There's got to be a better word for it, but it all boils down to the same thing. Maybe I'm just destined to live by myself. And I'm not talking about for now. I mean by myself, for now, for later, for forever. Well, not by myself- I have my dogs and my sarcasm. That fills up a house fast. Forgive me while I wallow momentarily in self-pity.
My life could be far worse. I could be in an unhappy marriage. I think the reason I can look back on my divorce in hindsight is because even then, I could picture myself in a life I didn't want. I didn't want to end up a single mother, if only to a grown man. I didn't want to always be the responsible one, the one with discipline, the one to dole out consequences. So I don't want to be married just to be married. I could have had that.
I want someone to grow old with. Married, or not, I want someone next to me. Again, going back to my life is ruined by chick flicks-when someone wakes up next to me, I want them legally required to be there. Name that movie.
Each night, my foster dog Murray dives next to me in bed. That's not entirely true. Sometimes, he is in bed already and I have to push him aside to carve out some space for myself. Regardless, he likes to face me, usually with at least one paw touching me, as he falls asleep. I keep wishing I could find a man who wants that.
But maybe that isn't in the cards for me. Maybe I'm wasting all this time and energy in something that isn't going to be. And in the long run, my dogs and I will live happily every after.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Friday, June 28, 2013
It's official
It's been seven days. That makes it official that I won't be getting a phone call, a text message or any further contact. I can't say I'm terribly surprised. The distance was just that- quite a distance. Why would he give me his phone number first unless I am a "if nothing better comes along"? A bit of a puzzle since he initiated. I'll chalk that up to he probably just signed up and wasn't sure how to handle it.
I'm going back to the philosophy from "He's Just Not That Into You". If a man is interested, he is going to make it happen. Work, summer, family, vacations, whatever. If he wants to see you, he is going to call. Especially guys after the age of 40. In their 20s, I think guys might tend to play games more. There are more options and it's only a short matter of time until the next option appears, probably with a drink in her hand and a flip of her hair. After the age of 30, they probably consider game playing. Is it worth the chance? Is there any another girl, a better girl? If he's a betting man, he might wait a couple days before he calls. By 40, games are out the window. We know who we are, we know we aren't going to change, and singles are tougher to come by. Where does one meet singles after the age of 40? (Don't say church. If I don't go to church, I'm not starting just to meet a guy.) But that's another post.
I'm going back to the philosophy from "He's Just Not That Into You". If a man is interested, he is going to make it happen. Work, summer, family, vacations, whatever. If he wants to see you, he is going to call. Especially guys after the age of 40. In their 20s, I think guys might tend to play games more. There are more options and it's only a short matter of time until the next option appears, probably with a drink in her hand and a flip of her hair. After the age of 30, they probably consider game playing. Is it worth the chance? Is there any another girl, a better girl? If he's a betting man, he might wait a couple days before he calls. By 40, games are out the window. We know who we are, we know we aren't going to change, and singles are tougher to come by. Where does one meet singles after the age of 40? (Don't say church. If I don't go to church, I'm not starting just to meet a guy.) But that's another post.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Google is a wonderful thing.
Even before I finished my previous post, I googled Date #2. I'll call him South Jersey. Isn't funny that google is now a verb? How did we ever find out about people before google?
Minor details I couldn't recall are easily clarified by a quick google search. It helped that his business card included his last name. I was now able to find the name of the town where he lives and more about his post grad, grad school to present timeline. South Jersey mentioned all these things but a few times the restaurant was too loud. I ask for some things to be repeated but some things, I just let go. More often, my brain can't filter info fast enough. So I nod, assume I am missing something inconsequential and figure I will catch up eventually. Most times I do, but google certainly helps fill in any gaps.
