Just How Does The Other Half Live?

Just back from a holiday vacation with Mr. Wonderful and it was, well, wonderful! I'm pretty sure he felt the same since he didn't screech up to my front door after nine full days together and chuck me along with all my luggage, skis, boots etc. out of the car and speed away. Admittedly, I was slightly (only slightly) anxious about spending an entire week together non-stop, day in and day out when we'd only had a history of spending a mere weekend together and been dating for just four months. We're still in that "getting to know one another" stage. I've known friends who've gone on vacations with new loves only to return no longer a couple. While I wasn't in fear of that happening, I was concerned about not having enough "Loreley Time".

My concerns turned out to be completely unwarranted. From the moment we set off, after fueling up on Starbucks' coffees and low-fat turkey bacon breakfast sandwiches, we got along famously and enjoyed each other's company for nine days straight....day in and day out.

Our road trip to Banff involved a two day drive with a stop over in Revelstoke the first night. We stayed at the Powder Pillow B&B where we were put up in a charming comfortable loft apartment. I would highly recommend this accommodation to anyone staying in Revelstoke, BC. Mr. Wonderful was feeling a bit under the weather, but the comforts this loft provided him rest and helped nip that cold in the bud a bit sooner rather than later.

We arrived in the beautiful mountain town of Banff, Alberta late the following afternoon. I was immediately drawn in to this little village nestled at the base of the most stunning mountains I've seen since my trip to Europe, so many years ago now.

We checked into our home for the week, the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel, and scoped out our room. Just what does one get for the exorbitant fee for a King View Room at a fancy pants castle hotel? As it turned out, not that much. Neither of us was completely "wowed". It was fairly basic, comfortable, did have an incredible view from the corner alcove window, and the bathroom needed updating (cracked tile, peeling wallpaper and worn bedspread is what you'd expect from a Travel Lodge Motel, not from a Fairmont Hotel). However, I wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth and Mr. Wonderful isn't exactly a complainer, so we unpacked our bags and made it home. Later we discussed that if we had complained, we're sure they would have found us a more suitable room. I've worked in tourism. I know the drill. I also had contempt for the whiners. C'est le vie.

Throughout the week, we kept reminding ourselves that the room fees did include all the amenities of the hotel, which were quite elaborate; indoor and outdoor heated swimming pools, exclusive spa (for additional exorbitant fee, of course), unaffordable shops toting designer wear and exotic furs, several overpriced restaurants, a wine bar, activities for kids and families (if that had been our thing), a fitness center we had every intention of using, skating rink, ice bar complete with a curling rink, and, of course, the privilege of boasting "we're staying at the Fairmont." Seeing how the other half lives for one week was somewhat eye-opening for this hostel traveller.

Our first full day in Banff, we walked briskly into town and shopped, saw the sights, took pictures like the tourists we were, drank hot cocoa to warm up from the frozen temps, and then walked back to the hotel for a tour of The Castle. The tour guide, Dave, had been with the hotel since he was a young lad. Dave, no longer young or a lad, was the hotel historian and quite the character. We couldn't tell if his speech was practiced or on the fly, but he was sputtering and stammering out anecdotes and dropping famous names in hopes of impressing his audience. Although his stories were a bit difficult to follow, the tour itself was impressive. The hotel is vast with public areas open for all to wander and enjoy any time of day or night. It really was built in the spirit of an old castle and even after a week, I was unable to confidently work my way around the labyrinths and rabbit warrens tunneling in every direction.

We skied at Sunshine Mountain, which had more snow than the other two resorts of Norquay and Lake Louise, but was still in need of several more inches. It was impossible to go off piste and anytime I tried to find an open black diamond, my skis found the hard sharp ground before I could see it coming. I still haven't mustered the courage to view the bottom of my boards!

We tried our hand at curling, ice skating and took what sounded like a romantic sleigh ride on Christmas Eve. We booked this excursion our first day in Banff when there was loads of fresh snow covering the ground and predictions of more to come. Three days of clear sunshine filled skies later, no snow and chilling temperatures, we were on our way being drug through partially snow covered, lumpy and grassy fields by horses that seemed less than enthusiastic. And romantic? We were loaded onto a twelve person sleigh huddled together under stinky old blankets. We passed the quintessential charming "one horse open sleigh" along the way. A young couple was cozied up drinking hot rum drinks, cloaked in fur throws and looking somewhat more comfortable than anyone on our rig. We had the screaming child begging to go home, the mother scolding him to be quiet, a horse with a stinky bottom and a lot of miserably cold adults hoping the ride would be cut short, but no one willing to pipe up and suggest taking a vote to end the madness. When the sleigh finally returned to the barn 45 minutes later, everyone piled off as fast as their frozen bodies could move and ran for the warmth of their cars. The screaming child had actually fallen asleep at some point mid-whine. I'm pretty sure it was simply a case of hypothermia that lulled him into a frozen coma.

Later that night, still in the mood for romance, we had a special Christmas Eve dinner at the Banffshire Club restaurant in the hotel. It was our first meal in the hotel itself, it was Christmas Eve, and we wanted to make it memorable. Upon being seated, our waitress wheeled a complete bar in front of our table explaining three different kinds of champagne on offer, the unique martini created just for the occasion and any other spirit we might crave. Without asking the price (it seemed crude in a place of that caliber to actually ask the price of anything, hence the phrase "if you have to ask, you can't afford it.") we each ordered a glass of the Moet & Chandon Brut Rose. Uh hem...we proceeded to order a second glass still not knowing how much this bubbly was costing. You can see where this is headed. We both ordered the special Christmas menu at $89 a plate; Mr. Wonderful's was a poached sole and mine was the 'traditional turkey dinner'. The menu description stated "turkey breast, dressing, silky mashed potatoes, green beans and cranberry sauce". I was a little hesitant about ordering this meal as I didn't want anything too heavy and I don't eat much dressing, nor do I care for cranberry sauce. Turns out, none of that mattered. The turkey, although tasty, consisted of three 2" round pucks of meat. There was a teaspoon sized dollop of dressing and three tiny melons of "silky" mashed potatoes squeezed out via a pastry bag set atop a smear of what I can only assume to be the cranberry sauce. Sprouting out each of the potato balls was a green bean--the diameter of a toothpick, but only a quarter of the length. After all that food, a bread basket, the two glasses of champagne and a heavenly dessert, I didn't go away hungry by any means. I also didn't go away with my wallet in tact. I'm not accustomed to paying those kinds of prices for meals and that bill, after a hefty tip, could have flown me across the country--and back. I'm not sure I'd say it was exactly 'worth it', but it was memorable, we did enjoy ourselves, we have a story, and I have gotten a small taste of how the other half lives.

Christmas Day was spent in the spa, each of getting pampered with a body treatment of choice, mineral baths, steam rooms, saunas, and general relaxation. It was pure heaven and after the meal from the previous night, I'd given in to just pretending I was Mrs. Rockefeller. Later that day we enjoyed a proper English Afternoon Tea which was fabulous and a true Christmas treat neither of us had experienced before. They were offering champagne, but we both stuck with the tea service included in the set price. Enough is enough already.

