Already working for the weekend

About 9 p.m. Monday evening, The Artist from the Western Suburbs sent me a phone text message:

"Tue or Wed for an adventure?" 

As you might remember, I had a Tuesday drinks date pencilled in with Audacious Man. And Wednesday night was also already filled (with a rehearsal). It was about 11 by the time I began composing a return text to the Artist, trying to explain all this. 

At that same moment, Audacious chimed in with a text message of his own:

"Would love to call and reschedule but something says you are counting sheep....wanted to call you before you chose your hot shoes for the day. I have a last-minute 8 p.m. meeting (tomorrow) with the west coast."

Hmm. OK. 

I cease sending original text to the Artist, reply instead with this:

"So, free tomorrow after workout...Weds rehearsal until 10....what constitutes adventure for you?"

Hmm. Thinking that juggled out about as well as it could have. Until Artist replies a few moments later.

"My tomorrow filled up on you! :( adventure possibilities include: learn to do simple smithing, pool, or simple drinks. Wed seems late again. can free up thurs."

I also have rehearsal late on Thursday. (Damn rehearsal.)

"Wow." I write. "I certainly did not move fast enough on the reply. What else?"

As a result, he has now thrown out the possibility of getting together Friday. At the same time.....Audacious Man needs to be rescheduled. The weekend also?

Here is the moment to note that I also have Saturday night dinner date in the works with none other than The Man Whose Pseudonym We are Still Discussing. (Or, MWPWaSD.  A.K.A. Bad Rapper. Or Smart Ass.) We are also still discussing where to have dinner; he has instructed me, if I so choose, to suggest my favorite place with "aphrodisiacal" qualities. 

And the week's still young, folks.  Tuesday's busted.....but otherwise....

...not so bad for a Monday, eh?

A brief recap

Wow. This is the first time in the history of this blog (or, truly, in the history of me) that I've had enough dating activity going on that it seems impossible to take the time to reflect.....just head from one situation to the next.

Crazy!

(And frankly, a bit strange. And perhaps unsustainable....)

So meanwhile, I'm running off now to hear my friend B in a concert, and then have dinner. But here are the very short stories thus far.

1) Thursday -- The Artist of the Western Suburbs.

My rehearsal ran late....and he was several beers into his evening by the time we met up. So the conversation was rather uneven, he had a habit of continually touching my leg when making a point, and really tried to kiss me as we said goodbye, which I politely rebuffed.

As he put it in an e-mail the next day:

"It was great meeting you, I do extend an apology: I am of the opinion that buzzed people and sober people really should not mix, especially on a first meeting.

The relatively good rapport and his response acknowledging the slight screw-up are worth a second meeting, as I replied to him, "where we both start on equal footing."

2) Friday -- The CFO.

Two hours of raucous conversation over martinis at River Gods (incidentally, the site of our first date in July.) Two more hours of raucous making-out at my apartment.

As always, a high-quality good time. I marvel, again, that we have such agreeable personal and physical chemistry.

The big news from this night is that he asked if he could read my blog. And I, after 6 months of holding out, agreed to let him. Will this change the dynamic going forward? Remains to be seen.

3) Saturday -- C, the coffee date.

One of my friends had told me C hasn't had a girlfriend in the past because he's completely enwrapped in his career. I laughed, thinking that someone was just making excuses. Then, when I contacted him to coordinate our outing last night to a party, here was his response:

".....I truly had every intention of going, and I was looking forward to having more time to talk with you...I really enjoyed our conversation about life balance, etc., and I think I need to have more of those conversations with you! My only problem is that I have a few things due for work next week on a big project I am involved in, and I need to spend a bunch of time working this weekend (yes, even tonight for a few hours)......"

I'm sure the irony of working on a Saturday night while in the same sentence saying he enjoyed our "what is an appropriate life-work balance" conversation will hit him at some point.

So I went to the party alone.....but enjoyed my time with the 70-80 very friendly people there. All good.

4) Sunday -- 22-y.o. OKC "cuddler."

We met this afternoon at a Dunkin' Donuts in Brookline. We chatted a bit, then hung out a bit more in his dorm-style apartment nearby.

We were better at the online chatting than the in-person chat turned out to be.....seems it is only in person that the age difference manifested its teeth. He was sweet, and not unkind, but we probably had our one date.

Meanwhile, a banner from his prep school hung over the window showing his graduation year....as 2005.

That was a moment of sober.

5) So anyway...

Off to my concert! Reflection, perhaps, to follow. Tomorrow.

Frosting

So.....I had a beer in Davis Square tonight with The Artist from the Western Suburbs. It was agreeable. We kept it short due to the late hour (post-rehearsal for me) but agreed to meet again.

