Bring back show and tell?

I will, no doubt, draw scorn for this, but I just can't get the thought out of my head.

I've been seeing all these women on Facebook posting colors today, to signify their bra color in an effort to increase breast cancer awareness. There can't be enough awareness of the issue as far as I'm concerned. I hope my daughter and the women in her family never have to face that threat. I lost an aunt to breast cancer and have a friend who had quite an ordeal fighting that disease just a year or so ago.

But, try as I might to squelch it in certain company, I'm still a guy. And I had a thought.

Wouldn't the whole Facebook color status post thing be a lot more interesting if the women posting their colors also posted a picture as proof? There could be some real creativity demonstrated in the self portraits that came out of that exercise. How much to show. How much not to show. Maybe some abstracts. Fabric and lace. Maybe a hint of flesh. It could be pretty cool, don't you think?

On second thought I have too many relatives on Facebook now. I don't need, or want, to see their bras. That would just be creepy.

But all non-relatives, feel free to take part.

Waking up from a long slumber

Life had gotten boring. I didn't realize how boring until things turned around. And when it turned, it turned dramatically.

I'm not quite sure where to begin. A big project at work has resulted in long days and long weeks. And it the midst of all that, I almost moved to Portland. Twice.

There are many things about the prospect of becoming a commuter and the living arrangements being considered that were a cause for concern. I didn't know if my old truck could take a 90-mile round trip every day. Plus, I've lived alone for 5 years, and I came very close to becoming the roommate of my two young nieces and their mother in a two bedroom apartment.

It would have been a major lifestyle change. And I have to admit, I was excited about it. Most of my friends who live anywhere close live and work in the greater Portland area.

Unfortunately, the move fell through, not once but twice. But the prospect of the move got me excited again. It got me looking forward to a new life. The project at work, the launch of a new website, though taxing and sometimes frustrating, also revitalized me.

The pace of life accelerated rapidly. I now realized I had not been moving toward or working toward anything in some time. I'd merely been hanging on and trying to get by. That's no way to live.

I don't know yet what that next goal, that next objective is, or even what the next project might be. But I know I need to have something to work toward, to climb for, rather than hanging here trying to maintain a grip on a life that is not all I want and need it to be.

If you need me, why do you treat me so bad?

If the corporate community and federal and state governments are expecting me to help lift the country out of this recession/depression, they are all in for a long wait. If it's consumers like me, in similar circumstances, that will eventually signal a return to financial prosperity, then we are in for a few more years of rough sledding.

It's not that I am opposed to spending money and wouldn't be willing to do my part, but I've got nothing left to give. Every bit of my income out goes every month. I won't be further mortgaging my future with credit cards to stimulate the economy either. The banks have jacked up my interest rates so high and dropped my credit limits so far that there is not enough spare credit available to pay attention.

I am one of the fortunate ones. I still have a job, unlike an estimated 1 in 10 people in the country who are unemployed.

There is certainly stuff on my wish list of purchases to make. I could use a newer, more fuel efficient car, but that's way out of the budget. My daughter starts college in the fall, which strikes terror in my heart and my bank account.

Even more modest things are out of reach or have to be prioritized. My work and weekend wardrobes are getting threadbare. I need new shoes. Those are the type of purchases I used to put on a credit card.

To cope, I've made some lifestyle changes. I used to eat out for virtually every meal, spending about $70 to $90 a week on food. Now I try to eat at home whenever possible, eating as little as one meal a week outside the home. Of course my food budget was pretty modest before, so I'm not eating a lot of premium cuts or name-brand products and I try to not to let any food go to waste. I've also downgraded my cable service (and may still drop cable altogether. I'm also debating a change in cell phone and Internet services to reduce those bills every month and dropping my landline completely. But those will only leave a few more dollars available every month. Other unattractive, but increasingly prudent options include either seeking out a roommate or downsizing to a smaller apartment.

And those are just to get through the next few months or so.

So don't count on me to spend more, Uncle Sam. I am still looking for ways to spend less. I like to think I've learned the lesson of easy credit and getting over extended. I mean, this is what I'm supposed to do, right? Only spend the money I have?

I'm trying. But it's not going to help put my neighbors back to work so their paychecks can eventually come back to help ensure I will still have a job for the foreseeable future.

Maybe some of those banks that were too big should have failed and taken their bank records with them to oblivion. I would be willing to try living without the credit cards. I'm trying to now. But it would sure help to do without the bills too.