Surprisingly, it appears as if his facebook page is not private. Isn't that a little piece of Christmas? There were all kinds of tweets linked with his facebook page, which is such a techie thing to do. The tweets were about professional wrestling. As an aside, I watched professional wrestling. When I was 11, I watched professional wrestling because it was popular and because my brother watched it with his friends. And I was 11. It was a weird, brother-sister bonding activity that gave me an excuse to hang out with him and his friends. We are five years apart and when you're eleven, five years older is a life time. I thought I was cool when I was hanging out with them. Then I entered junior high, and realized it wasn't real. And I moved on to a real sport, football. To have a grown man be interested in professional wrestling- well, I just don't know what to say. I know what I want to say. I want to tell him, "you know it isn't real, right?" I'll tuck that away for now. What can I say, I'm growing.
South Jersey also has a photo blog which is sorely out of date. His passion for photography was evident when we met. As an IT guy, I'm sure working with a computer to update a blog after working on computers all day is the last thing he would want to do. He chooses to use the camera to set up special effects on photos, not software. It's the science and problem solving part of photography. Yep, he's a green. He even used the word 'ambient'. I'm a word person, so that about made my night.
As for what info I gave him, I wasn't as forthcoming. Not on purpose really, it just happens that I don't have business cards. Teachers don't need them. So I wrote my first name and cell phone number on a sticky note. I know, I am classy. Technically, due the wonders of search engines, you can google my first name and "guidance counselor" and easily come up with some info from my school's website about me. That gives my last name which means a google search about me is entirely possible. Google is a wonderful thing.
Minor details I couldn't recall are easily clarified by a quick google search. It helped that his business card included his last name. I was now able to find the name of the town where he lives and more about his post grad, grad school to present timeline. South Jersey mentioned all these things but a few times the restaurant was too loud. I ask for some things to be repeated but some things, I just let go. More often, my brain can't filter info fast enough. So I nod, assume I am missing something inconsequential and figure I will catch up eventually. Most times I do, but google certainly helps fill in any gaps.
Surprisingly, it appears as if his facebook page is not private. Isn't that a little piece of Christmas? There were all kinds of tweets linked with his facebook page, which is such a techie thing to do. The tweets were about professional wrestling. As an aside, I watched professional wrestling. When I was 11, I watched professional wrestling because it was popular and because my brother watched it with his friends. And I was 11. It was a weird, brother-sister bonding activity that gave me an excuse to hang out with him and his friends. We are five years apart and when you're eleven, five years older is a life time. I thought I was cool when I was hanging out with them. Then I entered junior high, and realized it wasn't real. And I moved on to a real sport, football. To have a grown man be interested in professional wrestling- well, I just don't know what to say. I know what I want to say. I want to tell him, "you know it isn't real, right?" I'll tuck that away for now. What can I say, I'm growing.
South Jersey also has a photo blog which is sorely out of date. His passion for photography was evident when we met. As an IT guy, I'm sure working with a computer to update a blog after working on computers all day is the last thing he would want to do. He chooses to use the camera to set up special effects on photos, not software. It's the science and problem solving part of photography. Yep, he's a green. He even used the word 'ambient'. I'm a word person, so that about made my night.
As for what info I gave him, I wasn't as forthcoming. Not on purpose really, it just happens that I don't have business cards. Teachers don't need them. So I wrote my first name and cell phone number on a sticky note. I know, I am classy. Technically, due the wonders of search engines, you can google my first name and "guidance counselor" and easily come up with some info from my school's website about me. That gives my last name which means a google search about me is entirely possible. Google is a wonderful thing.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
South Jersey
When I don't have a witty, sarcastic or negative comment, I almost don't know how to start a post about a date.
