If I was a bettin' woman...

This tidbit picks up where the New Years Eve Jeb Saga ends. I was home for my annual Criggerpalooza Extravaganza and this particular section falls squarely in the middle.When this story starts we had returned home from a day of bourbon tasting around central Kentucky.         

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jeb arrived the party had dwindled to Bill, Shelly, and myself. 
But I didn't mind in the least. When he walked in carrying a 5th of bourbon and case of beer, Shelly and I were curled up on the coach gossiping about who knows what. 
Most likely him, would be my best guess. 

And as much as I just wanted to jump up and hug him, I held back.
Looking back, I'm not sure why.
Playing hard to get with someone who lives on the other side of the country seems unwise, as they are, in the truest since of the phrase, hard to get. But, then again we hadn't seen each other for four months and who knows what was going through his mind.

"Ladies!" He said with that easy smile of his. "Crigger, brought you some Bourbon, since I know you won't drink beer."
"Thanks! You sure do know your company."
"Where's Bill? In the kitchen?"
"BILL! BILL! WHERE ARE YOU? JEB IS HERE!" Shouted Shelley.
"I'm in the kitchen," came his calm reply.
"Alright. I'm gonna go fix myself a drink. Ladies?"
"Bourbon and diet." We said in unison.

"Crigger! Shelly! Are you guys going to sit in there all night or are we going to play some Drinking Jenga?" called Bill 20 minutes later.
"Get it set up. We'll be there in a minute." I called.
"We need refills!" demanded Shelly. A few minutes later Shelly and I strolled into the dining room where the boys had set up Jenga, or Dringa, as the version we were going to play is more commonly known. 
As I sat down beside Jeb, he said, “So how’s the Cali life treating you Crigger?”
“I can’t complain. I miss Kentucky and all my friends. But living by the beach doesn’t suck.” I said pulling a Dringa block.“Give three. Boring.” I said reading the block. “But, drink up, bitches.” I laughed.
“Ahhh… So that’s how it is gonna be.” said Shelly lifting her drink to her mouth. “Fine.”
“At least I didn’t give you all three!” I said indignantly.
“Fair.” Said Jeb.
“State fair.” Followed up Bill.
“What’s the best thing about California?” Asked Shelly.“The beach. Definitely, the beach.” I said emphatically.
“Not the guys in Trader Joe’s telling you that you have nice legs?” asked Jeb smiling slyly.
“Oh my gawd! You read my blog.” I said turning 12 shades of red. 
“Not religiously. But I’ve read a few of them. Drink one. Got off easy.” He said reading the block he had just drawn and taking a swig of beer.
“Oh no…” I said dropping my head to rest on my folded arms.
“No. It’s extremely entertaining. You are a good writer. And it’s funny, and probably flattering if you end up in it.”
“Your tune might change if you’re in it.”
“You can write about me. I don’t mind.”
“Well… I probably won’t, but if I do, I’ll try not to embarrass you. I still can’t believe you read it.”
“Read a passage from the romance novel.” Bill said referencing the romance novel that he had tailored for Shelly for an anniversary present. “Hand me the book, Crigger. Its on the shelf beside you.”
“Here you go.” I said passing the book to Bill. “I still can’t believe you read the blog.” I said turning in my seat to face Jeb.
“Honestly, Scott is the one who reads it religiously, and he just tells me when there is something I might want to know. But the guy at Trader Joes’s isn’t wrong about your legs. They are great.”
“Well... thanks.” I said blushing and sipping my bourbon. “I’ve been training for a half-marathon, so clearly that hasn’t hurt.”
“No, it has not.” Jeb said patting my knee under the table.
“Keep those hands where I can see them!” cautioned Shelly.
“Oh lord…” I muttered.
“And Jeb. Kiss Crigger.” 
She demanded.“What?!” I screeched. “You can’t made people do things like that!” 
“Yes, I can. I’m the boss.” She said turning her block to face me. 
It clearly said “Who’s the boss. You are!” 
“Dang it.” I said, not really meaning it, as I turned my cheek to Jeb. 

