[Dating Papers]

If you go to Starbucks today, you may notice they have a new menu (annoying!). One of the items is “Iced Vanilla Brewed Coffee.” Do not order it! It took almost ten minutes for them to get me this pre-made beverage because they ran out of iced coffee. Also, I had to repeat my order about five times before to the cashier could figure out what I was saying.

I broke my cardinal rule of consumerism (learned from Dad): never get the first model year of anything. Do not be an early adopter! Allow the manufacturer to work out all the kinks before you spend your hard earned money on their inferior product.

In this case, the coffee was bitter and despite the “vanilla” flavor, required a lot of half and half and sugar pack to make it palatable. I’m waiting at least a week before I order it again. Maybe I’ll just stick to getting the hot espresso drinks and the Frappuccinos™—that seems to be their strength.

Oh, and in case you didn’t get the message: DO NOT buy the iPhone on Friday. Give it a year.

Grateful for: coffee.

What a difference a day makes.

When I last wrote about Sailor, I was feeling good. Not anxious, not worried, not rushed.

Today, I feel sad. I spent yesterday out of the office, with my brother from Israel (B2). We did our usual…a little shopping for the kids, a slice of Kosher pizza and lots of talking as I drove him to where he needed to be. We get along well, we had a nice time, but when I got back home I was so beat, I could barely move. I managed to talk on the phone, eat some dinner and watch tv, but writing or exercising was out of the question.

Work was fine today. Moderately busy with meetings and other miscellaneous tasks. (I spent a pitiful 15 minutes reading that damn report—contest winners announced sometime later this week.) But as the day has worn on, I’ve felt lower and lower. No word from Sailor, nor any expectation of one, yet the hope that was there is fading.

I am sad, but the other guy who I’ve had several dates with recently, Kenny, has been calling, so maybe I should be happy. I want to be happy. I want the fellow that is showing interest to be the one who I want. But he’s not and it makes me sad. And I feel shallow and guilty about it. Oy.

Maybe it was better just last week when I didn’t feel any of this but I did feel happy and comfortable in the life I’ve carved out for myself. I want to stop wanting something else because it’s so painfully disappointing when it doesn’t happen.

I told the story of my “date” with Sailor to Pele and CK and they were encouraging. But when I mentioned to my mom and Nancy that he declined to walk me home, they both had the same reaction, “That’s bad.” Nancy even went as far to say, “I’m done with Sailor.”

Sigh. I guess I’m still sighing about him, but for a different reason.

(Aside: the opinions of my friends and mother may have more to do with them than the particular situation. Pele can be counted on to agree with what ever premise I put out there, unless it’s particularly outrageous. To her credit, she was always discouraging about Kansas. Her disapproval was palpable (and appropriate)—a first for us, I’d say. CK is similar but tends to express fewer opinions, unless it’s clear the guy is no good. Nancy always expresses opinions but tends to be a bit harsher and more realistic than Pele. Mom can be counted on to see the worst case no matter what. Thus, it’s not surprising that when I told a happy story to Pele and CK, they had positive reactions and when I told a happy story to Mom she saw something negative. When I told Nancy the story today, and it was still a happy story, even though I was feeling sad, it was most interesting that she zeroed in on exactly the same thing as Mom. That is unusual.)

It’s funny, I think I may come through this sad feeling prepared to be friends with him. That would be good. I’m also prepared not to be friends. But it was fun and happy to think it could be more. Of course, that is still a faint possibility but if the potential were there, I don’t think I’d be this bummed out. The gut is speaking and it’s usually right. In terms of action, I won’t take any, but if I hear from Sailor, that would be mighty fine.

Onward.

Grateful for: chances.

I want to write a couple of posts that I haven’t quite been able to muster up the energy to complete. The number one thing I want to do is to give the final summary of my jury duty experience. It’s not so much that I think you, the readers, care, but I promised myself I’d do it and I haven’t. Yet every time I sit down to write it, the energy drains and I distract myself with other things.

Today, I got around to writing up a couple of short movie reviews (click here to read them). It’s something I always promise myself to do, to write impressions of films I watch, but I have a hard time getting around to it. Avoiding writing the one thing pushed me to do the other–that’s something. I’m going to try and crank out the last jury duty post tonight and I’ll put it up some time this week.

