A classy brush-off

So, as some of you may know, I went out on two dates this week.

The first was with a very young man - 25yo. I'll admit that while in theory I see nothing wrong with a moderate age difference, I was hesitant about dating someone who was born in the 80s.

But the date turned out all right. We had good conversation and I was pretty comfortable with him.

Well, I heard back from him yesterday, and while he thinks I'm "sweet" he just didn't feel a connection.

I have to say, I really appreciate this kind of honesty! It's just classy. Too many other guys seem to just "lose her number" (and I'm sure girls are just as guilty of this)

Luckily, I was kind of on the fence about him, too, so it didn't hurt my feelings to be given the brush off.

And then there's the other guy...

The second date was with a guy a year older than me who is very very different from the first. He's a total "guy" - likes sports, is a bit of a button-pusher, totally irreverent. But he makes me laugh.

And we're still talking...

:D

Which leads to the question: What on earth does one do on a SECOND date????

Be vewwy vewwy kwiet...

...We'ah hunting mushwooms!

It's almost mushroom season. I have been mushroom hunting since I was eight years old. Morel mushrooms are a very rich, meaty mushroom that grows all over the US (I even found one once when I was living in Alaska) They resist cultivation so if you want them, you pretty much have to find them.

They tend to pop up in early to mid-May. But we've had some very warm and fairly wet weather recently and I'm hoping to get into the Woods very soon!

I've never gone mushroom hunting here in Illinois, so I don't know the hottest spots. And no true mushroom hunter would tell me unless I were related to him, and probably not even then.

Mushroom hunters are a cagey bunch. They jealously guard their prime spots.

I rememeber once finding a mother lode while hunting with my dad and brother. We found dozens of morels in the center of a dying peach grove. The ground was just covered in them and we filled all of our bags. I found the first one. And then my brother found one and then I found another and then we stopped and took a look at the big picture and realized that the whole ground in this small circle of dying fruit trees was covered in the precious little beauties.

As we were leaving the woods, returning to the car, two men had just parked and were clearly getting ready to hunt for mushrooms themselves. My dad hissed at us to hide our fungal booty and when the two new-comers asked us if we'd had any luck, I opened my mouth to pipe up "YES!" but got an elbow in my ribs from David as a reward.

"Only a couple," my dad lied easily.

And this is not unusual.

And, as an adult, I now understand it completely. Just a picture of a morel makes my heartrate kick up. I don't even care about eating them. I just want to FIND them. You'd think it was easy to spot a tender beigey-pink lovely among the green grass, but you'd be surprised.

I can't wait to get out there!!!!

I don't get it...

So, I generally try to avoid talking politics on my blog, but there's an issue that's really been bothering me lately.

It's the whole torture thing.

What really astounds me is the number of people who see absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nevermind that it violates the Geneva Conventions. Nevermind that it's exactly the sort of thing that we would be up in arms over if some other government did it to our citizens. Nevermind that it is flat out WRONG.

But the icing on the cake, for me, was John McCain, an outspoken critic of torture (having been a victim of it himself) suggesting that we NOT prosecute the people who enabled and even encouraged this shameful practice on American soil by representatives of the American People.

It makes me sick.

Apparently, he thinks we should just say "mea culpa" and move on with no accountability.

Barf.

And Cheney wants to parade the fact that it was apparently "successful" in gathering information. In my opinion, there is no success here. It is a first class FAILURE of everything that America stands for.

I love this country. I love the freedoms and liberties and innovative spirit it was built on. I love everything it stands for. It does NOT stand for torture.

Torture may be the "easy" way, but it is NOT the American way. We're better than this. Or at least, I thought we were.

:(


PS: Angela, I thought we were going to hear about your weirdo date who made fun of you for baking cookies. What kind of guy doesn't like a chick who bakes????

Happy Dance!

So I got called into the Director's office an hour ago. I wasn't too worried because I've been a good little employee lately (though I do harbor secret fears that my Topix addiction may be discovered by the Evil IT Overlords)

I sat down with her and my boss, thinking that we were there to discuss a problem employee or an on-going project that has been perpetually stalled.

But no!

They gave me a promotion!!!!

It's not a lot more money and there will be a several additional (un-fun) responsibilities, but I totally wasn't expecting it!

I am seriuosly touched that they made that effort on my behalf and I even got a little teary.

:D

W T F

I went on a date last night. I was very excited about it because I had spoken to him on the phone several times and each time we had long, fun conversations. We seemed to communicate well.

But the date itself did not turn out quite so well.