I joke about the accommodation, the costs, the moderate ski conditions and the touristy sleigh ride, but I must say, this really was one of the very best Christmases I've ever had, maybe even the best. It was truly a romantic and memorable week with someone I care for. Technically, we could have been anywhere and I would have loved it, but "The Castle" in Banff was absolutely magical.

17 Days Til Christmas

December 8th and people are starting to ask me "Are you all ready for Christmas?" Ready for Christmas? Well, no. It's December 8th.

In years past (way past) I'd have had my 8 ft tree personally hacked down from the tree farm, hauled into my house and fully decorated by now, including those time consuming popcorn strings and individually tied bows. I would have taken a day off work to bake several dozen of a variety of yummy and festive Christmas cookies. In addition, I'd have pies, breads, and other goodies underway. Much of my Christmas gift shopping would have been completed at this point. Approximately 50 homemade Christmas cards would have been inscribed with personal notes and in the post.

My garage, a.k.a. craft area, would have looked like Santa's workshop with Christmas decorations being made, crafts for friends and family, holly and cedar swag wreaths in the works. I was a full on Christmas Holiday Maker. I planned all year long. I'd decide early in the year on some homemade gift idea and start collecting supplies. One year I made homemade vinegar and oils. Another year it was flower pots I painted in ceramics. They didn't sell during the summer flea markets so I had to get rid of my surplus somehow. I built bird houses made from finds from our own back yard and wooded area, wind chimes, potpourri, candles from beeswax and dried flower arrangements. I saw myself as quite the little industrious and creative holiday artist. I was slightly delusional. Nothing turned out all that great. But everything was made with love and good cheer.

I'd take special care with my gift wrap, choosing a unique theme and carefully creating matching bows and trinkets placed on each package.

After leaving my old life behind, I left much of that Holiday Maker Girl behind too. While I was living abroad, I was either renting rooms from local ladies, or on the move. A Christmas tree and decorations were not an option. Most stores in Europe wrap the gifts for you in store (at no additional charge). It isn't fancy, it won't match, but it's sweet and I found it a nice touch. No need to go purchase more items to wrap the gift. Here in the States, I often find wrapping the gift can cost more than the gift itself! Gift bags, matching tissue paper, ribbons (that nice fancy stiff cloth stuff that makes great bows), gift tags, and you're well over your budget for wrap.

Because my kitchen is miniature and cookery sparse, I hardly bake and find when I try, I'm just not as successful at it anymore. Although, my current man will beg to differ as I've managed to crank out a pumpkin pie and pumpkin-ginger bread at Thanksgiving of which he seemed appreciative! Personally, I think he's easy to please. Those are not exactly delicacies. I haven't tackled a cheese cake or those tedious, yet delicious, creatively frosted cut-out cookies in a long time.

If I decorate my apartment, I hand carry a 3 ft tree from the grocery store that sits on my coffee table. Gifts are generally wrapped in recycled gift bags from last year's generous givers, and today I found boxes of Christmas cards for $2.97 at a store in my building that is going out of business soon. That was a bitter sweet purchase. Yea for me for finding a deal, so sad for the store going out of business. I'd like to think the owners are getting out ahead and retiring to the Caribbean for the winter. I'm not sure that is the case, though.

It's not that I don't appreciate the extravagance of Christmas bling. I think I've just simplified it down to what is, for me, reasonable. The whole gift exchange is also a stickly issue for me. I do enjoy giving and receiving, but I have to admit that I have a hard time with excess. It makes me feel uncomfortable. My posse of friends get that about me and respect my wishes (usually) of "no gifts please" or very small tokens. However, there is always going to be some unbalance that makes me cringe. My brothers and I don't generally exchange gifts due to the distance we live apart. Sending material items across the country was getting unproductive, as well as costly (another expense that can easily exceed the cost of the gifts being shipped!).

Last year I did give the one brother who lives in the area a belt. His daughters said he needed a brown dress belt. I thought I was doing well to give him something he needed and not too extravagant. I know he is financially strapped and I've been in the same boat these past eight "transitional" years. He, in turn, gave me a Helly Hansen Fleece Jacket. Seriously? I gave him a belt and he gave me Helly Hansen Jacket? How am I to walk away from that gift exchange feeling good at all? I felt like crap. A year later and I'm still, obviously, feeling like crap.

This year Mr. Wonderful and I are going away for Christmas and that is our gift to each other. I am really looking forward to a Christmas in the snow and spending time with someone I really dig.

Before too long I will get my discount Christmas cards mailed, gift shopping done, and my little apartment spruced up with a bit of holiday cheer. I might even tackle a batch of cookies. But we'll see. That seems a little ambitious. After all, it is only December 8th.

"Winter Blast 2010"

We have a little weather here in the PNW and the newsmen go crazy. I love the over dramatization. "Icy conditions grip the area", reads one headline.

"Underneath that layer of snow, Bob, is a slick layer of ice!" says a bundled reporter standing out in the snow yelling into her mic.

"Over here we see a nine car pile up!" she continues to shout (she does have a mic, is shouting necessary?) "Cars have been abandoned all over the city!"

Then the warm inside anchorman chimes in, "More in store with freezing temps and increased wind chill. Keep your pets and grandma's inside tonight, folks!"

"Stay tuned for more weather updates!"

How many times do they need to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to show the same scenes from the roads over and over again?

Kind of makes me wonder what is happening elsewhere in the world. Instead of turning to CNN or BBC, I just turn off the telly. I, for one, had a snow day today and savored every minute of it!

After watching it snow from my cubicle on the 27th floor all day yesterday, I walked the almost three miles home bypassing a string of cars gridlocked on First Avenue. I don't quite understand this. From overhearing phone calls and gossip yesterday at work, everyone all over the area was watching it snow and comparing notes. It was sticking in Bellevue, but not in Issaquah. It was coming down hard in Bothell, and roads in Auburn were already covered. So why did everyone wait until the end of the day to start driving home? The Mayor said it "snuck up on us". Snuck? It began snowing on Sunday. Snow had been predicted for a week. It was snowing when we went to work Monday morning. There was no "sneaking". Mother nature made it quite clear that you might want to consider working from home, not driving, or at the very least, leave work much earlier than you did!

I have the luxery of being walking distance from work, and I was quite happy to be on foot. With my hood tightly tied, my shadow cast a Kenny-like resemblance. Unlike Kenny, I managed to get home safe and sound. Once inside my cozy hovel, I lit candles, poured a glass of wine (my wine club...eeerrr, I mean book club canceled yesterday so I had an abundance of vino on hand), and prepared a hot and deliciously healthy supper.

I love the way a snowy day makes me feel. I'm quite content to huddle in and be a bit domestic. I've noticed the snow has that affect on others as well. When initially housebound, it's the energy that kicks in right before cabin fever. My sister-in-law said she oiled all of her wooden furniture. Mr. Wonderful scoured his house inside and out. Another friend re-arranged her entire living room and cleaned and organized her garage (that was actually a favor to me so I could garage my motorcycle for the winter! I got it stored in the nick of time.).