                                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You sure clean up nice." I said walking into the living room, threading my earrings through my ears.
"Well, I try." said Jeb smoothing his tie. 
"Where are the Fraleys?"
"I've heard them banging around upstairs, and Bill yelled to make sure I was awake at one point. But I haven't actually seen either of them yet."
"You look really pretty. Your hair looks nice put up like that."
"Thanks! Wait until you see my hat. Its vintage." I said as I turned to head back into the guest bedroom to get my hat. I reappeared with my teal bird cage hat perched on my head.
"Only you." He said as I spun around to model my outfit.
"Its Criggerpalooza. Go big or don't go!" I said sitting down beside him on the couch.
"Very true." Jeb said nodding his head and smiling his easy smile.
"Well, you two look way more alert than I expected. Well, at least you do, Jeb. Crigger has her super powers of not getting hungover and needing only about 5 hours of sleep to function." Bill said as he came into the living room. "You were both wasted when I went to bed."
"What's for breakfast?" I asked.
"Eggs? Oatmeal? Cereal?" Asked Bill.
"Shot of bourbon?" I asked half joking.
"It's 9:30!" they said in unison.
"And a piece of toast. Geeze. And don't either of you act shocked. I've seen you both drinking way earlier than this. Bill, you're just jealous that you have to drive us to Keeneland and therefore you can't start drinking."
"Nah, I can have a shot. It will be at least 45 minutes before Shelly is ready."

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you want to know how this story ends, I guess you'll have to buy the book :)

Are you Irish?

Standing at the bar, waiting for my bourbon, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Can I ask you a favor?"
"Umm... maybe. I don't know you, do I?" I responded skeptically.
"No, no. My name is Jeff. The favor is, I need you to be really mean to my friend."

I must have made a crazy I'm-not-mean-to-people-who-don't-deserve-it-face because he quickly followed it up with, "He lost a bet and he has to use a pick-up line I give him on a girl I pick out."
"Yeah... I'm not going to be mean to your friend."
"Please! It will be funny." He begged.
"No. I'm not going to be mean to him, even if he lost a bet."
"Come on! It will be funny!"
"Being mean to strangers isn't really how I get my kicks." I said trying to step away from the bar, but finding myself cornered between occupied chairs and the very insistent man-boy who was begging me to be mean to his friend.
"Please! Please!"
"No. I've got to get back to my friends anyway." I said pushing past him and making my way back to my friends.

A few minutes later a guy dressed in a Hawaiian shirt approached me.
Oh dear lawd... this must be the guy who lost the bet.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said
Yep. Gotta be him. I might as well play along.
"Sure."
"Are you Irish."
"No. Actually, I'm Scottish."
"That's weird because my penis is Dublin."
Oh. My. Gosh. Does this ever really work for anyone?
"That's disgusting. And the only reason I haven't just smacked your face and walked away is because I know your friend sent you over here."
"Yeah. He did."
"And in the future, if your friend gives you a terrible line and tells you to use it. Don't. Just tell the girl she should laugh and then you'll be on your way."
"Yeah... It was pretty bad. I'm Joshua, by the way."
"I'm Crigger."
"It's nice to meet you. Do you play kickball too?" He asked.
"I do, but not in this league." I said scanning the crowd looking for someone to rescue me.
"Oh really? Which league do you plan in?"
"Irvine." Come on Allison, Nathan, Lyla, Darrin, Heather... Someone. ANYONE!
"Oh! What? I play in Irvine! I've never seen you. I would remember." he said a little too excitedly.
"I'm not playing this season. I needed a break. John!" I said reaching out and putting my arm around his waist as he walked by. Maybe Joshua will think we are seeing each other. Everyone else does apparently! "Have you two met?"
"No."
"John, this is Joshua. Joshua, this is my friend John. He plays kickball too." I said gesturing between the two.
"Nice to meet you."
"How do you get yourself into these situations?" Whispered John.
"I'm too nice." I said out of the side of my mouth just as John got pulled away.
Don't leave me!!!

I ended up chatting with Joshua for a few more minutes and just as I was about to make my exit his friends informed him it was time to go, but he had to get my number before they would let him leave.
"Can I get your number and maybe we can talk more about Japan?"
Do I fake number this guy? I'll see him again most likely... He is in WAKA. And if I fake number him and he uses it, he'll know I fake numbered him. But if I don't fake number him and he calls, I'll have to talk to him again. Neither of these are great options. Eh, he's pretty hammered, he isn't going to remember talking to me. And if he does well, he probably wont call. 
"Sure." I heard myself saying.

"Thanks a lot guys." I said making my way outside to where my friends where clustered getting some air. "At least it wasn't as bad as when Allison forgot to call me when I was on a terrible date!"
"Ahhh Crigger. He seemed nice," chimed Heather.
"Well, let me test this pick up line on you and see if you still think he seems nice. Are you Irish?"

Scuba Don't

I've known Andy for awhile, so when he asked me to go scuba diving with him I wasn't worried that he was going to murder me and then feed me to a shark. After all, I've been to his office. I've met his friends. He's met my roommate and, incidentally, my boss one afternoon when he dropped a couch in my office. To hear my co-workers tell it he basically threw the couch into my office. And I believe that, since it was sitting on its side when I came back from a meeting.

Anyway...
On the off chance he did try to kill me and use me for shark bait, I was pretty sure I could out swim him.
A theory which was confirmed after spending a day scuba diving with him.

