Since Lola jumped back into the dating world I have been thinking about finding a mate for myself. It’s been a fleeting thought, here and there, throughout the years since my divorce. I have dated but no one seriously. There seemed to be all kinds of good reasons not to get involved with anyone. My divorce took two years and it brought out the worst in me. I was angry and when angry I tend to attract the wrong kind of guy.

After my divorce was finally settled I moved, was job hopping and busy finding my way. Dating just seemed like one more burden that I didn’t want to take on. Last year I decided to give it another try but then life interrupted that plan and I never made it a priority. It didn’t help that the few dates I did go on were somewhat( okay, horribly) disappointing.

Fear is another reason I haven’t jumped back into the dating pool. You don’t go down in flames twice and think to yourself, oh, this is a breeze, I’ll just get back on the horse again. While it might be easy to blame my choice in mates for going down in flames the truth is it takes two to tango and I contributed to the death of both of my marriages. About 2% is my fault. That might be a conservative estimate. Regardless, I don’t trust anyone to get too close anymore.

For the most part this hasn’t bothered me. Being a single mom I don’t have a lot of free time so when I do I like to spend it with a book or watching a show from start to finish. I used to be fun. I used to do things. Now, I have to raise to kids and that can sap a lot of energy from anyone and I am not the most energetic person to begin with. The holidays are the worst but even they are getting better. I don’t feel as if I need a man to complete me. I am complete on my own and am happy with myself.

Which means I am no longer angry, in fact I am at peace, and it is probably time to go out and meet someone.

Except.

Now I blog. Unless I meet a man who blogs, who also happens to live in my hometown, it isn’t going to work. There is no room in my life for a boyfriend and a blog, let alone four.

How will I explain to him that I have to visit a million sites a day? How will he understand that everything he does is very likely going to be published on my blog and then commented on by virtual strangers. Strangers to him, not to me, you guys are family. But how is he going to understand that? Will he understand that when he tells me a secret I will keep it to myself, never to mention it to anyone, except all of you? I don’t think so.

I should have found a mate before I started blogging. I am sure that when a spouse becomes a blogger it is covered under that for better or worse part of the vows. If I became a blogger after I met and married him he would have no choice but to accept it, begrudgingly maybe, but accept it he would.

Who wants to get involved with someone who eats almost every meal in front of the computer? Who wants to get involved with someone who is constantly checking email to see if anyone commented? Who wants to get involved with someone who looks at stats all day long, even though she really doesn’t understand them. Who wants to get involved with someone who runs around the house mumbling things like keywords and bounce rate under her breath? Who would understand that when Google publishes their page ranks it’s the same thing as having tickets to the Super Bowl when your team is in it?

No one, unless he is another blogger and then there would be competition.

Who has the better theme? Who has more followers? Who has more feed readers (he would)? Who has more comments? I’d have to double my bandwidth.

Another blogger wouldn’t work for those reasons and because no one would go out and get things like groceries. We’d both never wear anything but sweats and showers would become optional. Two bloggers don’t make a right.

I’ve decided if I am going to get involved with anyone he is going to have to be a computer geek, but not one who blogs. A geek who spends his days in forums about databases, MySQL, PHP, CGI and scripts ( I have no idea what these things are, I just looked at my cpanel). He will have to be a guy who can lose hours of his life online learning things that will ultimately benefit me.

My first ex husband is a real estate agent. Yeah, I dodged a bullet there, though I completely missed his successful rise for nearly a decade. He had no tech skills and even worse no mechanical skills. If anything broke I had to fix it, or make the call if I couldn’t. My second ex husband is an electrician. He could fix things, anything. It was great having him around because if something broke I wasn’t allowed to fix it. He could also cook and enjoyed doing so. But he didn’t understand my attachment to the internet and I wasn’t blogging then. Even though he could fix anything he rarely did. He started considerably more projects than he ever finished, our marriage included.

No, the kind of guy I need to find is someone who has not seen the sun in decades. Someone so pasty white I will look tropical standing next to him. Someone who can explain things to me when I announce “I don’t get it”. Right now I am covered, my son is that kind of geek. However, he leaves for college in a year and a half so I don’t have a lot of time to meet a geek. And it isn’t as if they are easy to find. You don’t meet them at the bars or coffee shops. I’d have to find them online and sadly I don’t speak their language. I need someone to set me up.

Guys and gals, I need you to find me a geek. The only requirement I have is that he not live in the basement of his mother’s house.

Instead of turning into that crazy cat lady, if I don’t find a mate, I will be that crazy blog lady.

*Hat tip to Mrsblogalot for inspiring this post.

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Last week I got an email from a blog friend asking me for some help. Lola, from Lola’s Diner wanted to know if I would help her tweak her profile on Match.com. Lola has recently re-entered the dating scene and she wanted to make an impression.

Lola is one of my oldest blogging pals and I would do anything for her.

