Most likely you followed the link from my first page or the seventh or twentieth page of Random Thoughts stories. Here are some more, all about my middle son Greg, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
(You will inherit a large sum of money)
My junk drawer is in my kitchen. Next to the kitchen I had in Memphis, which I designed, this is the best kitchen I've ever had. Lots of room, cabinets and drawers. It's the top drawer at the far end of the counter if you walk in the room. Without looking at what's there…here's what I know is in there… lots of pens and pencils, old credit cards, lots of in n out stickers, cough drops, a pot holder Evelyn crocheted. Free stuff I've collected from various events.. like a rubber jar opener from aps.
(Avoid senseless contradictions with others)
I thought about putting everything in a big box and bringing it in here but I decided against that. I was talking to my daughter on the phone as I started taking things out of it. It does have all the things I mentioned above, in massive quantities, as well as many other things I could certainly live without.
(Your confidence will lead you on)
There are also 26 pens, 22 pencils and 4 markers and 8 crayons. Most of the pens were stolen from the doctor's office and are pushing medications. I have one from when I took a career program in Maine, and from later on when my daughter and I stayed at a motel in Maine. I bet half of the pens are dead, and I might check before I put everything back in the drawer, throwing away the unusable ones. I get lots of pencils from free events, and I have several from the college and the public library. I have an APS pen with a fake light bulb where the eraser goes. I also steal crayons from restaurants, when I ask them for a child's menu. I don't care if they think I am strange; I am. I refuse to grow up. There were a few pads of scratch paper and some post it notes to write on.
(You will soon be honored by someone you respect)
I have old expired credit cards in there, as well as my preferred customer cards for some casinos in Las Vegas. I keep the latter on a stretch chain I got from one of the hotels. I am not a big gambler, but I love to sign up for things. I have some old membership cards in there, too. I haven't been a member of Monday club in some years, but there's one in there, as well as for Trout Unlimited. I know I should toss them, but so far I haven't. Like my Sam's Club card and an old AAA membership card.
(You will be sharing great news with all the people you love)
When In n Out opened in Phoenix, I started getting their stickers. I like the kids stickers with fun games. There must be over 100. There are other advertising items, like a light up spoon from a box of cereal and a kind of racing car with a funny head on it. I have a few sewing kits from various organizations. I have two of those rubber things you use to grip a jar to make it easier to open. I love Hello Kitty things so there is a note pad and a package of tissues from there.
(The one you love is closer than you think)
There was an unopened bag of cough drops as well as some loose ones scattered through the drawer. I put some of the loose ones in my purse. There was only one chocolate temptation candy left, and I don't believe they sell those anymore. I use a certain kind of lip salve and as far as I have seen, I can only buy them in Phoenix. I used to order them from the manufacturer, but it's just as easy to only buy one or two at time since they last forever. Almost forever. I have four of those, as well as two other kinds I don't like and most likely will never use. I keep my emery boards in there, so some were in the package and some were loose. When I look for things in the junk drawer, I just search and things get mixed up easily. There are three travel bottles of hand lotion, two I bought and one I took from a motel.
(You will travel wide both for business and pleasure)
There is a pair of scissors in there, which was left by the previous owners. I keep my extra pair of glasses in there, so I won't lose them. I keep candles in there in case of a power outage. There are also maybe half a dozen condoms in there, which I know I'll never have a use for. One time at the doctor's office, I had to use the bathroom and there was a cabinet and I couldn't help but look inside. There was a basket full of condoms and it said take some, so I did, and I continue to do so. I only take three at a time, and they come in stoplight colors of red, yellow and green. I have given some to various friends, some for a joke, some because I know they might need them.
(No need to worry! You will always have everything that you need)
In no special order, here is what else is there. Some AA batteries, small cassettes for a dictating recorder, paper clips, safety pins, various state quarters and a $2 bill. There are half a dozen paper umbrellas for drinks, about the same quantity of wet dry napkins taken from assorted places and some matches. A cedar ball, luggage tags, a tape measure, my old Child Haven name tag and three electric outlet plugs from APS. Three recipe cards from Basha's and a few bank receipts from deposits including the one I took notes on from 2002.
(Que fais-tu ici?)
What are you doing here?
Is there anything of special interest in my junk drawer? I doubt it. It's where I toss things that have nowhere else to go, actually. A lot of stuff is actually useful and important. As you can tell by the wide variety of items in it, I am totally unorganized and don't really care that I am. I tried some of the pens already in making the list of items for the above paragraph, and they are dead. I'll try them all before they go back. I am throwing away my old AAA membership cards. It's a start, and better than nothing. Oh, and the little messages of inspiration at the beginning of each paragraph are from fortune cookies fortunes I found while emptying it out. The last one is from a French daily calendar that I especially liked that phrase. I tried to reorganize things as I put them back in, but I know in no time at all, it will be one big mess. After all, isn't that what makes it a junk drawer?
29 October 2006Tonight is the very first home game of the Arizona Sundogs hockey team in their brand new venue and I'm going to be at the game. When it was first announced that this area was getting a minor league hockey team, I didn't really believe it. The combined population of Prescott, Prescott Valley, Chino Valley and the smaller towns can't be over 150,000. Would that be enough to support a minor league team and the arena that would have to be built? Apparently so.
It was with great interest that I followed the progress of the team and the building. This area has grown so much in the time that I've been here and for the most part, I am not happy with the way it has grown. We have a mall and a super Wal-Mart in Prescott now. They built a new hospital, grocery store complex, the fabulous entertainment district and all sorts of other things in Prescott Valley. I am sure Chino is growing but since I just drive through it on my way north and out of town, I don't see too much of that town's development. Two small towns, Dewey and Humboldt, joined forces in the last year or so in order not to be annexed by PV. Prescott Valley is building a car dealership along with other services on the edge of town. There is talk of another Wal-Mart and Sam's Club being built there too. Not to mention all the housing developments that seem to sprout up over night, restaurants and other retail outfits.
I still can't believe there is hockey at all in Arizona, but the Coyotes have been in Phoenix for ten years now. They are actually in Glendale, a suburb, but they were supposed to have built their new stadium in Scottsdale, only that fell through. Maybe if they had a winning team, they would have better attendance, but I doubt it. The people with money live on the east side of the valley and Glendale is on the west side, and in rush hour traffic, if you were coming from the east side, it could take you a good hour to get to Glendale. I wouldn't go to a game in Phoenix because I don't like Wayne Gretzky and won't support him or his team. And I no longer have a favorite professional team that I follow religiously that would give me a reason to spend the money to see the Coyotes.
When they were first made available over a year ago, I seriously considered buying season tickets. The most expensive tickets for the entire 32 game season were around $800, which is about the cost of four tickets to a pro game in really good seats. Two things stopped me. One was the idea of going to all those games alone, and the reality that I would find excuses not to go if I didn't feel comfortable after the first few games. I could have put down a deposit but never did. I waited anxiously for them to announce they would be selling tickets to single games, and when they did last month, I was there that day to buy these tickets. I had no idea who I'd take with me, but it didn't matter. I'd find someone.
The building they built to hold the hockey games is an all-purpose convention center. There are other events scheduled too, such as a Clint Black fundraiser and the Bee Bops for kids. I watched the building being built from the beginning, when they first broke ground. There was a public ceremony in August of 2205, but I skipped that. Instead I watched the walls go up and imagined how small it seemed compared to the hockey arenas I've been in before. It's got about one quarter the capacity of a pro hockey arena. They do have the private boxes and all that stuff, anything to make an extra buck. There was an open house on Wednesday of this week, and I dragged Lowell with me, because I couldn't wait to see what it looked like. We sat in the seats I'd be in for the game, checked out the concession stands, and listened to some of the speakers who were on hand to dedicate the building. I was amazed to see that the man I'd hired two years earlier to paint my house was to sing the national anthem. He was really good, too. We both saw some people we knew, and left while the ceremonies were still going on.
