The Date

I went on a date a couple of weeks ago.

Oh, stop.  It's rude to look so shocked.

Nope, I'm not telling you who it was with.  That would be too personal, and I try not to share anything personal on this blog.

Right.

So...it's an interesting thing, going on a date with somebody you don't really know.  All day long I kept telling myself it was just dinner, and everybody has to eat. Then I would think about how embarrassed I would be if I got home and found spinach in my teeth, or enchilada sauce on my blouse.

That didn't happen, by the way.

I handled the day pretty well, but when I got off work I had two hours to kill.  I didn't want to sit around making myself nervous, so I started to clean the house.

I had it completely spotless in an hour and a half.

Then I attempted to get cute...but not too cute.  A girl never wants to look like she's trying too hard, but she doesn't want to look frumpy either.

It's kind of complicated.

I left my house...then decided I didn't want to be too early.  But I didn't want to be late either.

I took the back road to the restaurant.  It worked, I got there one minute early.

He was already there, and I was glad.  Being there first would have looked desperate.

Hey, I may be a lot of things, but desperate isn't one of them.

I sat down and we started to chat.  I was the picture of poise, I was a natural.  I could do this thing.

Then out of the blue he asked me the most random question.

"Were you nervous about tonight?" he asked.

"Hmmm...."  I responded.  I was thinking fast. "Not really.  It's just dinner and everybody has to eat, right?  Why do you ask?"

"I had a friend whose neck used to get really red when she was nervous.  And yours is really red right now."

Dang, I forgot about my traitorous neck!

"Yeah, well, okay, I may have been a tad nervous,"  I stammered.  "But just because I've lived here for 30 years and I know somebody will see me and give me a hard time tomorrow."

We had a nice time, we did.  And I may decide to try this date thing again sometime.

And if you see me, be sure to say hello.

I'll be the girl in the scarf.

Four Eyes

When I was a kid, Friday nights were TV nights.  The Brady Bunch came first, followed by the Partridge Family.  My siblings and I had our own designated seating assignments.  I used to lay on the floor about four feet away from the television.

I didn't get glasses until I was 12.  But I suspect I may have needed them before that.

I've always hated wearing glasses.

Within months, I lost my first pair.  I remember trying to convince my mom they had to have fallen out of my pocket and down into the storm drain below our street. That was the only explanation because I had looked EVERYWHERE.  I never did get those glasses back;  she never allowed me to climb down there and look for them. They're probably still there.

High school brought on contact lense angst.

Remember those hard contacts people had back in the day?  I could never wear those.  My best friend could pop hers out, stick it in her mouth to rinse it off, then pop it back in without needing a mirror.

I was so jealous.

When soft contacts became popular, I was first in line.  I had several years of success wearing them.  But for some reason after my son was born, I could no longer wear them.  I have no idea why, but I totally blame him.  Every couple of years I try them again, and every time I end up miserable and am reminded what tremendous sacrifices I've made as a mother.

I guess it was worth it.

You'd think after so many years of wearing glasses, I wouldn't have any problems.  But I do.  The older I get, the harder it is for me to get used to a new pair.  It's torture.

My insurance pays for new glasses every two years, but about a year ago I was having a hard time seeing my computer.  I needed new glasses, and I had to pay for them 100%.  I wear transition lenses, and let me tell you, they ain't cheap.

I liked the ones I bought, but I couldn't get used to them.  No matter how many times I had them adjusted, it felt like they were squeezing my head.  They came with a warranty, so I exchanged them for the lightest pair available.  The lady at the eye doctor said I would have absolutely no problem with these...and I payed an additional $200.  Ouch.

She's right, they are light.

And, after a year of suffering, I'm finally used to them.

But my computer is looking kind of fuzzy...

Stress

This has been quite a day.  Actually, the last couple of weeks have pretty much eaten my lunch.

Unfortunately that's not quite true.  I tend to eat more lunch when I'm stressed.  And more breakfast and dinner.  Know what I mean?

This chain of misfortune started with my car.  It had two leaky seals.  I saw the boxes my new seals came in; they were about the size of canning jar lids.  Too bad I couldn't pop my car into a pressure cooker and seal the leaks, it would have been much cheaper.

You know, I always wonder if the guys who work on my car really work on my car.  I had my transmission flushed once; my car looked exactly the same when I picked it up as it did when I dropped it off.  It ran the same too.  How do you men know?  Maybe it's a testosterone thing that this estrogen laden woman will never understand.

And I am okay with that.

Then my hot water heater died.  It was a slow, painful death...I'd known it was coming.  Water kept raining down on the pilot light; I was getting used to lighting it in the morning and waiting for 30 minutes before I took a shower.  Finally, it gave up.  Kaput.

I mourned.

A few days later, The Beast (my quilt machine) refused to go sideways.  Funny thing...I found this random part under the table a few weeks ago; for the life of me I couldn't figure out where it came from.  It seemed to work fine without it...until it didn't.

That part made it go sideways.  Who knew?  Well, the repair man knew, but that's beside the point.

Things come in threes, right?  Wrongo.

Saturday morning I booted up the computer on The Beast and the screen went black.

I've never had a computer crash before.  It's not very fun.

My brilliant (and patient) son-in-law spent two hours on the other side of a webcam trying to get me up and running again.  We thought we had it, but when I heard him say, "Uh oh.  That's not good," I knew it was over.

I ordered a new computer yesterday.

As fun as it would be to feel sorry for myself, I simply can't.  God won't let me.  In retrospect, I can see the places he's stretched my faith, and then provided...stretched my faith, and then provided, sometimes in truly humbling and miraculous ways.

I think I'm getting it.

I suspect he's getting ready to move on, to deal with something else in my character.

I bet it will have something to do with eating my lunch.