The Clock is Ticking

This has been the longest 2 weeks in a long time.

Last week, I was in Oklahoma. I took students to camp at the university in Lawton, where Fort Sill is. Let me tell you, there's nothing to do there. Sure, there's the expected array of bars and clubs you'd find in college and military base towns. But, basically, that's it. And that stuff's not open until later anyway.

This week, I've been avoiding computers when I get home. I've been writing technology lessons all this week for school. It's been some nice work, nice pay. Lots of hours at the computer screen writing and working out kinks.

On the upside...it's Friday and on Fridays in the summer, I don't work. I don't do squat. So...today, I take the dog to the groomer, nap, eat some lunch, nap, pick up the dog, nap. Full day.

I promise a "real" post this weekend. Once I get back to a regular schedule, I'll be better at posting. Maybe.

xoxo

I coach speech and debate in Texas. From what I've gathered, maybe Shrub should've used some of his elective hours in high school to take these classes. Certainly couldn't have hurt.

Anyway, the new policy debate topic was released in January. It's a nationally-used topic, debated from anywhere from local/invitational tournaments, to state meets and the NFL's national competition. Policy debate is 2 on 2 debate, where we actually debate some policy's merit, or how to fix it.

Since so many of my dear readers are more political than I am, I'd love to get your thoughts on the new topic. It's one I can actually get into, and I bet you will too (at least a couple of you.).

Resolved: The United States federal government should substantially decrease its authority either to detain without charge or to search without probable cause.

A few thoughts on the topic can be found on the UIL site.

For those that don't know...UIL is the University Interscholastic League. It's the entity in Texas that makes us follow the rules for athletic and academic competition that the state imposes (eligibility, maintaining amateur status, etc.). It's how our kids get to go to state competitions.

For those of you that don't know...I'm a NASCAR junkie. Thanks to an ex-boyfriend, I now keep up with the races, and how my favorite racers are doing.

I've been waiting all season for this bit of news out of Illinois yesterday:

Earnhardt gets big win at Chicagoland

Frankly, he's not the only one who thought he'd go winless this year.

I realize that the above slogan really doesn't have anything to do with what I'm about to tell you, but it fits.

I spent Friday and Saturday in Austin for a conference. The conference was worth it, thankfully (in education it's often a toss up). I wish I'd taken my camera with me, though.

I was up there on my own, so Friday night I decided to go to a movie. I know, I know, I could've gone to 6th Street, but I prefer not to go alone. Anyway, I went to Alamo Drafthouse. I recommend it--dinner and a movie out, all in one chair.

On the way back to the hotel, I passed a neon sign. Not such an odd thing in any city. Bright blue, obviously advertising some business. As I pull closer, I realized that the words that weren't neon-lighted read "Funeral Parlor." Hm...let me explain why I'm a little turned off by that.

First, I realize that a funeral home is a business like any other, but I find advertising that business a little morbid. Understand, though, that I live in a smallish town (low 20-something thousand people) with 2 funeral homes in it. One of them gets probably 75% of the "business" in town just because it's there. I realize in Austin, there's more competition. I guess I feel like it's something that need not be advertised, because it's not as if people "shop around" when it the time comes to pick a funeral home. But, then again, maybe they do, sounds a bit sad to me.

Second, I also realize that everyone responds to death differently, but there's just a certain decorum that I would expect from the funeral home I would select. I don't know that neon lights, even outside on the sign, portrays quite the right image. Not for me, at least.

And I know I'm a little weird.

On a totally odd ball note, let me offer a bit of advice...

If you go have the opportunity to catch a movie at Alamo Drafthouse, might I suggest that you don't go when you're a little tired. I know for me the following equation wasn't the best choice:

A little tired + a full tummy + a cold beer + a dark room + a relatively comfy chair =

falling asleep in a movie theater filled with strangers.