I guess it's good that the arena is a stones throw from the new hospital, just in case, which I also watched grow up in a big open field. I had some interest in the hospital as that's what brought Barbara and her husband Bud to the area. If I were still a volunteer at June of this year, they had a ceremony to put the last beam or something in, or maybe something completely different, but it was too hot to be out for several hours.
I had signed up for the team's email newsletter, which gave details about how the team and building were being put together. They promoted Sundogs merchandise and of course, season tickets. I still held fast and resisted the temptation to buy anything, until the day I went and bought tickets for this game. I bought a t-shirt and a puck.
I've never been to a minor league hockey game, and I think it's more likely the players will be has-beens rather than up and coming stars. Or maybe guys who just aren't ready to hang up the skates. I don't know anything about any of the guys the Sundogs have signed. I listened to one of their away games on the radio driving home one night, when they came from behind in the third period to be I think it was Amarillo 3-2. Now I was really exciting about watching them play.
©11 November, 2006I had asked my friend Gregg to go with me to the game. He'd never been to a real hockey game so I was worried he might not like it. Silly me; who can go to a hockey game and not be converted? I was torn between wearing what I'd worn to work, which was regular clothes, or something hockey related. I have several jerseys from various teams and even more hockey related t-shirts. In the end, I decided to play it down and just take my Roots Toronto Maple Leafs jacket for when we left the game and I knew the night air would be chilly.
Before the game, we went to In N Out for burgers, and I tried to fill him in on some of the finer points of hockey. I told him we needed to be at the game by 6 or so, even though the game didn't start till 7. I love being there early, wandering the concourse and looking at the people. Of course we had to be there for the pre-game skate. We parked about a block away and I was getting excited. This would be the first live hockey game I'd been to since the North Stars left Minnesota.
At the door, I had to open my purse before we could go in. I'd brought a bottle of water with me, but she let that slide. Inside the doors, another woman scanned our tickets with a thing like in the grocery store, that read the code on them. We were in! The team and the Daily Courier newspaper were giving away free kids jerseys. We walked up to one of the guys handing them out and asked for one. He was sorry, but they were for kids. Gregg and I looked at each other and said the other was a kid. Gregg then pointed to a kid walking by and said, that's my kid, so the guy gave us one. They are large kid sized, so it wasn't like either of us could have worn one, but we wanted one. Later, before the game started, I went back and got another one, doing the same thing, pointing at some kid, who happened to be wearing his, and said that was my kid. There were also what I assumed to be programs with all the players listed, so I took those too. We found our seats and I got ready to play hockey coach.
One of the things I like about Gregg is his outgoing, almost childlike manner. He immediately started talking to the people next to us, around us. There was loud music playing and he was dancing in his seat or singing along. All around us were advertisements for local businesses that had paid for the privilege of being promoted there. The actual building had been named for a local car dealership. There were two very large television screens on the lengthwise walls instead of the usual 4 screen one hanging in the middle of an arena. I don't know if it was cost or the size of the building that precluded there being one.
A very loud buzzer went off, and Gregg jumped. I explained to him it was one minute till the teams came on the ice for the pre-game skate. Then he said he wanted one of those horns. The arena wasn't full, but it still wasn't as loud as I had expected it to be. Our boys, in their home whites, skated on the ice to a modest roar. The Steelhounds, in blue, didn't even get booed that loudly. If only we'd known then what we knew three hours later. Gregg commented that they all looked so young, and I explained to him that these were kids who needed seasoning before they would be good enough for the major league. I wonder though, if any of them ever will be. For a lot of them, it's the love of the game that keeps them playing, and hey, they get paid for doing what they love.
I didn't see anything too outstanding during the warm up, and then the buzzer went off again. The players left the ice and the Zamboni came out. The two drivers were in tuxedos, in celebration of this big event. I thought it silly. Like just about everyone else, Gregg wanted to drive the Zamboni. He asked if I had any connections that could make that happen and I had to disappoint him. I said if I had, we'd be in a luxury suite, even though they didn't look that luxurious to me. It was just about game time and there were still a lot of empty seats.
The announcer came on and asked the crowd if they'd seen the movie, Mystery, Alaska. I had but didn't remember the scene that he was referring to, where the fans hold newspapers up in their faces when the New York Rangers come on to the ice. He explained that's why each seat had the front section of the paper on it. We watched the scene on the televisions, and I remembered it. The lights were lowered and some red carpet was laid on the ice as well as some tall cone-shaped things. The announcer said, please welcome the visiting team. For the most part, the crowd did put the newspapers in front of their faces, but nothing happened. Several minutes passed and nothing happened. Around us, people were saying they were chicken or they got lost. Finally, the announcer came back on and said the Sundogs were coming out. Still, nothing. I guess they didn't rehearse this ahead of time. Or maybe they realized they should have stayed in the locker room.
At long last, the Arizona Sundogs team skated on to the ice to the approval of the crowd. One by one, they came, lining up at the blue line. As their names were called, fire flew out of the cones on the ice. When one of the players, Kyle Orr, tripped on the carpet, they removed it, so they could skate directly on to the ice from the boards. I had thought he was Bobby Orr's kid, but I later found out he was his nephew, and that oddly enough, his brother played for the Youngstown team. They did look so young and all sorts of thoughts went through my mind. The first hockey game Fred dragged me to when we first moved to Minneapolis. All the games we went to as a family. Watching a six year old Greg skate on the big ice at the Met Center with his mite team. Getting to go through the Met Center, even the off limits places, with Bob Gainey's daughter when we had our breakfast with Brian Propp. All the games and practices I attended when the boys played hockey. How many times had I laced up skates or taped stockings up? And how I wished my Greg was there with me and it was all I could do to not cry.
The Hounds came on the ice to rousing boos, ignoring the fact we weren't looking at them. The honor guard was introduced and we all stood for the singing of the Star Spangled Banner. Again, it was my painter and he was just as good as he was two nights earlier. Fireworks went off when he sang the bombs bursting in air, to the delight of the crowd. Several dignitaries were introduced for the ceremonial puck drop, including the president of the Central Hockey league, the team owner and I forget who else. The two team captains came, the puck was dropped and everyone shook hands. Time for the main event.
The referees were booed as they came on the ice and all of a sudden, the game had begun. Personally, I'd blame it on the ice. It didn't look like it was hard enough, that it had set long enough before the game. It certainly didn't feel cold enough in the building for hockey. The passing was sloppy, they had trouble stopping and making quick turns. The line changes they made were slow and had it been a pro game, there would have been many too many men on the ice penalties called. Our boys got the first penalty, and the Hounds scored. We got a power play and nothing. On and on it went. The Sundogs did have some good opportunities, and a few close calls.
In my opinion, there was too much other stuff going on. Every time there was a power play or penalty, they announced that if the Sundogs scored or prevented a score, a certain section would get pizza. One time, they did a let's make a deal type of thing, only it took too long and we never did learn what the guy won. Another time, it was supposed to be a quiz, but the game interrupted that, thank goodness. And there was this guy, I guess his name was Cameron, at least that's what the back of his jersey said, and he'd go from section to section dancing and giving away t-shirts. He never came to our section though, nor was our section ever picked to win anything. I understand that the team and town need to make money, but I thought some of this was a bit much. If that's what they want to do, then they need to make it campier and more fun, like the puck throwing in between the second and third periods. During the first intermission, one could buy a puck, and if you threw it into a coffee can on the ice, you could win money. That wasn't explained ahead of time, but I was amazed how many people did buy pucks. They seemed to fly out of every corner of the building, yet no one got one into the can. The next night the prize would be $600 instead of $500, and each night it went up by $100. The other stuff, well, it was just annoying.
