A Note on Recovery

I really intended on writing during my recovery, but I didn’t.

First, I should give a medical update: I had my surgery in September, recovered speedily, and was back at work by mid- to late-October. Here is the strange part of having surgery while one is single: the scariest part of the surgery for me was the meeting with the surgeon before the surgery, where I initialed that I could die, where I initialed that I could be paralyzed, and signed that I understood a bunch of other unlikely but possible side-effects.

But during the surgery and afterwards, I was surrounded not by family, but by friends who lived near me. I was really surprised at how comfortable I was with the whole situation. I am a very private person (ergo, the blurred image of me more than a dozen years ago), but it was so nice to have so many people help me at the surgery and afterwards.

I remember the “it takes a village to raise a child.” Turns out it takes a village to raise a divorcee as well.

A really quick update.

In the past, I have been accused of being a tease. And you know what, I can’t dispute that fact. I have found that being a tease gets results. What else can I say? If one never gets whatever.

I am conquering the world, I suppose. I have gotten divorced from the love of my life, I have moved half way across the country, and I have a new job. I have made lots of friends . . . which I was really not sure I could do . . . and I have dated a bit.

I have been writing, but really just for friends.

And next week, I will have a major surgical operation. It has taken me quite some time to arrive at the decision to have the operation. It is dangerous but necessary. I know there are a few people who still monitor my blog . . . a blog that has been really dormant for a couple of years.

Once I get home from the hospital, I may write. I am not sure how I will feel or if my writing will be any good. I will be on painkillers for more that a week, so I might just describe the colors in my convalescence room.

And what is sort of funny to me is that even though it is major surgery, I am as concerned . . . or more concerned with what scar my neurosurgeon will leave.

I'm Not Back

For the handful of people who have me listed as a feed, I am not back. I just needed to post and image, and and since I really have no other presence on the web, I am using this old Blogger account. Sorry that the image has nothing to do with the blog . . . I just needed a way to post an image.

For those of you who know me . . . or I should say, "who knew me from my writing", I would hope you would be surprised that I am participating in one of these multi-player something or other games. Well, it is not not truly something I would have predicted for myself. I guess I got hooked at the beginning because there were these "quests" . . . if you clicked on a few things, the computer told you that you did a good job and rewarded you with a few little digital prizes. I am by no means a gamer, but if someone says I am doing well and gives me a gift on top of that, I am a complete sucker and will stick around. Sort of happened with my writing here . . . no digital gifts, but the praise in the comments and the mention on other blogs hooked me. My dirty little secret, I suppose.

Well, the game does not praise me anymore and the small group of people who I met online and was part of their group threw me out because they thought I was communicating with a bully. So I am sure it is a matter of time before the game loses its allure completely. And honestly, making things is much more appealing than fighting people. On the blog, I liked creating blog entries and building up people's confidence by saying good (and true) things about their writing. It was not as fun to tear down someone's writing - point out a comma fault or an argument that, well, was not cogent.

Sorry about the tease. Part of me wants to come back and write every once in a while, but I am not sure that would be a good idea long term. Book ideas still in my head but not on paper. And I hope the best to each and every one who I met while blogging. I hope there are a few still around.

Marlo Thomas Tweets?

I was reading a blog the other day, and it said something having a conversation with Marlo Thomas, then comma, a best-selling erotic novel writer. It seemed that Marlo Thomas started writing erotic novels. So I clicked on the link, which brought me to her Twitter account. Apparently the person who wrote the words were a bit vague, and the comma separated two idea; it was not their attention to attribute the "best-selling erotic novel writer" description to Ms. Thomas. Anyway, I clicked on a link from her Twitter account, and it brought me to one of her videos.

I had not seen Ms. Thomas for years (really just remember her in Free to be You and Me), and although I was unable to identify her with how she looks (she looks really good, actually, for a 73-year-old; I would have guessed she was 50 by her appearance), her voice has not changed at all.

The video went to another Marlo Thomas video, and another one. And I loved her videos. They made me feel like I was 10 years-old again, listening to someone tell me how to live my life. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but it was comforting. I felt like I was listening to her words on a record player (not a turntable), sitting on my twin-sized bed, floral colorful printed bedspread, the whole little-girl enchilada. I like feeling like a 10-year-old every once in a while.