Fortunately, I'd seen the movie before.

gar·ish (gârsh, gr-)adj.
1. a.Marked by strident color or excessive ornamentation; gaudy.
b.Loud and flashy: garish makeup. See Synonyms at gaudy
2. Glaring; dazzling: “Hide me from Day's garish eye” (John Milton).

bland (blnd)adj. bland·er, bland·est
1.Characterized by a moderate, unperturbed, or tranquil quality, especially:
a. Pleasant in manner; smooth: a bland smile.
b. Not irritating or stimulating; soothing: a bland diet.
c. Exhibiting no personal worry, embarrassment, or concern: told a series of bland lies.
2. a. Dull and insipid: a bland little drama.
b. Having little or no distinctive flavor: bland cooking.

*****************
In a direct email yesterday, the 12-year old mentioned in the previous post responded with the above quote, after telling me that I was a fool. Oops, didn't know he even knew I had a blog. While I must applaud him for sounding so poetic, I find myself pondering his message. If you can tell me who it's accredited to, I'll love you forever.

Now, not knowing the context, I seriously doubt that the orginal speaker was referring to relationships. There's nothing in the world wrong with being a bit bland in a relationship. Obviously, I don't mean I want a relationship that is dull all the time, there's time for that when I'm 90. But neither do I want a relationship that is loud and flashy and "in your face" to everyone around me. Frankly, I want one that is nicely balanced if not a little bit on the bland side...to outsiders at least. (wink)

I know, to an extent, humans have a tendency to be a bit "garish" at the start of relationships, especially ones we think are important. We're trying--to impress, to woo, to catch. And yes, I want to be wooed, badly. I also want to get to that point where the wooing is not quite so obvious, a tacit wooing.

Dork-boy (that would be my technical descriptor) missed the point. Sure, early on, woo me garishly---but stop before you turn me off or offend me. There's a fine line there, but geez, other men have found it, you can, too. You should hope that you impress your partner. However, I've learned that the truly impressive people are not the ones telling me how wonderful they are. If you are, I'll figure it out myself, you don't have to tell me. Feeling the need to tell me is a sign of immaturity---100% garishness in a person is a no-go.


Thank you to Dictionary.com for the definitions.

Okay, so I'm digging here a bit. I'd like a little more interaction from all of you dear readers.

Question: Are you really only as old as you act?

Okay, so maybe not physically, and certainly not chronologically. But, I have reason to be believe that emotionally/psychologically you are only as old as you act.

Case in point, guy I dated most recently. Aside from the icky co-dependency thing (see previous post), I have a real hard time being with someone who doesn't behave as an adult more often than acting like a child. Being a kid at heart is one thing, not being an adult ever is another.

To be fair, he did behave as an adult at times--when at work, dealing with clients. Occasionally in public (very occasionally). Most of the time, though, no..not at all. He's a chef, a good one. When we'd go out to eat, he'd have to criticize things--the wait staff "auctioned" the food, the hors d'oeuvres that were catered at my friend's reception, whatever. If he wasn't criticizing food or waitstaff, he was one-upping everything I said. I shared a memory of a freakin' donut shop one evening, and he had to tell me that his mother had worked there and he had all the recipes (this had to have been when he was a kid). Who the hell cares? 12 year olds behave that way, not adults.

So, yes, I would be inclined to think you are only as old as you act.

What do you think?

So, I've been seeing this guy lately. He's a good guy, though we have some rather significant differences--both in the way we think and our backgrounds. Today he tells me that he was really bothered when I dropped the bomb the other night that I "can't make him happy." I don't recall the context of the conversation, but regardless of what lead up to it, the statement is true.

No one can make anyone else be happy. You can be happy around or with someone, you can even feel happier in their presence. But no one can make someone else happy. What a horribly heavy weight to put on someone--I'm responsible for making you happy?? Talk about pressure! If it's up to me to make sure someone else is happy, it's a losing battle. I'm going to go out of my mind trying to say/do things that are certain to make him or her happy, and feel like shit when they don't work.

A statement like that is akin to telling someone "you complete me." It was cute in "Jerry Maguire," but it doesn't hold water in real life. That just suggests that God put you on this planet incomplete, and frankly I'm not buying it. God doesn't put half people down here.