In the middle of the game, the team must have decided if we can't score, we can fight. There were no three on four plays, if one team had two players in the penalty box. The worst it got was four on four, so there wasn't that extra excitement. There were three good ones, especially the one at the beginning of the third period. Our player had dropped his gloves before the puck was. Only in this fight, he got knocked down first and it was sad. I told Gregg early on, that I never leave a hockey game before it's over. With ten minutes left and the score 5-0, people started to leave. I wasn't surprised, but I was disappointed in them. Like Gregg said, where did they have to go that was that important? I explained that they didn't want to fight the crowds leaving the parking lots or they were just too disappointed how badly we were losing. He countered that there weren't that many people and traffic couldn't be that bad, and I couldn't argue with him. There is no excuse for leaving a game early unless it's illness or something like that. If you're there to support your team, then stay to the end.
Finally the end came with the final buzzer, and it was 6-0 and the very first home game of the Sundogs was over. It could have been worse, but our goalie did make several outstanding saves. Just not enough. I cheered our team as they skated in defeat off the ice thinking how badly they must feel. One goal by them would have brought the crowd to life. I almost wish I were going to tonight's game. It will be the same teams, and I just know the Sundogs will do better. It's only 10 a.m., who knows? Maybe I will. I think they're giving away limited edition t-shirts from one of their main sponsors. I'm still not ready to buy season tickets, but I did have fun and was proud to be a part of it all.
©11 November 2006So okay, I went to the game tonight. Lowell brought his friend Candace over to the house in the early afternoon, and she said she was going to the game with this guy, and I kind of whined about how I wanted to go, until Lowell finally agreed to go with me. We all drove over to where the Sundog's office used to be before the arena opened, but it was gone and said to go next door to some candy/gift shop to buy tickets. I knew I should have gone to the box office at the Convention Center, but we were there. I had planned on buying the cheapest seats, but somehow I got talked into expensive ones, but they were right on the glass! Plus, they were folding chairs so they had cushions on them and there was room to move around and stretch your feet and you didn't have to bother anyone if you needed to get up to go to the bathroom. I had to pay a service charge for getting them from the ticket agency, but oh well.
I made plans to meet up with Lowell at 5:30, so we could get there in plenty of time. He just can't understand how important it is for me to be there long before the game starts. It was only five minutes from where he was and we got there a little before 6:00 p.m. Tonight's give-away was t-shirts from one of the local businesses. First 2000 people got one, and I had to get one. I guess the doors don't open till 6, so there were people in line. I, of course, picked the slowest line and when I had my purse checked, the guy saw my water bottle and took it away. I didn't really care, because it was an old bottle I'd used many times and probably should have thrown it away long ago. The line I picked was the wrong one, as people coming in doors closer to the table the shirts were on were getting them before me, but I got one and was happy. It had a neat logo and the date, so I know I'll never wear it. Most of the fans put theirs on over what they had on.
This time I was dressed for hockey. I wore an old 1980's USA hockey jersey, or sweater, as they're actually called, with the number 30 on the back and Craig over that, for Jim Craig, the winning goalie in that historic Olympic series. Several people commented on it as I wandered the concourse. As I walked in to get my free t-shirt, the guy handing them out told me he liked it. One guy even asked me where I'd gotten it, because it looked just like the ones they wore in 1980. I said I know, I remembered the game, but I didn't tell him I'd bought it on ebay. He thought I'd had it since then. I only wish I had one from then, but it would probably have 7 on it and Broten's name, because he was my favorite player and a former North Star.
Our seats were in the corner, right on the floor. It was actually the handicapped section, and half empty, but the seats were great. I was about even with the red line, which is where the puck has to cross to score a goal. It was also the side our team had the offense on, so when they were down there, it was more exciting. We only defended it once, but that was pretty neat too. Lowell was happy because he was not all scrunched in a small space, and several times he told me how glad he was we went to the game.
During the pre-game skate, we had the Steelhounds in our end. I hadn't really paid any attention to them last night, but now I did. I was inches away from them, separated by only the glass partition. I could see their missing teeth, the sweat on their brows and the pimples on some of them. I wanted to hate them, but I couldn't, even though they were our opponents. I realized they were just kids, doing the best they could. This time I remembered the goalie's name, so that later on I could start jeering him.
After the warm-up, I went and got a large souvenir cup of pink lemonade, since Lowell and I never agree on what kind of pop to have. I figured when it was empty, we could fill it with water. There was no way I could last three hours without liquids, especially if I screamed like I usually do for most of the game. I had also put some pretzels and M&M's in a sandwich bag to munch on. I had dinner before I left the house and I figured Lowell and Candace would have gotten something during the day. The Zamboni guys were still dressed in their tuxes, but one wore tennis shoes instead of patent leather ones, but they both wore white socks. I could tell because they too, were inches away from me.
I talked to the security guy for a bit and asked how he liked the job and the game last night. He was over on the other side like I was, and he wasn't happy with the outcome either. Later on, I found out he was also from Chicago originally. I also went over to a man in a suit who I was pretty sure had been introduced the night before. I thought maybe he was the team president, but no, he was president of the Central Hockey League. I was impressed, but didn't let on. He wanted to know if I had enjoyed the game last night and I said yes and no, which he understood.
With only about ten minutes before the opening face off, I was surprised at how many empty seats there were. Last night hadn't been a sell out, but I figured there would be nearly as many people. The security guard told me that only half the seats were sold. The crowd looked enthusiastic and I hoped we would have a lot more to cheer about tonight. Lowell was on the phone with Candace so he would know where she was sitting, which was right behind the team's bench.
This time, on schedule, the Hounds came out first and were booed loudly, as were the referees. Then the Sundogs came out, but there was no introducing them all. Just the starting line up was introduced. There was also no big ceremony or fireworks with the singing of the Star Spangled Banner. Nor was it sung by Eppie Vicente. The girl who did sing was good, but I thought Eppie did a much better job. It was time for the game to begin.
Having a much different view of the ice and the players from such a different vantage point, I concentrated more on the play tonight. I think it took the Sundogs less than 4 minutes to score a goal, and the place went crazy. It was a power play goal scored by Karl Sellan and followed shortly thereafter by another power play goal by Cory Stillman. We were up 2-0 and it was just the first period. Was this the same team that was on the ice the previous night? A third goal was scored early in the second period on a penalty kill. A short handed goal! This was a much better game by far. There was lots of end to end action and several pretty good fights. The Hounds were not about to go down without a fight, and eventually they tied it up at 4-4, which was the score at the end of the regulation game. In minor league play, there are a lot of different rules than pro hockey, such as one team has to win. There are no ties. A five minute overtime is played and if the score is still tied, there is a shootout.
The above is a brief and incomplete summary of the game, but there was much more going on. The dancing guy was there, but he still didn't come near enough to where we were for me to get a t-shirt. I am taking it personally. I started early on chanting Currie's name, and eventually other people did too. I am convinced it was my rattling him that helped us get the first two goals. The fans at North Star games used to torment the Blackhawks goalie by singing out his name over and over again. Lowell really got into the game and the yelling and beating on the glass, which totally surprised me. He is not into sports much, and while he did play hockey, he hasn't shown me any interest in it before tonight. He got rid of a lot of his pent up anger tonight. I teased him later how it was cheaper than therapy.