He was cute. The conversation was pretty good, but he rarely asked me any questions about me. Instead I got a lot of work stories and learned about him, which was great because I was honestly interested in him. I was willing to put down his apparent lack of interest in my life to sheer nervousness.

He was clearly nervous, but his body language did not give me a lot of hope. He leaned away from me a lot and made no effort to touch me, even causually.

Again, I was willing to put this down to first date nerves.

But then he got a phone call. Politely, he glanced at his phone and then turned it off. Good. But a few minutes later, he excused himself to go to the restroom and was gone for quite a while.

When he came back, he made no secret of the fact that he had returned the call. And here's where things get very odd.

Apparently, a friend of his was down in the city and had gotten into a fight with his girlfriend. During this time, the friend had accidentally locked his keys in his car. So he called my date (who lives in the NW burbs) because apparently my date carries spare keys to his friend's car around with him.

W T F???

To be fair, my date did not ditch me right away. But the date did end relatively soon thereafter.

This really seemed like an "emergency call" to me (and I didn't even know that guys did this!)

But we were already close to the end of the date. It was 9:30 and he could easily have excused himself saying he had to work in the morning. That's exactly why you do first dates during the week.

But I'm simply speechless. And kind of hurt.

I could be wrong. I hope I'm wrong. But it's very very strange.

Ow Ow Ow Ow!

So, I definitely have plantar fasciitis. Which is basically an injury to the tissue along the arch of the foot. It's a killer b/c while it heals overnight, it re-tears with every step you take the next day.

So. My hot podiatrist (seriously, this guy is DREAMY!!!!) told me I can't run (or walk for exercise) for two weeks. Sharon told me it would be better to wait a whole month.

So in the meantime, I'm supposed to stay off of it as much as possible. Which makes my cardio workouts really limited. I can swim (yeah, right!), row (fun, but get's sooooo boooooring after 10 minutes) or bike.

I've been resisting the bike. I don't hate it but it too gets boring after a while. So Sharon's been strong-arming me into taking a spin class.

I finally did this morning. Aside from the trauma of having to hear that horrilbe "Tears on My Guitar" song (which henceforth I had avoided being subjected to) set to a dance/spin beat, it wasn't that bad. I didn't love it, but it wasn't horrible.

But now my tush hurts like hell and for a while there other parts ... girly parts that I am rather attached to .... hurt like hell too.

But I survived. I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it from Sharon. Or Garth.

April Fool?

My dad is my accountant. He's also a complete smartass. I'm not sure why I didn't inherit the smartass gene.

;p

I'm refinancing my mortgage (rates are sooooo low!) and I need my last two years' W2s. Now, I could dig through my own not-very-organized filing system (doesn't everyone just shove stuff in a shopping bag?) or I could call my accountant, aka Dad.

So, obviously, I called my dad.

EEE: Morning, Daddy.
Dad: Good morning, EEE.
(exchange of pleasantries la la la)
EEE: So, I'm refinancing my mortgage and I need my last two years' W2s. Do you still have those on file?
Dad: Yeah right. They've been shredded. April Fool.
EEE: Huh? I'm refinancing. I'm getting below 5%.
Dad: Yeah right.
EEE: Why would I joke?
Dad: Because it's April Fool's Day.
EEE: Dad. Don't you think that if I were going to punk you this morning I'd come up with something better than "I'm doing a refi"???
Dad: You're serious?
EEE: YES!

Only, it took much longer than that to actually convince him. I don't know why...

Though, to be fair, last year my sister and I DID convince our mother that our brother's GF was preggers... Hehehe!

AND we are talking about a man who PROPOSED 40 years ago today. (She turned him down four times b/c she thought he was joking)

Happy Anniversery, Mom and Dad!!!

Footscicle

I injured my foot.

Probably from running.

All my research with Dr. Google seems to indicate Plantar Fasciitis - an injury to the tissue along the arch of the foot.

Sharon also believes it to be consistent with plantar fasciitis. Fun.

She had told me to ice it. For me, this meant wrapping a bag of frozen corn in a towel and standing on it while applying my makeup in the morning. This morning, when Sharon iced it for me, I found that she had other ideas.

She took a gel ice pack - which is about 20° colder than a bag of corn, and made me put my foot directly on it, no towel, no sock, just foot on ice.

For 20 minutes.

TWENTY. MINUTES.

It hurt like HELL!!!!

Twenty minutes (and 5 sets of upper-body strength excersizes) later, she let me move my foot. By then it was totally numb and very cold. It was a footscicle.

Fun.

I'm seeing a podiatrist today. Hopefully he'll just give me a pill or a shot or something...

Smartass

I sometimes forget that my sister is just as much my father's daughter as I am.