Two and a half hours with few uncomfortable pauses. That might be a record. It's a bit of a struggle to describe him, but not in a bad way. He's a computer guy, a little stocky (like I'm one to cast stones), and listened to my dog stories feigning great interest. I admit, at one point after we were done eating, I went on with a few too many dog stories. He is into photography and likes to travel to new places, mainly to take photos. Seems like he prefers hot weather based on the frequency of the words hibernate and cold in the same sentence. Get this- he likes to cook, he likes to bake, and enjoys theater (not movie theaters but actual actors on stage). I get along well with people who enjoy food and show tunes. We talked about being outdoors, a bit about gardening, and how he eats sushi frequently (go right ahead- blech). He has a brother in Princeton and his dad lives in North Jersey and he lives in South Jersey. He named some towns, but the only one I remember is Princeton. My knowledge of Jersey is limited to Atlantic City and Stone Harbor. He could have been describing craters on Mars and I still would have nodded knowingly, like I did tonight. He works at Rowan University- which I had heard of before. But only as Glassboro State. I'm always a little behind.
At one point, we were talking about local politics, New Jersey politics and Obamacare. I can't remember how or why we got to that topic. I take that as a good sign. We talked about Vegas a little. Good thing I had been there. He's not a gambler, but has seen a handful of Cirque shows, and likes eating at places the locals eat rather than tourist-y places.
We ate at the Chart House near Penn's Landing. Carnivores beware- a big seafood and fish menu which is perfect for me. I didn't have to explain my "I don't really eat much red meat but I'm not a vegetarian". And dessert is served to every table. It's a heavenly molten chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream and hot fudge sauce. Truly divine. And it's one dessert to share which might be awkward on a first date for some, but didn't stop either of us. Keep in mind, in the past month my indulgences have been chocolate rice cakes or a granola-type bar (no lie), so I would have shared dessert with a leper. I don't even want to think about the points for that.
The sweat factor- not too bad. On a scale of 10, I would rank it about a 3.5. It wasn't really the glass of wine, but more that the restaurant was on the warm side. Girlie aspects were on target- outfit was good, fresh mani/pedi, a good hair day.
Most are dying for two important tidbits. If there was any action and what is the "but".
Isn't there always a "but"? Here it is. He lives in South Jersey. That's about an hour and a half of travel time. Ninety minutes. I'm not sure I'm worth a ninety minute commute. Even once. My lunch friends are currently thinking of crude jokes about making it worth it. Glad you got that out of your system. We exchanged phone numbers- a good sign. He initiated giving me his number first- an even better sign. That leads to the thought of making plans to get together again. Summer is deceiving. I'm more willing to travel for a date in summer. Starting in August, that would drastically change. By fall, I'm barely leaving Berks County. During a blast of winter weather, I barely want to leave my house. And he lives in South Jersey.
I'm not a girl to kiss and tell. But since we didn't kiss, I guess that means I can spill it. Valet parking doesn't lend itself well to bidding someone goodnight. His car came around first, and he was polite and waited while they brought my car around. There are valets and people dropping off cars to enter the restaurant and others just milling around outside. Now there is a car between his and mine, so it's really not flowing. We just left it as a thanks-and-I'll-talk-to-you-later. He did turn and tell me to drive home carefully which was either sincere or a judgment that he already thinks I'll be a bad driver. Anyway, no kiss, no hug: it wasn't weird, there were just too many people, cars and observers.
So now the question is posed: what's next? I want wait to see if he contacts me first. Not because I'm not interested. Let's see his interest level. I would go out with him again. How else will I find out how they describe me and if he is willing to relocate. Maybe the latter question is best saved for date #3.
Oh yeah, and we split the check.
Two and a half hours with few uncomfortable pauses. That might be a record. It's a bit of a struggle to describe him, but not in a bad way. He's a computer guy, a little stocky (like I'm one to cast stones), and listened to my dog stories feigning great interest. I admit, at one point after we were done eating, I went on with a few too many dog stories. He is into photography and likes to travel to new places, mainly to take photos. Seems like he prefers hot weather based on the frequency of the words hibernate and cold in the same sentence. Get this- he likes to cook, he likes to bake, and enjoys theater (not movie theaters but actual actors on stage). I get along well with people who enjoy food and show tunes. We talked about being outdoors, a bit about gardening, and how he eats sushi frequently (go right ahead- blech). He has a brother in Princeton and his dad lives in North Jersey and he lives in South Jersey. He named some towns, but the only one I remember is Princeton. My knowledge of Jersey is limited to Atlantic City and Stone Harbor. He could have been describing craters on Mars and I still would have nodded knowingly, like I did tonight. He works at Rowan University- which I had heard of before. But only as Glassboro State. I'm always a little behind.