They did some of the same corny stuff as the first night, and again it didn't go over well. I know team mascots are a big deal, but I think they're a waste of time and who cares if he got to ride on the Zamboni. Again, the let's make a deal thing was a bust as was some thing about skee ball. The marketing people are really going to have to rethink some of this. The sound also wasn't as good down on ice level as it had been higher up. Someone had thrown their orange chuck a puck onto the seat next to me, and I took that home. I think the crowd was more into the game, but scoring and being in the game had a lot to do with that.
Like I said, if no one scores in overtime, there's a shoot out. I had never seen one before and was excited about one happening tonight. By then, a lot more of the crowd was yelling Currie's name and just in general, by then the crowd was worked up to encourage our team to victory. I think our player took the first shot in a best of five contest. It's like a penalty shot, where it's the shooter versus the goalie. The first one went in. Then it was Youngstown's turn. Their player missed. Then our player missed. But in the end, we scored more in the shoot out and came away with the victory. People were on their feet, screaming and clapping. By that point, my voice was pretty much gone and my hands were so sore, but I didn't care.
Lowell was ready to leave, but I wasn't. I didn't really care who the three stars of the game were. I just wanted to be there a little longer, because I know it will be a while before I go to another game. I was glad we did, because after the Hounds left the ice, our guys gathered up in center ice, listening to the crowd's very loud approval. Then they did something I've never seen before. They all lifted their sticks in unison, to us, as if to say thank you. Maybe they weren't ready to leave the ice and have the feeling of success go away so quickly either.
Walking back to the car in the rain of all things, I asked Lowell if he had enjoyed himself. Despite my having to tell him more than once not to swear at the players or to pound with his fists on the glass, I was glad he had gone with me. We didn't talk about Greg, but I felt him there with us. Lowell grinned and said he was more than glad. I asked him if we should try to get those seats for season tickets, but I was kidding. Maybe we'll go to a few more games here and there, and I'm sure I'll go to some with some different friends, but I still can't justify season tickets.
Exiting the parking lot was no big deal and soon we were away from traffic and back on the road. He drove me back to my car, but I went in the pool hall with him. As we crossed the parking lot, a car honked at us and we waved at Candace and her friend. Inside, we all raved about how exciting the game was and how much fun we had. Candace had sat behind the Sundogs bench and said there were several of the players she wouldn't mind taking home.
It was time for me to go home and let my weekend of live hockey sink into my memory bank. While you're at a game, the time just flies by. If you look in the wrong place on the ice, you could miss a shot or penalty. It's harder to know what's going on without the announcers doing the play by play as when a game is televised. I truly enjoyed both games, sitting in both locations and being there with two different people. I love hockey, and all the excitement that goes with it. The speed and intensity of the game can't be duplicated in any other sport. I am so glad we have hockey here in the Prescott area, and that I was a part of its first two home games. GO Sundogs!
©11 November 2006Here it is, the first two weeks in December and I've gone fly fishing twice. It's been a little warmer than normal, which makes it perfect outdoors weather. It was around 70 on Thursday when my friend Marge and I went to Dead Horse state park and it was 75 down in Phoenix on Saturday when we were at Phom T. Sutton Park. We'd made those plans first, to meet up with the Dame Juliana group from Phoenix. Having a friend to go fly-fishing with has been the impetus I've needed to get me out on the water again.
I was at work on Wednesday when Marge stopped by my desk, before going into her OLLI class. I wanted to show her this strange shotgun like fishing rod that had been posted on the FF@ list. She wanted to talk about the potluck the fly casting club was having on the following Tuesday. What she really wanted to tell me was that she'd gotten a call from one of the member of the club saying they were going to meet up informally at Dead Horse State park the next morning, and did I want to go too. I said yes, and we made plans on where to meet the next morning. I was looking forward to getting out and being in the fresh air and seeing if I could actually cast my line without losing my flies like the last two times we'd gone out together.
I woke up early on Thursday and drove over to Marge's house at 8:45 a.m. I am ashamed to say when my friend Shirley lived in Prescott Valley, I never went over to her house, but on the way to Marge's, I drove right past her street, so I got out the cell phone and called Shirley to tell her I was near her former house. Shirley is just starting to grieve for her husband who died last night, so I try to cheer her up as much as I can, or at least, hold her hand as she goes through her sadness. She was surprised but glad to hear from me, even though we could only talk for a few minutes, because it was just a few blocks from where I needed to be. I could tell she was about to cry as we hung up, and that made me sad.
Marge was waiting outside, even though I was a few minutes early. I got my gear out of my car and stowed it into the back of her SUV. I asked if I could use the bathroom before we left, because I know my body and its limits. Soon we were on the road driving up to Clarkdale, about an hour away. It was a nice drive and we had a good conversation about living in Prescott and people we know. Before long we were looking for the street to turn down to get to the park. As we pulled up to the entrance, Marge wondered if her Golden Age pass would work, but this was a state, not national park. She decided to purchase a yearly pass so we went inside the building and she got one. Then we went to find the others from our group who might be there.
Usually, an email goes out to the membership, but this time it was only by word of mouth. I never would have known about the opportunity if not for Marge. I had no idea what the conditions for fishing would be and neither did she, having never been there before. She did tell me not to expect what I considered a lake, and I kind of knew that because this is Arizona and there isn't the amount of water here as any other place I've ever lived. Rivers here are like brooks or streams anywhere else, so I was certain that a lake would be more like what I would consider a pond, and I was right. This was definitely no lake in my opinion, but it was big enough to fish in, and it had been stocked earlier this week.
Marge didn't recognize anyone's car, so we parked in kind of the middle of the lot and got our gear out. We would be casting from the shore, so I didn't even put on my boots. She wandered off to find a spot to fish while I sat on a picnic bench and got ready to tie a fly on. I realized one of the problems I had been having with my casting the previous times was my tippet was too short, so I searched in all my vest pockets till I found some line. I got out my little book with the pictures of the knots, but couldn't figure out how to do a surgeon's knot, so I tied a regular knot twice, and then again, until I was sure the two lines would stay together. I tugged hard, and they didn't pull apart. Next I had to pick out a fly and tie that one too. I picked a little one, figuring the fish were small, so they'd want a small fly. I need to spend some time learning the flies and being able to distinguish an elk hair caddis from a blue wing olive, but there wasn't time for that on that day. Once my fly was secured, I walked over to the edge of the lake and picked a spot without too many weeds in front of it.
Except for the two times at Lynx Lake, I hadn't been fishing in years. Eight, to be exact. And trust me, I was rusty at casting. I was never great or even adequate, but I wouldn't even say my casting was passable that day. I couldn't get my line into the water in a fashion that even moderately satisfied me. My lines weren't straight, my arm was too jerky, but still I persisted. At least the day was peaceful, warm and there were ducks skirting across the lake to amuse me.
Finally some of the others from the club arrived and set up at various points around the lake. Marge is very outgoing and knows everyone, while I still didn't know most of the people and they certainly didn't know me. I kept casting and wondering what I was doing wrong, and trying not to get to discouraged. When the guys from across the way came over towards us, I was not upset about having to take my rod out of the water and see what was going on.
Marge had said sometimes there is a big lunch, brought by some of the guys, or sometimes they go out to lunch afterwards, but just in case, to bring a snack along. It was pretty obvious no one had brought the big lunch, and that no one was thinking about going out to a restaurant. After driving on so many Elderhostel programs, I had my standard snack down to a science: pretzels and a cheese stick. That's what I threw in my purse that day, and it's just enough to stave off starvation. I never go anywhere without a bottle of water. Some of the guys came over to the table and we sat and talked while we ate. After lunch though, I decided I wasn't having much fun and I'd wait till Saturday when the promise of casting instruction was keeping me looking ahead. I had thought maybe we'd be out longer than I wanted, so I also had brought a book with me.
