CAN I ASK YOU A QUESTION?

How many of you have had this happen to you? You meet a guy and strike up a conversation so then he asks you out.  As the night wears on you suddenly realize he's done all the talking and you're getting a little seasick from nodding your head all night.  Now I know earlier dating etiquette (circa 1950s) would dictate that doing that is the proper thing to do as it is a boost to the 'gentleman's ego'.  I guess that means if I had been born far enough back to be dating then, it's more likely that I'd have ended up as a nun with a perpetual vow of silence.

I suppose if you really like the guy you can try to stick it out a couple more dates and see where it goes. But I can tell you, it's been my experience if he spends all his time talking and none of it asking questions, then where it goes is probably to the outhouse at the bottom of the hill.  Think about it.  As humans, we're curious by nature so if something interests us, we're inclined to check it out. If he isn't checking you out like a Netflix movie, my suggestion is hit the next mailbox.

I will say, that has to be a two-way street though. If you spend all your time talking about your best friend he may start wondering why he isn't going out with her. Another suggestion, if you think there's a chance he may be a guy with a gift of self-absorbed gab - TAKE A NAP.  No matter what, I've found it's still considered rude if you nod off while he's talking about the fiasco also known as his ex-wife.

One thing's for sure, if you want to flatter him... ask him.  Seriously, nothing flatters a guy more than asking him a question on a topic he's discussing (that way he thinks you're really paying attention). I'm not suggesting you turn into Oprah or anything here but a few well-placed questions just might steer him in your direction. Whether it's his mother's apple pie recipe or his new horse - ask him something... anything... and you'll be surprised by the glint in his eye. He may suddenly look at you like you're Sandra Bullock.  But if he looks at you more like you're F. Lee Bailey then you're probably as sunk as the Titanic anyway.

TOP FIVE

We've all had them - those moments that come from out of nowhere and make us wish we'd have completely finished off that bottle of tequila the night before.  But then again if tequila were really that good there wouldn't be a worm at the bottom of some of it now would there?! So here's my top 5 that happened all in one day:

#1: Long ago (1980s) I married my oldest daughter's dad at a backwoods country church in Louisiana that still had a baptismal in the creek out back and located about 10 miles from anywhere. But that wasn't it - I decided to get married on the opening day of deer season (which DID NOT make me popular among the groomsmen I can tell you). Had I thought that through I'd have realized I'd have a bunch of unhappy hungover hunters with high power rifles in their trucks onhand.   

#2: My maid and matron of honor kidnapped me, driving me up and down the highway in front of the church and honking the horn. The preacher didn't think it was too funny when we pulled up and I rolled out laughing and squealing "At least they let me out of the trunk".  

#3: Wardrobe malfunction. I had a magnificent dress, complete with veil and all; very formal. Under that beautiful dress I wore a delicate, lacy pair of shoes... at least until the reception when I slipped out and put on a pair of red ropers instead.  When my husband carefully lifted the hem of my dress to seek the garter and saw the red boots he threw my dress up so high it looked like a parachute coming down. All I can say is good thing my slip was big! 

#4: The after party.  Since we got married in a baptist church, several others joined us for adult beverages in the lounge of a Monroe hotel where we were going to spend our wedding night. Don't laugh at me - it was his idea! Now with us were the usual unindicted co-conspirators such as friends, family members, my ex-brother-in-law. Wait. What? Yep, even the brother of my first husband joined us.  But I'm saving the best for last.

#5: Next morning we woke up still in our wedding night bliss (not to mention a little foggy from the hangovers) when I noticed something.  A door in our wall! After staring at it for a while it hit me. I literally fell out of the bed screaming and laughing hysterically "Holy crap. Hey. Honey.  WE JUST SPENT OUR WEDDING NIGHT NEXT DOOR TO MY MOTHER!!!!" True story. 

Moral here: When you get married make sure it's not on a day when everyone's going to have high power rifles in their truck, take your own car, wear a big slip and whatever you do... NEVER, EVER let your mother make your honeymoon arrangements.

STRAW POLL

There are few things that can shatter a single gal's self-confidence worse than the thought that no man may ever want her.  It goes back to that 'look in the mirror' thing really.  Let's face it, it's easy to believe in yourself when times are good.  When times are bad, however, self-doubt creeps in like a teenager out after curfew. 