Arriving in Shaw's Cove just after noon I called Andy, "I'm here! I'm parked at Cliff and Brea."
"Hey, Criggs! Great! I'll be right up. I'll help you carry your stuff."
"Awesome! I'm just putting on my wetsuit."

Five minutes later Andy strolls up. "Why are you putting on your wetsuit now?"
"I don't want to carry it, AND everything else." I say straining to pull the knees pads up to where my knees actually are. "I hate wetsuits!" I grumble still struggling.
"Where is your regulator?" he asked picking up my BCD
"GAAAAH!" I say exasperatedly pulling wetsuit up over my thighs. "It should be in my bag. My fingers have gone numb. And the crotch is at my knees!"
"Jump up and down."
I dutifully jump a few times. "It's not working." I say like petulant child.
Andy just shakes his head and picks up my BCD, slinging on to his back. "Let me help you."
"I don't think you can."
"Just come here." he said waving me over. "Here we go!" he said grabbing hold of my wetsuit, lifting me off the ground in the process, and shaking me like you shake a feather duvet to redistribute the feathers.
"Put me down. This is ridiculous. It's good enough anyway." I said wiggling out of his grasp.

Andy picked up my tank and we head for the stairs leading down to the beach.
Ugghhh... coming up is going to be less than amazing. I think as I gaze down at the 50 steps that end in the sand.
"Geeze this is heavy." Andy says tapping the tank.
"Hey, at least you don't have to carry my wetsuit too." I said smiling.

Reaching the sand we make our way over to Rob, Andy's friend who has joined us for moral support (i.e. helping us hook and zip things we can't reach and alerting the authorities if we don't come back).
"Hey Rob! How's it going?"  I said with a wave. "Is that your doggie?"
"Hey! Pretty good. Yeah, this is Ellie." He said motioning to a daschund-esque dog now half hiding behind him. "She is kind of timid."
"Seems like it. I should have lined my wetsuit with bacon. Then she would love me."
"Alright Crigs. Let's get this show on the road." said Andy dropping my tank with a soft plop on the sand and picking up his wetsuit.
"I guess that means I need to get this thing the rest of the way on." I said stretching my arms down and  awkwardly trying to push my hands down the sleeves. "As soon as you get the least little bit sweaty these things are hard to get on!"
"Criggs... I think its on wrong side out."
"No it isn't." I said looking down.
Damn...
"You HAVE GOT to be kidding me!" I said stomping my foot.

Sure enough.
Wrong.
Side.
Out.

"How did I manage this?" I wonder half to myself and half out loud. "At this rate it will be tomorrow before we even get in the water!"
"You are ridiculous."
"Yes. Ridiculously amazing." I said attempting to peel the wetsuit from my clammy body.
"Oh. Yes." was Andy's sarcasm laced reply.
"I need to sit down. I'm getting winded." I said flopping down on the sand and kicking my feet up in the air. "Robert, pull this off me, will you? Andy, are you in your underwear?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong with swim trunks?"
"They don't fit inside a wetsuit."
"Oh..."

Fifteen minutes later I had somehow managed to get my wetsuit on a second time.
This time right side out.
Praise. The. Lord.
"Alright. Let's do this!" I said as I crouched to wiggling into my BCD and standing up slowly under the heavy weight.
"I would have helped you with that."
"No worries! I'm way tough. I do yoga." I said walking towards the water, swinging my flippers. "Coming?" I called over my shoulder.
"Right behind you."

I had waded waist deep into the water and turned back towards the shore to look for Andy as I put on my flippers. That's when I saw him rolling around in the surf.
Hmmmm... what a weird way to check your regulator. But to each his own. I thought as I leisurely back stroked a bit further out.

After five minutes and still no Andy I righted myself from my reclining position and scanned the surf. There was Andy, still flopping around like a beached whale.
Why is he rolling around over there. Maybe I should check on him? Nahh... After all the only people who drown in an inch of water are babies, right? I thought as I leaned back and continued to float around past the wave break.

Five more minutes pass, and Andy was still rolling around in the surf.
"Andy! What are you doing?"
"My tank came unhooked!" He yelled as he awkwardly tried to avoid getting hit in the face by an on-coming wave. "I can't get up."
"Unhook your BCD!" I yelled as I started to swim towards him. "Is this your flipper?" I asked snatching a fin from a wave and holding it in the air.
He nodded yes.
I think.
It was really hard to tell with the waves hitting him in the face.