While I threatened to clean out my closets, my productive snowy day activities veered more on the quietly creative side. I spent several hours working on my SoulCollage® cards, writing, baking pumpkin ginger bread and going for a long walk in the snow. I love these surprise days to myself. What a fabulous treat.

I've heard a few nasty comments chastising mother nature, but most people take it in stride. After all, what is so important you can't take a day off from it?

Do These Pants Make Me Look Fat?

Women have been asking this type of question for years. We'll stand in front of a full-length mirror turning and twisting to get a good view of the behind and finally walk out into the living room where our significant other or roommate is plopped on the sofa noshing on Doritos and ask "Do these [insert offending clothing item here] make me look fat?" If the person chowing on the sofa knows what's good for her/him, the answer will always be "not at all!"

A [wise] woman eventually learns that if she has to even ask the question, the answer is most definitely "yes"! At a certain age, we become pretty clear about what does and does not look good on our figure. There is no point in trying to get buy in from a second or even third party.

I'm noticing more and more that the men in my world are becoming equally concerned with their figures, eerr, I mean physiques. A prior boss of mine was so obsessed with getting back to his high school weight it was disturbing. What guys actually looked good at age 17? They are generally scrawny legged creatures with weird facial hair and pimples. Even the "jocks" didn't look all that great. I was recently at a restaurant sitting near a table full of Homecoming goers and noticed the contrast between the girls and boys. The girls all looked about 22, made up and gorgeous, while the boys looked like, well, little boys. It takes a few more years for boys to fill out and start looking good in their jeans. So a 44 year old man, who was not overweight in the first place, striving to reach his high school weight was just a little creepy.

The other day a co-worker, after busting the rear seam out of a pair of trousers, went out shopping for some replacements. He was showing me his new pants and explained how he bought the same size as his old ones, yes, the ones in which he split the seams. He realized once he got them home that they were slightly snug. He was disgusted that he was 12lbs heavier and these pants were a bit tight. His dilemma? Should he go buy the larger size with the idea that he'll just have them taken in when he loses the 12lbs? Or should he keep the snug ones and get working out harder to lose the 12lbs quickly? Then he realized the holidays are creeping up on us and already there has been an abundance of treats lurking around every corner of the office.

First of all, I'm looking at this rather slender guy wondering where the heck would he lose 12lbs from? I felt like I was listening to some of the women in my life blathering on about losing weight they don't need to lose. I was basically of no help as I pointed him in the direction of the Macadamia Nut Chocolates brought back from Hawaii by another co-worker and walked away.

Finally, there is the case of a certain Mr. Wonderful I happen to be dating. Grant it, we have commiserated together on occasion about the need to increase our exercise regime and decrease our eating out regime. However, to listen to him talk you'd think he was enormous. He has referred to himself as the Pillsbury Dough Boy, Tubby McChubberson and some other fictional character I can't even remember, but who is rather on the large side. Okay, my man is not fat! Not even close. So you can only imagine my own horror at what his idea of fat is as I take stock in what's going on with my own trousers.

While I can appreciate these men looking after themselves and can certainly relate to their concerns, I'm not sure I find it soothing to hear men sounding like we women have been sounding for years. There is a theory that when women look into the mirror we see all our flaws, wrinkles, bulging tummies and saddle bags galore, while men look in the mirror and see studs, no matter what is actually staring back at them. I guess it is nice to know that not all men are so arrogant and full of an uncanny sense of unwarranted self confidence. Maybe we are a bit more alike than we realize.

Flu Shot Frenzy

I know they are given out freely and are suppose to protect us from a few different flu viruses (H1N1, H3N2 and Influenza B, for example), but I just don't feel comfortable getting a flu shot myself. I am not 100, I am not pregnant, I don't suffer any chronic illnesses, I am not around small children (a.k.a. carriers of everything), I don't live in a nursing home, nor am I around sickly people all day. My co-workers have so much allotted time off, they stay home for a sniffle. Doubt I'd ever catch anything from them.

My decision to decline the free flu shot is my personal choice. I don't peddle my opinion or try to sway others not to get a flu shot. By all means, if it makes you feel more protected, get one. Personally, I've never gotten a flu shot and I rarely get sick. I'm usually pretty lucky.

Last week, my office was providing flu shots to all the employees and a line was formed snaking several yards around the outside of the temporary clinic area. I was questioned as to why I wasn't getting my flu shot. My answer, which basically consisted of "I don't want one", was received with much concern. Frankly, if everyone else is getting the shot, I technically don't need one. Everyone in my office had some reason why I should get my flu shot.

1. It will protect me from several flu viruses -
Response: It doesn't protect from ALL viruses. I'm still at risk.

2. I will get sick from riding the bus-
Response: I've been riding public transportation for eight years and haven't caught the flu from this activity.

3. I'll get sick and then have to give up my vacation days -
Response: I intend to take all my vacation days as vacation days.

4. It might help me with my allergies-
Response: Since I have no idea what I am actually allergic to specifically, I highly doubt it.

5. I'll get sick and then infect my co-workers-
Response: If they've all gotten their shots, they're in the safety zone, right?

6. I might get a flu not included in the protection formula-
Response: Oy Vey. Think about that argument.


The office was full of energy as co-workers charged off to receive their shot. While getting into the elevator one man shouted out to a passerby as the doors were closing "going to get my flu shot!" The passerby cheerily shouted back "I got mine this morning!" They practically high- fived each other as the doors closed. I understand that getting a flu shot can reduce the possibility of an epidemic and spread of influenza during the winter season, but these people act as if they are doing the biggest community service they can muster. And I, on the other hand, was treated like a leper in the midst of it all.

I am somewhat skeptical about getting a flu shot, because I've heard many people actually get sick after the shot. A co-worker pointed out that wasn't true. There might just be a few symptoms which include, but are not limited to sore throat, fever, aches, fatigue and soreness. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest these are--eerr--flu-like symptoms.

Why couldn't anyone just accept that I wasn't getting a flu shot, wish me good luck in not getting sick and carry on with their day? After all their badgering and warnings, I'm never going to hear the end of it if I should get sick.

I immediately sent emails to a few friends who study alternatives to western medicine and requested a list of seven herbs and spices to protect myself from illness. More than staying healthy for the sake of staying healthy, I have a point to prove now!

The Greatest of Ease

It's easy these days to feel like a complete failure much of the time, especially in Seattle. Seems everyone in this city has several degrees or is currently obtaining a Masters, PhD or Doctorate Degree. I just got back from an industry conference where most attendees had a multitude of letters following their name. I didn't even have a business card to exchange. I applied for grad school and was accepted, but haven't drummed up the money or serious ambition and drive to actually enroll after taking my pre-requisite course in January. I am almost a CPCU having completed 8 out of 10 courses, but not there yet. One man the keynote speaker at our conference referred to in his opening speech had 22 educational designations after his name. I turned to the woman next to me and whispered, "that guy must never go on vacation".