What this guy isn't understanding is that I don't want someone who thinks even for a second that his happiness is contigent on my being there or that he is now somehow made whole because I'm in his life. People like that are bordering on codependent, at least in my book. I don't want to be that person that everything rides on for anyone else--it's hard enough to keep myself together sometimes! I don't have the fortitude to keep up with someone else's happiness.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting that I don't want a husband one day, I do. I just don't want anyone thinking that me getting married is somehow making me more than I am. I was put on this earth with a complete heart and soul and I can only grow from there. I'd prefer to do it with someone next to me, but it shouldn't be a requirement. I shouldn't feel as though even the simplest thing I do is responsible for someone else's happiness. Sure, my actions and what all affect another's life, but they shouldn't define it.

I know this is just me being a bit silly, but, hey--it's my blog, you know?

The elusive "anonymous" fool that's been posting on Ribalding's blog concerns me. It's not his politics or narrow-minded asinine ideas that concern me most (the way I see it, the world needs the occasional ignoramous and he is filling the role perfectly). No, it's the fact that he has no mastery of the English language. Okay, the American language.

He doesn't capitalize things that should be (Bible or Social Darwinism), he misuses words ("result" instead of "resort"), mispells words he's trying to use in his arguments (it's "Gomorrah," not "Gemora"), and doesn't know how to use punctuation. I can't take seriously someone who hasn't bothered to learn how to use the language.

Aside from the punctuation and spelling issues, one can certainly tell that, just like our esteemed President, the writer should not be allowed to speak (type) off the cuff. Everything should be approved by the speech writer.

My best friend, R, hosts a blog as well. If you've been following, he's the reason I started mine--blog-envy I think it was.

R and I have often quarreled about our opinions and beliefs. Frankly, a lot of the time, I'm in total agreement with him, I just refuse to give it tacitly when I think he's being a bit arrogant and assuming he's right just because he opposes the implied majority. He thinks I'm playing him, I'm merely trying to teach him. I'm an educator by design and by training, sue me.

Regardless, he's taught me a lot, and I do love him. And, I simply have to be sure that you see a recent post of his, if only because it touched me.

Note from Constatine

It got to me. And not because I'm a Republican who needs to be reminded how to behave. Frankly, I don't identify with any political party, but I do tend to vote to the left of center. I vote issues, not party.

I also happen to be a Christian, have been for far more than half my 28 tender years. Like R says, it's my faith, my relationship with the One I believe holds a place in Heaven for me. You don't want to hear about it (hell, maybe you do, just ask, I'll share).

I happen to agree with R that too many people hanging out on the right side of center (as in direction, dear ones, not correctness) have a problem remembering what they've been taught in their respected catechisms. Jesus, and for that matter, God, never positioned themselves on the political spectrum. I mean, look at Jesus--he cavorted with people who were obviously more liberal than others (Mary Magdalene, John the Baptist), believed in public welfare programs (the Feeding of the 5,000), apparently believed in tax reform (kicking the tax collectors out of the temple), but also believed in family values and studying God's word (spent time in Temple and honored his own mother throughout his life). I'll grant I may be stretching for some of those, but then, it's all in interpretation, right?

A couple of presidential elections ago, my grandfather cornered me about my political persuasions. Now, this is the man that used to listen to Rush Limbaugh and just wait for the man to announce his intentions to run for president. He also used every visit I made to his house for 4 years to educate me about the so-called "Clinton Conspiracy." He never did understand that I'm really rather apolitical and nothing turns me off to conversation faster than having politics come up.

Well, he managed to get it out of me who I'd voted for. I went Democrat that time, for lots of reasons. He was appalled, absolutely dumbfounded. When he regained his ability to speak, he asked me how I could possibly vote that way, knowing I was going against "the family." (I nearly laughed at that later. "The Family?" What are we, the Mob?) I tried to explain my reasons. He didn't listen. He asked again how I could betray the family. I told him that I hadn't realized that family membership carried a voting requirement. His next argument dealt with how I could call myself a Christian and vote Democrat. Once I regained my composure, I told him I wasn't aware my religious affiliation was in any way limited by my political leanings. You know what made it even worse? I learned that he hadn't even voted that year--didn't get out and get to the polls. Ha.