Marge and the rest went back to the lake, and I stayed at the picnic table with a guy named Shawn. I'd seen him at our meetings before, with the same woman he'd come with that day. I couldn't quite figure out their relationship, but I had assumed they were married. I was completely wrong; they are mother and son. He was there to watch the two dogs and that was fine with me. Only eventually we started talking, and I found out a bit about him. He's apparently a whiz at both tying and fishing, but he's not a very social person. I feel privileged that he spent part of the afternoon talking to me, about life and fishing. I asked him, if he can read the waters so well, why he doesn't guide. He could earn a few hundred dollars a day whenever he wanted to, but he said he would, if he didn't have to be around people. I found out later, he and his mom spend all summer in the mountains, camping and roughing it. Not my idea of the best way to spend the summer, or even a long weekend, but everyone is different.
There was an elderly man who was wandering around the park picking up litter. He walked past us twice, carrying his plastic bag of trash. The second time around, he muttered to us that all those cars with the windows sealed up was a big mistake. He said the interiors of the cars would be over 100 degrees. Shawn and I looked at each other, and said nothing to the man as he walked by. It wasn't all that hot, like in the summer, when yes, the interiors of cars do get hotter than one can stand. I hope when he got into his car, he had left the windows open a bit so he didn't cook from the heat.
Gary walked by to try fishing on the side of the lake we were on. This guy always catches wherever he goes, and that day was no different. He'd been rather successful on the other side and was just as lucky on the side we could see. He'd catch a fish, and then another one. Shawn had commented on his casting style, that he used a sidearm instead of an overhead cast. I made a mental note to try that on Saturday. I pretended to read my book, but I only got about 30 pages into it, and instead decided to watch people and visit. The day had warmed up pleasantly and I was enjoying just being outside, thinking about it being December and all the people in other parts of the country who were all bundled up against the bitter cold.
I kept munching on the last of my pretzels, pretending to read and wondering how long it would be before Marge was done. I wasn't starving, but I was thinking about real food. Finally, Marge walked over to the table. Gary had already left. The other guys were starting to pack up too. Only Gray, Shawn's mother, wasn't ready to call it quits. Marge took her rod apart and got ready for the drive home. We talked about the day and the people who had been there, a little about the upcoming potluck and then our outing on Saturday. We agreed she would again drive and that we'd leave around 7 am instead of 6 am, and that she'd call me the night before. I also left all my gear in her truck.
Saturday morning at 5:20 a.m. came much too early for me, but when the alarm clock went off, I got myself out of bed. I decided to wear my fishing pants, which are just basic khakis, but I'd torn the right side pocket on something one time out and usually wore them on fishing adventures. I knew I'd have to dress in layers, so I picked my NEC (Northeastern Clave) t-shirt from 1999 to wear under a corduroy shirt and a fleece vest. I got the salad I'd bought from Costco the day before and a bowl and headed off to Marge's house.
I called Shirley again and she told me about her plans for the day and I knew we would talk again before the end of the day and share our experiences. Marge was waiting outside for me, and as I pulled the bag with the salad and bowl out of the bag, it tore. I didn't curse, at least out loud. Soon we were ready to head south to Phoenix. This time, Marge used her GPS, even though I had assured her I knew where we were going. We made it to the park area in two hours because traffic wasn't heavy anywhere along the route. We had chosen the northern of the two routes so she could see where she would be in two months. Soon we were turning into the Phon D Sutton area, and there were some cars in the lot, but not as many as I thought there might have been.
We pulled into the parking lot and then came the question of what kind of park pass would work for parking. We had decided not the state park one she'd purchased the other day, so maybe her Golden Age pass. There was no place to deposit the required fee and we didn't want to have to go into town and try to figure out where to get one. There was a girl standing outside of her vehicle, talking to a man, and we parked near there. She had been under the impression she could purchase her pass in the park, but apparently that was no longer the case. A sheriff drove by and we waved him over, and he explained that there had been too much vandalism so they removed the box for the money. He seemed to think the Golden Age pass would work, so we were in luck. While Marge was talking to them, and two other women who had pulled up, I walked over to the path down to the rivers. I could see some women in the water and knew we were in the right place.
Back at the car, the first girl had decided to leave rather than get her pass and come back. Marge and I got our gear out and started putting it on. It had been years since I put on my waders and boots, but they all fit and were still in great condition, and soon I was a poster girl for fly-fishing. I had my vest with all the gadgets, the hat, and the fly rod. Both of us had forgotten our walking sticks and I had forgotten the string that keeps my glasses around my neck, but those were minor inconveniences. We marched down to the water where the other Dame Julianas were fishing.
I greeted them and explained who I was and they were all very welcoming, which was reassuring. Too many times, a group that's been together for a while is not open to newcomers. I finally met Ann whose name I'd seen on that group's list as well as the International Fly Fisher Women's group. I met Dawn, who had sent us the directions to the park. Linda walked down with up along the Salt River, trying to find a shallow enough place to cross, but we gave up and slid down the slope to start fishing.
This day, I picked a larger fly and one that had more color. In my mind, I thought it really didn't matter what fly I used, I wasn't likely to catch anything, anyway. I didn't see any bugs near the water to help me decide. Not thinking about how cool the water might be, I waded right in. It was chilly and in the morning there was a steady and strong wind blowing. I tried to practice casting, both overhead and side cast, and I thought I was doing better. I had missed the instruction because he did it before we got there, and I didn't feel I should take up Ted's time. I'd cast, watch my fly drift in the near still water for a while, and then cast again. Eventually, I sat down on a rock on the shore. I looked at the birds, and studied the vegetation growing on the opposite bank. I did a lot of thinking, as I usually do in the water. Marge had wandered down a ways and out of my site, and then I just mostly sat on a rock.
Finally I was bored and feeling quite alone, so I climbed up the bank on to the path and started walking back to the parking area, and where I assumed the rest of the ladies were. Marge met me and said it was time for lunch. She hadn't had any luck either, nor had any of the other ladies. Everyone went to their cars to get the goodies they'd brought for the lunch, and there were several salads and snacks, most of them prepared by grocery stores. It didn't matter; we were hungry and it all tasted good. The conversation during lunch was lively too, with one woman saying how we needed to bring some sort of liquor on these outings. Marge and I were invited and encouraged to attend the annual meeting and dinner in January. Ideas for other places to try were exchanged. Then there was the group picture. It was funny how we were referred to as, Prescott. For the picture, one of the ladies' son called out, hey Prescott, move to the left a little and he was referring to me. I just checked the Dame Juliana's web site and they're not up there yet.
After lunch, most of the women left to do other things. I felt sad saying goodbye to those going, who were hopefully going to be my new friends. I told them I'd definitely be at the January meeting. The two girls who arrived when we did also stayed. I wandered down to the water first, and veered off to the left and the Verde River side. I figured it had to be more promising and interesting than the Salt River side. It had a strong current and much higher water, and it reminded me what a real river is like.
I spent about an hour casting and wandering around that part of the river. There were still no fish rising and I didn't care. I felt as if I were back in Montana or Maine. After a while, my arm started hurting and I wandered over the rocks to an area where the two rivers did actually meet. I could see Marge in the distance, casting away happily. As I crossed the rocks, I slipped and got my sleeve wet, so I stayed in the calm part of the rivers. I alternated casting between the two, but after about half an hour, I gave up. I walked over to Marge and told her I was going up and I'd wait for her.