At one point, we were talking about local politics, New Jersey politics and Obamacare. I can't remember how or why we got to that topic. I take that as a good sign. We talked about Vegas a little. Good thing I had been there. He's not a gambler, but has seen a handful of Cirque shows, and likes eating at places the locals eat rather than tourist-y places.
We ate at the Chart House near Penn's Landing. Carnivores beware- a big seafood and fish menu which is perfect for me. I didn't have to explain my "I don't really eat much red meat but I'm not a vegetarian". And dessert is served to every table. It's a heavenly molten chocolate lava cake with vanilla bean ice cream and hot fudge sauce. Truly divine. And it's one dessert to share which might be awkward on a first date for some, but didn't stop either of us. Keep in mind, in the past month my indulgences have been chocolate rice cakes or a granola-type bar (no lie), so I would have shared dessert with a leper. I don't even want to think about the points for that.
The sweat factor- not too bad. On a scale of 10, I would rank it about a 3.5. It wasn't really the glass of wine, but more that the restaurant was on the warm side. Girlie aspects were on target- outfit was good, fresh mani/pedi, a good hair day.
Most are dying for two important tidbits. If there was any action and what is the "but".
Isn't there always a "but"? Here it is. He lives in South Jersey. That's about an hour and a half of travel time. Ninety minutes. I'm not sure I'm worth a ninety minute commute. Even once. My lunch friends are currently thinking of crude jokes about making it worth it. Glad you got that out of your system. We exchanged phone numbers- a good sign. He initiated giving me his number first- an even better sign. That leads to the thought of making plans to get together again. Summer is deceiving. I'm more willing to travel for a date in summer. Starting in August, that would drastically change. By fall, I'm barely leaving Berks County. During a blast of winter weather, I barely want to leave my house. And he lives in South Jersey.
I'm not a girl to kiss and tell. But since we didn't kiss, I guess that means I can spill it. Valet parking doesn't lend itself well to bidding someone goodnight. His car came around first, and he was polite and waited while they brought my car around. There are valets and people dropping off cars to enter the restaurant and others just milling around outside. Now there is a car between his and mine, so it's really not flowing. We just left it as a thanks-and-I'll-talk-to-you-later. He did turn and tell me to drive home carefully which was either sincere or a judgment that he already thinks I'll be a bad driver. Anyway, no kiss, no hug: it wasn't weird, there were just too many people, cars and observers.
So now the question is posed: what's next? I want wait to see if he contacts me first. Not because I'm not interested. Let's see his interest level. I would go out with him again. How else will I find out how they describe me and if he is willing to relocate. Maybe the latter question is best saved for date #3.
Oh yeah, and we split the check.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Things to think about
Things GIRLS think about:
1. Pedicures- especially in summer. Toes need to be polished. Heels should not look scaly. Manicures too.
2. What purse should I carry that will fit lip color, wallet, keys and phone but still goes with what I'm wearing?
3. Shoes- what matches the outfit in color and style, does the height of the heel match the occasion, are they comfortable?
4. Grooming- hairstyle, makeup, fragrance. Is my shrug that matches my dress free of lint, dog hair and does the sleeve need to be ironed because it flips out kinda funny if I don't.?
5. Menu- What can I order that won't get stuck in my teeth, won't give me bad breath, or doesn't have a high potential to end up on my carefully planned outfit? Is it easy to eat or will I look like a starving wildebeest trying to eat?
Things BOYS think about:
1. Pedi-what? They would only notice my toes if I didn't have toes.
2. She had a purse?
3. I think she had shoes on. Yeah, she definitely had on shoes or the restaurant wouldn't have let her in. You know: no shoes, no service.
