Tuesday Ten: Gameday

*1. Mini-bottles of bourbon. (Well, there's not always much proof it came from mini-bottles. There is proof someone has been drinking.)

*2. Fresh cut grass.

*3. Sweat actually smells good.

4. Hot dogs. (Okay, overpriced hot dogs that aren't worth their price. Last year, I discovered the burgers. They're actually pretty good. And more worth the $4 than the hot dogs.)

5. Popcorn. (The buckets are great for craft supplies! And, well, I have a special place in my heart for popcorn. Nom nom nom.)

6. Family. (Seriously! You can't stand half of them, but you know it's only for a season, then you don't have to see them for nine more months. You can stand it for just one game a week.)

7. Blisters on your toes the next morning are SO worth it.

8. Not feeling too guilty for saying hell and damn. And not feeling too guilty for yelling, "Bullshit," for every bad call while there is a sweet little old couple next to you. And sometimes a toddler on the other side.

9. Replenishing the old stadium cup collection.

10. Being able to drink all day without people thinking you have a problem.

* To all perfume developers: could you possibly create a scent based on bourbon breath, sweat, and fresh cut grass? Maybe throw a little hamburgers-cooking-on-a-charcoal-grill for good measure? You could make a killing come February when we're starting to miss waking up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday to look "purty" in time for the tailgates.

Happy Monday: Furgalicious Edition

This evening or tomorrow morning I will be snuggling away with "z bebes." I only have Feffer with me in Auburn because I'm not so sure about the cats. Tux and Boston, no doubts. But Pru, well, she's special. She doesn't do cars. She likes to dart. She fills with terror when others have to get in the carrier. So, I'm debating whether or not to bring her. I don't want her to dart into the parking lot. I don't want her to vomit her intestines. I love my Pru-baby. I also don't want to separate her from Tux and Boston. The three of them are a good team.

Feffer will be reunited with his feline siblings.

Tux will have some Vera to snuggle in.

Prudence will have someone to sleep with.

And Mommy will have her Boston Go-Go again.

Dating Deja Vu

Have I mentioned how much I hate dating?

I don't do dating.

I do, however, go for randomly meeting, talking all night, only leaving each others side to go to work, school, and the bathroom, falling in love within a couple of weeks, and living happily ever after.

That works for me.

Okay, I guess it's not fair to say I hate dating when I've never really dated.

I hate the process of looking for dates. Ugh!

As I was showing a curious friend my online dating account, showing her the guys on there (i.e. how about only half of them can spell ... not that I'm perfect, but my errors are typos, not blatant, incessant, misspellings), I happened upon this profile that keeps popping up. The website really wants us to get together.

Do y'all know where this is going?

I look at it. I think, "Well, he's kind of cute. He can spell. He seems pretty cool. Oh, and he rescues cats! And loves God. Alright, we'll see what happens." So, I start emailing him. I hate this part, where I have to be the one to initiate whatever. Guys out there: please don't be shy. You're supposed to do the pursuing. I'm just Southern like that.

I get towards the end of my email. Then ... do you know where this is going?

You do if you guess I start having dating flashbacks from a little over nine years ago. I had just turned eighteen. Some guy started chatting with me on AOL. He seemed pretty cool, so I went along with it. He wasn't a perv or anything, and we chatted for a while before he asked for my number. He even knew a classmate of mine, so it wasn't totally creepy. We eventually talked on the phone and he asked me out. This would have been my first date date.

Would have being the operative words.

He canceled on me. I don't know if it was my suggesting if there were still tornadoes in the area by the time for our date, I would rather cancel. I don't know if it was the age difference then (there's a big difference between 18 and 23 or whatever age he was then, not so much between 27 and 30-something). I don't know if he just decided he didn't like me. I never heard from him again.

No big deal. I don't care what his reasons were then. I don't really care if he emails me back, but I would like him to so I can confirm if I have actually experienced dating deja vu. So, yes, I do care if he emails me back. I HAVE to know if it's the same person. (Even though I am 90% convinced it is.)

I took a really close look at his profile. He was about the right age. Some of the things on his profile matched what I knew about him back then. (Gotta love my inner-Bones!) And as I looked through the pictures, in which there were LOTS, I became fairly certain he was the same person.

And, yes, in the email I brought up the possibility he was the same guy from years ago. It was kind of hard not giving away too much information in case he wasn't and still giving enough information to jog his memory if he was.

I'm a very forgiving person. It was also a long time ago. I'm all grown up now. Same nice person, but much more mature. (Not that I wasn't mature then, I just understand the world a little better now. That's the nice way of saying I'm cynical and jaded.) Let me be honest: I was a MESS back then. As in Cold Mountain when Ruby Thewes tells Aida Monroe of her being a catastrophe back in her school days. Yes, I was a near catastrophe. And I didn't get to be near normal until I got this thing called a boyfriend. I don't know how much, or little, it had to do with having a boyfriend, but I recall things settling down a good bit when The ex-Boyfriend came around.

Another day in the saga of the un-housewife

Can I be done with dating? Please?

