I just got back from something I'm actually willing to call a first date. My age, RPCV (was in Ghana while I was in Moldova), doctor, have overlapping pop culture interests (and he expressed excitement about my recommendations), looks kind of like Moby (not necessarily a bad thing), no huge red flags... we exchanged phone numbers and both said we'd like to hang out again. I, being me, am worried that I won't be attracted to him. But (rarely) for me, I think there's potential for me to find him cuter as I get to know him better. No fireworks, but he accidentally brushed my arm and I felt a tingle (not a squick). So that's good. And I hugged him goodbye.

He's one of those rare birds that saw Serenity and never knew there was a tv show involved. Of course, Firefly was one of my first recommendations.

eta also, he likes live music and lives right by Frenchman St. Woot!

Sounds promising, smonster!

Aw, yay! Hope the second date is even better.

Reads a lot, grew up on comic books, volunteers abroad in a medical capacity, and, um, his mouth does this cute quirk-to-one-side when he talks.

Yay, for a good date, smonster! I hope the second date is even better.

First dates you are willing to call a date!!!

Sorry Shadow was 'spensive. Yeah, kibble is better, it sounds like. But it's hard to resist a cat that looks cute and pleading.

Smonster, I love so much that you're "new" in town and are so willing to just Go. Out. And. Meet. People! You're my hero.

Heh. It's a lot easier for me to meet random people from the internet than look for a job. It's also a good way to check out different bars and coffee places around town.

In less happy news, my migraine is back and I think I'm going to have to see the chiropractor asap.

Had something to bitch about, but it turned out to be a plus. I went to check my vacuum cleaner bag, and it turns out that it had come loose from the valve and the vaccuum cavity was full of dirt. However, in cleaning out the cavity and sifting through the dirt, I found an earring that I had lost. Which had great sentimental value, as they were the first earrings that I owned. I've had them for 31 years.

lives right by Frenchman St. Woot!

"Saint Woot?" I thought. "Who the heck is Saint Woot? Oh, Frenchman Street, duh."

re: Shadow. The vets were very impressed by him, said he's much more like a puppy than a cat, in that he sat in one place and looked around with interest as opposed to hiding under a chair as far back as possible.

ION, we--as in in I--have been trying to go through stuff and see what we can get rid of. Hubby has allegedly been in agreement. However, when I pointed to a specific crate of LP records, he said, "Well, we should take them to Greywhale, see if they want to buy them. Then maybe take them to Randy's Records." Randy's is in Salt Lake, 40 miles away, and specializes in hip and obscure. They are not interested in my Barry Manilow--stop laughing, I really liked him and am not ashamed of it--and a bunch of other pop/rock stuff that is easily available in CD. So I disagreed with the idea of schlepping a milk crate of records up to Salt Lake on the off chance of maybe getting a dollar each if we were lucky for two or three of them.

"So we should just give them away instead of getting something for them?"

"If it's going to cost more in gas to take them up there, yes."

"Then we ought to just smash them all up! Why do we have to get rid of them now now now!"

IE, when actually confronted with getting rid of something that more than a couple of bucks was spent on, he gets frustrated and angry and accuses me of being wasteful and just wanting to throw away everything important. Some of it is thinking that getting rid of things disrespects his memories, and some of it is an abiding disbelief that things that money was spent on have lost nearly all of their monetary value. He honestly thinks that everything becomes collectible/valuable after a certain age and so wants to hold on to it until that point.

I'd be sneaking this stuff out, but he made me promise to clear it with him--though I knew full well that he was going to balk when actually presented with the idea of getting rid of something.

Oh, and if it's dinged or broken, he's going to fix it. And my getting rid of it is a sign that I don't believe in him. Yes, he needs a shrink, but he would have to admit that he might, possibly, on very small matters, have a slightly askew view of things. And I don't want to spend five years having that huge fight.

Yes, there are days when I wonder how the hell I've put up with him for 25 years.