And ever notice how, for some reason, when you're feeling down is when all those danged 'polls' come out.  You know the ones - with titles like "How to Find a Guy/Girl in 10 Websites".  I know all the experts say we're not suppose to let our dating/social status dictate our level of self-confidence.  But let's turn them loose in Small Town USA on Friday night and see how well they fair.  Gives new meaning to the phrase 'straw poll' I think.

Speaking of the polls, I always get a kick when I read these polls 'they' (whoever "THEY" are) come out with.  The ones that amuse me the most - the ones that are about dating in modern times but are written by someone who's in their late 50s and been married since 1975! Tell me again where they got their intel? I heard Studio 54 went out a long time ago. It's like when you're sitting at a bull riding behind someone who won't quit slamming whoever's riding in the arena at the time... every time.  Makes you wish there was a request for a 'volunteer from the audience' like at the old timey magic shows! Talk about a disappearing act then.

Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not for one second pretending to be a relationship expert myself. If I were, I wouldn't be writing this blog, I'd be at home fixing dinner for my spouse of 25 years... Oh... Wait... I don't have one of those. 

WHY BUY THE COW...

We've all heard that one haven't we... Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?  No, not an ad for the dairy farmers association.  Sometimes I think that should be plastered over the mirror in the ladies room of every bar in town.  How funny would that be?! 

And I'm not just talking about the young ladies here either. I've seen women in their 50s and 60s go out dressed like they bought their clothes in the junior department at JC Penneys. Really? Your daughter let you out dressed like that? Wow.  Next time, may I suggest a MIRROR in your closet!

Maybe someone should invent a scanner like the ones used by the airport security only this one alerts for a fashion crime over the age of 45.  I mean, think about it.  People (especially women) wanna throw fits about privacy invasion of what the scanners see but apparently when they got dressed to go out tonight, their good bra was in the wash because it's definitely not on them. Go figure.

One time I watched a group of four 'life experienced' women (ok, ok, they were in their 50s) out for what was obviously a rare experience - girls night out. I say obviously because 2 of them were wearing more make up than you'd find on the set of Sex and the City and at least one of them had on enough perfume to use as air freshener.  But they were out for a good time.... Mission Accomplished.  It didn't take long for a couple of guys to pick up on them. (Funny how guys can always spot the newbies).  I watched as the alcohol and lines flowed. Then it happened... SMACK! Apparently one of the guys got a little fresh so he got slapped. 

All I can say is, if you don't want to give the milk away for free, your  container not be so see-through!

The 'eX' Factor

What a wonderful fall weekend (with the slight exception of temperatures more suited to June than September).  Yesterday, I spent the day with my daughter and my ex at a barrel horse exhibition and sale... It was a spectacular event and we all had a great time.  

Now, some of you may be reading this scratching your head and exclaiming "You used 'great' and 'ex' in the same description!" And you would be justified in making that statement.  Trust me, there are still many times that remind me why I like beer.  But one thing I've found is with divorce as with child birth, time has a way of erasing the stress and pain of both.  Unfortunately, though, they're both still quite costly. 

Back to yesterday.  It was a beautiful day and there was lots to see. (Four-legged AND two-legged I might add and I'm sure my ex would agree).  It was not lost on me however that had I not been there, he'd probably have had a field day with either... I think the girl:boy ratio was probably 3:1.  

I get asked a lot about how is it I can spend time with my ex and not want alcohol through a feeding tube and the truth is I have no idea. We've been apart for many years now and that may have something to do with it.  On the other hand,  for the first few of those years, getting to that point seemed about as likely as us being able to afford any of those horses we saw yesterday! I've even joked in the past that I believe a couple of times he and I tried to hire the same hit man... Again, joking here - but you get the picture! 

When you have kids with an ex, you have to get to what I call the 'the point of no return'. Kinda like the Wal-Mart policy of after so many days you can't return the item.  Sometimes when you get it back home again you realize, it may not have been the perfect match you thought it was, but it's not so bad after all either...

DID YOU SEE THAT?!

You remember the experiment where several people in a crowd were witness to an event and then later asked to recount what happened and the perpetrator's description? Each person seemed to have a different version of the same thing.  How about we pull that same experiment at, say, a rodeo? It's funny what men notice and remember as opposed to women... well, kinda.  

