Reaching out

Not sure why, but I responded to the email from The Editor and made plans to meet him at an outdoor watering hole tonight after work. He originally wanted to know if I had any plans to be in his neighborhood (since I haven't been in his neighborhood in at least 10 years, I'd say no!)

Anyhoo, The Editor and I worked together about 10 years ago in the sports department of a medium-sized newspaper in the south suburbs. It was a pretty small department, probably seven or eight of us and we often hung out together, despite the fact that I was the only woman on the staff. There is one other fellow sportswriter that I see probably every year or two, but that's it for "keeping in touch."

I've moved on from that life (pretty far removed, I think), so I'm pretty curious as to why he contacted me. Unless his life has dramatically changed, he still lives in the same house, is friends with the same people and works with many of the same individuals that he has for the past, oh, 20 years or so!

He's never been married, never had kids, never traveled outside the US and probably never eaten anything more exotic than tacos.

What does he want with me?

Plan B

In an uncharacteristically disciplined move, I managed to plan and execute a three-day-a-week workout for a whole six months! The result?

Zilch! Absolutely no weight loss and no inches lost. I know they say "you're clothes will fit better." Bullshit! WTF?!?!

Those readers that actually know me in person know that I'm not fat. Far from it. I realize that, but I also know that in the last five years, I've gained a total of 15 pounds. I hadn't gained that much in the previous 15 years combined! When you're small, 15 pounds is like tying a pillow around your ass and trying to slip on a knit skirt over it.

Anyway, I've decided to go to Plan B.

Food is one of my favorite four-letter words, so Plan B might be tough to implement, but I'm going to give it a try...for two weeks. During this time, I will eat no white bread and no sugar. I didn't read this diet recipe in a book or hear about it on Oprah. It's just something I thought I'd try. To see if it makes a difference.

If, after two weeks, I see a difference, maybe I'll continue with it. We'll see.

We're talking no hot dogs, pizza or pretzels at Wrigley Field and no candy or ice cream after lunch at work. This is going to be hard work!

But here's the thing: It's "shorts" season and I'm getting tired of looking down and seeing jello!

Considering I have a bagel for breakfast almost every day and chocolate at least twice a week, you can see that I will have a problem with this. Do you realize how hard it is to avoid white bread when the lunch options in the city revolve around burgers, pizza and sandwiches??

So I am asking you, my lovely, no-doubt healthier-eating readers, to help me plan some meals. Please keep in mind that one cup of fruit in the morning will NOT keep me going until lunchtime!

My ass, abs and thighs thank you!

Dating 101

So there I am last night, watching my beloved Cubs get their asses kicked by the God-forsaken Florida Marlins when my cell phone rings.

It's the Dancing Lawyer.

Honestly! I think he must've read "See Dick Date" or maybe "Dating for Dummies" because he's been incredibly by-the-book this whole time. For example,

1) he called me mid-week to plan a weekend date,
2) he selected a good restaurant (not too cheap/pricey/far away/strange food),
3) he did not keep me out ridiculously late on our date, and
4) he called me on Monday to say "hello" and see if I enjoyed the rest of my weekend.

Geez!

In a weird twist of cell phone fate, DL called just as I was busy answering a text from Flight Attendant. He sent a txt telling me that he was attending the aforementioned Cubs game, where he was sitting and what he was wearing. (No, I didn't spot him on TV.)

Can I get a show of hands to see who thought I would hear from FA again after our Cubs-game-date debacle?

Curiously enough, I think FA might invite me to another Cubs game. As I was deleting old text messages from him, I found one from a few weeks ago where he lists the games he will see in Chicago - - including games this Saturday and Sunday. We'll see if I get an invitation with more than an hour or so to spare.

I mean, seriously, didn't he read the book?

Song of my life

I went on a dinner date with Dancing Lawyer on Saturday night. We dined at a cute little family-owned Italian restaurant, a safe choice for a first date.

I don't know why I bothered to convene the wardrobe congress to decide my attire when Dancing Lawyer arrived dressed as though he just crawled out of bed: jeans, an unironed and untucked white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled over and the neck unbuttoned to display a white undershirt.

On the evening that we met, DL's hair situation was a mystery since he wore a baseball cap (backwards) all evening. This night, however, the thin blond coif was gelled into a stunted rhino horn. Add to that the slight goatee and he seemed to be quite...pointed. If his hair had been dark, he would've made a great Satan.

In a surprisingly thoughtful move, DL remembered part of our initial conversation and asked me about a situation at my office. I jumped in with what I hoped was an interesting (and not too long) story of international business. He bounced back with his own company's travails and the evening's conversation volleyed back and forth at a good pace.

He spoke of planning a trip with his brother. I REALLY didn't want to hit the "how old are you?" button, so I sidestepped it with "just one brother? older or younger?"

His older brother is 30!

I forced a forkful of gnocchi in my mouth (since it was already hanging open) and tried to think of a new topic - quick!

By dinner's end, I had decided that my new social strategy will include dating in bulk: if I can't get quality, go for quantity.

Stopping in the ladies room while DL paid the bill, I froze in my tracks when a line from the recorded background music hit my ears.

"They're all either too young or too old."