It never ceases to amaze me how driven and successful some people are. Seems at any given moment I might be watching Oprah or a similar program and there is some over achiever promoting his most recent book, the author some neurosurgeon who has five beautiful over achieving children, has founded a successful non-profit organization, travels to Africa regularly to save the starving and sick, and in his spare time enjoys spending time at his ranch outside Santa Fe. WTF? How does one do all of that? I can't even manage to go my meaningless office job, get to yoga and do my laundry all on the same day, much less actually achieve some greatness. I realize these individuals are more rare than not, and their stories should be inspiring and motivating. Instead, I tend to walk away feeling like a bit of a loser. I quit my corporate gig to go travel the world and seek my dreams and ended up right back where I started. There is a real success story the world is dying to read.

I think small achievements are the way to go. Rather than reach for the stars, maybe I ought to just reach for, say, a tall tree branch and see how that goes first? A couple of weeks ago, my cousin from Colorado was visiting me and I dragged her to an introductory trapeze class. While she was moderately worried about this chosen activity (mine, not hers), she was a good sport and went along with it. Keeping her calm and excited about trying this, distracted from any anxiety I may have felt.

Frankly, I was pretty sure due to my lack of upper arm strength and athletic ability, I'd be spending my time in the net below. The instructors spent adequate time coaching us prior to our first attempt at hanging from the trapeze bar from our knees. Our knees? How the heck is that suppose to happen? After showing us on a static bar, I figured I was doomed. My cousin's comment to me was "this is no way to treat your house guests!"

We each took a turn climbing up to the platform one by one as our classmates watched and rooted from below. Just climbing the wobbly ladder to the top and stepping onto a rather narrow platform was nerve racking, even though I was clipped to a safety belt. Once on top, our coach harnessed me in, I reached out and grabbed the heavy steel trapeze bar, he gave the commands as we practiced on the floor, "ready, hep!" and that was my cue to hop off the platform into the air with the 'greatest of ease'. On the command of Coach Katie below, I was to tuck my knees over the bar and let go letting my arms drop over my head, swing back and forth and then re-grab the bar, untuck my knees, and with straight legs kick 1, 2, 3, then tuck knees and do a backwards flip onto the net like a backwards cannonball. If all that sounds complicated, it was. At least at first. It took me three tries to actually do all that and on the fourth try I mastered it in the very short time frame we needed to accomplish all those moves in order to graduate to do a "catch". The catch involves doing the knee hang maneuver and then rather than re-grabbing the bar, Coach Dave hanging from the opposite trapeze grabs my wrists (and I'd better grab his) and we swing together as I let my knees release from the trapeze. What a ride! What a rush! I was amazed at how it felt. I was even more amazed that I could even successfully accomplish such a feat. At least it was a feat in my mind. Certainly, the others could achieve this too. This was, afterall, a beginner 'trick'. Even so, I was proud of my minor accomplishment.

I guess in the future when I'm feeling defeated by my failed attempts in life, and I see Dr. So and So spouting off all his achievements and do gooder deeds, I can ask the question, "Yeah, but can you do a Catch on a trapeze?"

Cynic To Believer

Yes, yes, I know it's been a month since my last post. I've been a little...eeerr, busy lately.

I promised not to post about Mr. X (now dubbed Mr. Wonderful) if he should ever actually ask me on a date. Well, he did ask me on a date, however, being the stupido I am, I did not realize it was an actual "date" until the end of the evening when he said "you do realize this was a date, right?" Good thing he clarified or I would have thought it was just us continuing with the friend thing. Admittedly, I am a bit of a hard head.

What's been interesting are some of my freinds' reactions to this new development. I told one person I wasn't going to blog about Mr. Wonderful and his reaction was "yeah, until it goes bad". Great vote of confidence. Another confidant inquired, "are you sure you just aren't attracted to the idea of Mr. Wonderful? I mean, if it's for real, great, but..." I could hear the skepticism loud and clear.

Then yesterday, I was on the phone semi-gushing and, again, I could hear the skeptical hesitant "hmmmm....really?" Long pause. "That's.....good." And then another "hmmm." When I called her on her doubtful tone, she just replied, "well, I've never heard you use the words 'great guy' and 'sweetheart' in the same sentence." She's got a point.

I think my past reputation of being a cold hearted cynic who despises red roses on Valentine's Day and prefers to see my dates two to three times per month at best, precedes me. My friends are right. I don't usually like the men I date all that much. I tend to date them for the sheer experience of dating and keeping myself "out there". And let's face it, they've made great fodder for my blog.


So far it's been nearly a month, and all is going swimmingly. I have to say that I, too, am a bit surprised by my reaction to this fella. In keeping with my promise, Mr. Wonderful will not be the brunt of my jokes, nor will I be posting pictures. Sorry, Lucky Mom!

Maxim P.I.

Recently, I received a Maxim Magazine in my mailbox by mistake. It was addressed to a Roberto Figueroa who no longer lives in my apt. and hasn't for over four years. I dragged the rag up to my abode and decided to see just what this Maxim Magazine was all about. I assumed it was a magazine geared toward the male species based on the wet-t-shirt-wearing model on the front cover, so thought I'd indulge myself a bit and learn something of the male perspective. Enlightened, I was.

On page 13, there was an ad to "subscribe now". The ad enticed readers to subscribe to Maxim stating each issue was packed with:

"The World's Sexiest Women (often not wearing pants)
Heaps of Funny-Ass Jokes (sometimes not at all offensive)
Hot New Gadgets and Gear (plug into the latest blinking, beeping goodies)
Movies, Music and Games (if you can waste time with it, we've got it)
Cool Style (seriously, dude, put on a friggin' shirt already)"

At this point, I'm intrigued enough to read on. While the ads include scantily clad women and firm buttocks advertising Syntha-6 (a protein shake) and Tenagaxx (some sort of performance pill I was totally unaware of, but am now quite aware), there were also some quite interesting articles.

I was eager to get a grip on the male perspective. I mean men are often reading Cosmo and Glamour trying to figure women out, so why shouldn't I do the same?

One difference I noticed in the Maxim mag and, say, Cosmo, is the workout section. You know, the one or two page sketches of different moves and descriptions to go with it. While the woman's version just sticks to the facts, the male version keeps a bit of humor about it all.

For example, the "push-up drop set" goes like this: These gradually get easier as you grow more tired (who ever heard of such a thing?). Begin with feet on stair and hands on floor. Do as many push ups as you can until you approach near failure (I love the honesty here). Immediately move into a regular push-up and repeat until near failure. Next, place your feet on the ground and your hands on the step a few levels and repeat until near failure." I wonder how many push-ups constitutes "near failure" for most men?

An entire TWO pages were devoted to barbecue paraphernalia; the Rebel Range which boasts "while you salivate, your meat-spinnery makes crisp, juicy perfection", The BTU Bonsai, Smoke a Hog in a Hole How To's, Bad Aprons (you can just imagine), the pitt mitt, weber pizza stone, and the Steven Raichen Best of Barbecue Spatula. I always thought it was a bit of a joke that men were into the whole BBQ thing. Apparently, it's for real.