Here's the scenario: you and your sweetie are watching the rodeo when a beautiful barrel racer comes flying into the arena on a speeding horse.  You're both taken aback by the sight; transfixed as the pair seem to perform as one, turn after perfect turn. As they go whizzing by, barreling into the exit alley you exclaim to your partner "Wow, what a pair!" To which he responds "Yeah, no kiddin'." You barely notice he's zoned in on the back alley, his eyes glazed over like when you're giving him laundry instructions.    

Now, fast forward to the dance later that night when you're with friends giving your personal professional review (yes, we all have those) of the rodeo. As you're telling your girlfriends about how the pair came bounding into the arena, your other half is telling HIS friends about the big, beautiful set of boobs bouncing into the arena! "OMG! I didn't mean THAT pair you idiot!!!" You wanna slap him so hard he won't be able to shave for a week.  

But be careful. We could turn that around to be fair.  This time it's the bulldogging - which to you non-rodeo readers is where a big hunka cowboy bails off a perfectly good horse (kinda like skydivers leaving a perfectly good airplane in my opinion), to wrestle a steer to the ground.  You both watch the cowboy and his mount shoot out of the box into the arena with such force it's like they're shot out of a cannon.  You can't help but notice those big broad shoulders, those long powerful legs... then when he gets up oh my goodness what a pair of Wranglers.  NOW whose eyes are glazing over? Your sweetie announces "Damn, did you see that?" And very under your breath you whisper "Not yet but I can always dream!"

See what I mean?  

HUNTING OUT OF SEASON

You know, I can't help but get tickled at people sometimes.  Yes, even grown ups.  We all try for the most part, I believe, to show the better part of ourselves but, from time to time, the dark side shows up.  Now, I may catch some heat for today's post but sometimes I just have to speak my mind. (Ok, ok, those of you who know me are now spitting coffee out their nose squealing "SOMETIMES?!") 

Today's topic... Poaching.  No, not critter poaching but rather spouse/significant other poaching. Same rule applies here though: YOU JUST DON'T DO IT!!!!!  I mean, I know as well as anyone the pool of promising prospects out there is as shallow as most Texas ponds right now but still it doesn't give you the right to take what belongs to someone else.  You just move on to the next watering hole. Honestly, jewelers should hand out "No Trespassing" signs when they sell a wedding ring.

What are poachers? To me, poaching is in the same family as back-stabbing and cowardly (probably second cousin twice removed or something). Poachers are clandestine, hunting stealthily under cover of darkness usually for something that's either out of season or off limits... They'll scout their locations, simultaneously looking for their prey as well as the nearest escape route (cowardly). They're also ready and willing to lie to cover their tracks and/or justify their actions (back-stabbing); so you never know where you stand with them. And apparently reading isn't their strong suit; if it were they'd read the "No Trespassing" signs.

So, a word to the wise from your friendly relationship game warden here: "Watch where you point that thing... I'm not Bambi!"

THE 'MARRY' GO ROUND

Sometimes being single and dating is like being on a merry go round that someone else is pushing - it's fun for a bit but then you start feeling sick to your stomach and everything's a blur... That's when it becomes the 'marry' go round.  So could someone please let me off this ride?! It's spinning faster than Tony Stewart's back tires!  

I know we've all felt the urge to bail off that dating merry go round like a stuntman from the Dukes of Hazard from time to time. But for some reason, once the world stops swimming before our eyes and our stomachs stop lurching we jump right back on.  When it comes to adults on a merry go round - I've seen smarter 6 year olds on a playground!

Watching a crowded restaurant or bar is rather like watching merry go rounds. Someone starts out at one table, making their way around it, then they eventually segway to another, then another, until they find the merry go round with just the right speed and an empty slot. It's interesting how much you can learn watching and listening to total strangers.  One night, I overheard someone at a table near me at a restaurant remark "I'm glad I'm married but sometimes I think I'd like to sample what's on another menu." Trust me, not you don't. That's how people get food poisoning! 

I actually knew someone who caught her boyfriend out to dinner with someone else and rather than causing a scene, made him a nice meal the next evening complete with dessert... All I can tell you is, if you're cheating and you come home to a nice meal, make sure what you're dipping your strawberries in is ONLY chocolate.