4. Grooming- Brush teeth.
5. Menu- Yeah, I'm going to order food.
Things I think about:
Will I find parking in center city Philly? Will I get sweaty? Or to be more realistic- it is summer after all- how sweaty will I get? Will I be able to ease into conversation without feeling like a deer in headlights? How do I approach the end of the date dreading the topic of exchanging phone numbers (or worse, not).
1. Pedicures- especially in summer. Toes need to be polished. Heels should not look scaly. Manicures too.
2. What purse should I carry that will fit lip color, wallet, keys and phone but still goes with what I'm wearing?
3. Shoes- what matches the outfit in color and style, does the height of the heel match the occasion, are they comfortable?
4. Grooming- hairstyle, makeup, fragrance. Is my shrug that matches my dress free of lint, dog hair and does the sleeve need to be ironed because it flips out kinda funny if I don't.?
5. Menu- What can I order that won't get stuck in my teeth, won't give me bad breath, or doesn't have a high potential to end up on my carefully planned outfit? Is it easy to eat or will I look like a starving wildebeest trying to eat?
Things BOYS think about:
1. Pedi-what? They would only notice my toes if I didn't have toes.
2. She had a purse?
3. I think she had shoes on. Yeah, she definitely had on shoes or the restaurant wouldn't have let her in. You know: no shoes, no service.
4. Grooming- Brush teeth.
5. Menu- Yeah, I'm going to order food.
Things I think about:
Will I find parking in center city Philly? Will I get sweaty? Or to be more realistic- it is summer after all- how sweaty will I get? Will I be able to ease into conversation without feeling like a deer in headlights? How do I approach the end of the date dreading the topic of exchanging phone numbers (or worse, not).
Sunday, June 16, 2013
What gets me in trouble every time
So I've not hit nervous for my date that is in exactly six days. But I've already been to "what are you thinking?" about two days ago. A good friend has a 4th of July picnic every year. I haven't even met date #2 yet, but I'm already thinking how exciting it would be to go to this picnic with someone. I'm getting waaaaaay ahead of myself. Which I know is setting myself up for disappointment. Again. Maybe this time will be different. (The eternal optimist prevails.)
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Finally.
I can't believe I'm so relieved. I have to wait another week and a half (again) but at least I have a date. Ok, so it's Father's Day this weekend and maybe that's the reason this weekend wouldn't work. That would be a good thing except for the fact that I have to wait.
My Dating Coordinator girl rattles off a description without so much as a "hey, grab a pen" warning. I got a first name, he's in Technology, 44, never married, green eyes. I think she said brown hair, but cut really short so I'm thinking practically bald/shaved? Likes photography and traveling and is easy to talk to. Sounds nice. As if the description they pick would make someone sound like a bastard. I don't know exactly what Technology means. Is that, "I work at the Apple store"? All I can compare it to is the IT department at school. I get along with them, mainly because I think I speak their language. They are definitely picking 'greens' for me. I'm good with that.
So now I'm thinking about how she describes me. I probably shouldn't think about that. That might be a good question to ask on the date! Ok, maybe if there is a second date, I might ask then.
As a desperate dater, I've already checked out the menu at the restaurant and decided what I'll wear. Geez, they don't mess around with restaurants. The Chart House in center city Philly. Traffic on a Saturday shouldn't be too bad, but I am worried about parking. The menu looks fabulous to me. Fish and seafood that sound delicious but I think it is more of a steakhouse set up-meaning no sides, no salad? If we each get a drink, I'm guessing about $50 per person. That should be the real test. It will be really telling if he pays for dinner. Seriously, if I have to drive over an hour, park in the city and pay for my own dinner, I might just scream.