After a while, the cue must have run out of Marlo Thomas clips, and I was snapped into reality by some other person – perhaps Tory Johnson talking about career advice. And I was not ready to put on a pantsuit and act like a grownup.

Speaking of women with interesting names (Marlo), I have a confession to make: I get Alanis Morissette and Avril Lavigne mixed up in my head. Ironic is one of my favorite songs, even though it does not make sense. And I really though Avril sang Girlfriend.

Don't pretend, I think you know I'm damn precious,
And hell yeah I'm the mother fucking princess,
I can tell you like me too and you know I'm right.

Having Your Cake

When I used to blog – and I was fairly good at it – I would write first thing in the morning, and then check on the blog a couple of times per day, harvesting the comments like plump, juicy red tomatoes in the afternoon sun. I would respond to the comments, being oh, so pleased with myself.

When I was a little girl, we had a garden in the backyard. In late July and August, I would be responsible for picking the tomatoes. I would travel down each row, looking for the bright red treasures, sometimes exposed for all to see and sometimes hidden under two well-placed leaves. That is really what I enjoyed about the summer; finding the gifts, either easily spotted or well-hidden. The comments I would pick were so similar. I knew I could count on Deb, on Grant, on Ian, on some others to write comments. And then there would be occasional readers, unique readers, just different readers commenting on my words.

Now it is different. I write in the morning, and I read a few blogs after I write. I do this perhaps three times per week, knowing that I need to read others' writing to feel more connected. Instead of taking several hours per day, paid for by my employer, I now spend about 30 minutes three days per week. I still get to do all of the things I normally do, and then three times per week, I get to write a bit.

I am having my cake and eating it too, I suppose. Comments and tomatoes. No mention of cake.

Ode to a Vibrator

Deb wrote something on Friday about stifling. And, well, it inspired me to write a few verses of poetry. When I was in high school, we had to write a lot of poetry – and since I hated it, I rebelled by making fun of many of the teachers in the school. You see, my English teacher was the advisor for the school’s literary magazine, and I did not want any of my words going in that thing. So without any fanfare, here is an original poem by Leesa.

Ode to a Vibrator

Oh, my three plastic egg,
So discrete and cute,
With a remote control that’s easy to use,
This “friend” of mine is a bute.’

I got you as a gag gift,
Accepting it made me blush,
Who knew you would become a welcome friend,
This fact you have to hush.

I don’t need to shave my legs,
I don’t need to brush my hair,
I just need to ensure the batteries are fresh,
Before I place you . . . there.

You’re always at my bedside table,
I am never ever in need,
You never say things to pressure me,
Into doing the deed.

I don’t have to be polite,
I don’t have to laugh at your jokes,
I don’t have to make coy suggestions,
Before you pleasure me with your electronic strokes.

You are designed for going out,
You are designed for playing an erotic game.
I can’t imagine bringing you to a bar inside of me,
For I am much too tame.

Oh, my AA-powered friend,
I don’t have to lie,
If I want you three times per day,
My actions don’t have to be sly.

You expect nothing from me,
You silently sputter and hum along,
I don’t have to wear a push-up bra,
With a matching, uncomfortable thong.

So while you don’t take me to dinner,
Buy me roses or other mushy stuff
You bring me something (cough) few men have,
And trust me, that’s more than enough.

Curse of 27

I saw an article today by E! Online, entitled "Did Amy Winehouse Suffer the Curse of the 27 Club?". I really wanted to blast the statistics, but the article itself claimed that no more people died at 27 than at any other age. That would have been my point. The article also said that numerologists dislike 27 because the digits add to nine.

Have you ever noticed that numerologists are all about simple math? I mean, they deal with additions and subtractions, and translating letters into numbers (Nero = 666).

Well, I looked at the people who died at 36, taking the numerologists's perspective, and here are some of the famous people who died at that age: Lord Byron, Bob Marley, Marilyn Monroe, And princess Diana. And the weirdest thing about that the entries is that princess Diana is listed as "Diana Spencer, much-photographed glamorous blonde and Elton John song topic (July 1, 1961 -- August 31, 1997)." I would think princess of England and heir to the throne at one time trumps glamorous blond.

Tomorrow I will post an original poem. Be gentle.