Then if I play my cards correctly.....outings on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. All with different dates.

To to top it all off,  I also heard from the CFO today. It's been a couple of months. He's wondering if I'd like to meet him tomorrow after work for cocktails and catch up.

And to think Friday was the only free day that needed filling.

Perfect.

Action

Not even going to pretend to be modest.

This is the best week for potential dates ever. Ever. 

1)  Thursday: late drink in Somerville with The Artist of the Western Burbs.  Who is (you'll never guess) also running this year's Boston Marathon.  He's new to this space.  Found when he chatted me up last week on OKC.  Sent me a text Sunday spelling out the entire text of the birthday song, complete with inappropriate coda. 

2) Saturday evening: birthday party for a friend from Medford.  Accompanied by C of the North End coffee a few Sundays ago. Who accepted my invite with enthusiasm.  As, once again, a gathering of majority gay males....I anticipate a raucous time with my straight date.

3) Tuesday after work: drinks with Audacious Man. Whom I spoke tonight with on the phone after he e-mailed to ask if he could call and "ask me out like a gentleman." Yup.  Owns a business and is starting another. Seems to go after what he wants. As that is rarely my default drive....interested to see if our personalities produce any chemistry.

4) Speaking of blogging, trying my damnedest to think of a name for the smart-ass from OKC: a social studies teacher with whom I've recently been dissecting the origins of words such as "woo" and "edification."  He asked to see this blog early on in our conversation, after which he responded by writing an original rap. 

(I first discerned it to be some oddly misspelled poetry. Ouch.  Nonetheless, I would publish it here, except that it includes a discussion of body parts of which I'm sure Grandma would not approve.)

Still working on his name.  Challenging, knowing that he's reading this very paragraph in which I contemplate. (Trying not to lean back on "Smart Ass." Or "Bad Rapper.")  In the meantime, I hope to hear a thanks that I mentioned him at all. Witness his initial response to the blog earlier this week:

"I really want to make an appearance but am torn as to how to go about it.  Should I just throw out some a**hole comments....and get a quick mention then be dismissed?  If I make an honest effort to go about this legitimately what happens if we really hit it off and get involved?  You could no longer write about being single and your entire readership would be crushed.  That would be hard for me to live with."

Tonight he suggested that we had reached that natural point at which alcoholic beverages get consumed and we talk in person.  Discussion continuation appears imminent.

(Hey....what about the Poet?)

5) Other irons in the OKC fire include:  

a) 22-year old, athletic trainer trainee, looking to cuddle....and asking me what my definition of "cuddling" would be.  

b) Drywalling canoer from February, back on the scene, asking me to dinner and a movie last Friday as I prepped for Florida, which whom I've already written a rain check.  

c) And did I mention the Stand-Up Comedian's return to my periphery? Again?  More recently, asking straight-up when we're going to throw aside political differences and just go out?

Almost an embarrassment of riches, my friends. 

Please remind me of this week during any future droughts.

Sojourn return

On many levels I hate to bridge the fourth wall of address when, well, addressing y'all.

Nonetheless, 10 pieces of IT band advice! It pays to get noticed by the Boston Globe....perhaps I should get gimpy more often!

Many thanks to all who read and commented. It is welcome news to realize that a) every runner gets hurts sometime when marathon training, not just me; b) every runner has an IT band story; c) every runner who has an IT band story eventually got better, or has learned to cope.

So the good news: the stretching and the knee icing and the rest did a great trick. I completed a 12-mile long run around the Charles River Saturday morning. My cardiovascular system did not exactly cooperate....a slight atrophy I attribute to having taken the previous 5 days off. But the IT band, and the knee, did cooperate. They did not ache, either, on the 5 hours of flying later that night, to my aunt and uncle's place in southwest Florida.

The better news: I logged 7 solid miles yesterday. And 8 solid miles -- 7 of those uptempo, thanks to Bach organ fugues on my iPod -- in the noontime sun today, through my aunt and uncle's retirement community. I have a) somewhat of a chest and shoulder tan; b) no knee pain; and c) no pain anywhere else.

So the mood for marathon has switched to cautiously optimistic. Very cautious. But also hopeful.

Headed to the airport back to (27-degree F) Boston as we speak. There has been much talk, much sun, much sangria, and much sleep to fortify against the spring chill.

Cheers!

Bikini Challenge (D-Day)

3/22/09, 6:49 p.m. Bonita Beach, Florida

Happy birthday to me.

Bikini photo credit: Bill Young. Wine credit: (Pat)2. Sunset credit: God.

Countdown: T-minus 30*

It happened last year the same way.

I start training for the Boston Marathon in December. Spend all of January and February running on ice floes, on Saturday mornings, on Heartbreak Hill a dozen times, and feel great. Feel motivated.

