Showing posts from February, 2016

The First Date – Part 3 (Who’s Your Daddy?)

Ok. Here we go. I promise this is the last one (for now) on this subject. So when I left, you were just settling into your date. You had done your homework, made a choice, picked an activity and a place. You had polished your shoes and your smile. You were positive and genuine and awesome. With all this going for you, it should go just fine. And I truly hope it does. But just in case……A few more hints We Came, We Ate…..Oh Wait – The Bill In all my years of having first dates, I have ALWAYS done the same thing when it came to the check. And recently I discovered that apparently I have always been wrong. I offer to pay for my portion of the bill. Not split the bill; just my part. Not because of social norm or feminist view. But simply because unless I know that someone enjoyed my company and is actually interested in me, I do not believe they are obligated to fork over any cash on my behalf. It is my opinion that going dutch on the first date is only fair. Now I d

Sidelined (Take Me Out Coach)

Have you ever been trolling right along, wind in your hair, troubles in the rear view. Life is good. Sun is shining. Birds are singing. Then WHAM, out of nowhere there you go, end over end. Landing in a mangled heap of mess. Well I have. And it sucks. Life can take an unexpected turn from time to time. Throw us off balance. Leave us shaking our head. Maybe you want to ask the question, “Why me?”. Sure, go ahead. Just don’t expect an answer. At least not one that will make you feel better. We often cannot make sense of it. I suppose if we try, we can decide to learn something. Character building. Appreciation for the smooth sail. But man oh man, getting to that point is not an easy task. We all have in our minds the way we want things to go. We fall into routines. We have patterns. We carve out the path that is comfortable and familiar to us. My path probably doesn’t look like yours, but that’s ok. We do what works for us. What makes sense in our mind. I am not suggesting that

The First Date ­– Part 2 (Did I Shave My Legs For This?)

When I started this train of thought, I was sure I could put down all of my wisdom in two little standard blog posts. Turns out I have more to say on this subject than I imagined. Probably has something to do with the fact that I’ve been on more first dates than I care to mention. So while this is still Part 2, there will now also be a Part 3! I know, the anticipation is exhilarating. The last time we met here we discussed steps to take and hopefully pitfalls to avoid when choosing to communicate with someone online. Thus laying the groundwork for the progression to..The First Date. As comfortable as it is to sit all cozy at your home in your PJs and just talk with someone on the phone, you will never know if there is any real connection until you are face to face. (However this should never take place in your home OR in your PJs.) No, you have to take a deep breath, summon your courage and go for it. But before you head out the door, let’s cover some of the basic elements.

The First Date – Part 1 (Meet Me or Delete Me)

My first real date was with a guy named Steve. He was a senior in high school and I was a freshman. We passed each other every day right after lunch in the cross walk between the buildings. He was quite tall. I remember he would pass by, look down at me and smile. I felt pretty special being asked out by a senior! We went to Pizza Hut for dinner. Then he took me bowling. I’m not sure, but it may have been my first time. I was terrible!! After bowling we sat in his car in the IGA (grocery store) parking lot and talked. He gave me a cherry lifesaver and then he kissed me. I went home thinking that was the best first date in the history of first dates. (Considering some I’ve had, it still scores as pretty great.) Things have changed a lot since then. Online dating has added several wrinkles to what used to be a smooth operation. Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl out. Boy picks up girl and off they go. You met through friends or church or work or maybe in the neighborhood. You actually

Love -- (Like (I’m) Over Valentines Entirely)

Raise your hand if you are so very tired of seeing “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials. Really? You didn’t raise your hand? Well it’s that time of year again where we are constantly bombarded with reminders that there are the Haves and the Have Nots. (If I have to spell it out for you, you are probably a Haves.) And it’s not just Kay. How many emails from 1800Flowers and Shari’s Berries have YOU received this week?? (Is it just me?) Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a hater. I’m sure it’s just sour grapes or sour apples or sour gummi bears. If I were on the receiving end of a pink glitter, satin ribbon wrapped tiny box with a giant K on it, I would probably break out and sing the stupid song myself. If a huge box of chocolate covered anything were delivered to me, I would be delighted. (Except, not at work. I’m really weird about that. Everybody coming up to my desk with a …”Ohhh, who sent YOU those ”…like it is shocking to even consider.)   I mean, sure, being