For all her overt rebelliousness (she IS the youngest) she is much more straight-laced and traditional than I am. She's clearly our father's daughter in terms of temper (short fuse, anyone?) but I'm always taken off-guard when she channels his irreverent side because usually that's my purview.

Yesterday, she emailed me a picture of the two of us taken at my college graduation when we were both much smaller and much blonder.

"I would give anything to be that size again!" she lamented.

And I, forgetting the Girl Code, emailed her back: "What did you eat for breakfast? Have you worked out lately" which, of course, pissed her off. It was "feel my pain" not "help me"

But a little later she DID tell me what she'd been eating/drinking etc. I noticed right off that it was all processed and lacking in vegetables. So I haraunged her all day to "Eat Some F Ing Veg!!!"

And then, at the end of the day, she emailed me with this gem:

"...you keep mentioning in texts and email something about “veggies”. Is this something new I haven’t heard of before?? I can’t find it on google anywhere…what in the world are you talking about…are you losing your mind??? I’m really confused by this because I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about…"

I was stunned and appalled.

Had she fallen on her head? Was she kidding? What she so immersed in processed foods and trends (Des Moines is the biggest Test Market in the US for a reason: Iowans will try anything) that she had lost all touch with REAL food???

Needless to say, she was totally pulling my chain. And I fell for it. As I always do with our dad.

The Littlest Klepto Strikes Again

When I was home at Christmas I lost the valet key to my car. I'd brought it along just in case (I've been known to lose keys)

I had given the key to my dad when he insisted on filling up my tank (gas is sooper cheap in Iowa so I didn't argue too much) and I remember seeing it on the kitchen counter the day before I left.

The morning I was set to leave, however, I couldn't find it anywhere. We all looked for about 10 minutes and then I shrugged, figuring it was in one of my bags or something and that it would turn up later.

Well it did turn up later. Much later.

Today, in fact.

The E-man, who is 4 years old (nearly 5) is at my parents' house today. Apparently, he came running up to my mother about an hour ago, holding out my key in his chubby little fist.

EMan: Nama! Look what I found in the Pool!

(Note: by "Pool" he means pool table in the basement)

Now, you can NOT tell me that my dad or I "accidentally" dropped that key into the pool table pocket.

Little thief!

He's hella cute, though.

The F Word

Sometimes in order to get things done, you really need to use the F word.

Especially if it's true.

I'm not talking about the naughty F word, I'm talking about the other F word:

FIRE!

My El car caught fire this morning. Not the whole car, just the heating unit behind my seat. We could actually see flames licking up along the door. The first time it happened, the engineer came back and (I thought) turned off the heater.

But then it happened again two stops later.

The woman nearest it said, in a calm, but not very loud voice: "Can someone hit the button? It's happening again."

Now, this is fine, but not all the people on the train were the same ones who'd been there before. Specifically, the guy nearest said button had only just gotten on and had no clue there'd been a fire.

So I had to speak up. I'm a fairly soft-spoken person (stop laughing, it's true!) but I can make my voice carry - with authority - when I need to.

EEE(calling along the length of the train car): SIR! Press the emergency button please! The heater is on FIRE again.

Firm, loud, calm, no panic. Things progressed in an orderly fashion.

I guess I'm not as useless in a (psuedo)emergency as I thought.


So, the day can only get less interesting from here.

Have a great day, all!

Oh! And: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOVA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some people

Sorry I've been away so long. I've been on vacation. I was visiting old friends in Phoenix and in Denver.

My friends in Phoenix I've known since I was 13 and I see them several times a year. I know what to expect with them.

My friends in Denver, though...

We were roommates in grad school and lived and breathed one another for three solid years. Then I moved away (to follow a boy - but that's a whole 'nother story) and we only saw one another sporadically. In fact, it had been a full seven years since I'd seen Steph.

Before I left, I confessed to a friend here that I was worried about seeing Steph. I was worried that she would be disappointed with how lame and dorky I am. That my clothes wouldn't be cool enough, that my life would be too dull.

Silly, I know.

And ultimately: a complete waste of energy. As soon as we saw one another again, it was as if no time at all had passed. We were just: US.

The funniest part? Apparently SHE was having the exact same worries about ME! She had called her mom before I arrived and confessed that she was worried that I would be disappointed in her, that I would think she wasn't accomplished enough, that her life was lame.

But there are just some people in your life who crawl under your skin and into your heart so deeply that no amount of time or distance can ever really extract them. When you meet again, it's as if no time has passed. Disagreements and differences in personality just don't matter.

I'm glad to have so many of those people in my life.