Wading back through the surf, I reached Andy. Looking down, I said, "Why don't you take off your vest?"
"I was afraid it would wash away." he said unclipping his BCD and struggling free.
"I doubt that. It is pretty heavy. Here's your flipper." I said flinging it up the beach, and picking up the other side of Andy's vest so we could drag his tank back to shore. "You've lost almost all your air." I said turning the regulator so he could see it.
"Awesome." he grumbled stomping up the shore, dragging his tank like Linus dragging his blanket.

By now, Andy's Dad had arrived, and offered to run up to the dive shop at the top of the hill and rent him another tank, since his struggle in the murky 18 inch depths had really taken it out of him.
"Rent me some more goggles too." Andy said from where he was sprawled out on the sand, attempting to catch his breath after being battered by the surf.

When Andy's dad returned with his new tank and googles, we got suited up and back out into the water fairly quickly.
"Alright Criggs. Let's do this for real this time." he said putting in his regulator.
"Well, I consider it a success that you made it out past the wave break this time."
With that I put in my regulator and slowly started to sink.
After what felt like at least 5 minutes I looked up to see how far down I was.
Not even two feet? WTH? Why aren't I sinking? Hmmm... looks like Andy is having trouble sinking too... his eyes are still above the water. 

"What's the deal?" I asked breaking surface.
"I can't sink."
"Me neither. Maybe I didn't bring enough weights?"
"I'm just going to swim down."
"Ok. See you down there." I said as Andy pitched himself forward in an effort to swim down a few feet, making his weights fall out of the pockets of his new vest, which of course had a different weight belt.
I clapped my hands to try to get his attention, but nothing worked.
Well, I'll just get them when I get down there. If I ever get down there... Seriously how have I only sunk three feet. This is ridiculous. Forget  getting those weights, the current will have pushed me away from them before I ever get down there. 
Two more feet. 
Hmmmm... my ear hurts. My ears never hurt. Try holding your nose and blowing out. 
Nope.
Maybe moving my head back and forth and pulling on my ears will help. That's what Mom does on planes. 
Also, unsuccessful. 
Maybe it doesn't work in water?
Now I know why babies cry so much on planes. This really hurts.
This blows. 
And it is super cloudy. I can't see anything.
OOOO bright pink starfish. 
Okay, that made this unfortunate situation somewhat better. 
Hmmm... wonder where Andy is. I'm doing all scuba things wrong right now. I lost my buddy, I can't sink, my ears are messed up. I'll probably get nitrogen poisoning too. But I suspect I'm not deep enough for that to become too much of a concern at this point.
Seriously, where is Andy?
Oh, there are his feet. Is he back up on the surface?

"Hey! What are you doing up here?"
"Hey! There you are. I can't sink, I lost all my weight. I'm just going to chill out up here and wait on you."
"I saw you drop your weights and I tried to get you or them, but I couldn't. Sorry."
"I don't care. Its a rental. Sorry the diving is so bad."
"I saw a hug pink starfish, so all isn't lost. I'm going to go back down for a bit. I'll be back soon."

Seriously. Why can't I sink? The only thing I see are Andy's feet. I'm over this. 

"Let's go. I'm over it."
"That was quick." said Andy.

As we dragged ourselves back to shore, Rob walked out to meet us.
"How was it?"
"Not great. Andy lost all his weights, but I saw a giant pink starfish!"
"Well, there is that..."
"Rob, pull this wet suit off me." I said flopping down on a towel and stick my feet up in the air.
"Hang on. I'm unzipping Andy."
"Ugh. Okay." I said wiggling out of my suit down to my knees. "Andy, why are you standing around on
a public beach in your underwear?"
"I don't want to put on jeans. And that is all I brought."

Then from out of no where came the loudest laugh.
"BAAAAHAHAHAHHAAAA. That sucks dude." said some random dude walking down the beach, while he pointed at Andy.
"I know, right? F&^% me."
"ANDY! There is a child over there."
"I don't care. Well, I guess I shouldn't have said it so loud."
"Andy do you want my shorts? I'll wear your jeans." offered Rob.
"Yes."
"So now you are both going to be standing here in your underwear? Awesome. You do know other people can see you, right?"
"Yes. Mr. Chuckles is still over there laughing."



*Full disclosure-- This wasn't a date, but it was too funny not to share. Thanks Andy and Rob for being sports about making an appearance in the blog.

Yoga Girl

Yesterday I left work a bit later than I meant to, which meant I arrived at yoga right at 4:30.
I hate getting to yoga right on time. Yoga is the one place I am never late.
In fact I am usually early.
By a good 15 minutes.
People who have gone anywhere with me and are reading this blog probably now need to be revived, because my typical idea of early is 15 minutes late.