Tomorrow, I’m going to Baltimore to see my brother, B2, the one who lives in Israel (he’s in town for business). Yesterday, I managed to find a dress to wear to my niece’s wedding. The dress shopping was challenging because, to meet the Ultra-Orthodox dress code, it has to have a high neck, long sleeves and fall to at least mid-calf. I found a dress of the right length, and if I wear a long sleeve shirt under it, it meets the other requirements. I even found the right “under” shirt and Pele came over to check out the combo and it got her stamp of approval. So, I have my plane ticket, my outfit and I’m ready to go (at the end of July).

Not sure what B2 and I will do tomorrow, but we’ll figure something out. Oddly, the guy I went out with on Friday grew up in the part of Baltimore where I’m meeting B2. The guy helped me figure out some kosher activities. His first idea was a hike, which I rejected on B2’s behalf, but it was a good suggestion. I think a walk in a park might work, though.

I admit it, I’m stalling. I’ll tell you something about my date. His blog name will be “Sailor,” but he is not a sailor (as far as I know). We work together, but not in the same office or even on the same floor. We have occasional professional contact. I first met him via a mutual (work) friend. We’d only socialized outside of work one other time before Friday and that was a group event. We’ve had several friendly non-work phone conversations and chats in the office, so I knew we’d get along well (we did).

I’ve known Sailor for six months and he’s made me nervous for at least five months. It was my nervousness that tipped me off to my crush. Nothing happened on our date to diminish my crush, though it is more reality based than before, which is good. He’s not exactly as I imagined him–he’s actually more likeable. At the end of the date, we had a mild disagreement about whether I should take a cab home (he wanted me to) or walk. I insisted on walking and he asked me to call when I got home, which I did. When I called, he apologized for being pushy about the cab. I like that he was concerned and I like that he respected my decision to walk home.

I’m not terribly worried about where things are going with Sailor, which puzzles me. Aren’t I usually an anxious mess right about now when I get closer to someone I like? Don’t I need to know immediately when I’ll see him again? Or does that not happen until after the first physical contact? For now, we’re still in the friends zone. Maybe that’s where we’ll stay, but I hope not. I was walking along today, remembering a bit of our conversation from Friday, and I sighed. In fact, almost every time I think about Sailor I sigh. That’s right, I’m walking around, thinking about a boy and sighing.

Sigh.

Grateful for: hope.

When is a pick up not a pick up?

When it’s a pyramid scheme.

So, there I was, minding my own business, enjoying the long summer day, sitting on the astro-turf green in downtown Silver Spring. I have my laptop on my lap, I’m cruising the internet using the free local wifi, but mostly I’m watching the kids, families and teenagers romp through this amazing open space and enjoying the view.

A semi-hippy looking dude–long hair in pony tail, two earrings (one a yin-yang symbol) in one ear, a close-cropped beard–sits near me and asks me about the computer. “Are you getting wifi?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s it from?”

“I think it’s from the town–it’s a free service.”

“Oh. I have this mac but I’m not a mac person. But you have a mac, so it’ll work with a mac, right?”

“It should work.”

He pulls out his computer, a Powerbook from the same generation as mine (I have an iBook). “How old do you think this is?”

“It’s about the same age as mine…so maybe three years or so. Actually, I had a Powerbook, but it was stolen. This is what I replaced it with.”

“You’re not Katie Smith, are you?”

“No.” I wondered–how did he get that computer?

Then he talked and talked about all kinds of things from how kids are having kids to the path of the ICC. I engaged with him at first but then resorted to smiling and nodding as it became clear he that he had no facts, no logic, and not much intelligence.

I wondered if he were going to ask for my number. What would I do? Give him a wrong number? Politely decline to give him any number? Say I had a boyfriend (hate that lie)? Say I just started seeing someone (hey, it might turn out to be true!)? Hope I could get away before he asked?

He changed the subject, again, and this time it was about a Japanese company that was the “equivalent of Johnson and Johnson, but all natural, all organic and all highly engineered.” He went on and on about the fabulous products–the green tea extract, the NASA foam mattress, the magnets! Did you know that the magnets cure limping dogs? And there’s no placebo effect (my words) with dogs! Then he said the words that really caught my attention, “I admit it’s a pyramid scheme…”

I started to plan my escape. He wasn’t pausing very often so it was hard to leave without being rude. I waited for the pause. When it finally came, I said, “I have to hit the road…” I stood up to leave.