I am flattered that Lola would ask me to help her write a witty blurb about her. I am sure it is because she thinks I am a gifted wordsmith. I’m not. The moment you ask me to write about anything I get complete writers block. I start checking my email, I run a load a laundry, bathe the dog, anything to avoid having to write about one particular topic. I can blather on until the cows come home about anything until you ask me to talk about cows coming home and then I am stuck.

So I let the email sit there for a bit.

Lola sent me another email a day or two later and asked if I could help write her tagline.

At least that was a lot fewer words. Something catchy, something unique and witty. Sure I could do that.

All I could come up with was several different lyrics from Commodore songs.

“You’re once, twice, three times a lady”

“Lady, you bring me up when I’m down”

“Oh, oh sail on…”

Lola was pleased with my attempt, and ever so polite when she mentioned that lesbians don’t really care for the Commodores. She suggested I pick something from Melissa Etheridge or the Indigo Girls.

I like the Indigo Girls, Retrospective is a staple CD in my car. I couldn’t think of any lyrics to their songs except:

“Galileo’s head was on the block…”

and the song about Minnesota and the river but I was unable to come up with any lyrics, couldn’t remember the tune and didn’t want to go out to the car. I do remember it was a song about unrequited love and that probably wouldn’t be suitable.

This was hard.

So I wrote back to her and asked what her profile looked like now. I figured I could read it and maybe add a few suggestions.

Her profile was well written, funny and interesting. I suggested she remove one word.

That’s all I could contribute.

Which isn’t surprising given the fact that I am a straight woman who hasn’t had a date in well over six months. I can hardly get my writing mojo on to try to attract men, how the hell was I supposed to try to attract women.

I couldn’t even write my own profile on Match.com. I had to have JD from Idothings do it for me.

Lola, you don’t need my help and you shouldn’t want it. The only thing I was able to attract, when I wrote my own profile, was a guy who had the worlds worst set of teeth. You don’t need that. You are doing just fine on your own. Any woman would be lucky to have you consider dating her. I can’t make that any better than it already is.

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There is this tree on the boulevard in front of my house. It is going to fall. The city doesn’t think so but the general consensus in the neighborhood is that it will and when it does it will fall on my house. It has been ripping apart for the last couple of years and now the squirrels have made a home in the trunk. When the ground thaws and the leaves come out it will fall. This will be the fourth boulevard tree on this block that has fallen since I moved here three years ago. If it does fall it will not be the first time a tree has targeted me.

When my children were infants I played the game Imagine the Worst Possible Scenario. If you aren’t familiar with it, it goes something like this:

You bring your brand new baby home from the hospital and then you panic because even though you baby proofed the house with things like outlet plugs and doorknob doo hickeys that make it impossible for an adult to open a door, you haven’t secured the chandeliers. So what that they have been hanging from the ceiling for decades and have given no indication that they will suddenly fall? They are only held up there by a thin piece of wire and maybe some decorative metal.  Now that you have this brand new baby you realize you are so much more likely to be robbed at gunpoint, tied up and tortured by bad guys. The cat must go because everyone knows that cats sneak into the crib in the middle of the night and suck the life out of babies, which really isn’t a problem because as a new parent you vigilantly watch your child sleep for the first year anyway. The dog will think the brand new baby is a chew toy so he must be kenneled. You can’t place your slumbering baby, carrier and all, on the table because it will topple over and kitchen counter tops are a no go too. The refrigerator could kick on and the vibration which resonates through the cabinets (even though no one can actually feel it) will push the baby and carrier off and onto the floor. The only safe place for the baby is in the car because you have stuck a Baby on Board decal onto your back window.

Admittedly it has been a while since I played this game. The new kid smell is long gone and I don’t worry about those kinds of things anymore.

Until my neighbor pointed out the tree. Now it is all I can think about.

When the tree hits it will hit my daughter’s bedroom. So daughter has been sleeping in my room for the last few nights.

It’s been one big slumber party.

Last night I let her watch TV before going to sleep. I did it because I didn’t want to stay up all night and that was her plan since she didn’t have school the next day. Usually she falls asleep by nine but not last night. TV was the only thing I could think of that would have at least prevented her from writing another book or paper macheing the dog.

While she was watching TV in my bed she started to play with her loose tooth, I was almost asleep when she announced that she had lost another tooth. Thankfully the tooth letting has gotten easier since the first one finally came out.

In my half awake state I told her to put it under the pillow. I figured the tooth fairy would have a much easier time of it since she was already so close. My plan was to wait for her to fall asleep and then take care of business. Guess who fell asleep first?

At 5am I sprung awake. Tooth Fairy!

Shit.

I crept out of bed and went to my purse. I don’t usually carry much cash but I had a few ones and a five. I grabbed a bill and shoved it under the pillow. I searched for the tooth but couldn’t find it. It occurred to me that maybe she didn’t lose a tooth, I hadn’t actually seen the tooth since it was dark and I was half asleep. Maybe she was testing the tooth fairy. My son had done this, he lost a tooth, didn’t tell anyone and the tooth fairy didn’t come. This was actually very handy since I didn’t have to pretend anymore.

I searched for the tooth one more time, considered taking the bill back but decided not to risk it. I got up, got a cup of coffee and went into the living room.