So if you're like me and you feel as if you're on that same proverbial merry go round, take my advice, it's a lot easier to enjoy the scenery if you're not moving in circles at the speed of light.

MAGIC TIME MACHINE - (Reposting)

Today, I'm in a rather melancholy mood I suppose because I keep thinking about phrases like 'old school' and 'courting' and 'letters'.  Remember letters? They use to come in envelopes and had real stamps.  I do.  Or how about those lost love letters from when you were in grade school? 

Several years ago my mom handed over to me a folder that contained items from my past; some of which I had forgotten about and some of those I can't believe I did.  There was my high school graduation invitation, a couple of my wedding invitations, various photos and even a few of my poetry attempts. The first time I went through the items it was like I was in a time machine... I was 19, then I was 15, then I was... in tears. 

Among the treasures from my past a simple little letter from when I was in the second grade, a letter that until that moment I knew nothing about. I must share this story with you.  The page is obviously yellowed with age and slightly tattered, still in the envelope he had put it in. Hands trembling, tears welling up, I opened it. On one side of the page I recognized my own handwriting:

          "Dear Randy,

          1. I no were you live

          2. I no you have a raccon.

          3. I love you.

          Debbie"

On the other he had written:

          "Dear Debbie Williams,

          1. I live on 307.

          2. I have a dog.

          3. I have a cat.

              I have a raccoon.

           I love you.

          Randy"

But it wasn't what was WRITTEN that chokes me up, it's what was slightly ERASED:

          "I am going to marry you"

Randy and I were classmates and I remember him to this day; his blond hair, lively eyes and typical enthusiastic boyish ways. He lived on the road directly behind me in the small town of West Monroe, Louisiana.  The area was typical of the time - large yards, beautiful pine trees, on the outskirts of town and on the fringe of being in the country. The time: fall 1970. 

Randy was coming over, letter in pocket, to see me... I can only imagine what he must've been thinking, what he must've been feeling.  It was the weekend after all, no school, no band, just time. Time - the one thing we always assume we have plenty of especially when you're 8 years old - but we didn't.  Randy was struck down by a car and killed.   He never made it.

Looking at it even now, the prophetic and symbolic nature of this one little letter is overwhelming.  What was clearly written - that love was alive in the present.  The future's desire, faded slightly by pencil eraser, forever erased by death.   

We should never assume we have nothing but time or we'll find we simply have nothing.  Nor should we presume those we love, know we love them... Show them, even if it's one simple little letter.     

Betty Crocker and the Cutting Torch

Ladies, how many of you have heard your man say something to the effect of "I don't need to measure that, I can eyeball it"?  Well, if that's the case then is there any reason to give a man a measuring tape? Really?  To me that's about like handing Betty Crocker a cutting torch anyway!  It's just too fun to miss. 

But, I guess it goes back to that old adage about men and asking for directions (more like NOT asking for directions).  Just like we have that built in compartment on our hip to carry our babies around, they like to brag about how they have great vision including a built in vision for measurements.  And they do have built in measurement vision, especially for the brunette in the string bikini at the gas pump.  Of course, I think x-ray vision comes into play there!

What prompted today's blog topic is this past weekend.  I was working a playday (that's various timed events on horses for you city-folk).  One of the events requires 6 poles (a sport also known as 'pole bending') which have to be set in a straight line starting a specific number of feet from the timer with specific space between each pole.    

I look down from the announcer's stand and see 3 grown men playing with a tape measure.  It reminded me of bear cubs playing with a circus ball. First was the actual measuring which meant the 3 of them standing in the middle of the arena, spitting tobacco and discussing where to set the poles. It was obvious what they were doing so I waited and waited and yes well waited some more for at least one of them to ask "Where do these go?"... But looking at that question here, I guess I can see why they might not exactly ask it that way! They finally get the poles set and then wouldn't you know it, the poles are crooked.  Again, in their defense though, they do have an eye for curves.  

So what do we learn from this, ladies? Next time your man decides to build  you a new storage shed and he picks up a measuring tape,  you just pick up a bottle of wine.  That way, by the time he and your bottle of wine are finished, you won't notice that your new storage building looks more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa!  