I think what this country needs is a return to an intelligent faith--not a return to the faith that's being preached by the extremists in the so-called "Religious Right." We aren't on this planet to run around being judgemental fools. As Christians, we're called to strive to be like Jesus--or at least that's what the catechism of my church has been teaching us for years. Being like Jesus doesn't involve being exclusionary or being hateful. Quite the contrary.

For the record, I know good and well that not all Republicans behave this way, and that many Democrats are just as guilty of the behavior. Seems like the Republicans have better PR people though--we sure do hear about them more.

One of my complaints as a librarian is that my students don't just read. Well, correction, they read in spurts--websites, email, blogs. Nothing that's long, unless it's assigned in class. I listened to students bitch about reading Anthem (Ayn Rand) because it was just too long.

Then I read this...

Booksellers Seeing Changes in Customers

In this world of instant gratification and digital images, people are forgetting what a pleasure simplicity can be. I read constantly, but not because I like to read books. (Hold on, I promise that will make sense.) I love reading because it doesn't produce sensory overload. I read the book and am not bombarded with images and sounds. What I see in my mind's eye is all my own creation--and I do create images and sounds for myself as I read. They're far more simplistic than what's on the television, often black and white, which I've never understood since I dream in technicolor. I get completely lost in the books that I read, every book. My best times are curled up with a good book (and a cup of tea or cocoa, maybe a man.)

Instant gratification is great for fast food and things of that ilk. Anything that's really worth having takes some time--time to find, create, discover. I love to go to bookstores (or libraries) and spend hours pawing the shelves in search of the perfect books. It makes my heart sing. And it's a simple act.

Maybe the problem is that they are too busy razing the roses to stop and smell them.

It's been a while, but I once did a response post to the news. Sounds like fun today, especially since I frequent Yahoo's Odd News page. So, here we go.

Restaurant serves food in toilet bowl
In a word, yuck. Talk about your toilet humor. The only thing left, in fact, is to have teenagers giggling like idiots while there. Oh, wait, they are. Then there are the diners who stir their food up so it looks like they haven't flushed. Oh, please. I'm all for gimmicky restaurants, but this is going a bit far.

Gene change alters sex orientation in fruit flies
Fabulous, now we have scientifically-engineered homosexual fruit flies. One more thing for the right-wingers to use as fodder for their anti-gay information packets. And did they have to give details about the mating habits of flies? Really?

Fire station catches fire
Good news, it wasn't a group of amateurs, these were professionals.

Dutch Bible-belt town bans blasphemy
This from the country that legalized marijuana. What ever are we coming to?

Children's Tylenol Recalled Over Labels
Yes, it’s sad that some children may well have been made sick by a Tylenol overdose. However, it’s really saddening that parents aren’t reading the label. Exactly why would you medicate your child, any child, with even an over the counter drug without reading the label?

Found: Lost Suits for Space Spies
Imagine what else might be found if security guards were all so thorough and checked locked closets. Truly, though, this one is kinda cool. I’ve read lots of books on the early manned-space flight years in the U.S., but I don’t remember anything about a manned-reconnaissance orbitor. Pretty interesting. Just found this week’s research topic.

Scientists Study How to Tell T. Rex’s Sex
Here are your tax dollars at work—this study was partially funded by the National Science Foundation. I realize this may provide information of earth-shattering importance, but isn’t there some more immediate need that we could pour money into?

Exhibit Unwraps Science Behind Candy
At the risk of sounding a bit pedestrian—SWEET! Man I wish I lived in Pittsburgh.

Man sues for $10 million over exploding toilet
Now, who the hell smokes on the toilet? I’m not an idiot, I know people must do this, but why?
Happy Saturday to you all.

I never desire to converse with a man who has written more than he has read. –Samuel Johnson.

Frankly, this applies to a lot of things in my life, not just my writer-self.

I profess to be a writer, largely because I do, in fact, write (go figure). Now, I’ve been on hiatus the last few years (read “writer’s block”), but that doesn’t mean I’m not still writing—just that I’m not productive. See, I must be a writer, look at my impressive use of semantics.

To be very honest, I’ve been writing the last few years.