BUT...
Yoga mat real estate is like apartment real estate. You know you're going to have be near other people. It is unavoidable. BUT if you can swing it so they are only on one side, you're that much happier.
Getting there 15 minutes early assures me "my spot"; In the back, by the wall, preferably in the corner.
Don't worry Johnny, this Baby is happy in the corner. (And is also happy when it rains.)
In my spot I can do head stands and hand stands until my heart is content without worrying that I'll take someone out.
The extra 15 minutes allows me to adjust to the room temp, quiet my chatter-box brain, and prepare myself for 90 minutes of me time.
It is my favorite time of day.
I can walk into yoga being a ball of stress. Head aching. Shoulders hunched up like roided-out wrestler. To-do lists running through my brain like the dials on a slot machine.
But I step on that mat and I magically start...to...slow...d...o...w...n.
I walk out of yoga taller, more relaxed. Calm even. In that 90 minutes I become better version of myself.
I'm better able to breath through the difficult moments that will undoubtedly come later.

Usually.

Luckily, my Tuesday class has been starting a little late, so I was able to snag the last remaining spot on the back wall before class actually started. This meant crowding two other people, despite there being an open space in the middle of the room, but I HATE being in the center of the room.
The center of attention? I'm fine with that.
The center of the yoga room? No, thanks.
So scoot over fellow yogis, it's about to get cozy.

I rolled out my mat, typed a quick note to my room-mate, and settled onto my mat.
Ahhhhhhh. I thought dropping my chin to my chest, letting my hair fall into my face, widening across my collarbones, and dropping my shoulder blades.
This is going to be just what I need after my crazy work day. This is gonna feel great! I thought rolling my head to the left and right, and slowly blinking my eyes open. Whoa, the room has filled up in these last few moments, I said to myself surveying the space that had been empty only minutes before.

Oh. Em. Geee. I thought as the panic closed in like the Hulk's hand around my throat as I watched my ex-boyfriend drop a blanket beside his yoga mat.
What the heck is he doing here? Thank goodness I haven't put my hair up yet! I thought as I dropped my head, letting my hair fall forward and pretending to be entranced by my chipping fingernail polish.
Why is he coming to yoga here? He never went to yoga when we dated, despite the fact that he was a yoga teacher at one time! Hmmm... looks like he's put on some weight since I saw him last. I said to myself as peaked around my hair curtain. One point for Crigger!

Ugh!  Is there anyway I can get out of here without him seeing me? I could probably get up and act like I'm going to the bathroom and send someone in to get my mat and keys... And while one of the desk workers is collecting my belongings I can tell the others I have a restraining order against him so he can't come to yoga here. That is probably not the best course of action. I'll surely earn some bad karma that way. 

"Deep breath in. Long slow exhale out." said the teacher in what I can only assume was meant to be a soothing voice, but was grating on my nerves like a yippie barking dog.

UGH... seriously. I can hear him breathing from 5 feet away. I can hear him now telling me, "Take a deep breath and breath deeply. You need to calm down. You  need to relax." He was always telling me that garbage when I would get excited about something. It used to make soooooo annoyed. 
WHY IS HERE? 

And yes I do realize I just called breathing garbage. In a yoga class. But you know what I mean!

"Deep breath in. Long slow exhale out."

Leaving in general is a sure way to attract attention. He's like T-Rex. He'll see movement. Maybe I can blend in. And this is MY studio! I've been coming here since I moved over here and he has never once shown up in any of my regular classes! He's not running me out of here. He should leave. 

"Alright everyone. Let's come into downward dog."
Why do I still have on grandmother's ring. If he hasn't already seen me. He'll see the ring and know it's me! Its HUGE. And incredibly unique. And if we turn around and he sees the inside of my left foot, he'll see my tattoo. There is no escaping now.

"Come into plank pose."

Hmmmm, someone hasn't been doing much yoga lately. This is plank pose. Not dolphin. Get your butt out of the air. 

"Lower down. Up dog. Down dog." The instructor cued.
If there was a yoga contest in break ups, I would be winning. I would also be winning the who looks better contest and I am sweaty mess. BAM!

And the flow portion of class continued with me being sure to turn my head before he turned to look in my direction and with me never EVER looking in his direction.

"Alright. Let's see if everyone can find space on the wall and we'll work on hand stands."

Oh no! OH NO!  What if he ends up beside me. Then I'll have to talk to him. Please, please, please dear sweet baby Jesus, make me invisible. Or at leas let him go to the other side of the room. Preferably the side of the room where the black hole is, so he can fall in and disappear fooooorevvvvvver.

"Can I fit here?"
"Of course!" I said with a happy sigh scooting my mat over and making room for a pretty blonde lady.
Jay ended up in the corner near the door from what my peripheral vision told me.