Then March hits. Training intensifies. Which causes friends and acquaintances to ask "so, how's the running going?" to which I reply:

"Knock on wood, but I actually feel pretty good...."

It must be that I don't actually knock on the wood, because this is exactly the moment that something goes wrong.

Last year, it was the feet. Arch pain after my February 28 long run. Had to truncate all running except for the weekend long runs for the last 6 weeks. Made it to race day via 4 trips to a podiatrist who didn't really know what the problem was, another 4 to a professional Kinesio Taping, and a fair bout of angst and not sleeping.

This year, it just all happened 2 weeks later.

My hill run on Monday night seemed to be just the tip I needed into Illotibial (IT) Band Syndrome. (Which in addition to not liking how it feels, I also always manage to spell "illiobital".)

At least I think it was. All I know is that the outside of my right knee has been in noticeable pain while walking ever since then...and it took me a couple days to realize that it really wasn't my knee per se, but the thigh muscles above that are causing the strain. My marathon team coach believes that is also the correct diagnosis and sent along the links for icing and stretching and strengthening all those muscles.

So what is the first edict from all the good online doctors who write on the subject?

"Stop running."

I haven't run since Monday. I may not do the long run tomorrow.

Oy. Stay tuned.

*thanks to boston.com for the shout-out.

Blogger's Bible: Do a Mash-Up

So I'm a bit wanting for a blog topic this morning.

Sure, I've got some OKC action in the inbox......

....from a 22-year-old athletic trainer grad student who thinks I have a nice body and who "enjoys athletics as much as you do and I'm in a profession that allows me to take care of you if you were to ever have any running pains!! "......

.....to another whom, I think, is not single but trying to talk me into having an illicit encounter because I "absolutely don't look like the kind of girl that would get into trouble, but those are the ones that are usually most dangerous".....

.....to another whom I'll call Audacious Man.....for tracking down my name through Facebook and then tracing me to this blog....thusly then quoting from it in the same message he used to ask me out for a drink....."calling me out" he called it.......which somehow takes the fun out of writing about him again (as I'm going to guess he is reading this too).....but he already does not disagree with the adjective "audacious", so I'll let you know what he says.....

Nonetheless. It is Thursday.

It is very busy in my office. A good, account-opening type of busy.

My right knee is still a bit twingey from Monday's Summit Ave hill reps.

I had a contractor in my apartment at 7:30 a.m., looking at some crumbling plaster near the bathroom, suggesting that perhaps the whole ceiling might need to be redone.

I stood on the #9 bus (after waiting 20 minutes for it to arrive) as it herked and jerked its way down Broadway, me balancing on a hanging strap on 1 foot because there was no place to put 2 down, swaying directly in front of a tall, young, well-dressed man, seated, whom after I nearly fell into his lap 4 times, still didn't look up from his book, even though I telepathically screamed at him to be more of a gentleman.

So when I got into work after that joyous hour of commuting, I decided that for the sake of the to-be-respected job busyness.... whatever I wrote today had to be completed in the 17 minutes it took Helmut Walcha to run through Prelude and Fugue in E-Flat (BWV 552) on my iPod.

And what you just read was it!

Speaking of mash-ups*, an old college friend posted this link on his Facebook page a couple weeks ago. It is a combination of Dave Brubeck's "Take Five" with Radiohead's "15 Step." I can't get enough of listening it.

(Perfect for this mash-up kind of a day.)

*(from the Wikipedia: song or composition created by blending two or more songs, usually by overlaying the vocal track of one song seamlessly over the music track of another.)

Bikini Challenge (Week X: The Countdown)

D-Day in 5, 4, 3, 2....

Trying to stay cool and motivated here.

Cellulite, Cheerios (Honey Nut), canoli, cheese (30 chunks or more) at a charity fundraiser, coffee (shot with espresso both morning and night) and Cupid (or frustrating news therefrom preventing good sleep) are all conspiring against both cool and confidence.

I'm tempted to go into a no-carb South Beach Diet frenzy followed by not 100 but 200 sit-ups a day. But not likely to happen. The willpower is waning.

Sorry for the tripping stumble to the finish, rather than the sprint. Anyone got any last-minute motivations when the prospect of my exposing my bare torso to the blogosphere is not doing it?

Yesterday I got a call from my Aunt Pat, my host in the Fort Myers area, who reminded me that Sunday is the Twins training camp visit followed by a beach afternoon.....so there is no excuse for not wearing the suit.

Sports fans, this is for real.

Be kind.

A Smart and Rational Resolution

So tonight, we talked about it, and we called it off.

Which is the smartest, most rational thing I knew to do when embroiled in a prolonged, engaging, lust-soaked conversation with the Young Scientist. 

