What is exactly in the middle?

You would think after having dinner with someone for four and a half hours, I should have strong feelings. Positive or negative, I should feel something other than...fine. It wasn't awful, it wasn't wonderful. It was something in the middle.

He talked a lot. Again, that should be a good thing. But it didn't really feel that way. He kept repeating the same theme- people in a relationship should communicate, he loved his work, open communication is important. Yeah, I get that. I really wanted to ask about previous relationships. He didn't give any hint at all about that.

I got a chance to tell some good stories but I left feeling like maybe I didn't really come off as well as I had hoped. I could come up with some reasons for that, but they probably sound like excuses. I was all kinds of tired on the drive there. I had enough time for Starbucks before dinner in hopes that a chai latte would perk me up. At least I didn't yawn through dinner. The restaurant was cozy. That's an upscale word for cramped, crowded and loud. It felt like I was sitting at the same table as the people next to me. That makes for an awkward first conversation. After the first two hours, I wanted find a way to wrap things up. I'm not good at that segue. So we stayed for another two and a half hours during which the waiter stopped refilling our water glasses.

He was a big guy and I guess I stereotype more than I care to admit. I was surprised when he said he was ordering the tomato and mozzarella salad and that was it. Damn, I'm not getting a big dinner out this. Even weirder was the waiter brought separate checks. No chance to see if he picked up dinner. Hmmph. I had a lovely crab cake which came with an avocado, corn, cilantro salsa thing. Yummy but tiny.

It was cold when we walked to the cars. I offered him my number, but then he gave me his business card. Not sure what that meant. He kept a distance of at least four feet between us in the parking lot and I know what that means. So I'll email him and leave it up to him. I know it's 2013 (almost 2014!) and I could call him. If he wants to get together again, I would but if he didn't, I would be OK with that too. Maybe I'd feel differently in a different situation. I felt sort of out of my element for some reason. I just didn't feel witty or clever. I don't think I was standoff-ish or boring.....I was something in the middle.

Twas The Day Before The Night Before Chirstmas

Somehow, warms temps and Christmas don't jive in my brain. On December 22nd, it was almost 70 degrees. In Pennsylvania. Even weirder was that I wrapped all my presents that day. And I only copped out with one gift bag. Except gift cards. And as a reward, the sound on my television broke. It will independently and randomly turn down to zero. And then not let me turn it back up. I can get alot done with the TV on in the other room- fold laundry, unload the dishwasher, unclutter in general. Without sound, I felt lost. Plus I didn't want to miss the football game. I know this is totally a first world problem. Oh woe is me.

On the bright side, I have a date set up. Friday in Manayunk which is exciting for many reasons. I haven't been there in years and well, let's face it- it's a date. Parking has the potential to be a challenge but I'll brave just about anything. And even more exciting, there is a second guy that they want to set me up with. His schedule was 'crazy' so it might have to wait another week or two. A second date, I can hardly believe it!

So of course, I have to plan what to wear AND preview the menu to decide what to order. And paint my nails. I'm supposed to donate platelets that morning. They will recommend avoiding alcohol the rest of the day. Drinking after being 'a pint' low could be a bad move. Imagine someone with low tolerance slamming a couple high powered shots. One glass of wine after donating platelets could have the same effect. But I'm not entirely sure since I've always heeded the advice. But it's a festive (translate- alcohol consuming) time of year. Please discuss.

Now I'm really depressed

As I've said before, patience is not my virtue. So I decided to take action about this dating thing. Again. I logged into Plenty of Fish to see who is also putting themselves on the market. Since it's a free site, I should always remind myself that you get what you pay for. I'm chalking up this indiscretion to a predicted snowy Saturday with some extra time on my hands.

You know it's a bad sign when you put in some search criteria and a message pops up to tell you they expanded your search. What I'm looking for doesn't exist. Nice. Encouraging. To be truthful, it doesn't exist within the distance that I wanted to search. But we all know I'm rooted strongly. Hell, I barely like leaving Exeter Township. I'm not going to chatting up some fellow in Maryland or Jersey or Williamsport. (I know Williamsport is still in PA, but I've been there and I doubt I'd want to move there for any reason.)

Distance aside, the profiles are generic, repetitive and mind-numbing. Read the same thing over and over and you start to get cynical. I mean, more cynical. Apparently there is one guy on POF so they just clone his profile for every other guy and change the pictures. How can it be that every guy is equally comfortable getting dressed up and going out or staying home in jeans and a tee? So if every guy is caring, thoughtful, active, believes chivalry isn't dead, likes to travel, can balance work and play, and has a romantic side, why are they all still single? I know I exaggerate. There is a second guy/profile that includes a picture of just a motorcycle, talks about hunting, Nascar, riding a Harley, and building bonfires.

And then, there are the profiles that I recognize. I've seen these guys before. And they're still there. (Yes, I know- so am I.) POF has emailed me matches once a week since I started. I tried turning it off, unsubscribe, but it wouldn't let me. Maybe that's a sign! But the one email listed when I created my profile. It was 2008. If that isn't the most depressing thing.

