Never never never again

Holy crap it's hot today! I went for a road bike ride this morning but dilly dallied and ended up leaving at 9:30 instead of 8. Which meant I returned at 1230 instead of 11. And that hour and a half is when the earth decided to heat up like my ceramic stovetop. By the time I got home I was seeing stars since I hadn't TOTALLY planned to ride in that much heat. I brought water and gatorade but only 1 gel — and that packet of 100 calories definitely wasn't enough to get me through.

Although if I had left when I intended I wouldn't have talked to Chatti who had left a message for me to call her. It sounded fairly urgent so I was surprised when I got the question: "a lady in my ward wants to know if you are interested in going out with her son." Wow. Not what I was expecting. I told Chatti my only requirements for being set up on a date were that he have a job and not be a serial killer. She then told me that she didn't think he was a serial killer but he was between jobs, although he has several commercial properties and therefore has a steady source of income. Then she asked the question: "how tall are you?" Bummer. You know that means he's a shorty. And sure enough he's 5'6" — which really means he's 5'5". I've gone out on enough dates by now to know the code. Josh (an ex-BF who was not the best relationship choice, btw. I still wonder how that all happened...) always said he was 5'5" and he was maybe 5'4". When he was wearing tall shoes.

Anyway, Chatti then mentioned he is only here for a month. This seems to be happening a lot lately. Me getting set up with people who don't live in Utah or are in the process of moving someplace else, I mean. Last weekend I went camping with my family and my brother Jim came to me as soon as I arrived at the campsite and said, "I don't know if you feel comfortable talking about this in front of the entire family," which naturally made everyone stop what they were doing and turn to listen to this conversation, "but how do you feel about younger men?" My sister was closest and she said "Jill doesn't mind talking about THAT! Sheesh" Which is true. And then all my siblings started discussing Spencer (aka the VNB) and how incredible it was that I actually went out with someone who wants to train for the circus. My mother had kindly shared all the date details with my nearest and dearest. (As a side note, when I called to tell my mom about my date with Spencer she literally laughed uncontrollably for 5 minutes after I told her about his circus aspirations and then asked if I was thinking of getting back together with Bret who was now looking like a serious prize. >sigh<>

Wow, I'm digressing. AND wordy! Sheesh! I'm blaming the heat... Anywho, Jim then told me he wanted to set me up with his wife's nephew who was somewhere around 25 years old. After I made a face about his age the count went up ("no wait I think he might be 28. . ."). And he lives in Orem and is moving in a couple months. But I'm not complaining. People are very nice to think of me and you never know what will happen.

Speaking of Spencer the VNB, he's called a few times and I've stopped answering his calls. Judge me if you like, I'm judging myself a bit. It feels slightly immature but I don't think he'd be happy to hear the truth: "um, Spencer? Talking to you is entirely exhausting and I have to pump myself up to answer the phone." No one wants to hear that! So I'm saving us both some heart ache and pain.

Anyway, blah blah blah. On to the title of this post: I finished my deck! And it was a horribly awful and torturous process. The stain I chose says it's guaranteed for 5 years. Let me just tell you, in 5 years when it needs to be redone I will either be moving or hiring someone to do it for me. Blech!!! I'd rather repaint my entire house again! >shudder<>

My mostly sanded deck ready to be stained

And the end result!

Bea approved my choice of color

Now I'm off to get ready for my first BBQ! Little Bea and her sisters (and Meredith and Dave) are coming for dinner and I've got some errands to run beforehand so I'd better get going . . .

Rainy days and Mondays . . .

Last week's DIY project was to stain my badly cracked cement patio. And while the weather forecast last Sunday looked like my 4 days off in a row last week (a little slice of heaven, FYI) would be ideal weather to get this done, by Tuesday rain clouds were appearing on the forecast for Thursday and Friday. And although Wednesday night was supposed to be rain free, big rain drops started falling as I was trying to sweep and vacuum off the cement in preparation.

Thought I'd share a few of the things I learned thoughout this process:

• 1) If you are using a product with acid in the title (like my cement acid stain) do yourself a favor and cover up ALL exposed skin. Who cares if the sun is shining and you'd like to improve your tan while improving your yard?! Wear long pants and closed toed shoes. Acid+skin=burning pain
• 2) Don't forget to actually use the protective paper and painter's tape you bought to cover up your white vinyl fence. Acid will not only eat away your skin but it will eat away your pristinely white fence. Your fence will forever and always look very very dirty along the bottom edge where you inadvertently sprayed your fabulous caramel and walnut stains. Acid+ANYTHING=burning pain — although in this case the pain is just the emotional turmoil you experience each and every time you stare at the evidence of your poor planning.
• 3) Don't let your ex-boyfriend come over. Even though he seems to think you're now "friends" and ya'll can hang out without emotions coming into play, you know better. So listen to yourself and save your friends the pain of listening to you and your crazy thoughts of "did I make the right decision to end things?" and "maybe I should have pushed therapy more than I did. Maybe all our relationship needed was a really talented therapist." Don't play that game. Follow Nancy Reagan's advice and Just Say No. Acid+Bret+ReallyCrazyBlindDate=burning pain

You may now be curious about my Really Crazy Blind Date and what that means, exactly. Most of you know I've had a few of these RCBD's in my dating time so I'll give a brief rundown of this RCBD's stats — although keep in mind this guy is a VNB (very nice boy):

• He is training to be in the circus. Not kidding. He wants to breathe fire and stuff. And he has a performance this Saturday where he will be dressed in a fat lady's outfit and be set on fire and cut in half or something.
• He folds his dollar bills into origami snails and even pays for things with his "snails." I included a picture of the example he left with me. Can't make this crap up.
• He goes blues and swing dancing every week and during our post dinner walk to blockbuster he spun me out and twirled me around in random spontaneous dance sequences. Even and including picking me up off the ground (he gets props for not herniating a disc or grunting with the effort), spinning around, and dipping me for added drama.
• He was married before and blames his divorce on the issues he had (and still has) from his parents' divorce, his lack of effective communication with his wife, his anger issues, and his lack of a motivating force pushing him to be his best. That little conversation was the appetizer to dinner.
• He's 32 and working in a job without benefits.

>sigh<

After hearing that description of my latest prospect is it any wonder I was debating giving my relationship with Bret another try? Both my parents commented on how changed Bret seemed to be on Friday when the met him again. Oh yes, Bret came over while my parents and LeeAnn were helping me seal my concrete and all were amazed that he talked and was charming (my dad had previously compared his personality to a dead tree stump in my yard). And LeeAnn got to listen to him describe how overwhelmed he was feeling lately and how he might lose his job again.

Anyway . . .

Will I go out with VNB again? Of course! I've got nothing else to do and he wasn't hideous. Just a bit crazy. And I can't afford to be too picky since my biological clock is ticking away. This interesting detail was pointed out to me yesterday by the 23 year old nursing student I worked with. Although he did save himself when he told me I did NOT look 32. Maybe 28 . . . And with my increasing age my standards for dating are getting lower.

Look forward to next week's posting about my DIY project for this week: stripping and restaining my wood deck! And hopefully planting a lilac bush. I know, truly THRILLING!