Who 10 days ago told me he had begun dating a woman he wanted to be his girlfriend. So that he and I would probably not go out again. Which I, admitting disappointment, accepted.

Yet, neither of us quit the conversation. 

We're both runners....and we're both running a lot these days. So we compared war stories of repetitions up Summit Ave in Brookline.  Of 19-mile long runs and ice baths and his gimp knee and my orthotics and who was the tougher.

We agreed that we had had a rather fine date a couple Sundays ago, both conversationally and situationally. So we kept reliving the highlights of that date. Which grew, as the week went on, into what we would most like to do again if we were to go out again. 

(Both conversationally and situationally. If you get my drift.)

Today, as the workday wound down and his lab cleared out, we ramped up the volume on the lust via e-mail. To a serious level.  Tonight, after I got home, we ramped it up some more. 

Which right then I realized--as if I'd never thought about it the 10 days prior--is not something a man who wants to be in a relationship with another woman should be doing with me.

As much as I wanted him to.

So like a splash of cold water, I asked him to talk to me about exactly why he was talking to me.

To his credit, he said he would.  (Men before him have not.)  Even if he didn't know it, I think he was waiting for me to ask, because this is how replied:

He wanted to be with the other woman, to try at a relationship.  But he did not want to give me up.  I was a wrench.  If we had met 3 weeks earlier, he wouldn't have started dating the other woman. No question.  Yet now he couldn't decide.

He asked, then, if there was the hypothetical of "no consequences," could we still swing it? Either talking about being together, or actually being together?

There are never "no consequences." 

So I said:

K:  ....here's what I'm thinking. 

Maybe you and I just chill it.

And you give your situation a chance.

YS:  ok....

maybe that is what I need

ok i'm fine with that

K:  Then you can let me know how it goes.

If in, whatever time, that changes, you can check in with me.

And see where I'm at.

YS:  ok, sounds good

i think that is the smart and rational thing to do.

sadly, the rest of me doesn't think it is.

So I told him I wouldn't run him over on this blog; he said it was OK if I did.  He lives near Mile 24 of the marathon course....so I asked if he'd say hi, 5 weeks from now, when I ran by.  He said he would. 

And just like that, that was that.

I've been contemplating this discussion, now, for a few hours. Resenting having to have had it. I've been here before, and it's a dull exercise.  To realize I am nearly enough for this man, but not quite enough.....so that it makes more sense for me to step aside. 

To benefit a woman I've never met, who has certainly not heard about me like I've heard about her, who likes the man I also like, except that he likes her more.  

Smart and rational, indeed.  To give them peace.  To free me to find someone else for whom I will be enough.

Still, again, I ask:  when does the other woman have to take the hurt and step aside, to be the one to start over?

I've had enough of it.

Dateline: Cambridge, 3/15/09

Planter on Broadway, near Kendall and Tech squares, just before sunset.

Technically, today is still winter.  Tomorrow is supposed to feel like it. Hope these babes survive.

(A wet kiss--or dry alternative, should you feel slightly uncomfortable--to the first person who can tell me the name of these flowers. A half-hour of Google searching thus proved fruitless...or, technically, "flowerless".....)

It's probably a sin....

....that when 600,000 people dressed in greeen beads strode into my neighborhood this morning, followed by 600 Boston policemen revving their motorcyle engines, I strode out.

Sorry. This girl is Norwegian and Swedish and while I have no vendetta with the Irish, I do not get riled up over Southie St. Patrick's Day.

I like beer plenty fine as you know...but don't enjoy when when it runs in the gutters like water, when the crisp air is permeated with malt, when it drips from keg cups spilling out of 3rd-story rowhouse windows.

It's probably a double-sacrilege that today, instead, I head for a coffee in the (gasp, Italian!) North End with my old buddy C (finally!). Then off to have a drink and a chat with the CFO (hopefully).

Then home to find that, perhaps, I might be able to find a parking spot within 2 miles of my apartment.....

Bad attitude, I know.

Mood swinging (and singing)

I'm a woman in her 30s. I have hormones. Sometimes they assert themselves more strongly than others.

This shouldn't be news to anyone with a pulse.

I can easily tell when my hormone levels are up, because several qualities also assert themselves:

1) An uncontrollable desire to listen to Irish Christmas music featuring the fiddle, such as this, which turn inspires an uncontrollable urge to weep.

2) An uncontrollable crankiness with my co-workers, usually concluding when I've thrown a stack of folders to the ground.