Walking up the rocks to the picnic area, my arm was sore but it still felt good. I unbuckled my waders and took off my wet shirt, so it could dry and because by then it was warm. My t-shirt was a little damp too. I took my rod apart and watched the sky. There wasn't a cloud in it, and there hadn't been all day. The wind had died down. A man came by and asked how the fishing had been, and I admitted not too good. He fished there a lot, but was there because his son was hiking somewhere in the area. We chatted briefly, and then he walked down to the water, leaving me to my thoughts. They ranged from what a glorious day it had been to how much I enjoyed being in the river again, to where I had been and where I was going in life.
Marge came up shortly, followed by the man I'd met earlier. He said he'd seen rises but wasn't going to fish after all. I wouldn't have by that time, but I told Marge if she wanted to go back down, that I'd wait. She said no, she was ready to go. As we started removing our gear, the other two ladies that had arrived when we did walked up. They hadn't caught anything either. Marge and I said our goodbyes and that we'd see them next month, and got in her car. We decided to go back the way we came, so she could see the lodge where she was having a weekend adventured in February. I had hoped to go back the other way, just to see what it was like, but it wasn't my call. Before long, we were back on the freeway and heading north out of Phoenix. The drive doesn't seem as long when you have someone to talk to, and next thing, we were at her house.
I gathered my stuff and loaded my car. I thanked Marge for driving and gave her some money for gas. We hugged and said we'd be in touch soon, because we had to finish planning the Prescott Flycaster's potluck in two days. Sitting down in the driver's seat of my car, I thought about some of the twists and turns my life has taken since I took up fly fishing to help my daughter. She has not fished since Lake Placid, and here I am, taking actively pursuing it again. I found something I love doing through her initial interest and it is helping me meet new people and getting out of my self imposed exile. Maybe if I was still in North Carolina, I could fish in December, but I wouldn't be who I am right now, and I like where I am right now.
Started 8 December, 2006With three days left before the New Year, I find myself reflecting back on 2006. It's no secret that as one ages, time seems to go much faster. This year was no different. I still can't believe it's 2000 and anything, much less more than halfway through this decade. It's been another year of change and yet staying the same.
In no particular order, here are some of the changes. Most of these have been more fully documented in other stories, if you care to read more.
Prescott Valley built a convention center and now has a minor league hockey team. Being that I love hockey, I am very happy for this change. I didn't get season tickets, but I have been to two games and it was just as much fun and excitement as when I would go to see the North Stars. In some ways it was more exciting, because the arena is much smaller and you can see better than in the seats we used to buy at the old Met Center. For the second game, I actually had on the glass seats and I've only done that one other time. I think the convention center will be a big boost to the economy and help make the area a better place to live.
At work, things are not going that well. It started over the summer that we noticed small changes in the way things are done here, but no one said anything. Then we got busy with all the fall programs, so not much attention was paid to office politics. Little by little, bits of information and disinformation came out. Elderhostel was in debt, the program was going to fold, everyone was losing their job, nothing was going to change and a little of every rumor was true. We were in debt, the program is changing but as of now, no one is losing their jobs. Except Chris, who is retiring after running the program for 25 years. Dennis had meetings with the college president and it seems that they are cutting back Elderhostel, but counting on the growth of Edventures and the Community Education programs to make enough work to keep me around. I don't know what will happen, but maybe this is a signal it's time for me to find something else. The likelihood is it won't be in Prescott.
Starting at the end of 2005, we found out Nancy's daughter Leah was no longer in remission from Hodgkin's Disease. During this time, I used my Care Partner training to help Nancy deal with all the issues and concerns that go with having a child who has cancer. Leah didn't have health insurance, so she applied for the state's health insurance program, but it seemed like it took forever for her to be accepted. Leah finally went down to the Mayo Clinic and got into their program without health insurance. First they harvested her stem cells, then she had massive chemotherapy and radiation. As part of my effort to raise awareness, I created a site for her on my website. The stem cell transplant was on August 1.The people in our office organized a fundraiser for Leah, which took place on August 19, and Leah was well enough to come up to Prescott to attend. We spent two months planning it and getting auction and raffle items donated. The community was very supportive and the day raised nearly $25,000. She celebrated her 21st birthday on October 2, the same day as my Greg's birthday, when he would have been 25. On October 30, she was declared cancer free, words I never heard with Greg. She is still doing well and I am so happy for her and her family, yet it still hurts so damn much when I think about Greg.
I still am in therapy, although that too changed over the year. Karen, who I'd been seeing for a quite a while, told me she was leaving the clinic at the end of September. I saw her on her last day and she gave me Cocoa, her daughter's old stuffed dog that I held and cried into at almost all of our sessions. I was so touched. It took the clinic two months to find her replacement, and I have seen him twice now. I was leery about starting over again, but Antonio has a different approach for me. We're trying Cognitive Behavior Therapy, and I can only hope it helps. I still see Rick just about every other week, and there are a few times when I haven't cried upon sitting in the chair across from him. We're working on my grief issues. He got me some sessions with Jeanine and she's trying to heal the child in me, because that's really where all the problems started. In an attempt to see Karen, I contacted the Student Services office on campus, and found out they had a therapist, so in November and December, I had a few visits with her to talk about jobs and life. Carol was very helpful in that area.
As part of therapy, I was encouraged to do more things with other people. Since just about everyone in the office does this English Country dancing, I agreed to go three times in a row. I am not very coordinated, but this isn't too complicated, so I went for nearly the entire year. Part of the reason I stuck with it was so that Nancy would have someone to go with. Once Leah was out of the woods, so to speak, I cut back on the dancing, because I decided on my own to get back into flyfishing. I started going to the local club's meetings in May, but didn't actually do any fishing till September. There was a woman who moved here recently and had joined OLLI, and expressed an interest in fishing. I was given her name and phone number, but I didn't call her. I met her one time when she came into the office, but we didn't really become acquainted till I realized she too was a member of the club. Since then, we've gone fishing together several times. I still can't fish worth a darn, but I love being out there and that's what is important.
This year I did a lot of traveling around Arizona for work. I love the drive up to Page, so I never hesitate when asked to drive there. In October, I had to go up there and drop people at the marina, so I asked Chris if it would be okay for me to go to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon after that and he said yes. Then I thought about going to Lee's Ferry to flyfish, so I threw my gear in the van. I stopped by the fly shop up there and the guy said the fishing wasn't so great, because of recent rains, so I went with Plan A. It is a good two hour drive to the North Rim and it was nearly 2 p.m., so off I went. I had gone to the South Rim a few days earlier and still had my park admission pass. It was definitely worth the time to get there. I am still in awe over what I saw. But the best thing was when I got to go river rafting. Chris wanted Jeff to go so he would be better able to talk about it when people called with questions, and I managed to get myself invited. It was an amazing and fun day and I wouldn't hesitate to go again.
A few very important people affected my life. Two of the people I loved and cared about more than just about anyone other than my children exited from my life. They didn't die, they just aren't there anymore. I miss them every day, but I can't do anything about it except grieve and wish them well. Some old friends came back into my life and for that I am very grateful. I am glad to have Lowell here even though I hardly ever see him. Evelyn seems to be getting her life together and moving forward. I spent not enough time with Barb and Sue, but it is a joy to know them and learn from them. And of course Rita and Shirley, my sisters. I don't know what I'd do without their love and support. I started taking OLLI classes again, and learned about home repairs, films made in Prescott and a little bit about writing. A fabulous new restaurant and bakery opened and it's the place the office now goes to for our monthly lunches. I finally took a trip out of state for the first time in over three years, when Lowell and I went to Las Vegas to celebrate his 21st birthday.