My fears are at bay, mainly because I have over a week until I start to worry. There are the usual fears that I'm going to spill something on my dress, or when it's time to order- I freeze and look ridiculous or worse: high maintenance. Not the end of the world, but less than ideal. This time of year I have a much bigger fear. I sweat when I'm nervous. Throw in some warm temps and there is potential for a drippy, disgusting mess. To say it isn't pretty is an understatement. Let's just pray for cooler temps that night.
My Dating Coordinator girl rattles off a description without so much as a "hey, grab a pen" warning. I got a first name, he's in Technology, 44, never married, green eyes. I think she said brown hair, but cut really short so I'm thinking practically bald/shaved? Likes photography and traveling and is easy to talk to. Sounds nice. As if the description they pick would make someone sound like a bastard. I don't know exactly what Technology means. Is that, "I work at the Apple store"? All I can compare it to is the IT department at school. I get along with them, mainly because I think I speak their language. They are definitely picking 'greens' for me. I'm good with that.
So now I'm thinking about how she describes me. I probably shouldn't think about that. That might be a good question to ask on the date! Ok, maybe if there is a second date, I might ask then.
As a desperate dater, I've already checked out the menu at the restaurant and decided what I'll wear. Geez, they don't mess around with restaurants. The Chart House in center city Philly. Traffic on a Saturday shouldn't be too bad, but I am worried about parking. The menu looks fabulous to me. Fish and seafood that sound delicious but I think it is more of a steakhouse set up-meaning no sides, no salad? If we each get a drink, I'm guessing about $50 per person. That should be the real test. It will be really telling if he pays for dinner. Seriously, if I have to drive over an hour, park in the city and pay for my own dinner, I might just scream.
My fears are at bay, mainly because I have over a week until I start to worry. There are the usual fears that I'm going to spill something on my dress, or when it's time to order- I freeze and look ridiculous or worse: high maintenance. Not the end of the world, but less than ideal. This time of year I have a much bigger fear. I sweat when I'm nervous. Throw in some warm temps and there is potential for a drippy, disgusting mess. To say it isn't pretty is an understatement. Let's just pray for cooler temps that night.
Monday, June 3, 2013
I'm not 20 anymore
I know I am stating the obvious. Yesterday, I went back to the beloved resident camp where I spent more summers than I am ready to admit. We were celebrating the life of the property manager, Lou and dedicating a bench that was made in his honor. It was an opportunity to see friends I haven't seen, in some cases, in 20 years.
Lou was an incredible person. He always had camp ready for the summer, in tiptop shape. Somehow, he was one step ahead of what needed to be done. He rescued campers and staff from snakes, wasp nests, and flat tires. He often greeted me by calling me Gorgeous George. He did that for years, and finally asked me if I knew who that was. Turns out, Gorgeous George was a professional wrestler- not a beastly one, thank goodness. Only Lou could get away when a greeting like that. One awful Sunday morning, I hit a dog driving to camp. I was near hysterics. He went back to the spot I described, looked for it, knocked on doors and gave me the full report to comfort me. With his arm around me, I remember his words,"it's probably fine. Dogs can take a pounding." The last week of camp he would say he was so sad when everyone left. Every year I heard him say the same thing and every year he meant it.
The camp memories came flooding back. S'mores and wood smoke and Dirty Dancing playing in the cabin while Tiff and Booper re-enacted the final dance scene. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. I used to plan a beach theme for my campers as an excuse to make our Wednesday dinner a beach cookout. In Deerwood, I told Tigger every detail about the weekend I went to visit a friend at the beach and met a boy. The girls said they heard us talking and we nervously asked what they heard. Only laughing. Phew. Kody and Indy and the happy train. Fun dances in Troop Wing. Combining the words slut and lush to form the Slushy Club in Marmee. One dreadful week I had Brownies and I remember a specific incident getting ready to go to the Shower House. A stray pair of underwear ended up on the ground. After no one claimed them even after being asked to check, I made them all hold up their underwear to find the owner.
