do love rice.)

Sunday morning we went to the arts festival and walked around for a while. It was a gorgeous day, the first day without rain in...22, 23 days? (I lost track, but I know we set a record.)

I had a party to attend Sunday afternoon (at the home of one of my cat lady friends), so I dropped him back at home with a promise to return after the party so we could spend the evening together. He was disappointed that he wasn't going to be allowed to trim my untidy shrubs, but I assured him the shrubs would still be untidy later in the week.

We spent the evening at my house, and it was lovely, with no complaining about the smell of my house, or the distance involved in getting there. (He learns quickly, I guess. Hee.)

Yesterday I picked up my car, complete with new ignition switch. My parents can't come back for theirs until the weekend, so until then, I've got a spare. I hope I don't need to use it. Heh.

I'm seeing Hot Med tonight, and...we'll continue to take it as it comes. I will confess...I'm getting pretty attached to him. Argh! This was not the plan. Life is so much easier when you don't really care about your boy-toy. Why did he have to go and be mostly sweet? I can't fight sweet when it's encased in those shoulders and biceps! Sigh. And hee.

"Yesss! He issss my....boyfriend."

I love a good paraphrased "Young Frankenstein" reference first thing in the morning, don't you?

Okay, okay...those of you who are my Bacefook friends know that I referred to Hot Med as my "boyfriend." What the heck, right? He is, for all intents and purposes.

Don't go expecting any "save the date" emails from me any time soon, though...I still have serious doubts about the longevity of this relationship. For now, though...well, I'm just going to enjoy it while I enjoy it, and try not to think too much about the concept of "expiration dating." (Thank you "Sex and the City"--I can always count on you for a good catchphrase.)

There was a moment last night when I thought the relationship was going to end right there, when he bluntly told me that my house "smelled" and I should probably clean it. Okay, buddy....stop it right there. For one thing, the house did not "smell" like anything but incense. I am VERY sensitive about odors, multiple pet-owner that I am, and at that moment, the house smelled okay. It was maybe a little stuffy, as the temperatures have been relatively mild, and the A/C hasn't been kicking on much, so the air stagnates a bit...but it did not "smell." And yeah, we're nearing the weekend, which is when I DO clean, so, while everything is neatly in its place, it could all use a good sweeping and dusting. But, as I pointedly pointed out to him (hee), when would I have had time to do any extra cleaning this week? What with the full-time job and ferrying him around like a taxi service? He became concerned that I was "sad" and started saying "don't cry." Heh. I responded that I wasn't "sad," and had no intention of crying, but that what he said was mean and I was very ANGRY. He spent the next ten minutes apologizing. As he should have.

Anyway, the rest of the evening passed without incident, for the most part, though he did complain on the way home about how long the distance is between our houses. And what, I asked, am I expected to do about THAT? He's moving into a new apartment in a couple of weeks, which will be a little closer to my house, and way closer to his job (and his sister's), and is considerably larger, and will hopefully provide the possibility for a little more privacy, so we won't HAVE to drive all the way to my house every time we want to be alone. We'll see how that goes.

He wanted to spend the night at my house last night, but there was NO WAY I was getting up an hour early to shlep him to his house and back before work, and so I told him. Logistical difficulties may kill this relationship sooner than anything else. Heh.

So, anyway, I went to bed feeling pissy, but woke up in a somewhat more charitable mood. The restaurant where he works has started mixing up his schedule--some lunch shifts, which he's used to, and some dinner shifts, which he's NOT. Staying up past 11:00 is very hard for him, and he was clearly exhausted last night. He was practically falling asleep on the drive home, and I'm pretty sure you'd have to pay extra to take those bags under his eyes on an airline these days. So I'm cutting him some slack. I was kind of tired, too...and I think perhaps we've just seen a bit too much of each other this week. Maybe I just need a little "me" time.

I can enjoy a little of that "me" time tonight and tomorrow night, as I wait for 10:30 to roll around, at which time I am going to get up off the couch and go pick him up from work and take him home (he's got back-to-back night shifts). I volunteered for this duty, mind you, as I knew it was REALLY hard for his brother to be up that late (he goes to bed even earlier than Hot Med), and of course the buses don't run that late and it would be a pretty scary walk at that time of night, and blahblahblah, I'm way too nice a person, aren't I? To his credit, Hot Med, upon being informed of this arrangement (which I made with Hot Bro behind his back), expressed concern about me being out that late, but I assured him that I am almost never actually in bed before midnight, so I'll be okay. And this particular problem will solve itself when he moves, as it will then be only a five-minute walk home through a well-lighted neighborhood for him.