I'm not sure how this breakup thing is supposed to work, but I find it odd I was totally okay with it (I mean, I initiated the breakup, after all) until I jumped back in the dating pool.

I am reminded daily of how good the Space-man and I fit together. And we skipped all that dating business. It was meet, talk all night, go our separate ways, meet again, talk all night, and, oops!, I'm somebody's girlfriend. It was a very magical time in my life, let me say.

And then today I just happened upon Amy Grant's "I Will Remember You." Cue the tears. (Bythe way, the lines that really got me were "One word we never could learn/Goodbye." Y'all, it wasn't just tears. It was a full-blown meltdown.

I've been pondering what will happen to us. It's gonna get awkward at some point if we stay this involved with each other, and I get into another serious relationship. I'm ready to get married. To be a wife. And to be a mother. Before him, even though I knew I wanted that stuff, I sometimes wondered if it was really for me. I was so good at being single. One of my Facebook friends (i.e. not super close friends, but more friends than acquaintances) even put something to the effect of "What do you mean your're 'in a relationship?' People like you and me are supposed to be single." I was single like that.

I did a near 180 when we got together. And, more importantly, I didn't look back long enough to want my old life back. I realized how good I was at being ... a housewife.

I always thought I would be one of those wives/mothers who worked. Outside of the home. Because she just needed some time where she could be herself, not someone's wife or mother. To the point of taking offense when a guy said he wanted his wife to stay home and for him to totally provide. Honestly, I still take offense to that notion since I view marriage as a partnership.

Don't get me wrong, I have every intention of having "me" time when my day comes. Bible studies, lunch groups, girls' nights, mani-pedis (by. my. self.), massages (maybe I'll share with the hubs) - the possibilities are endless. I just see myself as having a more meaningful role in the home than I thought five years ago.

I think it's important to throw in here what didn't work in our relationship. I wanted to get married and he didn't. I also was stricken with baby fever after the initial shock of my grandfather's sudden illness and passing away. He didn't want any more babies. We both felt strongly about adoption, and I think he was a bit open to older child adoption, but he was too old to adopt a baby (not that he wanted to be a 40+ year old father to an infant) and I am too young to adopt a teenager.

Yes, I used Facebook status updates as a tool to complain about him doing "Space" things.

But that stuff isn't what life is all about.

He was my partner. He had my back the best he thought. He cooked really really really good meals for me. I had someone to cook for. We watched TV together. We read together. We played with the cats together. We even raised two cats together. (We barely made it through that one!) I had someone to shop for. I also had a stepson to shop for :) We put away laundry together. He did the hangers and other putting away, I did the folding. He played plumber when I would let him. He changed the air filters. He let me cry when I needed to. He got me into The Beatles. I introduced him to Son in Law. We watched nerdy JFK movies together. For our one year anniversary. We watched all kinds of good movies together.

I just can't say goodbye right now. He's more than just my ex-boyfriend. He is my best friend. When I got sick, and began to realize I wasn't getting better (thankfully, not worse), he took care of me. He has "been there" for me more than anyone else has during my illness (sorry, Mom, but it's only because he knew the feeling too). And I took care of him when he was sick. Yes, he drank nearly a pint of Early Times whiskey when I was five days post-op and picked a fight with me. I will not excuse that one. But given the length of our relationship and that was the only thing really bad-wrong with the relationship, that was pretty good, right?

I just know that stringing me along, just enough to stay on my radar, isn't how you get me for a girlfriend. And just having to deal with ignorant, close-minded, assholes is not helping me along in the dating world. (No one person in particular, there. Just a general assessment.) It's actually setting me back.

I know how I deserve to be treated and I know where I can go to get that. (Except for the whole marriage and babies thing.)

Appetizers and dessert

As I mentioned in a previous post, I felt my (dinner) plate was full with work, Junior League, and my health.

That leave a little room for appetizers and desserts, but what are those, you wonder?

Television and dating.
I'm thinking dating will be appetizers and television dessert, because television tends to not disappoint so much.

I never really dated all that much before The ex-Boyfriend. I had a date here and there, maybe two. Lots of friend dates.

I didn't care too much for it then. All that work for nothing.

The ex-Boyfriend and I met, talked all night, and the next thing I knew he was my boyfriend, and just as I had a chance to adjust to Not. Being. Single. (Trust me, that was a serious identity crisis.) We were in LOVE. It was very sweet. We might have been together a month. I was babysitting, and I went to his place when I got done. When I got there, I found his best friend passed out on the sofa, him watching TV and drinking. He seemed very excited to see me. I was very excited to see him. It was Friday. I was off work. I wanted to go out and DRINK. But he had to tell me something, as his friend was waking from his beer-induced slumber.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

It was beautiful. Not what my daydreams thought it would be. But for me and him, it was absolutely perfect.

And you want to know the truth? I was in love with him about two weeks into the relationship. It just seemed a little crazy to say anything.