A few minutes into our handstand practice the instructor approached me.
"You have a great handstand. I think you could do it away from the wall if you locked out your left arm."
Why, oh, why, did she have to ask about my crooked left arm! This is like the time when I took one of Jay's classes and he came over and turned my arm making me yell, "It doesn't bend that way!" At this point we'd been dating for at least 4 months and he knew about my wonky broken elbow. 
"That is actually as locked out as it gets." I said coming out of the handstand and positioning myself with my back to Jay, so I could talk to the teacher. "I had a riding accident where I shattered my elbow. And so now its kind wonky."
Why did I have to give her so much detail! If he didn't know I was here before, he sure does now! My voice and accent are so distinctive! Especially in a small space! Stupid! Stupid! Crigger!

By the time we made it through the back-bend segment of class I thought I had a solid escape plan mapped out. I figured I'd wait until everyone was lying down for shavasina and then I would split. But when the time came to cut and run, I couldn't do it. Largely because I have an extreme dislike for people who skip out of shavasina, and I've hear this particular teacher call people out for leaving.  No need to attract additional attention.

So after shavasina I threw on my sweater, turned my back to Jay, rolled up my mat, and was literally the first person out the door. I contemplated not even putting on my shoes, and instead just grabbing them and running out the door.
But I didn't.
I managed to walk calmly out the door before I broke into a sprint to my car, saving a silent "Thank you" to the car gods that I wasn't still driving GP, as that would certainly have given me away.

In my car I hunkered down and panickly dialed Preston's cell phone number.
"You'll never believe what just happened." I exclaimed breathlessly!

Sneaky Love. Lasting Love.

I have published this post before, but I'm sharing it again today in memory of my amazing Papaw. 
He was a wonderful grandfather, father, husband, brother, friend, and uncle. 
Who ever marries me has big shoes to grow into. 
I love you, Papaw. You are the best! 
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Mamaw and Papaw have been married for eons.
Okay, well not eons.
Sixty-three years this November, to be exact.
That's more than double the whole time that I have been on this planet. 
I have to get married tomorrow and live to be 91 in order to be married to someone that long.
Good thing I am planning to live to be 113...

Aside from the lengthy time my grandparents have been joined in holy matrimony, what is truly remarkable is how in love they still are with one another. I would go so far as to call them obsessed with one another. My Mamaw will "run" into the grocery store to pick up something and my Papaw will say he is going to wait in the car. Before too long, my Papaw has wondered into Food City to see if my Mamaw needs any help.

A few years ago my Dad and Papaw were looking at old family pictures. My Dad picked up a picture of my Mamaw taken when she was slightly younger than she is today. It was taken right about the time she and my grandfather got married. 

My dad said, "Boy, Betty sure was awful pretty back then."
My Papaw looked my Dad square in the eye and said, "She is still awful pretty."

It isn't uncommon to walk into my grandparent's house and see them holding hands across the end table that sits between their recliners. If I had a quarter for every time I saw them steal a kiss as my Papaw empties the dishwasher and my Mamaw wipes down the kitchen counters I could make a hefty purchase. As a little girl I spent a lot of time at their house, nearly as much as at my own. I loved (and still do) being with them; they were, and still are, always having fun together. The fun is probably a little less exciting at 84 and 81, but it's still fun. 

My Mamaw is always offering advice about love. 
It is usually unsolicited-- but spot on. After being married for 63 years you figure it isn't just conjecture at this point. She actually knows what she is talking about. One of her recent gems of truth imparted during our last phone conversation was, "Love will just sneak up on you when you least expect it. That's what happened to me."

When my Mamaw met my Papaw, they were just Betty and James Orvil. Betty was actually on a date with another man. Betty and James kind of knew each other, both having grown up in a small farming community, but they weren't what one might call friendly. However, one afternoon James was driving past the school house and saw Betty getting on a pep bus to go watch a game and he was smitten. He followed the school bus to the game. Walked right up the bleachers to my Mamaw, who was sitting beside her date, and said, "Why don't you move his coat so I can sit beside you."

When my Papaw tells this story he just laughs. My Mamaw looks a little embarrassed, but haughty at the same time, like she is saying, "Well can you blame him? I'm a catch." 

Obviously, Betty moves the coat and James sits down beside her.

I asked my Papaw once what he would have done if the bus had driven somewhere really far away, and not just a neighboring school.

He said, "Well, I would have kept following it, hoping I didn't run out of gas I guess." 

The rest is history, or so I thought until recently. 

Not to long after James whisked Betty away from her pep bus boyfriend he asked her "to go, as they called it back then, steady."

"Well, I said yes," said Mamaw. "But I didn't really mean it. I just didn't want to hurt his feelings. So I had been pretending to go steady with him, but my heart wasn't really in it, until one day when I was in town and heard that his sister was trying to fix him up with one of her friends. Well, I just decided then and there that would most certainly not do. I realized then that I was in love. It had just sneaked right up on me. That will happen to you too, Babes." 