So...this having a "boyfriend" business is just exhausting, isn't it? I'd forgotten.

On the flip side, though...he's quite insistent about coming over some time this weekend and helping me trim my seriously overgrown trees and shrubs, so that's nice. And he's very good about holding doors, grabbing my reading glasses for me if he sees me grab something printed and squint, holding my purse, etc. (New Guy wouldn't even TOUCH my purse. Seriously. Some idiotic divorce counseling advice on reasserting his "manhood." I asked him once...if I fell and broke both arms, and needed you to drive me to the hospital, would you grab my purse for me on the way to the car? His answer? No.)

So, one day at a time, and we'll see...what we see.

Weekend Update

It turned out to be a good weekend, if not exactly the one I had planned.

We decided not to go to the Lebanese festival. Hot Med's sister and brother couldn't go because of some last-minute work-related things, and since the weather was looking kind of iffy, I decided not to make the trip with just the two of us.

Instead, Friday night I picked him up and then stopped at a restaurant with a good salad bar. Hot Med was still full from lunch, so he didn't eat salad, but he did help himself to three ice cream cones from the free ice cream station. Just the cones, mind you...he didn't fill them with ice cream. "Too fattening." Freak. He didn't have any problem filling one up for me, though. Then we hung out at my house for a while.

I have to say...that while I'm still on the alert for stereotypical (of his culture) chauvinistic behavior, there hasn't been any lately. Instead, he is all too happy to fetch and carry for me. He wants to come over next weekend and help me trim my trees and shrubs. I don't know if this is just "courting" behavior, and subject to change or not, but...it's working for now. Truthfully, I think he's a little bit p***y-whipped. Heh.

Saturday, since I wasn't off eating tabouli, I cleaned the house, went ahead and attended Cat Lady Lunch, then picked up Hot Med on my way home. I had promised him pizza that evening at my favorite pizza place, and a walk first in the park. He ate a salad and four whole pieces of pizza--the most I'd ever seen him eat. "Pizza of the Gods" indeed.

My family and I had been going back and forth over what to do for Mother's Day...finally the decision was made that they would come to Tulsa and we'd have lunch together here. My brother-in-law wanted to go to a restaurant that we all loved as kids, and hadn't been to in years. It's sort of a Tulsa institution--but as an adult you realize that the food really isn't good, and that the "Mexican village" atmosphere is quite cheesy. However...that's what we decided to do, and to liven things up, my mom and I decided it would be fun to invite Hot Med along.

Yes, that's right--I took him to meet my family (plus a friend of my sister's and her two children), hoping that doing so wasn't committing to an act of betrothal or anything. Heh. I figured since I'd already met his family it was only fair to see how he interacted with mine. He was incredibly enthusiastic in response to the invitation: "YES!"

And? It was fine. He kissed my mother's hand and she tittered like a schoolgirl. At one point, he said "your mom is funny and beautiful," and when I relayed that to her, I believe she blushed. Later when he left the table and went to the bathroom, my sister leaned over to say "He's so CUTE!" The consensus was that he was cute and funny, though my mother did say, jokingly, "too bad he's not independently wealthy, too." Yeah well, would that we all were, right? My sister did say later that she felt bad looking to me for translations from time to time, but hey--that's just the way it goes. I've had a few weeks to practice my "Hot Med Speak."

He gamely ate his entire plate of entirely mediocre food, so bonus points to him! We all agreed that perhaps we didn't need to relive our childhoods in that way again any time soon--even though we did get to sit in the "cave"--which would have thrilled us "back in the day." My mom asked "didn't the food used to be better?" To which I responded: "It's exactly the same...we just didn't know any better back then." Hee. It was incredibly crowded, though...lots of families with children, so apparently the appeal still holds for the young ones. (There's an arcade! And an hourly magic show!) That or there are a lot of Tulsans who have bad taste. You decide. Heh.

So, that was my weekend. How was yours?

I'm his wallpaper.

On his cellphone, that is. Against my better judgment, I let him snap a couple of shots when we were standing in the wind on the pedestrian bridge over the river. I say "against my better judgment" because I didn't get a chance to review the pictures for "flatterability." Given a choice, I would instantly delete about 90% of all pictures taken of me. I would have deleted the wallpaper pic--I think I look terrible. Oh, well...it's not like he's showing it to everyone, right? Just to his boss and co-workers. Gack!

Hot Med, his brother and his sister-in-law...what shall we blog-name her? Sil. Hot Med, Hot Bro and Sil came to the show Friday night. They made it through the whole show and claimed to have enjoyed themselves. I wondered how much Hot Med would understand, but he got the gist of a lot of it. He definitely recognized Obama, and though I think he confused Coburn with Bush, he got the thrust of the joke. He was also particularly taken with the baby-tossing in the Octomom number. They all agreed my big number was the best.