Addictions

The other day, I was talking with a girlfriend who has been recently separated. Well, her hubbie lost his job shortly after they got married (he is a hunky construction worker, 'nuf said), and he just did not really look that hard for a job. She has a good job, and so he stayed home to play WoW.

I could never get into Wow. Well, I have never played, but I have a feeling there is a learning curve, and I don't do well without instant gratification. I mean, I am sweet and all, but I don't think I could invest a bunch of time so that I would do whatever it is you do in WoW. I am assuming it has something to do with killing dwarfs or zombies or whatever.

And it is not like I am strong and don't have an addictive personality. I have never tried drugs, partly because if I ever did, I would be turning tricks for dime bags. I don't know what that means exactly, but I have heard it somewhere. Yeah, I get around.

Our society likes addictions – we say that we are addicted to chocolate, cell phones, whatever. I sort of see it, but it is hard to wrap my brain around having someone playing WoW being in the same category of someone who loses their child because they spend all of their time and money on cocaine. It just seems different, you know?

I have been incredibly busy right now - so I have not written. Sorry; please forgive me. I will try to do better next week. Am I addicted to blogging? I don't think so.

Dating Milestones

When I started dating again, I began talking to several people about new dating rules. A near universal first rule is have your first date in a public place, for instance. And most of my girlfriends who are single suggest you decide how many dates you will go on before you are willing to have sex with the guy. That seems calculating, but upon review, that seemed to make a lot of sense. After really good kissing, I don't think logically and I might do things I would not do with a clear head. Most of my girlfriends (and a gay male friend) seemed to sleep with people at the third date. In fact, the gay guy said that if there is no sex at date three, he is on to the next person, no matter how much he likes the guy.

With that in mind, I thought it would be fun to have a list of dating milestones – this is taken from my memory of magazine and news articles, none of which I want to find right now. These milestones are not mine – but I will comment on mine, I suppose, at times.

First Date. Goodnight Hug. I read somewhere that 44 percent of first dates end in a kiss. Here is my rule – I won't initiate a first date kiss, but I will kiss all first dates if they make the move. And yes, I have wet and parted my lips when I wanted a kiss, but I thought the guy would not end the date in a kiss. It just fascinates me that 56 percent of first dates don't end in a kiss – I don't think I would say 'yes' to a date if a kiss was out of the question on the date.

Second Date. Goodnight Kiss. Although I will kiss on the first date, I assume most kiss by the second date. If I had a short kiss on the first date, if I say 'yes' to a second, the second date has a bit of French kissing.

Third Date. Goodnight Fuck. Here is where things get weird – on a first date, less than half of people kiss, but the most common date where people have intercourse is the third date. This makes no sense to me. I don't have a third date rule that some do. When I was in college, I did not have a lot of third dates (I said 'no' a lot on a second date request if I did not think things would progress, mostly because it interfered with studying. I would say 'yes' to all first dates because when I was in eighth grade, we had a Sadie Hawkins dance and a boy said 'no' to me.)

Forth Date. Interesting Date. For me, if any of the first four dates are not really interesting, I am probably not going to say 'yes' to another dinner- and-a-movie type date.

Sixth Date. Leesa's Goodnight Fuck. If I say 'yes' to a sixth date, I think things are progressing nicely, and although my Church does not agree, we end up fucking. And if he does not call the next day, the relationship is over. Yeah, I am a bitch, but I want a thoughtful man.

I could go on-and-on, but if I do, Deb may complain or sue me for trademark infringement. I mean, I have not seen what date number the anal sex, three-way or roleplaying dates are.

Dating Exhaustion

I try to write on this blog on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and as you may have noticed, I did not write Wednesday. And part of this is because I have been dating so much.

I went out Thursday, Saturday, Sunday and Tuesday - three different guys, and two of the guys were first dates. I won't mention the first dates right now - both were dinner dates, and both were "okay." The men were nice, they did not do anything to embarrass me or themselves, and they were perfect gentlemen. Perfect gentlemen are not normally interesting to write or read about.

Anyway, on Date #3 with one guy, we had a long talk at the end of the night. It must have been about 1AM when we started talking - we had been kissing before. I let him know I was new to dating, and I was not interested in anything too heavy. I also said that sex was off the table because I have not officially divorced. He texted me the following day, so I figure the talk did not scare him off.