AND I think the reason we fell in love so quickly and worked so well is we skipped the bullshit that is dating. (Of course, that does make it difficult to break up when one of you wants to get married and get lots of babies, and the other one is all, "been there, done that." Yeah. Well, I guess it was almost perfect.)

Think of a man (no boys, please!) who would be a good companion for me, and I for him. He has to be smart, classy, have lots of interests, be open-minded, want lots of children - and I mean LOTS, and tall. I love 'em tall. He has to have his own life separate from me, but he also has to want me to be a part of his life. It's kind of hard to explain. I guess what I mean is I don't want to spend every single non-working minute with him. Once or twice a week, he has to go out with his guy friends and watch sports. Or whatever guys do. Once or twice a week, I will go out with the girls, or just have some "me" time. This is SO essential. Also essential is we have a few things in common. Or at least be genuinely interested in each other's things. And he has to follow the "dishwasher rules," and not leave a few drops of vodka in the bottle, and not squirrel his laundry away somewhere, not squirrel anything away or leave piles of empty pockets and mail all over the place, and, in general, just help with the housework without being asked. And, of course, he has to want to get married and get children. I'm still not sold on pregnancy, and still very much in favor of adoption. (Please note, I believe in compromise on this issue. I'll attempt pregnancy, if we get to adopt as well. Also note, I am totally down with him having children already, but I really want to get to keep a baby I raise, and raise a baby I get to keep. I love babies and what I love even more is seeing them grown up.)

I know it sounds picky, but this really screens out those that shouldn't even know me in the first place.

We would meet, we would talk, and we would fall in love. We would be boyfriend and girlfriend. We would get married. We would become parents. We would live happily ever after.

Yes, I said we would fall in love before becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm on the marriage and family track and there is no time to be messing around. I'm not rushing it, I'm just sayin'...

Help me. Please. Please. Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty please please.

Stop me before I volunteer again

Have y'all ever seen that quote somewhere? Sometimes it can be found on a magnet or a cocktail napkin.

The first time I saw it, I was babysitting. It was on a refrigerator magnet.

That was before I became a career volunteer.

Yes. I said it. I am a career volunteer. I'm just good at it, y'all.

I love to help. I love to be useful. I love to do something different every single time I do something. (Well, most of the time. Some things are best to stay the same.)

But this year, I'm not going to be getting any Volunteer of the Year awards. And if I do, it's purely by accident (which has happened before). I'm going to fulfill my commitments, don't worry. I'm just going to strive for steadily increasing my responsibilities over time.

See, I'm new to Lee County. I like how things are around here, but I want to make sure I understand how it all really works before I start trying to save the world down here.

Also, I'm used to doing sexual and reproductive health education. I did Junior League to expand my volunteer career because anything related to sex (the act and the biology), well, that's pretty controversial. I wanted to do something I could tell everyone about. I'm starting to struggle a little bit with this decision. I really miss getting in front of an audience and telling them how to protect themselves and be aware of themselves. Ohmigosh. I. Miss. It.

And it's hard, y'all.

I was flipping through my Junior League manual last night, and all those offices and committees were calling to me. I was starting to daydream about how Junior League could get involved with women's health issues.

Girl Sunday. Think of how many people you will be able to help. Think of how much you will get to do. Pick me. Come one, Girl Sunday, pick me.

No. Not this year.

When I decided to join Junior League this year, I originally thought I wouldn't be very involved at all, because of massage school. Then, since my thyroid is "misbehaving" I figured I shouldn't try to be so involved. And I'm starting a new business. Three things on my plate are enough. And that's not including appetizers and dessert, and that's a whole 'nother post. :)

It wasn't so long ago

I've been a good un-housewife today. Laundry, dishes, work, organizing.

It wasn't so long ago I was a housewife-in-training. Girl Tuesday and I would abscond to Hobby Lobby Saturday nights and make a stop at Los Amigos for daiquiris and rice and chips. Just because we are adults, we figured we are allowed to break the rules of balanced meals from time to time.

We would make fun of the stupid things our (now ex) boyfriends would say and do.

Like leaving splashes of vodka in the bottle.

Like loading the dishwasher to beyond full capacity and not start it.

Like, oh, I don't even remember anymore.

I miss those days.

Back when I had six cats (or eleven) and a rabbit and one time a stepson staying in my house.

Back when I did laundry nearly every day, and I could easily have a load of whites once a week so my socks were brand-new white.

Back when I had a built-in drinking buddy.

I could go on.

The feminist in me feels like I let down a whole decade of women's lib-bers. I feel like I'm supposed to go out into this world and lead and reign supreme. Because I am woman, and I can roar better than any of you.

But someone's gotta stay home and keep it from burning down, or at least make sure the utilities don't get disconnected. (That reminds me of a story I can laugh about now. I once had a roomate who caught my kitchen on fire. Twice.)

I can talk about almost anything. And I can do quite a few things. It's just I'm best at being a housewife. I'm good at staying home and looking after things. Well, at least I like to think I am good at that. I'm really not. But at least I keep the bills paid, laundry done, animals vaccinated, and everyone loved. That's gotta count for something, right?