· term papers
· proposals
· a grant
· modules for 3-hour technology workshops for school
· campus technology plans
· beautiful recommendation letters for my students
· heartfelt e-mails and even letters to people important to me
· speeches for award banquets
· job descriptions
· curriculum for my classes
· and other reasonably mundane things

While those things have been satisfying in their own ways, they haven’t satisfied that part of me that needs to write. That part of me that produced poetry (some great, some garbage, some not fit for the garbage can and burned to put it out of my misery.). That part of me that would love to write children’s books and young adult novels. There’s even a part of me that would love to write Christian devotionals for teens.

But, I haven’t written anything I deem meaningful for three or four years. So, instead, I’ve been reading. And reading. And reading. Basically, I devoured everything in sight, from wonderful Southern fiction to software manuals. Favorite classics to modern day trash. Histories of Henry VIII to guidebooks for Texas historical markers. You name the subject and I’ve either read up on it or have a book in my “to do” stack (which grows larger by the day).

I had a date with another writer a few weeks ago. Nice guy, not terribly well-read. I asked him what he’d been reading recently. His response? “Well, I’ve been revising the short stories I’ve been working on.” No, I asked what you’d be reading recently, not what you were doing with your writing. He couldn’t tell me anything more than the local newspaper. He asked what I’d been reading lately, and I recited the laundry list—

· The Other Boleyn –about Mary Boleyn, Anne’s sister
· A book on the restyling your library in the “bookstore model”
· Finding God in the Movies
· A string of blogs
· To Kill a Mockingbird (my annual re-reading of my favorite)

His eyes grew wide—not just at the sheer volume of what I read (and all of these are going on simultaneously), but at the different kinds of things I read all the time.

You don’t have to necessarily read as much or as often as I do (I read almost everywhere and all the time), but you should read, by God. I believe that you can’t grow as a writer if you aren’t experiencing the best and the worst that the writing world has to offer. The blogs are some of both, the novels—the same. To Kill a Mockingbird—need I say more?

But, maybe I’m weird. You tell me.

Pardon me, I'm stealing again. Got this one from here. Enjoy.

Three screen names that you have had: Jay, Jayfer, Jeffner

Three things you like about your self: My legs, the innocent nature I portray, my sarcasm

Three things you don't like about your self: I cry too easily, I can't make a decision in under 20 minutes, my toes.

Three parts of your heritage: Irish, Swiss, Polish

Three things that scare you: the dark, snakes, lightning

Three of your everyday essentials: coffee, email, Diet Coke

Three things you are wearing right now: belly ring, tunic, contacts

Three of your favorie songs: Love Song for a Savior (Jars of Clay), I've Always Loved You (Third Day), Hot for Teacher (Van Halen)

Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months: Sign language, reviewing, ??

Three things I want in a relationship: honesty, passion, Faith (as in the big one--religion)

Two truths and a lie: My left toe is bleeding, I love fuschia, I had chips and salsa for breakfast this morning.

Three things you can't do without: Music, books, coffee

Three places you want to go on vacation: Tuscany, New York, away

Three things you just can't do: Say "aluminum," stop moving, sleep through the night

Three kids names: Maguire, Haley, Meagan

Three things you want to do before you die: retire, have a flower garden, win the lottery

Three Celeb crushes: Tim McGraw, Brad Pitt (can't help it, even if it is a bit expected), Usher

Three people you want to know these things about: I don't know.

Today was the last day of work for the school year. I get to spend the next 11 weeks sleeping later (okay, some of those days means an extra 30 minutes). I can stay in my PJs all day, actually have a lunch hour (not merely 30 minutes), and surprise someone at work in the middle of the day. Afternoon naps, right after lunch (which is the best time for them), dawdling over coffee, and reading everything in sight. Yes, big plans for this summer.

I'm finally completely settled into my new apartment. It's wonderful to live in a place so nice after living a few steps above rat trap before--and that's only a mild exaggeration. The Wonder Dog is please with all the extra room around, and enjoys the new patio with the view of the pretty girls at the pool.

He only barks at the skinny, pretty girls. Get a, um...generously-sized girl or a guy out there and he couldn't care less. Put a woman who's missed her calling as a model and he goes crazy. Such a man. (Well, not really anymore, I guess. Got him neutered a couple of weeks ago.)