“Would you like a card?”

“Sure,” I said, and accepted a card-shaped printed piece of normal weight paper. And I turned and left.

I felt a tad foolish for thinking I was getting hit on. I was getting hit up by someone who thought I looked like a good mark! Astonishing, but just as well. I don’t have time for any more boys, especially stupid annoying ones.

Grateful for: escape.

I have a date tonight. I am nervous. Very nervous. Maybe it’s a not a date. Well, it’s a date because we have a plan. It’s a date because I like him. It might not be a “date” because who knows if he has anything other than friendly intentions. That’s fine. Friendly is good. I’d be happy to have friendly. Right, sure I would.

What I really want to know, though is: hair–up or down?

Grateful for: feelings.

No time to write, since I’m working SO HARD. (Telling myself not to blog has produced several pages of potential blog material. Why am I so perverse?)

Thank you so much for all the good suggestions. I should also tell you, my general approach to this report is to read the whole thing through, once, in hard copy, making the easy changes and marking the places where I’ll spend more time rewriting on the soft copy. This is my usual approach and it nets me good results. Better than doing the whole thing electronically, because I can carry it around. When I get to the electronic edit, things will go marginally faster.

What’s worked so far from the suggestions:
Working in a coffee shop
Listening to music
Treats after reading a page

What I’m going to try:
The late suggestion of the circles and colored pencils. So fun! I’m not spending money on nice supplies though–we have a full set of colored pencils in our office, and now I have a use for them.

What I tried inadvertently that worked:
The metro. Maybe I should get on the train and go out to the end of the line and back. No real distractions, but enough people around so it’s not lonely (one reason it’s hard for me to work at home). For $1.35, it might just be worth it.

What I won’t try:
Postponing all other work in favor of this project. This isn’t my most important project, it’s just the one most likely to fall through the cracks because it lacks a hard deadline. I have other tasks with real deadlines that I can’t ignore.

Thanks again for the support. I’ll have another request for practical advice in the queue because y’all are really good at this!

Grateful for: new ideas.

Contests are fun, right? (Scroll down for an update.)

A couple of weeks ago, I ordered three CDs from Amazon. One of the CDs was defective and I returned it. Instead of sending me a new copy of the defective CD, they sent me a second copy of one of the good CDs. I wrote to them and explained what happened. They wrote back, “…you may keep the incorrect merchandise with our compliments. Perhaps you can donate it to a school, library, or some other facility in your area.” Plus, they’re sending me a replacement of the defective CD–all at no extra charge. This may be the best return experience I’ve ever had.

Instead of donating the CD, I thought it would be nice to give it to one of my readers. But to whom would I give it? Who would want it? A contest, of course! But what kind of contest?

Today, yet again, I managed to stay busy while avoiding my single most important task. The task in question is to edit yet another poorly written report. A report we commissioned, the contractor wrote, which I have to fix. I’ve already done a couple of rounds on this thing and I’m sick of it. This is the last edit, it shouldn’t take very long, but I can’t face it. I even gave myself a deadline (6/29) and shared it with the boss, but for the last two days I haven’t read one word of the report. Today, I was determined to spend at least an hour on the report, in 15 minute increments, but that didn’t work either.

Whoever comes up with a technique that will help me get this report read, edited and out the door wins the CD.

Leave your suggestion in the comments. I’ll try each suggestion for at least one day. Whichever one nets the most time spent working on the report wins! If you are an out-of-towner, I’ll mail you the CD. If you’re local, I’ll bring it to the next happy hour.

The CD is “Lottery Winners on Acid” (an EP) by The Crimea. The music is melodic, moody, indie-pop.

Help me and win a CD! Enter a fun contest! Who doesn’t love a contest?

***UPdate***
Pele is pitching in a second prize–which is great because there are so many good ideas, I was considering adding another prize too. Her prize is a book, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov (she bought it for me because I’d read something else by the same author that I really liked–but, in the meantime, I bought a copy too–so there is an “extra” copy floating around in our world). I’m also going to throw in a third prize–two free passes to the AFI Silver Theater. Woo hoo!