#popularpeopleproblems

A few weeks ago my Mom met a lady through a mutual friend (Beverly) who has a son who lives in LA. As they chatted about their adult children's exciting California lives they realized their adult children (i.e. Philip and I) had a bit in common.

We both are in "green" careers. He's an architect focusing on green design and I am a sustainability manager.
We both live in So-Cal. He's in LA, while I'm in Newport.
We both like the Wildcats and making new friends.

That is basically all it takes apparently to be MFEO (Made For Each Other).
Sleepless in Seattle fans, that was for you.

When my Mom got home she called and told me about meeting Philip's mother.
"Sure! Give him my phone number." I said. "Worst case scenario I'll make a good industry contact or have an amazing blog post. Best case scenario I'll be barefoot and pregnant in no time."
"Uh. Yeah. Sure. Anyway, I'll tell Bev." said Mom, who has taken to largely ignoring my sarcasm in hopes that I will take up a more lady-like habit.
Like needlepoint. Or soft-spokenness.

I didn't think much more about Philip until my mom texted me a little more information about him.

Philip Durrante (I'm not sure about the spelling)
Eco-Architecture Designs
421 E. Pasa Robles Rd.
Los Angeles CA

An address and no cell number or email? Does she think I'll just swing by?
 I'll Google him and at least find out if he is cute!
But Google turned up zilch!
I didn't even know it was possible to leave no imprint on the interwebs! But there was nothing coming up for a Philip Durrante/Durrent/Durant/etc... that worked for any sort of architectural firm in LA, let alone Eco-Architecture. I guess she must really be off on the spelling.
Oh, well! 

A week later Momma Crigger forwarded an email she had received from Philip's mother. The gist of it was that I seemed amazing (she's not wrong there) and that Philip would be happy to meet me and know someone from Kentucky in the big city. She also mentioned having the two of us meet up over Christmas while we are both home. And that is when it started to feel a little bit like I was living in a country where the parents select the bride for the groom...

Thank goodness Charles and Kathy don't even attempt to voice an opinion on my love life. They have only ever liked one boy I brought "home". And I am pretty sure they are hoping I'll marry him, move back to Kentucky, and bring my 10 kids home for the holidays so that bunk room they have will get some use.

And then I saw Philip's real last name.
Smith.
Not Durrante, or whatever my mom thought it was.

He was Phil Smith! Phil Smith! PhilSmith!
I say this because when I was introduced to him he (and everyone else) said it like it was one word.

Obviously, I already know him.
And as such, if I were interested in him, I probably would have already gone out with him.
He not only comes to the UK game watch parties, but he is good friends with Sean.
The guy from the Kentucky alumni group who I dated VERY casually for awhile, and keeps calling me and wanting to come see me in Orange County and take me on dates.

I'm significantly less interested in that occurring.

But anyway, Phil is awesome, and I really like hanging out with him. But he isn't really my type, and even if he was, he and I could never go out because of Sean.

It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small, small, world.

And tough being so popular and desirable! 

One is one too many...

And one more is never enough.

After I ran into Zach at the concert and we had a nice (and quite sweaty, on my part) kiss in the parking lot, he headed to Kentucky with strict orders to meet my mother and bring me back some Moonshine.  After an early morning meet-and-greet with Kathy, some football tailgating, and what I can only assume was a wild weekend of partying like a college kid given the drunk texts I was receiving inquiring about pizza parlors/late night Lexington food open past 2:00am, he returned to California moonshine in tow.

Perfect.
Or not so much. I was mostly over this guy, until he called me and offered to bring me some moonshine back from Kentucky. Now I was back in full blown Likeville.

The fact that he was carrying my contraband meant I had to see him. At least for a few minutes. After I all he had my moonshine. And if he could see me for a few minutes maybe we could parlay that into a drink, dinner, a trip to the dog park, or something.

Basically anything, because I was desperate for some attention.

We exchanged a few texts, but our usual problem got in the way. 

When I am free, he is tied up. When he is free I can’t shake loose of a prior commitment.

Frustration station. All aboard!

Well, at least I was getting on board. Why is it soooooo hard for me to see this guy?

From the current disappear-reappear pattern Zach was sticking to, I doubted he was all that frustrated. 
And if he was, at least had moonshine to quell his frustration! 

But on Friday morning things started to look up when I got the following text.

“What are you doing tonight?”

As usual, when I get texts of this nature at work I run to Everett shrieking "What do I do? What do I say? Help me not mess this up!!" 

I am, at times, overly concerned about not messing things up in the romance department. 