Sadly, to the banks, I'm not too big to fail. They seem to be betting on it. But it's a bet they win either way, because they are charging rates so high they have already made back their money, and then some.

The date: A retrospective

So the big date came and went and since I blabbed about it on here, it seems only right that I provide some sort of recap of the evening.

The evening had all the ingredients for disaster, or at least a coronary episode on my part. What I neglected to mention in my first date post was that the meeting was arranged by my boss and my boss and his date were attending the same event I was, as were several other coworkers. It was sort of like dating in a fish bowl with several sets of noses pressed against the glass.

I should have, by all rights, been a nervous wreck.

Surprising, at least to myself, I was calm, completely at ease with myself and the circumstances. I had a great time. My companion was attractive, charming and funny. She has a candid way of speaking that I find comforting and refreshing. Perhaps my admiration of that trait is due to too many years spent learning to bite my tongue for fear of offending someone or embarrassing myself, which tends to result in thoughts and emotions building up until a blurt things out in a stream of consciousness that shocks others. Better to dole out colorful language and blunt observations in small doses I think, but it's not a skill I've mastered.

To make a long story as short as possible I will say that the evening went quickly. My date had other plans for the latter part of the evening, so after a few hours of conversation, dinner and laughter the evening ended. I'm glad I went and surprised myself to find that stepping outside my comfort zones proved to be remarkably comfortable.

Perhaps that's not as exciting as a stereotypical first date filled with anxiety and anticipation, passion and uncertainty. Maybe that type is more fun. But all things considered, I thought it was about perfect. I'm not sure it would be the best of circumstances to be head-over-heels and looking for love on the first date after a long dateless spell. Looking for a friend was much preferable. Only time will tell whether I found a potential friend, or merely had a nice evening with an engaging, intelligent and interesting woman. One can't have enough interesting experiences either.

It's a date, isn't it?

I have a date. I think. Sort of.

Although, truth be told, I'm not sure I really know what a date is. I've never been much of a dater. So I may need clarification from more advanced and experienced daters out there.

For me, the biggest dating issue has always been asking someone out for a first date. It's a two-pronged problem. I tend to be shy around women and suffer from a paralyzing fear of rejection. For some reason it's hard to get a date if you can't bring yourself to ask a woman out on a date.

So, in order to work up the nerve to ask a woman out, I had to be pretty head-over-heels for her and know her well enough to be pretty confident her reaction to being asked out would not be laughter, spitting or stunned silence. Of course, it helps to have a friend who could do some recon work and find out if a girl likes you, but that doesn't go over so big after junior high.

I have almost always gone into a first date knowing I wanted a second one. Knowing I want a relationship. Knowing I had a crush on her.

There have been some exceptions, but I always felt uncomfortable and awkward, which didn't make for the most enjoyable outing. Of course that didn't lead to many second dates either.

I know that dating, at least in theory, is a way that people get to know one another to find out if they want to date more. I understand the theory. I've just never been able to put the theory into practice.

So, that's why I don't know if my date Saturday is a date. It's a fix-up situation. A blind date. And there is no expectation for a second date. Perhaps that's what's kept me from freaking out so far and actually has me looking forward to it. In order to get back into (or, perhaps more accurately, get into for the first time ever) the dating scene, it seems important to get that first date in a long time out of the way.

So, I've got a date. And I'm completely comfortable and at ease with the whole thing.

Oops, got to run. my nose just started bleeding. That usually only happens when I've got a cold, or when the weather changes or I'm stressed out about something. I wonder what brought this one on?

Must be the onset of fall weather.

Reliving the gory, glory days

This upcoming weekend, the Fourth of July weekend, is one I've been looking forward to for a long time. Now, for some unexplained reason, I find myself having mixed emotions about it.

I've been looking forward to it for months now because there is a reunion in my old hometown and I'm hoping to see a lot of old friends from school, many of whom I probably haven't seen in 20 years or more.

Our school was quite small, so we can't really have traditional high school reunions, where a particular class gathers at those various milestone years -- 5, 10, 20, 25 years, etc. If we did that for my class, there would only be 17 of us there, and spouses perhaps, and that's if everyone showed up, and if I'm rightly remembering the number of people in my class. Obviously, everyone would not show up. So, every so often a school/community reunion is scheduled where everyone from any year, or who has ever just lived in the community can show up. So, that might improve the odds that more than 17 people will be there, but it also means that people far younger, or older, than I and whom I don't even know will be there. It's not just classmates, or even immediate year schoolmates.