We had un-official Date #4 on Tuesday night. Well, probably unofficial to him, but when I shave my legs to meet someone, the time goes in the date column. He brought chinese food for dinner and we watched a foreign film (containing subtitles). Well, there is some backstory. I had to drop off my car at the shop, and I sort of wanted my date to go with me because he is a guy. Anyway, after chatting with the mechanic, the mechanic asked if we were together. He looked a little shocked, but he said, "Yes" with no further explanation. That seemed a bit forward, but comforting at the same time.

Anyway, we had dinner and the movie on the couch. A little hand-holding because well, just because. He had his warm hand on my knee, and I thought he was wondering how far up my thigh I would allow his digits to travel. The movie was confusing, and we started necking on the couch. He had actually, before that night, said that he wanted to watch a movie in, without making out. I think he wanted to let me know he heard 'sex was off the table.'

After the movie, we were making out anyways. And about an hour later, he was talking off my panties, leaving my dress on but pleasing me, oh, so pleasing me, downstairs. I let him please me for longer than I want to care to admit, and afterwards, he shyly asked "if I came." Not sure why guys ask that, but I wanted to say, "Fuck, yes, I had multiple multiple orgasms. Strong orgasms. Surprising orgasms. Fucking awesome orgasms."

I think he wanted a number, but I just smiled and shook my head in affirmation. I was blissful, and that's what mattered most at the time, and that's all he needed to know. He looked like he needed more, and I vocalized, "Uh huh." It was almost a whisper, and here I was, want-to-be writer, and this is how I answer.

I did not plan for this to happen, but now, this serial dater, this guy I know who likes to keep things light. He texted me later that evening, then a couple of more times the following day.

So far with these dating experiments, all I have done is say, "yes" to dates and say 'no' to sex or even grabbing my ass on the first date. Guys, I think, like for their women to say 'no' sometimes. At least, they stick around until they here a 'yes.' I think that is strange, but I think that's the way it is.

Team USA

I don't watch soccer games because, well, for two main reasons: (1) I don't understand soccer, and (2) there is a lot of running around with few goals scored. That being said, it is Woman's World Cup time, and the Americans are playing right now.

Sunday, Team USA played Brazil, one of the powerhouses of women's soccer. Already Germany surprisingly lost, perhaps the best women's soccer team in the world. Some would say that Brazil was number two. Now they are out. But instead of guessing what Team USA's chances are in the semi-finals, I want to chat for a bit about the game. Or at least two different perceptions.

Again, I did not watch the game, but I Googled the team names to see who was winning. I got to FIFA's site (they are the international organization in charge of world soccer – the second 'F' in their name is football, what the rest of the world calls soccer), and they had the statistics for the game. In the second minute, the Brazilian's scored a goal in its own side, giving the American's a 1-0 lead. Then the Brazilian's scored a penalty shot goal and another goal, giving them a 2-1 lead. At that point, I was out in the yard, pulling weeds and trimming bushes. To me, it appeared as if Team USA did not score anything. I came back inside, showered, and then surprisingly found out that Team USA scored a last minute goal to tie the game in overtime, and then won in a shootout. My perception, just looking at the statistics, well, I thought Team USA was extremely lucky and should not have advanced. But then I read an article that put things in a new perspective.

The Brazilian's first goal (a penalty shot). Well, they missed the penalty shot, but the refs thought the Americans were not set properly, and they gave the Brazil team another change, which they converted into a goal (apparently the call the refs made is rarely called). And their second goal was a goal made when a Brazilian player was offsides. I never understood offsides, and apparently, on this play, the refs didn't either. The second goal that was a bit suspect. So some think the game should have ended in the USA's 2-0 win against Team Brazil. There was also a red card and yellow card penalty against Team USA that seemed excessive.

So the statistics and what happened in the game had two different perspectives. Whatever the case, Team USA now plays France. I am not going to watch this game either, but I am wondering if I should just read an article instead of relying on statistics. Or you can find the highlights, hoping that the camera catches an image of a hottie soccer fan.

Book Reading

I was reading Karen’s blog the other day, and she is on pace to read 75 books this year. That is freekin' amazing.

When I was newly married, we didn't have a television, so after work, there was just sex and reading. I mean, we went to parties, went out, whatever. But that left a lot of time for reading. I read and read and read. At the end of the year, I estimated that I read 60 books. I don't really know how many I read, but I know it was more than one/week. I was a reading machine, though they don't make reading machines yet.