Perfect Imperfection

Like anyone else I have my flaws.  Unfortunately, one of my biggest ones is a tendency to jump to conclusions and boy when I do I may as well be jumping off a cliff!  The bad part is I know before I do it that it's gonna be a train wreck but, well, I pull that train right out of the station anyway. I see something and rather than taking a moment to examine the whole picture, I find myself wearing a pair of blinders quicker than a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.  

Another flaw? How about impatience? I seem to be allergic not only to nuts but to waiting (both make me break out in hives).  I have a tendency to be a scheduleholic which compounds the problem.  I don't know what makes me crazier, waiting on a date or the horseshoer.  You ever notice how both seem to be notoriously late when you're in a hurry?

Then again, if we were all perfect, it'd be like dating a computer (not to be confused with computer dating).  I mean, who wants to kiss R2D2 - really.  So, today it's about accepting each other - the good, the bad and the ugly.  Loving is more about accepting imperfection as a key component in your soul mate than about trying to create perfection in your mate.  Think about it - who really wants to end up with the Bride of Frankenstein!

Here's Looking At You!

Don't you hate it when someone says to you "I don't know what I'm looking for but I'll know it when I see it"! But, yes, I know we've all said that. Well, if you don't know what you're looking for in the first place, how would that even be possible? It sounds like a guy's excuse after every woman in the bar turned him down.  (Which would be the equivalent of saying "I could've finished that marathon if my shoes hadn't been so tight".)  

With women, it's usually heard during a desperate search for a new dress, a new pair of shoes, you get the picture.  With guys it usually applies to the quest for a new toy of some sort (animate or inanimate). But from time to time, we use the same statement to apply to our quest for love.  And that's where it can turn into a double-edged sword.  It's possible that if we don't know what we're looking for, then what we're looking for is looking right at us.  Or to the other end, what we think we're looking at is not truly what we see.  Seeing double yet? No problem. Grab another cup of coffee, re-focus and you should be fine.

You see, we all claim to know what we're looking for but time after time when that very thing walks up and kisses us on the cheek what do we do? Ever seen a deer in the headlights? Yep, you got it.  We freeze, and our eyes glaze over.  Kinda like your kids' look when you're trying to figure out whose idea it was to wrap tin foil around the cat's feet.

So then, what are we to do?  For one thing, don't worry about spending money on a trip to the eye doctor.  This is one part of vision he can't help you with.  And, if you see love standing there in your rear view mirror, it always looks better in 20/20 hindsight.  Just try not to back over it.

  

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut...

Well, I think I may have found out what the problem with my dating life is... I'M ALLERGIC TO NUTS!  Yep, that's it. I'm allergic and that seems to be pretty much what I draw - the NUTS! You know how it is - you stub your little toe and next thing you know you're walking into everything; you rip a nail off into the quick and you're catching that finger on anything.  Well, same principal applies here.  I'm allergic to nuts and they seem to grow all around me.  

Now, don't get me wrong here, it's not like I'm asking for a guy with no nuts - I just want a guy who ISN'T nuts.  (Just thought I'd better make that clear).  And some days, it's like I'm standing in a Georgia peanut field with nothing but nuts as far as the eye can see.  

Now, I know we all bring baggage into a relationship but I'd rather find someone who doesn't resemble a door-to-door salesman for Sampsonite!  Is it too much to ask to find someone who's stable, educated, funny and most importantly - not married?! But I guess if they were stable, educated and funny, they wouldn't be single would they? Course not. 

And today, another one's officially off the market.  A dear friend of mine and his lovely fiance are tying the knot this evening and I applaud them. Lightnin' Jesse... good luck and best wishes... And, Beth, you're getting a great guy.   My dear readers, this is one union that'll last I'd be willing to bet.  You see, they both like to shoot! 

Please Don't Squeeze the Charmin

You remember those commercials? Sadly, I do.  Anyways, it's a great line leading me to ask you guys one thing... HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FREAKIN' MIND?! I saw something the other night that reminds me of an incident that happened to me many, many years ago.  I happened to catch a guy in a crowd watching a little brunette.  As she happened to brush past him, he non-chalantly (or so he thought) reached down and gave her a little tap on the rear end as he pretended to be reaching into his front pocket.  I mean... Seriously? What? She look like produce at Wal-Mart to you? She was much more of a lady about it than I would have been I can tell you that.