The best article, though, was the 'Bachelor Fridge Challenge' where some esteemed chef goes into a bachelor pad and makes a full course meal out of nothing. Really, nothing. The chef finds a old piece of garlic in the fridge, a can of three-bean salad in the cupboard, pasta shells, peanuts, a can of tuna, an old banana and a half eaten pint of Ben and Jerry's. With some creative flair, the chef comes up with a pretty impressive meal. I'm reading this article with particular interest because my bachelorette cupboards are not much different and I'd be curious just what this chef could do for me.

There were various features on a variety of size zero and double ott models donning skimpy lingerie and whatnot and a men's fashion segment involving a spread on sneakers, boxer shorts and sunglasses, i.e., menswear.

The latest issue (yes, I- Roberto- am apparently a regular subscriber now) had an article "Net Benefits- the web is crawling with horny women. Here's how to get them into your bed." Here, ladies, are the tips they suggest for the men out there: Pimp Your Profile (don't give a goofy grin right at the camera), Find the Easy Mark (sussing out the sure thing-- the somewhat attractive, but not the 10's), Woo Her (means write in complete sentences without use of emoticons and poor spelling), Diversify Your Portfolio (don't discount Face Book and Twitter as date finding tools).

This month's food section was all about the jerky- alligator jerky, gerald's sweet and spicy jerky, mountain America spicy turkey jerky, perky jerky (seriously? I hate to wonder what the heck this means?), private reserve sweet and spicy jerky, the list goes on. I can't tell you the last time I ate anything in the jerky family. In the back of most woman's magazines you'll find some recipes to try. This is no different in Maxim. Here I found The Sausage Fest and Hangover Helper recipes, which looked disgusting, by the way, and appeared to involve a lot of cheese, jalapenos, and Miracle Whip. Blech.

Several more pages of soft porn were thrown in for good measure, i.e half naked woman on a beach with a horse, one woman unnaturally climbing a tree, woman in panties and thigh high boots on the back of a Harley, uh huh. And finally, a gut busting guide to man-food. Oh, and if your friends show up unannounced, you just need to serve up some Silver Patron Tequila, opposed to a glass of chilled Chardonnay we women would present.

I love the differences between men and women. It's what makes life so humorous. How is it that God, The Gods, Buddha, Allah, Whomever, matched these two beings up as potential companions? It's completely insane, actually.

All and all, I found the magazine mildly entertaining and it confirmed a few of my ideas of how men think. Having grown up with five older brothers, I certainly had a clue, but this was just the nail in the proverbial coffin.

I'm kind of looking forward to next month's issue.

Best of luck out there, Ladies,

Roberto.

Seeking Partner Who...

Sitting around our dinner table sipping on the best margaritas we've ever had, a few of us were discussing the internet dating scene and how it just didn't work for us. All the "resumes", the bragging, and verbage that requires an Internet Dating Translation Guide- it's just too much effort for very little (if any) payoff.

Having a sense of humor and seeking partner with a sense of humor seem to be high on the list of characteristics in most ads. Just posting in a dating ad that you’re seeking someone with a great sense of humor is not enough. Everyone thinks they have a great sense of humor. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen an ad stating “I have no sense of humor, seeking partner who is as serious and dull as I am.” I, for one, think I am at least mildly amusing, but when a blind date began his phone interview with me, the first thing he asked was if I knew any jokes. Umm, eeerr…I felt put on the spot. I don’t know any jokes per se. I just belt out witty comments during appropriate moments and people often respond with laughter. He proceeded to launch into a couple of blonde jokes that generally make any listener (in this case, me) groan at the punch line, but not laugh out loud.

Besides, there are the different types of humor: dry, witty, slap stick, the practical joke, British humor or, what an old boyfriend used to refer to as “bathroom humor”. That’s the kind generally enjoyed by young (and old) boys and includes farting noises, whoopee cushions and burping the alphabet song.

So when advertising the sense of humor, be a bit more specific.

Here's an ad: "Like to meet woman who tries to stay in shape, someone who works out or is active, not too overweight, and is athletic." Anything else, Scott 47? How about just hanging out at your gym. Sounds like your mate might just be there since you have no other description of what you're after.

And then there is No Name. His header says, "Looking for Good Hearted Woman" and the ad goes like this: "I like kayaking, playing basketball, football, dancing, fishing and even snowboarding if you teach me." Apparently No Name has no one to play with him, good hearted or otherwise.

Tyrone is to the point. "My name is Tyrone. I'm 48 y/o, divorced, Catholic, non-smoker and don't drink or do drugs. I have a 20 y/o daughter who stays with her mother in Arizona here in the U.S." Thanks for the very straightforward and boring bio, Tyrone. And yes, although many Americans are crap at geography, I think we all know Arizona is in the U.S. No one is bound to confuse it with the ship.

Several men state they are "seeking a partner in crime". Original.

My favorite of all was a post from Mr. Wankan. "I like to do home repairs. It's very relaxing. There's no feeling like the one you get after a successful slab leak repair under the house." Wow, and I've been depending on my vibrator for such feelings. A friend was recently looking for a handyman to help her around the house. Maybe I should forward this ad to her. I'm pretty sure she mentioned something about a slab leak. She'll thank me later.

One guy says he's a gentle teddy bear with a kind heart. Well, I guess that's good news. Those gentle teddy bears with the nasty tempers can get so ugly.

And finally, here are some translations direct from The Guide.

Always curious and have a lot of energy for life = Type A (could be a jack rabbit in the sack).

Open Minded = Will fool around on you or suggest a threesome

Down to Earth or Easy Going = Lazy, lacks ambition, i.e. you'll have to plan all dates.

Trustworthy or Honest = Cheater. If a guy has to point out his trustworthiness upfront, it's probably a defense mechanism from a past experience in which he got caught.

I have a lot to offer = Has a good job, nice home, respectable car, but is impotent.

I love to cuddle and will tend to your needs = Has no job, but probably good in the sack.

I enjoy the simple things in life = Cheap. His first dates will include romantic and inexpensive activities like hiking, picnics in the park, a fire at the beach and before you know it, the simple things include watching TV and Netflix.

By now you're all thinking "no wonder WW has no boyfriend. She's a callus, cynical B&$#*". There is always that possibility.

Old Dog, No Tricks?

The older I get, and somehow it does seem to keep happening, the older the men who are attracted to me get. Sure I still get hit on by the 'Cougar Hunter'. You know, the young bucks who think any woman over 40 is a Cougar and willing and eager to put out for a young piece of meat. Those days have passed. I've sowed my oats during my Eurotramp years after my divorce. While those trysts were fun at the time and served their purpose, now I'd like an actual relationship of a sort. If I'm going to be with someone, I'd like to dig him, have some things in common and still keep my independence in fairly full-form.


That being said, I still require a healthy and active sex life with said partner. Unfortunately, the reality is that most of these older men (and by "older" I mean basically my same age) either lack sex drive or just simply can longer perform (I'm assuming they once did anyway).


One friend of mine has a theory that since older men no longer have the sexual drive, they also lack the drive to even approach women. A man's desire to meet and approach a woman stems from his sexual desires. We witness this phenomenon all the time in bars, clubs, and other venues where there are loads of 20-30 year olds looking to "hook up". On the contrary, if the desire isn't so strong or is absent altogether, the men tend to stick within their own group of guys barely even noticing women, no less approaching them. They may want to meet a partner to spend time with, but the drive to make much of an effort certainly doesn't seem to be present.