During the next year, I went to a talk on organization. It was a guy who talked about how to do things more efficiently. Towards the end of the hour talk, he said something about reading books. He said he wanted to read 100 books in a year, but adjusted to 50 books/year soon-there-after. And he said he met that goal by listening to books on tape while in the car.

I had two initial thoughts:

1. Are you freakin' kidding me? Listening to books counts? Does watching movies based on books count as well? Unbelievable.

2. Someone who works on organizing should have known that his original goal was way off. And we are listening to this guy.

It is summer reading season. Grab a book and a blanket and go outside and read! It will save baby ducks.

Tweet This

I have not added a tweet since February 2010 - that is more than a year. And when I started blogging again, I did not really look at the design of my site. I did that so long ago, I suppose. I just started writing.

Today, for the first time, I looked at my site. I have been getting home really late at night, and so when I came to work today, I was so tired that I am just goofing off at the computer. It was the first time I have looked at twitter (lined on the right hand side of my blog), and I notice that it said I was comparable to three twitter profiles:

1. A keyboard player that plays songs for 13-year-old boys.
2. Some chick who is into Beetlejuice, tattoos and piercings.
3. Some geek who is into Apple.

Well, I just refreshed the page, and apparently Melissa Gilbert is like me now. Perhaps that is because Melissa Gilbert is responsible for 10% of all twitter traffic.

I don't think I have the energy to tweet 120 characters at a time.

Independence Day

Like so many others, I am taking the day off.

One pet-peeve I have is that people call Independence Day by another name, "the 4th of July." I mean, do we call Christmas, "the 25th of December"? I don't know why we call Independence Day by the other name - is it that Americans don't remember when we celebrate our independence from the repressive King George III. I saw pictures of him in Schoolhouse Rock, and I can tell you, we are better off without that weak-chinned man.

Happy Independence Day!

The Debt Ceiling

I have two guilty obsessions: (1) The Daily Show with John Stewert, and (2) The Colbert Report.



This clip cracked me up, but unfortunately, there is an air of truth in it. If you can't tell, I am taking the day off. Actually, I will not be around next week, and I wanted to write some stuff so that you won't know I am actually playing next week.

Kissing an Octopus

I went out on a date last weekend. The date went well, and at the end of the date, I found myself at his place. We were just going to drop off the doggie bag at his refrigerator, and then hit a bar for a nightcap. Before any of you say, “He just wanted to get you into bed; that’s the dropping-something-by-the-house move”, yeah, I knew that. We had a drink at his place (an Australia Shiraz), and we continued our conversation out on his deck. He is cute, but a little timid.

I told him I was tired, and needed to get back home, and we kissed by my car in his driveway. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, and I figure one kiss and back home. Well, what I did not count on was that he was a really good kisser. After about a minute kissing, his hands started roving. And like most guys, he went straight for my ass. I blocked his move with my hand, grunted “n’t, nah” into our continued kissing, as we continued. After another minute, I suggested that we sit down for a minute.

The next hour, we were on the couch, kissing. Every ten minutes or so, he would reach his hand towards my ass and breasts, and I always countered. When I was a twenty-something co-ed, I hated guys who were all hands. This, however, was much more enjoyable. He knew his boundaries and tested them, normally after a barrage of wonderful kisses. I would make some comparison to hockey and red lines and icing, but I really don’t know enough about hockey to make the analogy work.

The point is that dating, even dating people who want things other than me, can be fun anyway. I mean, part of me wanted to do more than kiss, but the kissing was . . . awesome. Okay, to read the previous sentence correctly, you need to sing the word ‘awesome.’ And I don’t want the kissing to end. Sometimes when things progress, awesome kissing stops. And the roving hands was sort of hot, too. I mean, it was hot because all it took was some light pressure or a no-no groan, and he played nice. Now, I don’t know when he will call next (during the date, I told him I was really busy today), but he will call. I just have to figure out how to interact with him that does not lead to me losing my panties on a second date.