Anyway..I'm back, after dealing with a few things around here. I've bought a couple books to spur my writing. Get ready, we're going to get interactive around here.

kisses,

I'm moving in 6 days. 6 DAYS. I should be packing something. Or cleaning out my closet. What have I done so far?

1. Checked my email.

2. Washed sheets. All of them. I had no clue I had 4 complete sets of queen-size sheets. I have one bed. 2 if you count The Wonder Dog's, but I don't put sheets on his bed.

3. Watched 3 consecutive hours of TLC programming. It was all new episodes. My new favorite show on that channel is "Moving Up." Doug, from "Trading Spaces" meets 3 home owners who are "moving up" in the real estate world. Person A is buying B's home, B is buying C's home, and C is doing God knows what for living arrangements--we're not always told. Then after 3 or 4 months of upgrading/remodeling, C & B go back to visit their previous homes and comment. Sometimes they love the new look, sometimes they hate it. In tonight's episode, C consisted of 3 single men who'd shared a house, but hadn't taken the trash out in something like 2 years. The tub was so dirty it was brown all over and the kitchen counter top was decorated with mouse droppings. When they came back to visit their former home (landfill), they actually reminisced about the trash filled days. What the hell is wrong with these people?

4. Checked my email

5. Chased the dog down trying to get back a pair of panties he stole off the top of the laundry pile. Threatened to throw him in the washing machine.

6. Washed the load of socks and underwear so The Wonder Dog would quit running around the house with my panties.

7. Ate dinner.

8. Checked my email.

9. Watched "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." I think it would be cool to speak Parsel Tongue.

10. Mapped out how I plan to put things in my closet in the new place.

11. Whined to a friend that I'm moving and I hate moving. Really hate it, with a passion.

12. Checked email.

13. Posted a bunch of things on the local FreeCycle group in an attempt to get rid of some of this crap before I find myself moving it.

14. Watered the plants.

15. Started typing this post, so that I could say I had something very particular to do instead of finishing the laundry or cleaning.

******************

I watched "What Not to Wear" tonight--the American version. I like the show, except for their insistence that women should wear pointy-toed shoes. I've decided something, though.

I want to go on the show, with one change--I want them to not send me out to the high-priced boutiques. Teach me how to buy the things that will look best on me from JCPenney and Palais Royal. Maybe the Dillard's sale rack. You know, the far more reasonably priced stores that sell shoes in the $30-80 range as opposed to the $300 plus range. Frankly, I'd go spend their $5000 on the show where they wanted me to, but I want more than a couple pairs of shoes and a 4 days worth of clothes to show for it. I'm not going to go shop at those stores ever again, don't tease me.

OR, rig the lottery so that I win it and can afford to run off to New York every season and replenish my wardrobe. I promise to follow the rules.

Stole this from a post over at A True Jersey Girl.

What follows is a list of different occupations. You must select at least five of them. You may add more if you like to your list before you pass it on (after you select five of the items as it was passed to you). Of the five you selected, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession. Then pass it on to three other bloggers.

Here's that list:

If I could be a scientist... If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician... If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter... If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary... If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect... If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist... If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete... If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper... If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer... If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider... If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a midget stripper... If I could be a proctologist...
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host... If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge... If I could be a Jedi...
If I could be a mob boss... If I could be a backup singer …
If I could be a CEO... If I could be a movie reviewer …
If I could be a candy striper... If I could taste test chocolate...

Now, If I could be a chef...I'd likely weigh more than I do now and be even more irate about it. But dammit, I'd eat well. I'd also need a bigger, better kitchen, for all my stuff.

If I could be a lawyer... I'd study education law and be on the side of schools when they've got ridiculous teachers trying to sue for breach of contract when the teacher provided a fabulous performance of a classicly awful teacher. And I'd tell them that.

If I could be a Jedi... I'd use my powers of persuasion to get that really hot, really wonderful guy to fall in love with me.