Afterwards, we were standing there when a girl came up (I didn't know her, but she happened to be there with some friends of mine, small world and all) who knew Hot Med from the gym. She said a big "hi" and he instantly squeezed my shoulder and said "this is my girlfriend." We chatted for a bit about the show and our mutual friends. Then as soon as she walked away he took great pains to let me know that he knew her from the gym, but he didn't "like" her. I wasn't worried. Heh. I have sort of mixed feelings about this exchange. On the one hand, I keep telling him we're "dating," and it's premature to call me his "girlfriend." On the other hand...it's kind of refreshing to have a guy so willing to claim the relationship in public. I always end up with the ones who introduce you as their "friend," even long past the point where YOU think the "girlfriend" appellation could be used. (New Guy being a case in point.)

Anyway, Friday night's show was good, Saturday night's was even better. I did, indeed, "kill" in my big number. It's both very nice and somewhat frustrating to have people who've seen me in all three years that I've done this show, only now realize that I can really sell a number. The director apologized that I'd been under-utilized previously (and even in this show, to a certain extent). Maybe next year I won't have to beg for a good song. Heh. Also nice? A woman I didn't know stopped to tell me how great the show was, and also to let me know that she's seen me in "real" plays several times and I'm always wonderful. Why, thank you, Strange Woman. Nice to hear. Saturday night one of the two musical directors made it a point to tell me that he'd been remiss over the last three years in not telling me how great I was, and how much he had always appreciated my professionalism. His new girlfriend, who I've known casually for years, through an theatre friend, said that she remarked to him, when she saw that I was in the show, "I always know it's going to be good if Liz is in it. She never lets me down." A few other people, who know me either socially or through the "straight" (meaning non-musical, not non-gay) theatre community, remarked that they "had no idea I could sing like that." Okay, clearly, I've got to do a better job coordinating the two sides of my performing personality. I'm better known in Tulsa as an actress, so I guess I need to do some P.R. on my singing career!

We had cast parties both Friday and Saturday nights--both were fun, and both nights I stayed up way too late, though I did a pretty good job controlling my alcohol intake--not a single hangover--woo hoo! Hot Med made me lunch at his place on Saturday, and made dinner for me (and his sister and nephew) on Sunday evening. He is the healthiest cook ever. All vegetables--nothing greasy or creamy or overly cheesy. Lots of lemon juice and olive oil. If I only ever ate meals he prepared for me, I'd be skinny. (He wouldn't like that, though...he doesn't like skinny girls. They look "like they'd break." Hee!)

I think I'm going to make dinner for him at my place tonight, and then on Saturday, I will be joining the entire family--Hot Med, Hot Bro, Sil, Sis and Nephew--on an excursion to a nearby town for a Lebanese heritage festival.

I know, I know...you're thinking this is seeming like a "relationship." Shut up! I'm just having fun. I think I deserve a little fun--don't you?

Rainy days and Fridays...

I want some sunshine, and I want it now. It's rained off and on all week. I am tired of it. Someone get on this for me, 'kay?

I haven't seen Hot Med all week, as I've had rehearsal every night, and we don't talk on the phone, as that is just frustrating, but I will see him tonight, as he and his brother and sister-in-law are coming to see the "Fridiron." I know HM won't understand many of the lyrics, but I think he will enjoy the music and silliness, and mostly...he is just excited to see me onstage. I had invited them all to come, but didn't think they were going to, as they are very "early to bed" people, and thought it might be too late an evening for them. But, according to Hot Bro, Hot Med really, really wanted to come, so they're all going to give it a whirl. I'm glad they're willing to do this for him, and I hope they enjoy it. I'm giving them my comps, so at least they're not out too much money. I can't do anything about them having to stay up past their bedtime. Heh.

It's a pretty good show, I think. Maybe a little long, but the mayor came last night and she loved it. We lampoon her pretty strongly in a couple of songs, including my big closing number (to the tune of Rohemian Bhapsody--hee), and she sat right up front, so I lampooned her directly to her face. She was very good about it. We'll see if I suddenly notice a big increase in my city utility bill. (Kidding, Mayor Kathy, kidding!)

We've got cast parties both tonight and tomorrow night, so it should be quite a weekend. And then on Sunday, I will rest. And probably spend some time with Hot Med, if he still likes me after he sees me onstage singing about hookers and tossing around babies like bean bags. (Referring to the former governor of New York and "Octomom," respectively.)

Hope your weekends are lovely and filled with just the right amount of mayors, babies, and/or hookers.