3) An uncontrollable ability to listen to melodramatic songs on repeat, sing along, and dance down the street. This manifests most when I walk among the high rises on Boylston Street in the sunshine (like I did yesterday afternoon), or run along the Charles River at dusk (like I did last night) and see this view of the Back Bay from Cambridge (which indeed, looked exactly like this at that hour):

I've long been a fan of the composer Jason Robert Brown....his lyrics are earnest and heartbreaking without completely succumbing to cheese. Emotionally real. He's also a pianist....so his accompaniments are lyric, syncopated and feature nothing but pounding, satisfying left-hand bass lines.

So here's "Someone to Fall Back On" -- the song that I, also, strode home to last night. On repeat for 35 minutes. Hands in the air each time it came to the swell of the bridge 3 minutes in.

If some man would sing the bridge to me just once in my life, and mean it, I think I could die happy. (Of course, he could sing the whole song, while accompanying himself on the piano, and then I would really die happy.)

I’ll never be a knight in armor
With a sword in hand, or a kamikaze fighter;
Don’t count on me to storm the barricades
And take a stand, or hold my ground;
You’ll never see any scars or wounds -
I don’t walk on coals, I won’t walk on water:
I am no prince, I am no saint,
I am not anyone’s wildest dream,
But I can stand behind
And be someone to fall back on.

Some comedy - you’re bruised and beaten down
And I’m the one who’s looking for a favor.
Still, honestly, you don’t believe me
But the things I have are the things you need.
You look at me like I don’t make sense,
Like a waste of time, like it serves no purpose -
I am no prince, I am no saint,
And if that’s what you believe you need,
You’re wrong - you don’t need much,
You need someone to fall back on...

(Here's the bridge with the best lyrics ever)

And I’ll be that: I’ll take your side.
If I’m the only one, I’m used to that.
I’ve been alone,
I’d rather be the half of us,
The least of you,
The best of me.

And I will be your prince, I’ll be your saint,
I will go crashing through fences in your name.
I will, I swear -I’ll be someone to fall back on!
I’ll be the one who waits,
And for as long as you’ll let me,
I will be the one you need.
I’ll be someone to fall back on.

Heartbreaker alert

Because there can never be too many pictures of a smiling baby.

Anyone want to conjecture if Henry is exclaiming joyfully over the third straight Big Up Day on the NYSE?

(Kudos to Molly at Paper Lemon Photography for capturing the expression.)

The 7 last (random) words of a Wednesday

1) Last night it was 20 degrees too cold to be wearing a knee-length skirt with no pantyhose. Someone please tell my cats to remind me that next time I leave the house.

2) But it was a warm enough too, yesterday, that the buds have popped on the flowering trees of Commonwealth Avenue. Pretty soon they'll explode and bring my pollen allergy along with them. Spring cometh soon.

3) I bought a pair of custom-made orthotics for my running shoes yesterday. They were made by Bill Rodgers' personal orthotic maker. I think that qualifies me as "cool" for at least a few minutes. If they succeed in curing my arch and ankle issues....I will be "cool" forever!

4) Lenten Soup Supper soup at my church is always the best soup ever. The crusty white bread that goes with it is also the best bread ever.

5) Which, speaking of....so my church. Like it did in my match.com profile, it has a place in my OKC profile. Tonight a man wrote who was, like,

"Woah! What is this CHURCH thing?!"

(Mildly distressing that he is the dozenth adult male to ask this same question, including the implied sk8ter boi tone. So much for mature discussion of the issues.)

Digging down into his profile....my suitor claims to have grown up Catholic but is now "agnostic and quite serious about it." So he's hitting on the Christian chick? To convert her to non-Christianity? During Lent?

6) I didn't go to work yesterday expecting my direct co-worker to be laid off.

But when I came back from my noon-hour yoga, she had been. Later, another colleague said to me, "there is more to come....that's what I heard." This makes me a little less excited about Thursday at work.

7) Which means that's as good of an excuse as any to go to bed. Right now.

Photo credit

It's been a quiet week on the OKC. 

One guy asked me out. When I replied that that sounded good.....no return message....5 days later.

I sent messages to 3 different guys this afternoon, in a rare showing of end-of-the-workday proactivity. No replies.

Number of daily stalkers to my profile....down to about 5, from previous highs of, oh, 110.

Random hits from 21-year-old San Franciscan boys wanting to have dirty chats while I'm sitting at the office....pretty much trailed off, too.

My last current is a month-long "conversation" with a guy who is a master at the sly one-line e-mail message.  I now also reply with one-liners.  It might take another month before we get anywhere. But he's not interested in being blogged about....so you might not ever hear about it.

This is the point where I think I'm old news on the OKC.  Probably time to take a break and come back "new" when there are more new people on the site. Or revamp my profile.  Or what?

Someone, give me some hints.

One thing I won't change, though, is my profile photo (above).  My money shot.