Versatile Blogger Award

I’ve been nominated by the talented and music-loving Xmichra with the “Versatile Blogger Award” (pictured above)

This award is a way to give some virtual “shout-outs” to other bloggers you follow and whom others might not yet have discovered. People on my recently resurrected blog probably know Xmichra – she’s Canadian, so she misspells words like ‘color’ and ‘honor.’ And she knows more about music than I ever did.

The rules:

1) Publicly thank the award giver and link to them in your post.
2) Tell your readers 7 things about yourself that you might not have already.
3) Present this award to other bloggers whose work you enjoy and
4) Contact the honorees

On to the Nitty-Gritty:

1 – I love really good seafood, but I also eat at Red Lobster. I really like their rolls, but I hate their broccoli. Their broccoli is disgusting most of the time, and there is nothing else green on the menu. I don’t really know why I eat there, but I do, and I don’t tell others about it.

2 – I swore I would never dye my hair, and now, I dye my hair. I don’t know if I would dye it if I were in a happy marriage. It shocks me that I dye my hair; completely against all I believe in.

3 – I am not on Facebook. And until recently, I was not really on any site. Life is better, I think, when we avoid these sites (even blogging sites). Just my opinion.

4 – I didn’t know how to drive until I was 18 years old. I got a learner’s permit at 14, but I never drove. One week before entering college, I purchased a crappy car and got my driver’s license. I failed the driving test the first time I took it and passed the second time (my total amount of time behind the wheel by then was less than two hours. When I went to school, I drove 150 miles. I spent more time in the car driving than my whole life. When I drive now, I assume there is at least one similar driver on the street like I was at 18. Scares the hell out of me.

5 – When I was a sophomore in college, I saw one of my former professors in a bar and he hit on me.

6 – My first kiss with tongue was with my cousin. I did not French kiss anyone else for 3 years afterwards because it was so gross. I have a feeling I really missed out for those three years.

7 – I don’t watch much television, but when I do happen to like a show, it gets canceled soon-there-after. The latest show: The Unusuals.

And the Pay it Forward goes to:

And I still think so - He is a real writer, I am just a pale imitation. Sometimes I am not sure what he is writing about, but I love the meter.

Peace of My Mind - A few years ago, I would tease Leesa, since we share a name. She lives in a house where bears visit, and that is not just symbolism.

The Muse Wakes - She is a bit like me. She stopped writing for some time, then stated again.

Discombobulating Grant - Another writer. He knows more about the craft than me, but he hides it well by posting pics of young Asian women.

Smiling Through It All - I have read Karen for a while. She has a razor sharp wit, and I enjoy her posts.

Two of the five people Xmichra picked would have been people I would originally have had on my list.

TMI

Too much information.

Okay, I was involved in two conversations recently. During the conversations, all I could think is, “you are just giving me too much information.” I will share the information to illustrate this point (and it doesn’t count for me – this information is not mine).

Plane Trip
I was recently traveling, and I sat next to a kind-looking woman.

First, I would like to tell you how I look for a seat (I fly Southwest Airlines, where there is no assigned seating). I actually like no assigned seating. The first thing I do is try to get a number that is in the high A’s or low B’s. Southwest, when you check in online or in person, assigns you a sequential number. You can pay $10 to get in the first 15, but I caution against it. Get the high As or low Bs. I like at least 1/3 to 1/2 of the plane full, so I get to pick who I am sitting next to. With assigned seating or low numbers, you don’t get to pick. And I pick a skinny person who is reading, if at all possible. That way, I get to use all of my seat and elbow space and I don’t have to hold up a conversation. Male or female, it does not matter to me at all. I am all about elbow room.

Anyway, kind-looking woman, after the plane takes off, starts talking with me. She wanted to talk about her kids. Both are early 20s and both work in the same Hooters. She shows me a picture of her daughter, and says, “She is so smart, and she said she would only work there for three months. She has been a waitress at Hooters for two years now.” Then she tells me about her looser boyfriends. Her name for one was “looser.” That’s what she called him. When I was dating, my parents were really nice to my loser boyfriends, because they knew I would continue to date looser boyfriends. Their disapproval was part of the attraction, I found out later. The same parents who were all about delayed satisfaction (eat your food before playing in the McDonald’s playground, for instance), wanted me not to date losers. I figure there must have been something good about them that was not good for me but satisfying.

If I had a daughter who worked at Hooters, I don’t think I would be bragging about it to strangers.