I already know at least one of my classmates, and the guy who was my best friend from second grade through college, won't be there. He has a family event to attend for the holiday weekend.

Maybe part of the reason I'm having mixed feelings is because I'm skipping out on a family event myself to attend this school/community reunion. But this is only the second school reunion like this I've heard about since I graduated. The only other one I knew about occurred when I was living in California and the time off just wasn't in the cards, or something. I don't really remember when it was or why I didn't go, but I didn't.

I am excited to see at least one person who I know is expected to attend. One of my old running buddies who now lives in Germany is bringing his wife and kids home to visit his family and they scheduled their visit to coincide with the reunion.

The friend in question was a few years ahead of me in school, and had a bit of a wild boy reputation. Why he ever let me hang out with him, I'll never know. But we had a good time pursuing, if never quite capturing the elusive females of the species on warm summer days and nights in a beat up Chevy Vega, or whatever vehicle I could manage to borrow from my folks.

In fact I even served as best man at his first wedding, a casual backyard affair. I had no clue what a best man was supposed to do, and in hindsight I was a lousy one, but I stood up with my friend and witnesses the momentous occasion, all the while fawning over his then-new bride's younger sister.

My ol' buddy and I got reacquainted not so long ago over the Internet. In fact he was the one who told me about the reunion. Obviously he's got better connections around the old homestead than I do. Given the time difference, we often catch up with each other just as he is starting his work day and I'm thinking I should head off to bed.

Getting a chance to get caught up should be worth the trip. And who knows, maybe there will be some still single, or single again, women there too. And I can get absolutely nowhere again with the girls-turned-women of my old hometown.

Sometimes I get quite nostalgic for home, that home of my youth, and the people I spent it with. But I don't miss the boy I was, perpetually shy and terrified of members of the opposite sex. The boy who was unsure of himself and his place in the world. That boy is, for the most part, gone. But his ghosts haunts the present day from time to time, like when I'm confronted with a new situation, or meeting new people in a purely social context. It's those times I wish I had my old running buddy or my old best friend to lead the way with their outgoing, seemingly unflappable natures. Their confidence, bordering on arrogance, was something I've never perfected, except sometimes in the working world. Sometimes, when I know I need to take a leap, not like the one at the swimming hole along the Umatilla River of my teens, I need someone to leap first to show me the water is deep enough. And sometimes I need someone to give me a little nudge to leave the relative security of solid ground to step out into thin air and feel the rush.

Sadie Hawkins takes the leap

It's almost Friday. Feb. 29. We get an extra day this year for Leap Year. I'm thinking I should do something special to make use of this bonus day.

Do people do anything special for Leap Year? Do people schedule parties for Leap Year? To make it a tad more special, the bonus day is on a Friday.

I'm open to suggestions for what to do with the extra day. Maybe a special dinner or a movie or something.

Maybe I need some sort of Leap Year tradition.

The biggest tradition associated with Leap Year is that on February 29 women can ask for a man's hand in marriage. I'm pretty sure I won't be a participant in that tradition. Does the modern woman need the permission of that tradition to propose to a man if he is the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with? If a woman does want to proposed to a man though, the website chiff.com offers links to help a girl out.

OK, maybe women don't do the get-down-on-one-knee, ask-for-the-hand-in-marriage thing. But women do make their intentions/desires known in their own way. And they certainly don't wait for one day every four years.

So, I don't expect a proposal to come my way Feb. 29. But I am free for dinner.

Wanted: Cooking coach to help me heat things up

I stopped at the grocery store after work. There was more grocery shopping. I think I've bought groceries more this year than I have in the last several years combined. And I've certainly fixed more of my own meals that I have since, well, ever.

I'm got quite a little string going. But I've come to a a realization. Two actually.

The first is that I need more cookware. My one skillet and two pans aren't cutting it anymore when I'm making meals at home.

The second realization is that I need to learn how to cook. I need cooking lessons.

I finally figured out that the things I've been cooking in my skillet I've been preparing at too high a temperature. Perhaps my first clue should have been that the edges of my plastic spatulas were melting.

It's a little odd to realize that here I am, a single man in my early 40s, and I've lived alone pretty much all of my adult life, yet never really learned to cook. I even have a George Foreman grill and no idea how to use it.