Now I know when you're in a crowd it's easy to bump somebody and I've accidentally done it myself. But guys, it doesn't mean we're a bunch of free range chickens for you to pluck up.  Let me give you a little food for thought so to speak.

Again, many (many) years ago I was walking through a crowded bar looking for my friend when without warning or provocation, I was groped from behind... and when I say groped I mean he grabbed on like a drowning man hugging a life preserver.  Now, I'm a tiny little thing (I know 6th graders bigger than me) and this guy was a fair bit bigger than myself.  I was so shocked I instinctively turned around and took a swing at him, breaking his nose.  I'm not proud of that behavior so don't get me wrong.  But when blood went everywhere and he squealed like a pig under a gate, I informed him in no uncertain terms he was lucky his nose was the part of his anatomy I made contact with.  You should've seen him trying to explain what happened to the bouncer. And while I did get bounced out of there, I'd be willing to bet that guy never grabbed a woman on the rear end again...

The moral of the story today is if you see something you like, we prefer you keep the squeezing to your produce.  Otherwise, it could be about as smart as reaching out for the last piece of chicken when the lights go out and everyone around you is armed with a fork. 

  

What Part of No Was Unclear?

Today I'm exploring the other side of the coin - those who can't seem to take NO for an answer.  We've all experienced that person in our lives; whether it's that PTO mom who can't understand you have a full-time job in addition to 2 kids which limits your appearances at bake sales or that co-worker who can't get it through their head that you really don't want to go out with her cousin Harold who's an accountant still living with his mother.

For today, though, I'm talking about that guy who hangs on to you like you're a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific. It's really simple guys - if you've asked us out 10 times and we've said no, you can bet the 11th time is going to yield the same result.  What is that saying about insanity and looking for a different outcome? 

I've had this happen to me and even today I get calls and/or text from someone who I know I've told and texted NO to numerous times.  You'd think after 6 months they'd take a hint.  Guys, come on, really? You can memorize every football stat known to man but you can't remember the stats in this situation are 0 for 10? The Detroit Lions have a better record.

Perhaps you think it's your way of holding on to us? Only if you had gloves made with superglue and velcro.  I realize we sometimes want the things we can't have, there's just something alluring about it.  In this situation however, Mission Impossible is more than just a movie title.  

I truly believe when one door closes, another one opens. Just take a minute and check the address.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat...

As I was perusing my mental Lost Loves Highway the other night, something struck me... No, not a 18-wheeler - although proverbial wise, about the same effect.  As I'm sure we've all experienced, sometimes love isn't exactly a two-way street.  We've each had that one flame that seemed to burn brighter on one side or the other.  Now when it's on our side, the heat seems quite intense while on the other side it's about as hot as the dark side of the moon.  

Question is - what do you do about it?  Well, like traveling the wrong direction on a one-way street, when you see that sign that says "DO NOT ENTER"... look for an off ramp.  I know, I know, that's sometimes easier said than done.  We find someone we're really interested in and in our minds they feel the same way about us until we check our phone, email and facebook.  For awhile we make excuses for the one-sided, unanswered calls, text, emails... he works out in the field, he's in an area with no cell service, his dog at his sim card... (Yes, I actually heard that last one). 

I hear all these stories from women (and men) about 'the one that got away'.  Well, sometimes the 'one that got away' is kinda like that fish story about the one that got away.  The more you tell it, the more sensational it is. But if you went back and found it, what you'd probably find is something that looked half as good and smelled twice as bad.

Yet day after day, text after text, we hold out hope.  We keep thinking he's busy but he'll come around (I just need to help him).  Long story short - Um, probably NOT a good idea. Because while you've got images of "An Officer and a Gentleman", he's picturing more "Fatal Attraction". And we know how that one ended!

No.  At some point you have to realize you're canoeing upstream in the river of love which is certainly one place you don't want to be without a paddle! And, like the song says "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream".  So let's all dream on together shall we?!

I'll Call You a WHAmbulance

Today, I must vent about a pet peeve of mine - (yes another one) - men who are more feminine than me.  I know, I know 'there's someone for everyone' and different people are attracted to different types.  For me, I really do prefer someone who has a firmer handshake than mine.  I've been out with men who don't and the two things they have in common are a) they turn out to be men who whine, and b) are more emotional than an Oprah Winfrey audience.  And that's not for me.