Daughter woke up an hour later and came into the living room. She was pissed off.

“The tooth fairy didn’t leave anything” she said.

“Oh yes she did” I said as I stomped into the bedroom to investigate the situation.

I looked under the pillow, found the missing tooth, pocketed it but didn’t see the bill I left.

WTF?

I started throwing pillows all over the place in search of the money. I know I left a dollar. I couldn’t have dreamed it.

I lift up the pillow that makes up the headboard. A left over body pillow from when I was pregnant. It was under there thankfully. However, in my half sleep state I had grabbed a five and not a one, out of my purse.

Damn.

For a brief moment I considered making the switch except my purse was in the other room and daughter had just grabbed the five.

This just raises the bar for the next tooth.

When the tree comes down and the city is forced to replace my roof, I am adding the extra $4 on to the tab.

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Frogmama!

I am sure that living in Mulletville makes it difficult to find luxurious soaps such as Happy Goat Soap, and I suspect many of the residents of Mulletville could stand to use some rich goat’s milk soap to smell just a little less mulletlike.

Congratulations Frogmama.

Thanks to everyone for entering!

I am still carb free, or at least reduced. I have had fruits and veggies but I have not had any bread, pasta, chips or any of those bad carbs. I didn’t get on the scale when I started all of this so I don’t know how much I have lost (I hate the scale and stay away from it as much as possible) however, my jeans are much looser and so is my bra, which kinda bothers me.

I’m going to continue this low carb thing into next week. I’d like to say I have made it a way of life but I know if I do I will have to have a pretzel from Aunt Annies so I’m taking it week by week.

Thanks to everyone for all the support it really does make a huge difference to have it.

Remember Magnetic Poetry? It was big in the 90’s. Little words were printed on magnetic paper so you could write poetry on your refrigerator. At least that was the intent. What usually happened, at least in my house, was that lots of phrases were created but rarely were they poetic.

I bought a set of these magnetic words when ex#2 and I were dating, and before my son had learned how to read.

I bought the box for lovers. All kinds of words that while not dirty or obscene alone, when paired with other words could make a sailor blush.

I think ex#2 and I used these little words once and forgot about them. When my son was able to read I removed any questionable words and put them in a plastic container and hid them in the junk drawer. When we moved, I took all the magnetic words off the fridge, placed them in the container and shoved them in a box marked “kitchen”.  The box had remained unopened in my new basement for the last three years.

The other night my daughter announced that she is writing another book and needs some staples to bind it. My daughter is nothing if not prolific, she writes a book a night with illustrations. So what that my book has been in the works for the last three years. I’m not jealous or anything.

Anyway, we needed staples. I knew I had a box of junk in the basement that probably contained a box or two. I knew this because when I was employed by the corporate world I always made sure to raid the supply cabinet when it looked like lay offs were coming. I haven’t had to buy office supplies in at least a decade.

We found the box in the basement marked “kitchen” and as I was searching through it for the staples, daughter found the plastic container with the Magnetic Poetry. She opened it up and her eyes practically bugged out of her face. Words! Words on magnetic paper! Daughter can read and write now so this was quite a find for her. Somewhere in the back of my brain bells were going off . I grabbed the box before she could look too close to the words. I started pulling out words that I didn’t want to define to her just yet.

Words like clit, genital (which I found funny because when writing sexy notes to a significant other I rarely use the word genital. In fact I don’t think I ever use that word, it’s way too clinical), horny, fuck, pussy, and cock. Every time I found a questionable word I pulled it from the container and shoved it in my pocket. I gave her words like is, she, are, and, it, and was which didn’t give her much to work with.

I looked at the pile of words I had pocketed and noticed they were regular words but my mind was now in the gutter. Words such as pink, beg, big, tremendous, throbbing, rubber, satisfy, come, explode, head, fill, shaft, part, ram, bush, mound, shower, and grind. Words that are used everyday without causing any trouble. I also found some that were just head scratchers, ugly and death. We might have found those useful when we got divorced.

My daughter saw the pile of words I was keeping from her and asked why she couldn’t use the words come, sausage, finger and head. I had no good explanation for her except I knew if I put those words up, the teenage boys who frequent my kitchen would be all over them and not in a good way.

Censorship squelches creativity.

This is what is written on my fridge:

I ate chocolate with fat

the car is white

I hate winter

She used eggs on (that thought wasn’t completed)

I need more words. Words like puppy, kitten, boat, jump rope, girl, and boy. I need individual letters, numbers and colors. I need words for kids whose minds haven’t yet been corrupted.

This is not a paid post or advertisement. I really do have a box of smutty words that I can not put on my fridge. While researching this post, okay, I Googled Magnetic Poetry for the link, I learned that the creator of Magnetic Poetry is a local boy. Dave Kapell came up with this wonderful idea that allows people to creatively use their fridge. He even has a blog.  Dave, if you are reading this send me some kid words. I’m sure they will be used for writing juvenile phrases and sentences too but at least give me something to work with.

This is hilarious and Jim Carey makes a great Ronald Reagan.

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