Today at the grocery store I explored some parts of the store I tend not to venture into. If I can't use it to make a sandwich, boil it, microwave it, or eat it raw, it's not on my shopping list. Today I saw several thing that I was tempted to get, prepackaged items intended to be easy to prepare but realized I wasn't even brave enough -- yet -- to try new things. For example, I found this stir fry mix with seafood and veggies that looked great. But it looked like it was a family serving size and not something I could down in one meal. So I was stuck with a dilema. Do I only prepare part of it? And if I do, can I re-freeze it? Or do I prepare it all and then refrigerate the leftovers?

Simple questions. Basic questions. I just have no confidence at trying things in the kitchen.

My boldest adventure of late in the kitchen was making scrambled eggs. That's part of how I confirmed to myself that I've been cooking with the skillet too hot. My first batch was, well it was edible, but it looked like crap and made a mess. So, I actually looked up how to cook scrambled eggs. The proof was right there. Heat the pan on medium, cook on medium low.

Medium low? You can cook on medium low? I thought anything below high was just to keep the food warm until you were ready for seconds.

Who knew?

Obviously I need a cooking coach. No, I don't want to take a class. I want private lessons. Preferably with a hot, female cooking coach wearing not much more than an apron.

Oh, and you'll have to provide your own apron, I don't have one of those.

The kindest kind of crush

I saw a woman today in the lobby of my office. She was sitting in the reception area. I don't know why she was there. I didn’t know her, but she reminded me of someone I once knew.

A name and a face flashed into my mind. The name of the woman the mysterious visitor reminded me of was Kim. I haven't seen, or thought of, Kim in many years.

Kim was the source of my infatuation in junior high. She may have been my first real crush, if you don't count the one I had on my teacher in second grade. This crush was different. At a time of adolescent awakening, this one came with all sorts of odd, tingly feelings I couldn't explain.

Seeing Kim made me happy. It made me feel all warm and weird and wonderful.

Like all first lusts, the relationship was doomed from the start. Kim didn't feel the same feelings I did, if memory serves. She eventually changed schools and we went our separate ways.

I had not thought about Kim in many, many years. But seeing that woman today brought that name, and that face, to mind with a burst of synapses. It was like the name exploded in my head with a load bang. It shocked me. And it made me smile. Thanks mysterious stranger. And thanks Kim, wherever you are.

The end of the world as I've known it

The world absolutely must be coming to an end. You know how I can tell? I've been to grocery stores four times in a little over a week. To make it even more stunning, I actually bought groceries, for me -- my refrigerator, my cupboards.

As if that weren't a sure enough sign of the Apocalypse, I've actually been cooking. So between the meals I've cooked for myself, and the far superior home-cooked meals I had over the weekend (by far superior cooks, namely my daughter's mom and aunt), I've had home-fixed meals every day for more than a week.

What makes all that so stunning, is that I don't cook and rarely keep food in my house -- unless beer and chips and salsa qualify as food.

I'm hoping in the long run I end up spending less money on food that I normally would eating two or three meals a day from fastfood joints. There could potentially be some health benefits as well I supposed.

But there is downside to having food in the house. I find I eat when I'm bored. I eat when I'm hungry. I eat when I'm full. I eat way too much and too often.

So, I've got to figure out how to balance this whole having food in the house thing with not trying to each something of everything everyday until it's gone.

I've also got to get better at doing dishes, as I find I make meal selection choices based on what dishes are not sitting unwashed in the dishwasher (or sink) that I can prepare dishes in (or on).

Yea I know there are people who fix meals and do dishes everyday, I've just never been one of those people. My college roommate and I had the same affliction. How we ever had any dates, or allowed any women into our apartment is still a mystery. We didn't have a dishwasher, but had one of those double-sided sinks. We would get both sides of the sink filled, stacked a foot or two above the rim. We'd wait until every single glass, plate or piece of silverware in the house was used. And that might not have been so bad, but we would sometime run water over the dishes after using them (to keep the food from sticking). Of course running water in pots, pans and dishes in a sink filled with stuff dishes and food scraps would lead to mold forming after several days or weeks without actually doing the dishes.

It was pretty disgusting, especially during fruitfly season in late spring and summer in an apartment without air conditioning.

It's a wonder we didn't dye from some sort of mold-borne disease.

By comparison, I've come a long way in the years since, thanks mostly to having built-in dishwashers in most of the places I've lived in the years since. But I still suck at housework.

But hey, I have food to eat and have actually been using the burners on the stove to cook with on occasion, although the oven portion of the stove is still a virgin. Heck, the way things are going I may actually break out the George Foreman grill and buy things like mean and vegetables.

It's a scary world. Fortunately, the end must be near.