Taking Everett’s advice to be busy (i.e. just hanging out with some friends), but not so busy that I couldn't change my plans and hang out with him instead (i.e. going to a Rolling Stones concert). 

I replied with, “Just hanging out with Everett and some people. Nothing major. Why what are you doing?”
"Oh. Nevermind. Going to a baseball game."
Nevermind? Just ask me to come to the game with you instead you big dummy! Fine I'll fish for an invite, even though I HATE doing that.
"Ooooo jealous! I feel like I should go to more baseball games. Its so close and cheap!"
"Sorry for telling you last minute."
Well you never really told me... Or invited me. BUT... Let's see if I can make this happen.
"Let me see if it will break Ev's heart if I bail on him. If not, I'll come."

Obviously, it wasn't going to break Ev's heart if I ditched him and our fake plans, but I waited 20 minutes and then texted Zach back.
"Did you already get tickets? Everett's trying to make me watch Snow White and Huntsman and baseball sounds way better."
"I did, but I can get another one. We are going to tailgate before the game."
"Great. See you in the parking lot."

I arrived at the game just as the tailgating extravaganza was ending. I'd been running late coming from work so I took a shot of bourbon and we (Zach, his friend Mitch and a girl who they know from kickball who I really liked and now can't remember her name...) all walked into the game. Grabbing beers and then finding our seats we settled in for Angles versus the White Sox action. 

Zach and I chatted about his trip to Kentucky and he called my Momma "a charm", which is pretty accurate description. And we talked some baseball smack, which is pretty interesting since I know next to nothing about baseball and even less about the Angels, except that Mike Trout is a big deal and is the reason that people keep wearing foam fish hats to games. 

The Angels won (*yeah* Root! Root! Root for the home team! and all that jazz), but Zach was bummed that his White Sox lost. I maintained that they should have played better, whatever that means for baseball...

Post baseball we headed back to Newport to go to the Goathill Tavern. It is a strange place with peanuts on the floor, a 100 beers on tap, and an impressive selection of Brittney Spears, Lady Gaga, and Beyonce that people dance to under very bright lighting. It's like a Logan's Roadhouse with club music and a massively better beer selection.

Grabbing a pitcher of beer for everyone else and a bourbon and diet coke for me we chatted, laughed, danced and generally had too much fun. At one point I did Willow Smith's "Whip My Hair" and as I danced on peanuts shells. At least I think they were peanut shells. I might also have sang "Poker Face" complete with my own choreographed dance.

And by "might", I mean I totally did.

Who doesn't think that sounds fun? 

The next day I talked to Zach and he mentioned if I was interested in watching some football he would be at Rudy's in Newport Beach for the Bear's game at 10:00. I was non-committal, but told him I would probably come down and watch my Steelers play at 1:00.

On Sunday, Allison, who I had dragged along with me, and I arrived at Rudy's to find Zach and his friends a very subdued cheering section. The Bears were behind. 

"My phone died. Did you text me?" Zach asked.
"Yeah. Just to tell you I was on my way. Nothing major."
"Oh, sorry."
"No biggie."

Alexis and I ordered beers and settled in to watch the last of the Bears (who managed to pull out a W just in the nick of time) and wait for my Steelers to come on.

Zach and I chatted, but somehow I ended up talking to his friend Mitch, and the random girl sitting beside me more than him. 

Not a good sign.

Then the worst thing happened. 
Well, maybe not the worst. But it certainly wasn't good.
A guy at the table behind us struck up a conversation with me about the Steelers. 

I know I should have kept it short. But I have NO Steeler-fan friends out here. So when I meet another Steelers fan I can't help but gab. We became like two girls in a beauty parlor talking about my love of James Harrison, how Mendenhal needs to get better, and the awesomeness that is Heath Miller.

In my defense, it wasn't like Zach was talking my ear off or anything. Eventually, I extracted myself from the Steelers chatter and turned back to my table. 

But Zach still wasn't really talking to me. 
I didn't get it then. I don't get it now. 
Don't invite me to hang out and then not talk to me! 

He stayed until half time of the Steelers' game and then he and Mitch left to go down to another bar to see a friend of Mitch's.

"Call me or text me if you are going to come down. I'll charge my phone during the car ride down."
"OK. I will. But I kinda doubt we'll come. I'm going to watch the rest of the game and then probably head on out. I have a test to study for."
"Alright. We'll talk soon, then."

And then we didn't.
I haven't heard from him in quite some time and fully don't ever expect to. 
Though I am waiting for when we bump into each other. And it will happen. We run in too many of the same circles. And it will be awkward. 

Let's just hope I look awesome. And that I am with a hot millionaire!




** Just to keep everyone straight, this all occurred before the Bachelor Auction...