Transgendered Children
I was on a first date with a gentleman who had four children (two from his first wife, two from his second). Okay, I knew he was divorced before, but I didn’t know twice before the date. Dating at my age and most of the men have been married before.

Anyway, he tells me about one of his sons. I first thought the son was male, but it happens that his son is a 19-year-old transgendered female. Now, I don’t know too much about the TG world, but I did find out a lot on my first date with him. Well, apparently her measurements are similar to mine (I did not tell my date that).

During the date, he answer and talks on his cell phone, talking to the TG son, and apparently my date was dissuading the 19-year-old son from going swimming in a public pool. Apparently he wears men’s swim trunks – so basically it is a TG female swimming topless.

I have never really thought about TG issues, but I am not sure I would have brought up the issue on a first date. My head was spinning all evening, and I was a bit distracted. At the end of the evening, I knew little about my date and a lot more about his TG son. I don’t know if I like the guy, but I declined a second date because I figure it was easier to decline now than to figure out the whole TG issue at a later date.

I just think we share way too much information way too soon. And I am not sure why.

Tapped

I was supposed to put something out yesterday, and I didn't. I am tapped out.

I have written a few pages this morning, but they are for a play, not for the blog. It is a children's play - part of something I am doing for some volunteer work. It does not really matter what it is, but I look at the computer screen and I am tapped out of ideas.

I mean, I could talk about the US being in the finals of the Gold Cup again - but how many people watch soccer between World Cups? Okay, in many other countries, people care about soccer every year.

I guess I am focussed on other things right now. Perhaps I should just finish up my non-blog writing. And then clean my kitchen.

Manners

Alamo Drafthouse
A woman was thrown out of an Alamo Drafthouse theater for texting, and she calls up to complain. Obviously, the message she left on the theater’s voice mail made its way to a commercial for the theater to use to inform others that texting won’t be tolerated. I know, she starts out by saying she used the cell phone as a flashlight, but then she talks about texting. She probably used it to find her seat and then started texting.



Cell Phone on NY Train
Then someone catches a woman traveling on New York's Metro North train line telling train employees that she is too "well-educated" to be told to quiet down and not use profanity in her cell-phone conversation. Part of the conversation:

"Do you know what schools I've been to? How well-educated I am?"

"I'm sorry do you think I'm a little hoodlum?"



What do these two examples have in common? Well, I would say that there are two examples of grown-ups (why do they both have to be women?) who are not particularly well-mannered.

When I was growing up in the south, we learned a lot about manners. Some of the things were a bit silly – to pause before entering a building when traveling with a boy/man to give him the opportunity to open the door for you. Elbows not on the table. Placement of spoons and forks and the like. Manners seemed to be imposed by grown-ups in order to remind us that they had control over us. Again, that is a 12-year-olds view of the world.

But then it struck me. Well, actually, it struck me while reading a book by Miss Manners (Judith Martin). In the book, she said that manners have been established in order to make people feel comfortable. I paused before entering a house so that if the man/boy was so inclined, they could hold the door for me. The placement of spoons and forks – the hostess serves food and equips guests with proper utensils to eat the food. Table setting placement indicates which utensils to be used for which food. That way, you can be sure to have the salad fork for use with the leafy veggies and the desert fork for the delicious pie.

For the above examples, I have ridden on commuter trains, and most passengers chose to entertain themselves in ways that do not impact fellow passengers. Most of these rides are an hour or so, and people generally read, work on laptops, sleep and text. None of these activities are particularly intrusive. Please remember that a train is for transportation, and most trains I have been on are a bit loud/bright so that keyboard sounds/screen light is not intrusive.

As for movie-goers, people are at the movie to watch the movie. Clicking on cell phones, bright lights and the like are intrusive to the movie-going experience. The texter does say that movie-goers in other theaters don’t care about texting. Some do, and manners are set to ensure that people are comfortable with social interactions.

New technology has us thinking of what should be socially acceptable. Although not universally accepted, it seems to me that the two people mentioned above seemed to be rude. We are not trying to penalize people and extinguish their fun. We have to acknowledge a few things that seemed to be lost to my generation: (1) we have obligations to others, (2) just because something is legal does not mean that it is necessarily condoned in polite society, and (3) we should strike a balance between individuality and conformity – and conform when it is polite to others.