When it comes to the whining, I don't allow my children to do it so I'm surely not going to handle it well from a full grown man.  Now, I know we've all done it, including myself, even at times in our adult life.  But when it comes from a guy, at the first peep of it, I start looking for the fire exit.  Occasionally, though, there's been someone that I really do like and I have to then decide if that's enough to send them packing. Short answer ultimately is YES. So if we're talking on the phone and I hear whining on your end, it better be coming from your dog wanting to be let outside.

As for the wearing the emotions on the sleeve, don't get me wrong here.  I believe men who are in touch with their feelings are usually more considerate of ours and we certainly like that.  But as with anything, too much of a good thing is bad.  While I appreciate the fact that you're secure enough in yourself to tell me that you've spent the day thinking about us, wanting to be together, missing me, etc., after about the 20th time for the day third day in a row, it starts sounding like a daytime soap opera.  Like putting too much sugar in your coffee; it'll give you a boost but it'll also give you a cavity. 

Long story short, we don't mind hearing about your bad day, your jerky boss and the moron who cut you off in traffic; we've all experienced all of the above.  But if I feel the urge more than twice a week to tell you to 'grow a pair', odds are we're not a pair.  So, if you're going to whine, I'm going to call the WHAmbulance.

From the Party Ball to the Party Pole

I keep saying that we do things a little different out here in the country but there are a few things we have in common with city folk.  For one, we like to have a good time just as much as anybody in Times Square.  If you read my blog Friday, you'll remember my mention of the party ball.  Well today we'll continue the party theme in honor of the holiday weekend.

I was talking with one of my saddle sisters the other day and she related a party idea that I just have to pass on to you.  Now we all know what 'pole dancing is'... right? Usually that phrase conjures up images of scantily clad exotic looking women dancing provocatively around a pole in the middle of a dance floor, or perhaps Demi Moore in her most infamous role from the movie 'Strip Tease'.  

But like I say, in the country, well sometimes you've just gotta improvise.  So here's an idea sure to straighten Martha Stewart's hair.  How about a party 'pole' or as we call them out here - a t-post? We can find more uses for a t-post than doctors found for Bayer aspirin.  Now I guess you COULD set up a real pole in your barn but I'd like to see you try to convince your dad it was a fire escape out of the hay loft.    Anyway, you just drive that t-post into the ground, cover it up and you've got yourself a genuine barn party pole.  (You out there from the country - this is not to be confused with a 'pole barn').

But here's something you should keep in mind. Let's say you get everybody there, and the alcohol and music start rolling. One by one a few of the girls decide to try their hand (sometimes leg) at pole dancing.  Suddenly there's more excitement than the time you and your boyfriend got caught skinny dipping in your uncle's pond by members of the First Baptist Church who showed up for a impromptu baptising.  

All's going good until your great Aunt Gertrude (who incidentally just stopped by to say hello after the pot luck dinner at the baptist church) gets to eyeballin' that pole.  Too late, you realize she's had two glasses of the trash can punch when with yells of encouragement from Uncle George and offers of dollar bills from your husband's two drunk buddies she hugs that pole like it's George Clooney.  There's an image you didn't need and you don't have enough alcohol to erase!

Just goes to show, we can have just as good a time as anyone from the city, we can do it on half the budget and end up needing just as much therapy (unless you're Uncle George).  

Saturday Morning Satire

Ahh.  Here we are another fine Saturday morning and on a holiday weekend at that!  I just spent the larger portion of my morning at a cross country meet cheering on my daughter.  I was so excited that I was yelling and cheering like a senior citizen cheerleader minus my pom poms. All that was missing was a cartwheel. And then it happened - with just one withering look she quickly reminded me it was a fine Saturday morning on a holiday weekend and SHE was sweating.  

At first my feelings were hurt but then I looked around and realized something:  I wasn't the only parent getting that look!  You know that 'look'.  It's a look we women learn as a teen and develop well into adulthood.  It's that look you get that tells YOU the answer to the question: "Honey, do these jeans make my butt look big?" You wondered where we learned it? Days like today, honey.  