The older boyfriend of another friend was joking around with his buddies about having such a low sex drive at his age (early 50's), that sometimes he has to weigh out whether he'd rather, say, eat a Bratwurst (fully loaded with Sauerkraut), or have sex? He admits, for many men, the Bratwurst often wins out. This is a depressing thought. Do I need to start hanging out at hot dog stands to get a man's attention? Maybe I need to own a hot dog stand. I guess that would only get me close to men who choose the dog over sex. Never mind.

This may explain why a very glamourous friend of mine was recently trying her hardest to flirt with the hot dog stand guy at an event and could not, for the life of her, get his attention.

According to several articles, there are some positives to dating men over 40. One bonus noted was that what they lack in quantity, they make up for with experience and quality. The friend with the over-fifty Bratwurst boyfriend would concur. I suppose I'll need to keep experimenting with that theory.

I don't know what the answer is here. Hope for an older guy who's still got it? Have a serious relationship with the mature guy and keep a sexually satisfying young thing on the side? Or just buck up, be a big girl and face the reality? This dreamer is still adjusting to the reality of going back to her corporate gig. Let's keep these life realities to a minimum. It's rough to squelch all my fantasies at once.

Sex and the City--Positively

After eight years of unsuccessfully running through the dating mill, I thought it might be interesting if I put my friends on the assignment of finding me a good match. After all, who knows you better than your best pals? They probably have a better idea of your type than you do. I was just about to put out an APB advising my girlfriends about town to start the hunt. I'd be up for meeting anyone they thought fit and suitable. This was all just a thought, a plan in my unconventional fantasy world, when a friend said she went out on an eHarmony date recently and thought he was better suited for me. Mid-date she asked her supposed match if he'd be agreeable to meeting a friend of hers. Personally, I probably would have waited until the end of the date, but not my friend. When she sees a possible opportunity to hook two people up, whether professionally or personally, she wastes no time! I think the guy was a little taken aback at first, but he was game. And, of course, so was I.

I asked my friend what it was about this guy that made her think of me. He's a skier, rides motorcycles, and well, she couldn't really put her finger on it, but there were just several things he said throughout their conversation.

After a few email exchanges, we met last Friday at my favorite little neighborhood spot. Within an hour he made a comment about once being in a position of seeing a very large woman in a thong and he'd wished he could erase that vision from his memory. After a comment like that, I had to ask just how that came about. I imagined he'd say he was on a nude beach in Europe or the Caribbean or someplace equally "free". What I didn't expect, was for him to tell me he belonged to a Sex Positive Club. "What the heck is that?" I'm wondering. So I ask. Yes, it's a member's only sex club. Sex rooms, bondage, S&M, torture and the like. Turns out this place is not that far from my apartment. Is that why he offered to meet me in my neighborhood? Or is that coincidence? I ask a few more questions and can tell he's answering a bit more conservatively not to frighten my somewhat conventional self, but I can tell he's feeling me out here-trying to get a sense of just what I'm into. I make it very clear what I'm into and what I'm not into. There's a place for good old fashioned monkey sex and all, but this is way outside of my comfort zone.

Possibly with the hopes of warming me up to some new ideas, he continues with the date anyway. We finished out the evening by heading over to a dueling piano bar, having a few laughs and then calling it a night. I think he may have gotten the impression that since I was having a good time, it meant I was having a good time with him. Men I go out with often get that mixed message.

The next day I was at the ever popular and now famous Fremont Solstice Parade, which sports a lot of nudity and craziness. While standing line for a drink, some character who reminded me of a bad Jim Carey impersonator, begged me to let him buy me a drink. I told him I was "unavailable", but he insisted on buying me that drink anyway. We chatted a bit, but he just reinforced our incompatibility.

Later I was talking to a friend about my ability to reign in the Mr. Wrongs, and her take is that I'm sending out a message to the universe that I'm not ready for a "real" relationship yet, because I'm having far too much fun being free and single. I think this insightful friend may be right. I cannot come up with any other logical explanation.

That being said, I am still open to my friends setting me up. It does make my life interesting.

Motorcycle-itis

Yup, that's all she wrote. I have complete motorcycle-itis after my weekend on a fairly teeny weeny, yet still dangerous, machine. When I came back from Europe all I wanted was a little 50cc Scooter. Something to just zip around town, pick up some groceries, no motorcycle endorsement or insurance required. Something simple and cute, maybe even in pink. Yes, definitely pink.

Then my previous freaky boss buys the 150cc Vespa (Bright yellow. Is it a taxi cab or a scooter?) and we have to take the motorcycle test and get our endorsements. After the 150cc I no longer wanted to go back to the 50cc. The power of the 150 is substantial and quite noticeable climbing any of our steep Seattle hills. However, the price difference of the two is also quite substantial. So I've been getting around just fine on the lovely, somewhat dependable, Metro.

When I signed up for the motorcycle course, it was simply to learn how to ride a motorcycle. I knew my goal was to someday take longer rides, meet other riders, and hopefully take some motorcycle trips. Another female classmate (there were just the two of us after the first day along with five men) was only taking the class to learn the safety skills for riding a two-wheeled vehicle in the city since she had just purchased a 50cc scooter. By the end of day one on the bikes we were both abandoning the idea of scooters and considering what kind of motorcycles we wanted to buy instead.

As usual with me, I bonded with that woman, we exchanged numbers, planned to ride together and will probably be friends for life. Only I would go to a motorcycle class and meet and befriend the only other woman in the class. If I died tomorrow, my funeral would be like a
attending a Celine Dion concert or Storm game. Not that large of a crowd, of course, but definitely 90% women. Wonderful women nonetheless!

For the past two days a co-worker who is an avid rider has been sending me craigslist ads of various bikes and scooters that would be ideal for a novice rider and within my budget (no, neither of us is getting any actual work done for the company we work for). My brother has sent me a lengthy two part email describing bikes, features, what I should look for and look out for regarding motorcycles. I'm on information overload. I am hoping to buy some sort of motorized two-wheel bike thingy soon. However, I think I have some time as I'm sitting here with my freshly pedicured toes, hopeful for sandal season to begin, listening to the rain pour down in sheets outside my window on this 9th day of JUNE!

Bucket Lists and More

Many of us have our "List" of things we want to accomplish before we "kick the proverbial bucket". This list generally includes fun, adventurous and daring feats. Things we'd like to do, but either don't have the funds, time or guts to follow through- at least not until the end is nearing.

We also have the list of things every woman should own. You've all seen the email that has made the circuit....more than once. It starts with a black lacy bra and ends with a power drill.

A friend once gave me one of those little gift books "What Every Woman Should Do Once".

1. Dye your hair blonde and see if they really do have more fun (I have and they don't)
2. Date a guy you met on the internet (who hasn't done this now-a-days?)
3. Own something leather, besides a coat or gloves (does a pair of shoes or a belt count?)
4. Invent an interesting past (better yet, live an interesting life so you don't have to invent too much.)
5. Head to the airport and fly anywhere (now they're talkin' my kind of language!)