Most Days I'm The Windshield - Today...I'm The Bug

It happens.  I can admit that today (and yesterday) were not my best days. Don’t worry; nothing bad took place. I am still one very blessed and thankful woman. I have no legitimate reason to be gloomy. (Well, the Panthers did lose the Super Bowl, but to be sure that isn’t it.) And yet I am. Blue. Mopey. Out of sorts.  I debated on whether to share this. TMI! It’s a downer. Who wants to be bummed out, right? Just feed us the cheerful stuff Hope! And it would be great if every day was a cheery and bubbly day. Some people seem to have them. Those people tend to annoy me, but still. Maybe they know a secret. But for me it seems there are times when, despite our best efforts and bravest fronts, we just don’t quite make it to the top of Happy Mountain. The trail runs cold or the wind is too strong. Maybe we dropped our favorite grappling hook. So we stand there looking up, with our hands to shade our eyes, at what appears to be an unattainable peak. Our focus is where we haven’t yet b

Reverse Parental Control

I cracked the screen on my cell phone. (I know, the horror of it all). I was on my treadmill, using the phone for music when it bounced off, hit the floor and cracked the screen. (I considered that a mis-guided hint that I should stop walking on that treadmill. Haven’t been on it since.) I carried that cracked screen phone for a very long time. It still worked. All was fine. Then one day my youngest daughter; adult and married, said they had received notice of a special promotion where I could be put on their family cellular plan, get a new phone, cheaper rate…yada yada. So I did. Fast forward a few months…my daughter and her husband were talking about how much data was being used and the number of text messages his sister had sent last month. (His teenage sister is also on the family plan.) While we were sitting there railing about teenagers and their text message obsession my daughter pipes up and says, “Don’t worry Mom, you only sent ###”. Wait…...What??     You have access t

You’re The Reason God Made Oklahoma (It’s A Song, Google It)

This is the story of how I met and married my first husband. It is a personal story and a true story. It is also a family story, because not only did it affect my family it also affected his, plus the marriage produced my oldest daughter.   So while it is my intent to be honest and maybe even thought provoking, I have to be sensitive to the feelings of everyone involved. This will be some of my most intimate revelations to date. At the age of 19 I was a very restless teenager. I also fancied myself somewhat of a gypsy. I never really believed I fit in the small country town in North Carolina where I lived. Even though we had moved there when I was still young, I basically always felt like an outsider. And I felt poor. I know, that sounds awful. I had a good life. But at the time, that is how I felt. I didn’t have the Aigner purses or the preppy clothes or those Add-A-Bead necklaces. (I really, really wanted one of those necklaces.)   Sounds trite now, but it wasn’t then. Not t

Damsel In A Dress (Distress Is For Furniture)

**The sound of a dark and calamitous saloon piano plays in the background** A woman is tied to the railroad tracks in an old silent movie with a nefarious villain rubbing his hands gleefully at his handiwork. She is helpless and frantic. When along comes the hero, her hero, who rushes in, unties her just before the train arrives. He rescues her and puts an end to the villain’s evil plot…. BAM, the blueprint for the Damsel in Distress is born. Ok. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.  If it is an inherent female trait, it skipped me. If it is learned or taught behavior, I failed the class. I totally understand the concept. I completely, if albeit grudgingly, acquiesce to the fact that the concept exists. I just can’t manage to pull it off. I know these distressed damsels exist. I have met one or two. It is with curiosity and sometimes a twinge of jealousy that I watch them operate. But it’s not for me.  Honestly I am proud to say that most of the amazing single women I know today