I'm going to hang around the site for a couple more weeks. Or maybe one week. Actually, I hope to make it to Saturday. I'm going to send out a couple emails. You get what you pay for.  And after one week, I'll re-evaluate. Then I might join Match again.

Tumbleweed

My sister will refer to me as a tumbleweed because I'm the 'wild one' in the family. And by wild, she means not rigid or boring. I'm more apt to make a spontaneous decision or be a little adventurous. Nothing dangerous mind you, but if we haven't discussed it ad nauseam, to my family that is outrageous and crazy. What they don't realize is that I've probably thought it through in my head but haven't mentioned it out loud due to the expectation of disapproving looks.

I have three dogs.Up until about a month ago, I had four living with me. My foster dog, Murray, was adopted the first weekend in November. A wonderful senior citizen who takes extraordinary measures to care for her dogs added him to her pack. I'm sure he loves it there, once he got used to her yelling. (She didn't yell because she was mad. She couldn't hear us, so it only makes sense she scream to make sure she could hear us.)

Shortly after his adoption, my timid Kissy was chewing on her crate. She doesn't have many good teeth left up front so I moved her to the kitchen to prevent her from breaking a tooth. A couple days later, Tally bent the top of her crate. To bend it back, I had to use both hands and brace my arm against the crate for leverage. How she bent this with her mouth is beyond me. Then I noticed she broke a tooth, one of her canines. She did that a few years ago when she became an only dog and experienced such anxiety that caused her to.....wait for it....chew on her crate and break a tooth. Some dental surgery later to remove the broken canine and another molar that was decayed and I've just purchased my vet's Christmas presents. All because Murray got adopted.

So now Tally and Kissy are being closed off in the kitchen. Kissy hasn't quite gotten the purpose of a puppy pad. Kissy never has been a smart one. I'm hoping Tally shows her what she is doing wrong.

When this happened the last time, I was recovering from gallbladder surgery. It took me about a month to find a shih tzu to adopt. I thought the size would fit nicely in my house/lifestyle and the thought of a nonshedding dog was heaven. So Niko joined our home. And I crated him next to Tally. That worked well and relieved her anxiety. For about a week. Then Niko decided he didn't want to be crated. And crawling around to snag him from under the bed after I was all ready for work wasn't my idea of a good time. So he was allowed free reign (and continues to reign to this day). I needed another beagle to keep Tally company.

Enter Lonnie. She was a foster dog from BREW, the beagle rescue where I adopted Freckles, fostered (for three happy years) Spanky, and fostered then eventually admitted defeat and adopted Tally. Lonnie lived with us for almost 10 months. Then was adopted. Then anxiety returned. No broken teeth this time, but it wasn't much time before arrangements were made for Bentley to hang out at my house. Bentley was a long term visitor during the time his medical records were updated, documented, registered and certified to the standards of the state of Hawaii. His family moved there and he hung out at my house for three months until he was able to fly out to join them. The very first time it was time to crate Bentley and Tally, she ran in the crate like she was never anxious in her crate a day in her life. And as soon as he left, Tally was anxious again.

Fast forward another month, and now Kissy comes to my house as a foster. And as was mentioned earlier, it took even less time for Kissy to worm her not-so-smart-but-oh-so-sweet way into my heart. And I adopted her.

Fast forward another six months, and Murray's sad tale makes me agree to foster him. Now we're up to speed. And two beagles are hanging in my kitchen instead of the safety of their crates. And my kitchen can never have dish towels by the oven door, lest they end up in a dog bed. Not destroyed, but still lying on the dog hair laden bed and I'm sure slobbered on sufficiently to need laundering. And I have to check for puddles of pee. That's the beauty of crate training. In a crate, she can hold it so she wouldn't soil her 'den', but the extra space the kitchen provides allows her to pee then go back to the comfy dog bed.

I do have a point. I'd rather have the beagles in crates. Do I foster another beagle to provide the security needed to crate them all? This idea is why my sister would call me a tumbleweed. Little does she know that I spent a lot of time thinking about this. The logic is hard to follow but it's there. I'm not going to get a foster right now. Even though Christmas break would be a good time to allow a dog to adjust. And I've already looked on BREW's website (www.brewbeagles.org) to see who they have available to foster. But I'm going to wait. For now.

A little December frustration

It wouldn't be Christmas without something quashing holiday spirit. It's my own fault but I'll never admit to that. I haven't been to the gym all week. Monday I had stampers at my house, Tuesday was the snow day and I counted shoveling as my exercise, 8th grade music concert on Wednesday and tonight is a Christmas party for stamping friends. There's always Friday. I'm not counting on Saturday since we're getting more winter weather.