I decided a long time ago I wasn't about to wait until I possessed those three crucial things: funds, time or guts, before starting to check items off my Bucket List. Besides, we never really know when the end is nearing, so why wait? I learned to scuba dive, bungee jumped on my 40th birthday, lived and traveled abroad-solo, lived on a houseboat thanks to the generosity of a dear friend who helped me out of a jam. I had the privilege of living on a Greek Island where everyone rode a Vespa, worked in an art museum and a bridal shop. Eeerrr, okay, the bridal shop was definitely not on my bucket list. But it turned out to be an enlightening and entertaining experience none-the-less.

In conjunction with my Bucket List, I have a "Things I must learn how to do" List.

1. Speak a second language fluently. It's the "fluently" part that keeps this from being checked off my list.
2. Travel alone (check)
3. Learn to Tango
4. Learn to sing. I took a class many years ago called "Anyone Can Sing". After working with me for a few months, the instructor had to rename the class "Almost Anyone Can Sing". Sometimes you just need to accept your limitations. I scratched this off my list entirely.
5. Learn to change a car tire. The fact that I don't own a car is irrelevant. I borrow them plenty.
6. Learn to ride a motorcycle.

Although I have plenty of experience riding a Vespa, I have always had the dream of learning to ride a "big girl" bike...a Harley even. So this weekend, I'm taking the motorcycle riding training course. Unfortunately, it's suppose to rain all weekend, but the course is held rain or shine. So I shall don my big girl rain panties and go for it.

If I am able to get through the course with out killing myself, I'll attack that tire changing goal next.

Oscars and Razzies

Several award winning movies are out there right now that I'd love to see. I recently saw Sandra Bullock's award winning performance in 'The Blind Side' On Demand at the home of my pet client de jour. I've seen 'Up in the Air' which I found better than expected and thought provoking.

I haven't seen most of the other winners, though. I'd still like to view 'Avatar' (in 3D, of course), 'Precious' (also listed On Demand right now), and 'The Hurt Locker'. 'An Education' and 'Young Victoria' are other notable films that warrant a visit.

Although it's gotten mixed reviews by friends, I'd like to see "Alice in Wonderland" at the IMAX. One friend said it was a fun, entertaining and a great movie, another said he walked out on it. Very mixed reviews.

There are lots of great movies to choose from right now. So what, pray tell, possessed a group of educated and savvy urban women to fork over $10.50 each to see 'The Bounty Hunter' last Saturday night? We chicks just wanted to indulge in a light, romantic comedy. Something predictable and easy on the eyes. Apparently, we weren't in the mood for the Oscar films that night, a.k.a. the worthy films. We were in classic chick flick mode and figured this one would be fun and entertaining.

We aren't a bunch of stupid broads by any means. We knew full well going into this movie that it wouldn't be any Oscar nominee. And we even were pretty sure it might be kinda bad. We had no idea, however, just how bad. It was baaaad. It was beyond bad. If it weren't for the fact that I was with other people, and one of those people was my ride home, I might have walked out. I never feel the urge to walk out of a movie. I always need to know how it ends. I've only recently been able to give myself permission to give up on a book I can't get into. I'm one of those optimistic sorts who is sure the plot will get better, something great is going to happen at the end, or there will be an interesting twist.

Our current book club book is just one of those books. "Rapt" by Winifred Gallagher argues that your life success is the sum of what you focus on. While the subject matter sounded interesting - Attention and the Focused Life- it felt like reading a text book. I've read text books that were less dry. I made it to page 35, but just couldn't ....well...focus. I jumped toward the end of the book to see if things seemed to pick up. They didn't. The book was due back to the library the other day. Rather than renewing the loan, I gave it back. I might be missing something, but I'll take that chance.

In many ways, I wished I'd given up on 'The Bounty Hunter'. Nearly two hours of watching Jennifer Aniston (who really is hot) run around in a skimpy outfit and 4" pumps like Erin Brachovich was exhausting. The acting was lame, the plot unbelievable, and the comedy non-existent. A "Razzie" nominee for sure.

You may be wondering, knowing my financial state, "why, why, why, WW, would you spend your limited hard earned dough on this trash"? Luckily I had a movie gift certificate, so it wasn't my own hard earned cash. However, I do feel a little guilty spending someone else's hard earned cash in such a careless and unappreciative manner.

Such a Dude

A friend and I were commiserating over the whole Valentine's Day issue. Worse than facing this "Sweetheart's Day" without a sweetheart (which it absolutely OK, by the way) is when you are in the very early not-sure-where-this-is-headed stages of dating.


New Year's Eve was closing in and we both agreed we'd better not start getting involved with anyone just yet. We needed to avoid the obligatory New Year's Eve dates with virtual strangers. For me Christmas, New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day are dog eared for truly special loved ones. Leave Fourth of July, St. Patty's Day and Halloween for the newly dating. They are somewhat special, but still casual holidays to share with those you're still getting to know better.

My friend and I have both started dating men fairly recently, not exclusively and it's definitely early stages. She called me the other day, "Where's the "safe" Valentine's card, one that says I sort of hope to be a friend you dig without saying so much it scares him off?" I agree, or the one that says, "I think I might dig you, but I'm still getting to know you, so don't go scaring me off"? Which is the one I'm looking for.


The cards out there are either too mushy geared toward the newly in love. They focus on the old married couple and make jokes about annoying habits and sagging whatevers. Or they engage in inappropriate crude sex jokes. None fit our situation. I suggested a card that is blank inside, then she can write her own message. I don't think that went over too well. Heck, I bill myself as a writer and I don't want to necessarily go down that road either.


The dude I'm seeing slightly more than any other guy I'm also seeing is getting a bit ahead of himself as far as I'm concerned. He did ask in an awkward high schoolish sort of way if he could be my "go to" guy. What does that even mean? Go to when I have a leaky toilet that needs fixing? Go to when I have a problem to hash out? Go to for sex? We haven't even had a proper kiss yet. How can he ask me to be his "go to" guy? I hung up baffled after that conversation.

Thursday he sent me a dozen red roses. Now most women would swoon over such a gesture. Even as I'm unwrapping my FTD box I'm thinking "Please don't be red roses". Oh, red roses are, of course, stunning. But they also show a complete lack of creativity and imagination, especially this time of year. Red roses in July (for, say, my birthday) totally spontaneous. Red roses at Valentine's equals no thought whatsoever went into this gift. I relayed this story to another friend who quite accurately said, "You're such a dude."


She is correct. I possess an inordinate amount of testosterone for such a girly girl. I keep my hair on the longer side and wavy, paint my nails, splurge on pedicures, wear flowy skirts and strappy sandals as soon as the weather permits. I'm a fuss budget about having my bed made up, wear lots of jewelry, flowery fabrics and pink. I love pink! But when it comes to men, I think I have more testosterone than they do in many ways. Sometimes they can be so needy.