I have no idea what 2007 will bring and I don't want to know. I want it to unfold day by day with hopefully only good surprises. I don't make new year's resolutions, but I certainly hope that I can be a better person than I was this year. This year wasn't my best now was it my worst. It was a hard year to get through but once again, I have survived. Next December 29, I hope I can say the same thing.
29 December 2006You can't miss the ads for them, either on television or on the Internet. There must be an eharmony ad on television at least five times every day. Another site advertises on soap operas, because it's obvious only single, lonely and desperate women watch those. There was even a recent movie about one of these dating sites and the woman replied to an ad from her father. They promise true love and meeting your soul mate and another six months free if after that time you haven't found your love. The Internet has made finding someone easier and yet more complicated and frustrating than ever before.
I never expected to be looking for someone after I got married. After all, my future former spouse's wedding ring was engraved with the words forever and ever. Then he "lost" the ring, but by then things had already deteriorated past repair. I've never had much luck with dating, even back in high school. I had two steady boyfriends and that was about it. In college, there was John, then there was my ex and I thought I was going to live the fairy tale life once I was married.
I had met lots of people from the Internet prior to all this. Mostly from chatting on IRC, I'd met men and women both. They were people I'd gotten to know after weeks or months of visiting electronically with them. They were people from my writing groups. Most of them I had no fear of meeting because I felt I knew them. Even though I am shy, I liked meeting people I thought I already knew from out conversations. I am sure I will probably meet more of these types of people in the future.
It was when I was living in North Carolina I first heard about these dating sites. They had ads on other sites such as hotmail, so when I'd check that, there would be the ad staring me in the face, taunting me, daring me to check it out. I'd been on my own over a year and it wasn't all that thrilling. So I wrote what I thought was a witty yet sensitive profile and waited to meet Mr. Wonderful. After all, I had a wide variety of interests, was intelligent and wasn't all that picky. At least I thought I wasn't. I remember the first time I got notification someone had read and responded to my profile. I thought I'd won the lottery. We exchanged a few emails and made plans to meet. Randy was pretty much what he said he was, only he neglected to tell me he was married. We stayed friends for a few years but that was only the start of the nonsense and game playing that goes on. I heard that Randy finally did leave his wife, but I was long past him.
The second man I met was also in North Carolina. He was a very nice man, but he was much younger than me and wanted kids. I was done with that stuff by the mid forties. We met at a restaurant; because the number one rule is have the first meeting in a public place. The second rule is to always let someone know who you are meeting and his name and phone number. I've been lucky but I also have heard the horror stories about meeting someone. Anyway, I'm always early and I was there maybe ten minutes early. He was a good half hour late, which didn't sit well with me. Dinner was nice, but then he expected "payment", which I was unwilling to provide. He called me a couple of times afterwards, but I never went out with him again. Quite frankly, I forgot about those dating sites and that I was even on them for a few years.
I signed up for eharmony several years ago. I was lured by the promise of finding true love based on a free personality profile, which was actually worth $40. It took about half an hour to answer all their questions. When I clicked done, I just knew he'd be there, and I'd resume the fairy tale that had abruptly and unpleasantly ended. Instead, there was a page for paying a membership fee to meet him. There was no way I was going to pay to be rejected, so over the last four years, I get an occasional email from them saying they have a match for me. I would read their profiles and forget about it, because I can't respond without forking over a monthly fee. I think in that time, they have found over forty ideal men for me. I'll never know if they were, but I can safely assume most of them were not. Most of them never wrote me and the few that did, I couldn't respond back. Until I got a free seven day trial, and I wrote to everyone that sounded interesting. That was a mistake, because apparently, I used up all my free contacts. Oh well. One man and I got to the last stage, where we could actually exchange email addresses. My main attribute to this guy was where I lived, apparently, because once we got off the site, that's all he asked about. I told him jobs were not easy to come by and it was pretty expensive to live here, I never heard from him again. Some soul mate.
I put the whole thing on hold, because I wouldn't pay to be a member. Then, about two years ago, I heard about a web site called plenty of fish, which was completely free. I signed up and waited to reel him in. There was one man who I thought might have been a keeper. He lived down in Tucson and when I sent him my picture, he still kept writing. We talked a lot on the phone and got to know each other little by little. We would email daily and I was looking forward to meeting him. Then one day, he just vanished. I wrote him a few more times and never got an answer. At least he could have told me why he was no longer interested, but apparently, that's not required with Internet dating. I admit, I've stopped writing guys with no explanation, too, but that doesn't make it right.
I have made some friends from that site, two in particular. They both live about an hour away from me, in a small town outside of Cottonwood. One I've met and we've gotten together a few times and think he's a great guy, but there is no chemistry between us on either side. He's funny and fun to be with, but we're both happy with making a new friend. The other man I have yet to meet, though we talk on the phone several times a week for long periods of time. I like him too, but since he's made no effort to meet me, I think we're both content to keep things the way they are, which is also just friends.
A friend of mine told me not too long ago about another dating site, called singlesnet, so I signed up for that one too. On this one, you have the option of paying or not. If you don't pay, you can only send dumb flirts or hope that someone who is paying will correspond with you. There is a lot of duplication on this site and plenty of fish. I haven't had much luck with this one, and I'm not sure why exactly. There was one very nice man from Boston I spoke with who seemed perfect. At first he was very interested in me, we talked about meeting and more, but then the holidays came and he went with them.
Another thing I won't do is put my picture up on my profile, It's not solely because I'm not a Barbie doll, but I don't need anyone who judges people on looks, and believe me, most of them do. Women included. It's interesting to look at men between the ages of 45 and 65, which is my range. There are some at 45 who look 65 and visa versa. I rule out men because they smoke, or are too short. The smoking I can't live with, but I really shouldn't rule them out for height. Although men rule out women for size or other silly reasons. There was one man who emphasized in his profile how great shape he was in and how he exercised all the time and he intimated his partner needed to be that way too. For amusement, I wrote him, but sure enough, in his reply, he remarked how important physical appearance was. I toyed with the idea of telling him I was hideously deformed and weighed some 800 pounds, but I just wrote back that I wasn't what he was looking for.
The world of Internet dating is full of liars, even though most claim to be honest. I guess it's no different than the real world, which is also full of liars, especially when it comes to trying to impress a member of the opposite sex. The women are just as bad as the men; I know because I've looked at my so-called competition. They pose as if they were calendar girls or put up their glamour shots. I love when men have the pictures taken standing in front of their cars or trucks, as if that would make them more desirable. I have yet to see anyone on a free site standing in front of a Mercedes, much less a Ferrari.
The thing that bothers me more than liars or men looking only for Barbie are the ones who can't spell, or make no effort to read their profiles before they are posted on the site. I'm sure there are many people who aren't educated and have only gone to high school, but don't they have any pride? I've seen a few that actually say if you can't spell, don't bother me. And I've seen one that the guy was playing and misspelled every word. I am not looking for much in a man, but intelligence and a good sense of humor are two things I insist on finding in him, assuming I ever find him.
Besides the major sites, there are many various sites geared to specific groups, based on certain interests like religion or age. I've never really tried any of those. I did look into one for older people, like me, but didn't pursue it. These are mostly pay sites, so they're out of the question for me. I did play for a bit on an adult site, but after two weeks, left that in a hurry. I don't want just a sexual relationship. I want more and will not settle for less.