So it's no surprise the scale has been stagnant too. I was hoping the new Simple Start that WW rolled out would help. I'm not sure I've wrapped my brain around it so far. The premise is eat whole foods (not processed) and stop when you are full. Hmmm? If I did that already, I wouldn't look like this. I'm going to give it a couple weeks.

The majority of my holiday shopping will happen Wednesday. I have a dentist appointment and I'm taking a sick day. It is perfect timing. Not that I have a lot of holiday shopping to do. Gift cards mainly, but that still takes time since we're not a family of chain restaurants lovers. Since I'm avoiding cookie temptations, I'm not baking this year. I'm making chocolate bark with cranberries, pretzels and pecans. I'll also make a double batch of seasoned pretzels. That is my plan for Saturday. Somewhere between Saturday and Wednesday, I'll be less frustrated and search for holiday joy. It's good to have a plan.

Happy ending

I spent some time reviewing my previous posts. Self reflection can be useful. I saw that I used the same title twice (One Week). Two entirely different posts. Neither of them particularly happy. When I started blogging, I hoped to be writing about dates. Lots of dates. I envisioned frequent meetings, witty stories of the people I met. My self reflection is proving differently and I'm not sure 'useful' is the word I'd use to describe it. I read a lot of whining, self pity, and even a little anger at times. Is this really me?

Really, I am a happy person. Well, I want to be a happy person. All I want is a happy ending. I want to hit the end of my 'year of dating' with a post about success and a relationship and finding what I've always been looking for. Actually, I wanted to be able to tell the service that they can stop setting up dates for me. Nothing would have made me happier to then to have to suspend my membership because I was dating someone. It's seven months later. I'm not any closer. In fact, I'm feeling less optimistic than ever. But that will only last until the next phone call from the Dating Coordinator.

I've had four dates set up by Dating Coordinator, et al. Each had potential to be a good match for me. Laid back personality but a little ambitious. Interesting and a little on the geeky side. Delaware may have been a little too artsy for me, a little too much blue in his personality. The others were probably all green, just like me. Do you how hard it is to find a single green? What makes it even harder is that greens tend to be a bit introverted. For a girl, it's not easy being green. (I couldn't resist.)

Maybe it's time for my Dating Coach/Life Coach session. I'm curious as to what she has to say. Geez, if I'm doing this all wrong, won't that make for a fun post? See? I'm getting what I asked for after all.

Inspiration

While my emotions roller coaster quite a bit, I feel I am heading up a hill of bitterness. One of those roller coaster hills where the cars lurch and struggle to climb. It's uncomfortable and painfully slow. The chains under the ride need to catch so you finally get to the top. You want it to be over. You want to get to the good part. But I'm stuck in the car, feeling like I'm going nowhere, waiting for the chains to catch. I'm sitting in a car of negativity. I want to get off this ride.

Years ago, a long-time friend of mine, who I know is also a  blog reader (Hi PB!),vowed to be a kinder, gentler person. She inspired me then to do the same, and she inspires me now(for many reasons). I am going take on this mantra. Just this morning, I talked to a student about a gratitude journal. It was almost a mini-revelation for me. I need to do this too. Ok, so I'm not going to actually write in a journal. I'm a hypocrite that way.  But I'm going to remind myself of the things I would write down in a journal if I actually wrote in a journal. And I'm going to be a kinder, gentler person. I just hope it doesn't interfere with my ability to be funny. Because if it does, screw kindness- I'm going for funny.

December

On the first day of December, most people are filled with cheer, joy, hope and a little bit of panic as shopping and decorating ramps up. I'm not feeling any of the above. My shopping will consist mostly of gift cards. My family is blessed in that we need nothing, which makes gifting difficult. Gift card shopping isn't that fun. I don't decorate much for the holiday. Unless my garlands were made of milkbones, the dogs wouldn't notice. I'm just not in a holiday place. I even tried listening to my favorite Christmas CD- John Denver and the Muppets. It didn't work.

I've joked in the past that I'm reserving the right to have a mid-life crisis. I might be taking myself up on that offer. I had an epic meltdown earlier that appeared out of nowhere. I was sorting laundry and thinking about the upcoming week. My mental calendar included things like: Monday- Girl Scout meeting, Wednesday- open house at Michelle's, Thursday- babysit Mom's dog. And then the tears came out of nowhere. Lots of them. In all honesty, it started earlier in the day but I suppressed it adequately. But it got the best of me and I bawled. I have no reason to cry. I'm being a big baby. There is absolutely nothing wrong in my life that is worthy of tears. I was just feeling sorry for myself. I have no reason to cry and I told myself that repeatedly. And I still continued to cry. Thinking a change of scenery would bring me back to reality, I got in the car to go to Walmart. And I cried in the car the whole way there. Luckily, I was able to compose myself in the car. By the time my meltdown had passed, nothing had changed. My life was exactly the same, except for puffy eyes and wasted energy. Maybe tomorrow I'll find my holiday cheer. I hope so, because I've still got thirty more days of December.