The message that accompanied these (yes, very beautiful) roses made my heart race slightly, and not in the fluttering pitter patter good way either. It was more of a minor panic. If my feelings matched his, I'd find the gesture romantic and heartwarming. This man is on hyper-drive, while I'm still in first gear pulling out of the driveway, unsure yet which road to take and where it'll lead. Getting to know someone slowly over time works best for me when considering an actual relationship (as opposed to the occasional fling I've been known to indulge in). He's already jammed it into 5th gear and is speeding down the highway of love. Slow down, dude, I can barely breathe and the scenery is flashing by in a blur! I tried to express myself to this man, but he tells me he is "smitten".


Okay, I just said how I wasn't smitten in a prior post and here he is saying he is smitten. Clearly we are on different pages of our book. In response to that post my cousin graciously supplied us with the definitions of "smitten" :

1. struck with a hard blow
2. grievously or disastrously stricken or afflicted
3. enamored, infatuated, taken; very much in love.


Enamored or disastrously stricken? I'm somewhere in the middle.


Back to the card, how am I ever going to find one that expresses just how I feel? I might just present him with a red velvet cupcake. That just says I care enough to have thought of you, but not enough to express any actual emotions just yet. A dude move for sure!

Good for the Soul

Of all the different dating services there are today speed dating is still my top pick. I always have fun and usually meet someone I end up dating. People often say speed dating isn't for them because "how can you tell anything in six minutes"? From my experience, you can spend hours sorting through on line applicants, have several email exchanges, agree to meet, and within six minutes of meeting face to face you know if you're going to pursue this any further. So I cut out all that "prep-work" and just go straight to the six minute date.

I haven't met "Mr. Right", but really the point is just to date, sort and have fun while on the journey to Mr. Right. And maybe there is no Mr. Right for me. That's okay too, but I'm certainly going to continue dating.

During my last speeding dating episode in mid-Dec (I've only done this three times, so I'm no expert really), I met one interesting guy. Turns out, he was #8 on the docket, the very last contestant. Some of you may recall, my last speed dater was #8, and we dated for, yes, 8 months. My New #8 took me out on what I'd have to say was the best first date I've had in a very long time. We went to the Seattle Art Museum to see the Michelangelo Exhibit, and then had dinner afterwards. He asked me if I would object if he invited another couple along. Of course I didn't object, but I found it rather odd. Inviting another couple on our first date? Shouldn't we try to get to know each other better first before dragging our friends into it? As it turned out, I loved his friends! Furthermore, a good way to get to know someone is by observing them with their friends. I'd never really thought about this before. The entire evening was fun with lively conversation, great banter and I definitely would like to see this guy again.

In the meantime, I've also been seeing this hot hot bus driver who drives me to church every Sunday (okay, not every Sunday because I don't actually attend church every Sunday, but I sure stepped up my attendance after meeting my new chauffeur). I met him a couple months ago and my mouth literally fell open upon climbing aboard the Number 2 bus. This totally Rasta looking dude with the dreads, beautiful smile and knee buckling accent got my full attention. I lived in Europe for over three years, I'm not all that taken in with accents in general, but this one is sexy. I rode to the end of the line with him and we chatted a bit. This went on for a few weeks and I finally formally introduced myself and he asked me to coffee. He's actually not Rasta dude at all, he's from Venezuela. Meow. A coffee date turned into a drink date and I learn more about this fella. He is younger than me, but I don't actually know how old he is. I think I really do not care.

Our last date involved him coming over to mine and cooking for me. While I was a little nervous about the final outcome...eh hem...it's always dangerous to have a sexy man alone in my apartment, I agreed to let him in. Wearing my best jeans, candles lit all over the apt, Marvin Gaye on the Panasonic, what did I honestly expect to happen? Seriously, could it go any other way?

Meanwhile, up in Snohomish County, my New #8 is currently purchasing restaurant coupons and planning events for our next date.

Oh, I haven't perfected the art of dating two men at once. I may need to call in reinforcements for juggling advice in the near future. However, the fact that they live in separate counties is helpful. I am not going to feel bad about it. I'm dating. Getting to know these men. At some point, I'll determine which one, if either one, is a keeper. Honestly, I think my Venezuelan Bus Driver won't last. But like a little Marvin Gaye, he is certainly good for a girl's soul.

Resolve To Not Resolve

The other night Dr. Phil's show focused on resolutions. The first show of the new year, it was appropriate subject matter. His tag lines were "What will you leave behind in 2009?" and "Don't do it again in 2010". Seems to be the year of the rhyme. One of the Ministers at church came up with "save the men in 2010." Hey, he got a laugh and a round of applause from the single women in the crowd.

I, too, have been mulling over my new year's resolutions. I don't generally make them because I'm quite good at forgetting them as soon as I write them down, or even before I've gotten so far as to write them down, if you really want to know the truth. I'll think of something really worth resolving while I'm riding on the bus. I'm standing and can't let go of the handrail to fish into my tote for a pen and notepad. As soon as I get to work (10 minutes later) I think "now what was that resolution I thought of on the bus? I'm pretty sure it was a good one. Oh well." And then I carry on with life sans any resolutions.

I've come up with a few resolutions to work on this year, but here are a few of the more ridiculous resolutions I've resolved to not resolve.

Ridiculous Resolution #1

Lose Weight/Get Into Shape - I can run after my bus every morning (usually in heels and carrying a tote, purse, lunch bag et al), I can climb up to the top of Queen Anne Hill in 10 minutes or less and continue at a brisk pace for a decent workout, I can walk miles, lift heavy boxes, climb my four flights of stairs several times a day, ski a black diamond run, hike Mailbox Peak (although I'm not finding it as appealing these days). I can yoga, salsa and hip hop (although it's not pretty). I don't need to have rock hard abs. I'm not a dancer, performer, bodybuilder or any other exhibitionist. It'd be nice to have amazing abs, but it's just not going to happen. I'm soft and curvy. Always have been always will be. Acceptance.

Ridiculous Resolution #2

Cut Out Sugar - I have a sweet tooth. I feel the need to round off a healthy meal with a bite of something sweet. Not an entire pie, or huge slice of chocolate cake, just a bite - something shared, a small taste will do. I'm not giving that up. Yes, this explains #1.

Ridiculous Resolution #3

Find My Dream Job - That seems to be an ongoing resolution that is neither ignored nor achieved after so many January 1st's having passed. After over a dozen jobs in the past 3 years, I've come to the conclusion that I like change. I thrive on change. I love changing jobs every few months, meeting new people, learning a new industry, developing new skills and brushing up on old ones. While most people stress over the first day of work, unsure about where to hang their coat, put their lunch, who to eat with, I find the whole experience exciting in some weird way. Constant change is my dream job. If only it was more lucrative.

Ridiculous Resolution #4

Pay Off VISA Every Month - If I had the money to pay off my VISA every month, I would not have to use my VISA in the first place. (See #3 - the not-so-lucrative career of the ever changing jobs temp)

Ridiculous Resolution #5

Start My Own Business - Okay, this is more of a pipe dream than a resolution. With #3 and #4 in place, this one is simply...well...ridiculous.


Good luck to all of you with your not-so-ridiculous New Year's Resolutions!