If I could be a movie reviewer... I'd also critique the trailers at the start--some of those are awful! No holds barred, you're movie's apparently shit if this the best you could do to advertise it.

If I could be a librarian... Okay, so I'm cheating. I am a librarian, but I'm the best damn looking one you'll ever meet.

So, now, I'll pass the torch to...Ribalding. His answers will be far more...naughty...then mine today, I'm sure.

And to Glod. The answers should be interesting.

And no one else..it's my blog, I can break the rules if I want to.

Normally, I would never, never do what I'm about to. However, I think it'll make for some interesting comments.

**Names have been removed, just because.

The email I received:

I thought about calling you tonight, but there is an issue on my mind that I fear I cannot properly vocalize. I have now had a chance to sleep on it for 3 nights and my opinion is not wavering...

You made a tremendous impression on Sunday... attractive, intelligent, and a strong conversationalist. However, there is one deal-breaker that you announced on Sunday that I fear will always overshadow all of the positives.
I'm sure that this sounds really shallow, but I've always had a severe distaste for smoking. Generally even social smoking is an extreme turn-off in my book.

I'll admit that I should have been more aware that your response to smoking habits was "No Answer" and brought this issue to the forefront before meeting you on Sunday afternoon. I completely overlooked that selection in your profile and for that I must apologize.

So you know the philosophy... don't want anyone to change... better now than later. You are a tremendous person and I am sure that you will find someone who loves you for everything that you are. I think that it is the best that we end our dating relationship. I hope that you can see where I am coming from.

My response:

I must say I was more than a little surprised to read your email this morning. I very much enjoyed our afternoon-turned-evening Sunday and was looking forward to seeing you this evening. I feel that I should clear the air, so to speak, about this.

I have smoked on rare occasions, in the company of smokers and even more rarely when I'm stressed. I might have 6 or 8 all year. It's not something I'm terribly proud of, and I made the decision just last week to forego it entirely, for many reasons. If I never had another one, I wouldn't think twice about it. I think you've accidently overestimated my attraction (or lack thereof) to the habit.

Does it seem a little silly to you that a relationship with potential could be hamstrung when a simple question or two would have saved everyone the trouble? Part of me wonders if there's something else you're not telling me that has led you to make such an abrupt decision.



What I really wanted to say:

It matters very little to me that you're concerned with my smoking "habit." Had I not mentioned it, you wouldn't have known about it at all. What concerns me is that you were completely unable to actually speak with me about it. That, to use your words, is the deal-breaker for me.

Two things you should probably consider before dating again. First, one date does not make a relationship of any sort. Second, not being able to talk to someone about one small thing that you, rather obviously, don't have all the information on, is not a good foundation for any sort of relationship.

Digging through some random pics on the 'puter today, and I found this. I'd been working steadily on a crocheted garland for my Christmas tree when I dozed off. I looked down and found that The Wonder Dog had found my ball of thread. Apparently, it was fascinating.

This is also the dog that thinks June bugs are fun to hold in his mouth. Go figure.

Okay, look, read carefully.

I said my friend was "surprised/embarassed." Those words are NOT synonymous with "offended." As far as I can tell, he wasn't offended, just hadn't expected to come across something like that in my blog--I seem far more innocent/reserved than I truly am. He wasn't prepared for it. Imagine suddenly finding out your sister/aunt/mother would write about things like that and invite you to read them when you've always seen her in a June Cleaver role. You'd blush, too.

On another note, Rudicus is right (see the comments on the original post.) If the guy I'd been speaking with had been my best friend for 10 years, no it wouldn't have been rude. It's rude for a person who has only known of my existence for a few days and never seen me in person to ask those sorts of questions and assume I'll just go along with it.

I learned today that I surprised/embarassed a friend when reading my "PSA" post. I had to giggle at that, because when I posted it, I forgot that he's been reading my blog.

No, it's not my usual storyline or subject matter, but it was something that I couldn't help but share. I was flabbergasted at the guy's guts, in asking those questions. No, I'm not naive, by any stretch, but come on, there's just some things that would shock almost anyone, right?

So, anyway..sorry I surprised you. I'll try to remember to post a warning beforehand next time.

Much love.