Sometimes my friend Trish and I compare the men we've been writing to, or share them with each other. She's now become a friend of one of my Cornville friends. With the singlesnet site, every time you look at someone's profile, they know it. There are four different ways you can get a message from them. Either you get a flirt, an email, a message saying you have a match or a notice that someone has looked at your profile. I've looked at men all over the country because I'm not tied to staying in Arizona. That's not the case with the plenty of fish one, so we can look at those guys without being exposed. I've gotten flirts from a lot of guys back where she lives. I just ignore them.
This experiment is about to be over. All the men I'm interested in seem not to be interested in me for whatever reason. Most of the ones who write to me aren't what I'm looking for or go away after a short time. I'd be lying to say it doesn't hurt me, because it does. I was just dumped, so to speak, by a local man who said in his profile no games. He was honest and ready for a relationship. I met him, we made plans and then suddenly he had to go to Phoenix on business. And oddly enough, he told me when he was down there he was robbed and his cell phone got stolen. He'd borrowed a friend's phone to call me and tell me that. That was over a week ago and I know he's lying to me and that he's back up here. When he was with me, he'd gotten a phone call and made an appointment here in town for this past Monday and since it was important, I am certain he didn't miss it. The clincher was I noticed he'd read my last email to him and deleted it without responding. What a shame he wasn't man enough to tell me I wasn't the one for him. I wish him and all the others out there the best of luck. Okay, so I don't.
As for me, I'm done. I am not going to find a soul mate or anyone from a dating site. I'm not going to find one anywhere, and I'm finally okay with that. At least I will be if I keep telling myself that.
©24 January 2007I actually did what I said I was going to do today. It's been easier lately to procrastinate instead of doing even the simplest of chores. The depression seems to be winning lately, despite all my efforts to beat it back and this time of year isn't helping things Even though the day isn't over, I've accomplished a lot. Maybe not a lot by most people's standards, but by mine, I did good for a change.
First of all, I'm writing. It's not a goal of mine to write something every single day, but it probably should be. I have tried keeping a journal, but don't stick with that. I always thought of my emails to my dearest friends Shirley as a journal, but sadly, neither she nor I have kept them. I'm more honest with her than anyone else, because I know she won't judge me or think I'm stupid or crazy or lazy. It's true I don't tell her the entire story, but I don't think I'd write that in a journal either. She held my hand countless times when I would cry over things worthy of my tears and those we both knew weren't. I'm not sure how this piece is going to turn out, or even if it's something I'll finish, but at least I started it.
Saturday is the day I call all my friends, because we can have nice long talks and I don't have to worry about stupid cell phone minutes and going over. So far, I've only called Barb, and that was to give her the latest medical update. Since she was a nurse, I know she knows most of the doctors in town and can advise me, if need be. On Thursday, I got a call from my doctor with the referral to a cardiologist. Within the next few hours, I also got calls from that doctor's office as well as my gynecologist. Why don't these people just leave me alone?! I see the cardiologist late March and the gynecologist's office has rescheduled my surgery for April 29. Yeah, like I'm actually going to go through it this time. Barb and I talked about a lot of other things, and I really like her. She's a good friend to have.
Next I called Geri, who wasn't home, but I'm sure we'll talk sometime over the weekend. I have to call Cyndi because today is her birthday. Besides wishing her a happy day, I have to rub it in that she's three months older than me. Poor thing is up in Aspen, visiting her mother in law. Cyndi is on husband number six, which I don't think is fair, since I've only had one. She tells me I wouldn't have wanted any of hers, including this one, and I think she's right about that. I can't call Shirley for a few more hours, because she's out for the day. I get so confused with the time differences, and more so because they don't stay constant. Florida is not always two hours ahead of us like now. At the end of March, it will be three hours different.
Another thing I did today was mail off a check to Evelyn. I promised her I would, and so I made sure I stopped by a mail box. I am sending her the money to pay for her plane ticket out here. Sure, it's insane for her to fly out here mostly to see My Chemical Romance, but it was my prodding and pushing that precipitated it. I don't have to be on the MCR mailing list and see that they had a special t-shirt on sale at Hot Topic in the Arrowhead Mall that comes with a ticket to the show. I didn't have to be the one who went down to Phoenix and called her from Hot Topic to see if she wanted it. I of course, didn't have to buy it for her, but as the sales girl said, I could always sell the ticket to someone else. So I bought it and within ten minutes, Evelyn figured out she could come out here for that weekend. Being that I haven't seen her or hugged her in over three years, I am ecstatic about having her here, even for that brief amount of time and knowing the concert is the real incentive for the trip. That, and mom's paying for it all.
The one big thing I wanted to do today was go to Costco. I hadn't been in a while and there are some things I buy there that I can't get anywhere else. But going there sometimes is a pain, so I have been known to put it off for days, even weeks, till I can handle the crowds. I talked Lowell into going with me, even though he hates going there. I reminded him of the two important words, free samples. He grudgingly went with me, and he made it clear he was there against his will. That didn't stop us from trying most of the free samples and buying all his favorite things. Does anyone really need brownie bites? Or a three pound Italian salami? Maybe that could be considered a necessity. We have agreed on no more buffalo chicken wings or the bag of three dozen rolls. The wings just don't taste good anymore and the rolls go moldy before he can eat them all. I guess I could always freeze half the rolls, but I never do, and it drives me crazy to throw them away, but I always have to. I got a bag of salad and carrots, and other sensible and useful items. I didn't buy too much for the freezer, because it's always a challenge to fit everything in it.
I finally did talk to both Geri and Shirley. I don't know what I'd do without their support and shoulders to cry on. I called Cyndi but talked to Bill instead and asked him to let her know I called to wish her a happy birthday. She was taking a hike or something. I knew he wouldn't remember, but I would call her again the next day.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. As I usually do, I got into my jammies and relaxed. Isn't that what Saturday's and weekends are for? I had just about everything I needed and knew I wouldn't be leaving the house again. I made sure I remembered to watch Without a Trace at 4 pm. I had soup for dinner and played at the computer for a while. I waited for Evelyn to call me when she was done with work, and by that time, I was in bed. We talked for about twenty minutes and then she was home and I was ready to fall asleep.
I didn't finish this on Saturday, or even Sunday, though I did write a few sentences yesterday. I am finally finishing this mid Monday afternoon, while I watch snow fall and melt on the ground outside my window. Yesterday wasn't much. I decided to try to go through my magazines so I can take them to the clinic tomorrow when I have an appointment, and I went through piles of papers. I am giving my book one last chance before I give up on it completely. I spoke to Sue, Shirley and finally Cyndi, as well as Evelyn.
I woke up Lowell so he could help me prepare for lunch this shrimp tai pad packaged meal I'd gotten at Costco a day earlier. I thought it was already put together and all I'd have to do was microwave it, but I was wrong. The sink was full of dishes so we had to do those first. I wash and he dries. We had to boil the noodles, cook the shrimp and thaw the vegetable and sauce packets. He did most of it, as I knew he would. He used to want to be a chef. It was better than I thought it would be, and there is enough to have it for dinner tonight.
After lunch he left and I knew I wouldn't see him again till morning. Cyndi called and I told her I had cut out an article about what one must do when one is in Aspen, and she said she and Bill had been to most of the places I mentioned. That's where they were, staying with his mother. I had time to watch the movie Wag the Dog which was cute. I tried to stay away from the computer, but that's not why I didn't finish this. I just lost my motivation to write. I thought about what I would do today and before I knew it, it was time for bed and another weekend had passed me by. Today is technically part of the weekend, being a holiday, and also the fiftieth anniversary of my father's death, but I am trying to make it through today without much thought. It's not working. Just like my life, time keeps on moving while I stand still.
©19 February 2007There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.