Kudos to Claudia, who took it one September day as we walked down the Commonwealth Avenue Mall in the Back Bay.  If I could track such things, I'd guess it is the single highest reason my profile has gotten hit as frequently as it has.  To wit (from a recent inquiry):

"I don't normally comment on someone's pictures, but the photo of you, bespectacled, short skirt, reading on a bench is far sexier than I think intended. Or, maybe it was intended. Either way, bravo!"

So that was nice. 

But I replied to his compliment 2 days ago....and am waiting for a hit back. 

And the search goes on....

Bikini Challenge (Week IX: Damn Cereal)

Confession: I did a dry run with the bikini earlier this week. In my bathroom. Standing on the toilet, to get the full story in the sink mirror. Adjusting, adjusting, adjusting the bottoms.

(I figured I should get to know what I really have to work on these last 10 days, eh?)

The good news: abs aren't a 6-pack, but the stomach is hanging in there. Actually, it's not hanging that much at all. Woo-hoo!

The bad news: when you're angling to look good in a bikini, with all the focus on the stomach, you forget that extra hip flesh is going to be the culprit.

(See: adjusting, adjusting, adjusting those bottoms. New Week IX Buzzphrase: side leg raises.)

The bad news (2): pasty, pasty, pasty skin. Very pasty.

(I wonder if self-tanning lotion is something that I can pay for with my flex-spending benefits card from work?)

The bad news (3): the return of the cereal addiction. 2/3 box of GoLean! Sunday night, 1/2 box Kashi Heart to Heart last night. T

That's 11 servings of (albeit healthy and fiber-laden) carbohydrates shooting straight to the aforementioned hips.

I chronicled this development on my Facebook status yesterday, and bless the heart of my former writing instructor who then commented:

"carb away. you're a running fool."

Still struggling with the great dichotomy of marathon training: burning calories like a fool....and consequently eating like a fool and putting them all back.

(But, I should say, despite the constant Kashi infusion.....the burning may be winning.)

Bring on March 22!

Songs for an unhopeful mood

Saturday evening in the city.  Coffee and biscotti with friend B.  A slow walk through Harvard and Brattle squares in Cambridge. Followed by a concert of Brahms and Schubert lieder by a talented choral group I sang with a number of years ago.

The climax--and in my opinion, highlight--of the program was the set of Neue Liebesliederwalzer, op. 65 (New Love Songs).  Brahms alone signifies passion and complexity and sweeping arpeggios. Add potent lyrics about heartache based on Slavic folk songs, sung in the spitting, vigorous Verzicht, o Herz:

Abandon hope of rescue, O heart,

when you venture on the sea of love!

For a thousand ships are drifting, 

wrecked on the surrounding shores!

Dark shadows of the night,

treacherous waves and current!

Who, resting safely

on dry land,

understand your plight?

He alone can do so 

who on the high seas

faces stormy solitude

miles away from the shore.

Such lieder.  I was soon at their mercy. 

It was a glorious melancholy.

Karin....your resident break-up antidote

Well sports fans, it's happened again. 

Man hits on Karin, who responds, and the two get on splendidly.  Karin goes out on a date with man. Karin likes hanging, talking with the man, finds him interesting and attractive, expects maybe they'll see each again.  Man says he likes hanging with Karin, also. There is discussion of future outings.

Then man decides that it's a good time to reunite with an earlier flame.  The end. Poof.

So Karin is once again the cure for a previously untenable situation.  For, like, the 4th time in the last 2 years.

This time it was the Young Scientist.  In these days following our first outing last Sunday, we had fairly involved, personal e-mail and chat conversations.  Then Friday, during an exchange about my "twingey" ankle pain, he tells me this week he also went on a date with a girl he had gone out with this fall, but broke off with before Christmas.  He wrote:

"She was like, 'if we are going to see each other you can't see other people.'  I'm not sure if she knows that I am seeing other people. I'm not sure how i feel about the whole thing but I might end up taking her up on it.

"And why do I mention this to you?  because I wanted to hook up again (with you) but that might not happen."

Tonight, while on OKCupid, I noticed he, today, removed his profile pictures.  Curious.  So I clicked on his profile....and it's been stripped to bare bones.  And he changed his status from "single" to "seeing someone."

To be clear -- it's not like I thought the Young Scientist and I were even dating.  It's more my incredulity that on Sunday he was on a date with me, and talking of how he had moved on from pre-Christmas woman.  I didn't know where he and I might be going, but I was on board and ready to roll with it.

So meh. 

I don't wish him any ill. (Actually, I can't comfortably wish him any ill....he's got this blog address.)  In our brief acquaintance he was always blunt....sometimes startlingly so.  Guess this is just more of the same.  And, as always, frankness trumps ambiguity in the world of dating.