At this reunion of sorts, a former camper of mine reminded me that we took a trip together to Maine for whale watching when I was 23. She now has an 19 month old daughter. Then I had to admit something to myself. As I looked at the peaceful ripples on the lake, I realized I'm not 20 anymore. I still think of myself as 20. Especially when I'm at camp. I feel I was at my best those years I spent at camp. But I was always 20, maybe 21 so I could drive the camp van. How did I get to be this old? I've always reserved the right to have a mid-life crisis. No one birthday phased me more than another, basically because those birthdays must have been for someone else. I wasn't getting old. I don't know what I was getting, but old was not one of them. I don't feel my age on most days.
This morning might have been an exception. About an hour before my alarm normally sounds, there must have been thunder in the 50 mile radius of my house. I know this because my shih tzu feels the safest place during thunder is on top of my head. Which is exactly where I found him. When the alarm did go off, my eyelids felt like lead. My belly hurt from eating too much junk yesterday. I had this weird, twingy pain in my back and no desire to move. I think I felt my age and I'm dismayed it happened so quickly after admitting I'm no longer 20. That didn't take long at all.
About that bench? Last summer, my friend Mary and I visited the camp so I could wonder over the many changes that have taken place in the ten plus years since I had been there last. We walked around the lake, to the fishing dock, and saw Lou's bench. Upon sitting on it, we looked at each other and started to laugh. It was quite an uncomfortable bench, not any place you'd want to rest for any length of time. Forgive me if I don't sit on his bench to recall my fond memories of Lou. Especially since I'm not 20 anymore.
Lou was an incredible person. He always had camp ready for the summer, in tiptop shape. Somehow, he was one step ahead of what needed to be done. He rescued campers and staff from snakes, wasp nests, and flat tires. He often greeted me by calling me Gorgeous George. He did that for years, and finally asked me if I knew who that was. Turns out, Gorgeous George was a professional wrestler- not a beastly one, thank goodness. Only Lou could get away when a greeting like that. One awful Sunday morning, I hit a dog driving to camp. I was near hysterics. He went back to the spot I described, looked for it, knocked on doors and gave me the full report to comfort me. With his arm around me, I remember his words,"it's probably fine. Dogs can take a pounding." The last week of camp he would say he was so sad when everyone left. Every year I heard him say the same thing and every year he meant it.
The camp memories came flooding back. S'mores and wood smoke and Dirty Dancing playing in the cabin while Tiff and Booper re-enacted the final dance scene. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. I used to plan a beach theme for my campers as an excuse to make our Wednesday dinner a beach cookout. In Deerwood, I told Tigger every detail about the weekend I went to visit a friend at the beach and met a boy. The girls said they heard us talking and we nervously asked what they heard. Only laughing. Phew. Kody and Indy and the happy train. Fun dances in Troop Wing. Combining the words slut and lush to form the Slushy Club in Marmee. One dreadful week I had Brownies and I remember a specific incident getting ready to go to the Shower House. A stray pair of underwear ended up on the ground. After no one claimed them even after being asked to check, I made them all hold up their underwear to find the owner.
At this reunion of sorts, a former camper of mine reminded me that we took a trip together to Maine for whale watching when I was 23. She now has an 19 month old daughter. Then I had to admit something to myself. As I looked at the peaceful ripples on the lake, I realized I'm not 20 anymore. I still think of myself as 20. Especially when I'm at camp. I feel I was at my best those years I spent at camp. But I was always 20, maybe 21 so I could drive the camp van. How did I get to be this old? I've always reserved the right to have a mid-life crisis. No one birthday phased me more than another, basically because those birthdays must have been for someone else. I wasn't getting old. I don't know what I was getting, but old was not one of them. I don't feel my age on most days.
This morning might have been an exception. About an hour before my alarm normally sounds, there must have been thunder in the 50 mile radius of my house. I know this because my shih tzu feels the safest place during thunder is on top of my head. Which is exactly where I found him. When the alarm did go off, my eyelids felt like lead. My belly hurt from eating too much junk yesterday. I had this weird, twingy pain in my back and no desire to move. I think I felt my age and I'm dismayed it happened so quickly after admitting I'm no longer 20. That didn't take long at all.