I love going to events like cross country meets not to mention rodeos and playdays as they provide a great people watching opportunity.  One thing I've found in common is that we as parents (whether we want to admit it or not) do live vicariously through our children.  Events like this morning you overhear lots of the phrase "when I was a kid" and "kids these days don't train hard enough".  Really? Seriously?  How about YOU drop and give THEM 20... starting with that 20 pound party ball you've been carrying since college.  I know I'm fairly well in shape but I couldn't run 100 yards cross parking lot for a Macy's One Day Sale muchless run 2 miles cross country! 

It's no different with rodeo or playday parents either though.  That fence post's gonna split any second with all the wannabes and 'wish I were's perched on top.  (Remember the earlier blog story about how the fairy beer mother changed those 3 cowboys into bull riders?) Well when it comes to events like rodeos or playdays, fairy beer mothers are as busy as the tooth fairy at a little league hockey tournament.  

I realize today's issue isn't about dating and from time to time that may be the case.  At my age most single folks have kids and a lot even grandkids anyway so I think it fitting for an occasional children's story. 

In tomorrow's issue:  the country version of pole dancing.

Swingin' Saturday to all.

The Party Ball

What do you get when you cross a table of 3 blonds with a little alcohol? A lot of blog material! I really enjoy my Thursday night round tables with my pasture pals.  We all work very hard between our jobs, our families and, well, life; so we take a little time out for ourselves. Last night, we had even more ammunition - spouses at the table.  

As soon as the beer started flowing, so did the jokes (mostly about people NOT in our midst).  But there were a few local shots fired, too.  One that I thought was absolutely hysterical was during the conversation about working out.  You see, my pals are doing a fantastic workout several days a week and I applaud them for that.  My line of work means this is my busy time of year so I haven't partaken in that ritual yet. (Actually even though I handle horses, hay bales and horse feed for a living, I'm still afraid I'd embarrass myself and they'd end up using me as a exercise mat when I pass out!)  Anyway, as they chatted away about their work out using terms like 'px90' and 'zumba abs', the spouse of one of them boasted he didn't need to work out, he already had a six-pack... It had simply turned into a party ball! See what I mean about material?!

With this being a holiday weekend, lots of people are hosting parties, going to area lakes, camping out; the usual end of summer festivities.  One area lake however is off limits to swimming due to bacteria but they're encouraging people to 'come on out' anyway.  Now, could someone explain to me why you would WANT to go to the lake if you can't jump in?   That makes about as much sense as sending Paris Hilton to the mall without her credit cards.  

As for me, if I'm going to end my weekend horrifically ill, I prefer it be the result of alcohol-induced activities... You know - the kind that bring on that selective memory - where you selectively forget those things you did that you really wish you COULD forget but Facebook won't let you!

Happy Holiday Weekend to All!   

BARBED WIRE AND ROSES

One thing I've found to be the case, no matter what the locale is that if a woman's been done wrong by a man it's not whether you better watch out it's what you better watch out for.  Remember the saying "Hell hath no fury..."  Well, it's very true.  

In entertainment there's what's known as a 'triple threat' - someone who can sing, dance and act.  In the dating realm, there is also a triple threat.  How the trio presents itself depends on the location.  The common denominator, though, is in this instance trouble really does come in threes!  

Say for example we're talking about someone in North Dallas where there's more wealth and affluence. Guys take note here.  If you tell us you wanna be one-on-one you better not just be talking about basketball. Trust me, if it turns out you're double dribbling, I don't care how discreet you try to be, we have a radar for that that NASA would envy!   

Now what could a woman do to get even in that circumstance? Hmm. For one thing, I subscribe to the theory of you don't get even... you get everything.  Here's where the triple threat comes in.  In North Dallas, a triple threat may hit in the form of a tummy tuck, boob job and brow lift. (No, I have nothing against any of those procedures.)  Guys, we rarely feel better than when we see the look on your face as you realize that what you kicked to the curb looks better than what's on your bench now.

But what about the country girls? Don't count us out.  We have just as much grit and imagination as North Dallas or anywhere else; it's just different out here.  While we relish the thought we look better than what's riding shotgun in your truck now, sometimes we prefer the more pragmatic approach.  One example of our triple threat is the combo of brains, a keyboard and the internet.   I mean, who needs a plastic surgeon when you've got Facebook anyway?! 

So, guys, here's today's note to you: Remember how they use to say you can't outrun a cop's radar? Well, same thing goes here.  Looks fade but with the internet you just get more bandwidth.