In the meantime I'm wondering if, on my online profile, I should advertise myself as the perfect date for those wanting to reunite with an ex.   

Or not.

3/6/9 (R.I.P. Just re-'Pete'-in)

March 6, this year, creates a roundly perfect set of numbers:

The month 3 times 1. The month 3 times 2. The month 3 times 3.

March 6 is the day in 1985 that my dad's dad died....Grandpa Pete, who with my Grandma Blanche, co-owned the newspaper in Cando, North Dakota for (aptly) 3 decades.

Grandpa had a good heart (and a strong heart) for rural North Dakota, but with that came lifelong heart ailments that eventually took his life one Wednesday morning, early. He was 71. He was foremost a businessman, but secondly a writer, with a weekly column of pilfered stories known as "Just re-Pete-in".

Those 2 roles defined Grandpa's life to both the community and our family. But when I wrote my 2002 master's thesis on the newspaper, many things I remembered had nothing to do with those roles.

Here's a paragraph that I like:

"Grandpa died when I was 12. My memories of him are limited to his hairline and his trembling hands that reached above his head as he argued the value of Reaganomics. Plaid-patterned slacks. An artful dexterity with poker cards. A hankering for a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer on his supper tray."

The parting gift

I love my Cousin J.  Two weeks ago she moved from Washington D.C. to Nicaragua.  She had been cleaning house, prior to that, for several more weeks.

The day she flew out, this box appeared in my mail pile, postage on the back:

This is what it looks like out of the box:

Voilà!

Bikini Challenge (Week VIII: WTF?)

I'll confess. Tonight I'm biding time, waiting for the Tylenol PM to kick in. I've got head issues, stuffed nose issues, back issues, cinnamon sugar issues....sleep would cure these things.

But if I wait any longer to post a bikini update, y'all will think I'm hiding something.

Not true. Just forgetful.

Though true....I have been running like a horse these days. I have also been eating and drinking like I bed down in the same stable as the horse who is running. Here lie the most memorable moments of my Week 7 diet:

Monday: supper = one spoonful of peanut butter.

Tuesday: completely unmemorable.

Wednesday: 9 p.m. heat-lamp pizza from the Framingham State College cafeteria, washed down with Gummy Peach Rings from the pick-a-mix bin.

Thursday night menu-on-the-town: Guinness, Blue Point oysters, Trimbach Gewurztraminer, PBR, PBR, PBR, PBR, karoake, popcorn.

Friday: Muffin for breakfast, donut for snack, oatmeal for lunch, pasta and clams and cream sauce for dinner, canoli for dessert.

Saturday: Several passes through the Italian buffet (penne in red sauce, rare roast beef and provolone on a bun, potato salad) at a party that also featured birthday cake with inch-thick frosting.

Oy.

Nonetheless, I'm not hiding out. I've lost 3 pounds in the last 3 weeks. Pants all still fit. Yoga is on the schedule tomorrow. And I know it's just 3 weeks to belly baring. Which means it is time to commence Operation Ripple:

: 100 sit-ups per day.

: 6 planks per day.

: 30 minutes of cardiovascular per day, minimum.

: vegetables by the dozens.

: moratorium on cinnamon sugar.

: sleep. and then maybe some more sleep.

See ya in Week 9, suckahs......!

Monday at the OK Corral

So........Monday.

Market tanked hard. Seven inches of snow with a nice breeze to whip it around in.

Let's talk about online dating, shall we?

1) First, the morning....

....as I recovered from date #1 Sunday night with the young scientist. Who indeed is young, but tall. Ivy League undergrad on his way to Ivy League PhD. Spends his days manipulating strands of DNA in search of vaccines.

He evidently spends all other waking moments running. As in 110 or so miles a week of running, very quickly, several times a day. As in.....for fun, he jogged the Boston Marathon one year just to pace his brother.

Ergo, Young Scientist very much likes the fact that I run. Even moreso marathons.

Our primary difference:

He: Focussed solely on his research and running (with sidetracks to women). Perplexed how I pursue multiple interests... play piano for musicals, write, go to church, train.....spending so much time on things not remotely related to my full-time job.

Me: still trying to compute how one runs 110 miles in 7 days and otherwise has a life.

Nonetheless, good chemistry. The date was dinner in Chinatown, followed by a long walk in the cold and some making out (post-Benadryl by necessity, FYI....) at my apartment. He took the bus home in the blizzard. And we talked online today about getting together again.

I'm pleased to report all this.

2) Then, the evening.....

...where the fun never ends. As you might recall, the drywalling canoer and I enjoyed 1, brief, enthusiastic date on February 11. He was allergic to my cats. He didn't understand why anyone would ever write a blog. It was OK. But that was that, and that was OK, and there was no more.