About that bench? Last summer, my friend Mary and I visited the camp so I could wonder over the many changes that have taken place in the ten plus years since I had been there last. We walked around the lake, to the fishing dock, and saw Lou's bench. Upon sitting on it, we looked at each other and started to laugh. It was quite an uncomfortable bench, not any place you'd want to rest for any length of time. Forgive me if I don't sit on his bench to recall my fond memories of Lou. Especially since I'm not 20 anymore.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
My word
At times, I have trouble falling asleep. When that happens, my mind spins through ideas and random thoughts a mile a minute. Last night, for a reason I cannot explain, the movie Eat, Love, Pray was playing in my head. Mainly one scene, the one where Julia Roberts (Liz) orders an entire meal in perfect Italian for a table full of friends. The discussion turns to the word that symbolizes a city. New York, according to Liz, is smog. Personally, I would pick crowded. Or neurotic . They name the word for cities like Paris, London and Rome (love). Liz is asked what is her word. She doesn't know her word, but a bit later decides to visit Naples and see if her word is pizza. Maybe I was thinking of this because of all the luscious food in these scenes. I have been hungry lately.
When I turned off the movie in my mind, I wanted to think of my word. The word that came to mind at first was whimsy. Nah, can't pull it off. I'd like that to be my word. So then I try on determined. Not always. Impatient? Doesn't feel right. Lost? Eureka. That's it. Lost is my word. I am lost. I have so much in my life, for which I am thankful, but I'm feeling lost.
Maybe lost isn't it exactly. For years, my sister has called me a tumbleweed. We have laughed about it, a long-running joke. Restless might be a better description. In the past when this restless feeling hit, I usually did something to shake things up a bit. Nothing major. Well, nothing life changing. Sometimes it might be shopping. For a car. I think that only happened once. I find something impulsive or unexpected and it fulfills that need, that ache, that yearning. Then, I'm good for another couple, weeks, months, years.
A friend of mine whose insight I valued greatly shared this fleeting sense of restlessness. Her suggestion was to rearrange my furniture. It would change the scenery and satisfy the restlessness but was far less costly than buying new furniture. Or worse, moving to a new house. I'm not so good with the home decorating (translate- lacking creativity and too lazy). To satisfy the restlessness, I continue to search what will meet that need. I think signing up for a way expensive dating, sorry- matchmaking, service was a result of restlessness. The result is yet to be felt. Maybe I need to get matched a little before I feel less restless.
What is your word?
When I turned off the movie in my mind, I wanted to think of my word. The word that came to mind at first was whimsy. Nah, can't pull it off. I'd like that to be my word. So then I try on determined. Not always. Impatient? Doesn't feel right. Lost? Eureka. That's it. Lost is my word. I am lost. I have so much in my life, for which I am thankful, but I'm feeling lost.
Maybe lost isn't it exactly. For years, my sister has called me a tumbleweed. We have laughed about it, a long-running joke. Restless might be a better description. In the past when this restless feeling hit, I usually did something to shake things up a bit. Nothing major. Well, nothing life changing. Sometimes it might be shopping. For a car. I think that only happened once. I find something impulsive or unexpected and it fulfills that need, that ache, that yearning. Then, I'm good for another couple, weeks, months, years.
A friend of mine whose insight I valued greatly shared this fleeting sense of restlessness. Her suggestion was to rearrange my furniture. It would change the scenery and satisfy the restlessness but was far less costly than buying new furniture. Or worse, moving to a new house. I'm not so good with the home decorating (translate- lacking creativity and too lazy). To satisfy the restlessness, I continue to search what will meet that need. I think signing up for a way expensive dating, sorry- matchmaking, service was a result of restlessness. The result is yet to be felt. Maybe I need to get matched a little before I feel less restless.
What is your word?
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