Also, a little more detail on what I’m doing: the document I have to read/edit/revise is about 130 pages long. It consists of 11 pages of executive summary, 39 pages of “body” and 86 (!) pages of case studies. This will be the third “draft” I’ve read and it STILL needs heavy editing. So frustrating.

Thanks in advance for all the great and funny ideas. I’m off to try some out right now….

Grateful for: help.

This morning as I was doing my usual “get ready NOW or you’ll be late” routine, Spesh called me via the computer. I haven’t talked to him in ages but in a way it makes sense that he’d call now when I’m coming for a visit in a little over a month…or at least I understand the impulse. (Spesh is my very good friend who lives in Israel.) It was hard to hear each other over the computer but we shouted out a brief conversation. Then I realized that not only was I going to be late (arriving after 9:30am) but that I actually had a meeting to make at 10am.



I shouted at Spesh, “I have to go! I have a meeting at 10 to talk to TR about my career trajectory. He’s the new boss. And he doesn’t like it when I’m late!”



“I thought TR was always your boss!”



I said, “No! No, no, no. Larry was my boss but he got promoted and TR got promoted and now TR’s my boss. Before he was the deputy.”



“Oh. So, are you the deputy now?”



“No.”



“Why not? You should be.” Spesh is my champion, apparently.



I said, “Well, that’s not how it works and I don’t know if we’re going to have a new deputy.”



Spesh said, “I don’t like that TR got promoted before you, but since he did, you should be promoted to deputy.”



“Ok. I’m going to be late. Do you want me to tell him that?”



“Yes, you can tell TR that you’re late because you had to have a talk about your career trajectory with me. And tell him you should be deputy.”



“Ok. Wait, do you realize that if I move into a supervisory position, I won’t be in the union anymore. Do you still want me to be deputy?”



Spesh hesitated before answering, “You mean you’d be The Man?”



“I’m sort of The Man now, but then I’d REALLY be The Man.”



“It’s ok. Once you’re promoted, you can do away with the hierarchy. Just say it’s because of feminism.”



“You mean, like have an anarchist cell? You know, once I told TR I was an anarcho-syndicalist and he didn’t know what I was talking about.”



“Just say it’s for feminism and then do what you want.”



“Hilarious!”



“Ok, go, you’re going to be late!”



And I left. I was in time for the meeting but TR postponed it to the afternoon. I told him Spesh’s plans for me but I’m not sure TR was convinced.



Grateful for: my champion.

From a website that shall remain unnamed:

We’re sorry, the price of this flight has changed from $1,409.33 to $2,252.33.

Grateful for: spending less than $2,000 for a plane ticket to Israel.

Four times a year, I attend the most boring meeting in the world. I sit there, listening, with nothing to contribute, wondering how the speakers can make everything they say so amazingly dull. Today was no exception. To add insult to injury, they provided no cookies, only Danish, muffins and fruit. Fruit, fine. But Danish and muffins at 2pm? That’s breakfast food! I was really looking forward to a cookie.

I escaped early and decided to stop by the National Museum of the American Indian. I needed to do some reading and I wanted a cookie or something cookie-like. The restaurant there has a good selection of “native” foods but the desserts are pretty secular. I chose a brownie. A sign near the brownies read, “May Contain Nuts.” It didn’t look like a nut-filled brownie, but if it were, that was acceptable.

I brought my brownie to the cashier and he said, “That has peanut butter and cheese cake.”

I said, “I’m sorry?”

“It has peanut butter and cheese cake. Peanut butter and cheese cake.”

I picked up the brownie, which looked exactly like a brownie. Not a brownie with fillings, nuts or anything special added. I said, “Do you mean this brownie? I don’t think it has peanut butter in it. And I don’t see how it could have cheese cake in it.”

“Peanut butter and cheese cake!” He hummed a little tune after repeating his warning.

I said, “I’m not sure why you’re saying that to me.”

He said, “We have to tell people, so they don’t get sick.”

“Ok.”

“Do you still want it?”

“Yes, please.”

“Ok, but I had to tell you.” He rang me up.

I said, “I don’t see how a brownie could have cheesecake in it. Cream cheese, maybe. Did you mean cream cheese?”

He hummed in response. I walked away muttering to myself about cheesecake and peanut butter. And, no, the brownie contained neither. Not even a single nut.

Then again, there were nuts in abundance at the register.

Grateful for: nuts.