Today he marshalled his powers and re-entered my life, via e-mail, with his charming entreaty:

DC: "Tonight?"

Hmmm. How to reply to someone physically attractive but who, in all other ways, has little idea how to butter my bread.

Ambiguously. Sure.

K: "Hey blast from the past! Tonight not ideal. Rain check?"

DC: "Rain check would be great.... I'm not sure how tonight is very realistic for me either... So, how's the boy search going?"

I tell him about my recent dates...briefly. The conversations that never turned into dates....more briefly. I joke about his silly made-up screen name and how it makes me want to remember him as that, rather than by his given name. Tell him how I enjoy learning a lot about the mix of folks one meets here.

He continues the charm offensive.

DC: "Why do I have a feeling you are having all these experiences to fill the pages of the book!? ...You may hate me, but I actually forgot your name / Nonetheless / i think i would like it if you made one up too ;-)"

Loverly.

All that and a slice of baloney to sleep on.

Blogger's Bible: Steal from Facebook

25 Random Things is a viral forward that went around on Facebook this winter.

Instructions are self-explanatory: "if you receive this, write 25 things, facts, habits, or goals about you. Send to 25 friends. "

I received 9 versions from friends---all entertaining in individual ways. For no specific reason, it took me until tonight to answer them. Exhausted after finishing, I'm letting them do double-duty on the blog.

Why not?....the topics should be familiar.

Cheers!

(But apologies to those of you already saturated with it on FB. Fresh text tomorrow.)

- - - - - - - - - -

1) I actually first started this list on January 31st. Then I accidentally hit "refresh" while I was on number 16. It took me until tonight to feel like starting it again.

2) I believe it has taken me this long to get back to this list because I've been blogging hardcore lately. I try to steer the creative energy in that direction.

3) It is half past midnight and I just ate a banana and drank a can of Fresca. About 20 minutes ago I finished off my lo mein leftovers from Pho Pasteur. And I would do anything for a couple bowls of GoLean cereal right now. This is completely normal behavior in this house.

4) I think it is OK to listen to Sufjan Stevens Christmas songs on the early morning of March 2.

5) In 2 years, I have had 7 dates over to this apartment. 5 of them (including one from earlier this evening) have been allergic to my cats. Those seem like ridiculous odds. I now tell men ahead of time to bring Benadryl with them when we go out.

6) I am a Christian in Boston. You'd be surprised how many people are amazed by this.

7) Ditto on being from North Dakota. Today I met someone who, when I said, "so, you know where Fargo is, right?" he said "no." Then again, he didn't know where Minneapolis was either.

8) I have stayed up too late nearly every night of the last 6 months. I have a difficult time going to bed when I'm tired and I figure a couple years of therapy might help me, someday, discover why.

9) I simultaneously long for a boyfriend and want to be alone so I can do whatever I want when I want without regards to anyone else. Which might be why I don't have a boyfriend at present.

10) I'm a ridiculous narcissist about my writing. Sometimes I am so proud of an e-mail response to a friend I'll go into my sent box and read it several times just to admire it.

11) I honestly wish I could be more selfless. This kind of goes up there with #8......I have a very difficult time honestly being altruistic. It takes work.

12) I pilfer wireless from my neighbors. In the summer I sit out on my patio in an adirondack chair because of the superior connection there. Often very late at night (see #8). My neighbor comes out randomly, occasionally, at 1 a.m. to walk his dog. He has never once commented on seeing me sitting there in pajamas with my laptop. I admire his lack of curiosity.

13) I have not balanced my checkbook in about 6 years. Which means I have way more problems with overdrafts than I will ever tell my mother about.

14) I have a similar problem with library books.

15) I really, really, really need to buy a dresser for my bedroom.

16) I've scrubbed my bathroom floor once since I moved here. Once.

17) I just opened another can of Fresca.

18) Damn. I would do anything for a bowl of GoLean cereal. Right now.

19) It is 12:52 a.m. It is too late for me to be up. I know this.

20) I also know I will set my alarm clock for 6:30 tomorrow morning and I won't get out of bed until 7:45. Or maybe 7:55.

21) But I still might go after this and check my Yahoo! account. Then my Gmail account. Then maybe okcupid one last time. Then probably my blog. Then the NYTimes editorial page. (see #8, #19)

22) If I had ever got around to purchasing a piano, and it fit in this one-bedroom apartment, I would then probably start playing some Brahms intermezzi. In fact, I would do anything to play the opener of Opus 119 right now.

23) I just read #'s 16-22 in order. Would I do any of this if I were married? I hypothesize that having someone to spoon with regularly might cure me the constant midnight eating and trolling.

24) Most of the time, however, I am a happy girl.

25) And I am grateful for everything I have, and everyone I know.