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And if I built this fortress around your heart 12/24/07 Christmas Eve Ah mistletoe, that gorgeous parasite....its the only green in the trees out front of my place. As I walk down the hall in my view is the Christmas tree and in the distance out of the window a large bunch of the kissing plant in a softwood on the river. Mike came over a couple of weeks ago, bought a Christmas tree and brought 3 huge boxes of decorations over. He's into the whole Disneyland style Christmas thing (being something of an idealist) and proceed to put almost half of it up in my living room and dining room. Once again, I'm in my typical 'don't particularly care' Christmas mode. I've not been too big on Christmas since I was a teen. Poor Mike-I think he wanted a "normal" Christmas, being this one, his first, back from Iraq. I tried. Its just too weird. Mike is a terriffic guy but he and I truly live on two different planets...and I think Disneyland sort of got under my skin on top of our other differences....and things, as they are came to a head a few days ago and we broke up. Weirdly enough, I left Disneyland just like it is and he'll be over to celebrate Christmas morning tomorrow with me, as friends. I really wanted things to work with him...I did honestly try and heck, gave it 3 months. The only thing I know right now is that I'm taking time off...and I'm forcing myself to do it. (I promise this time... so much so that I've made my first New Years Resolution in I don't know how long. To not date for at least 2 months.) Yeah, yeah....ya'll are all laughing at me. I said I was going to do this after Robbie, and then John came along...then I said I'd do that after John and the Cajun came along, then Mike. Seriously. I'm starting the new year off with a clean slate. In a few months I want to have all of this past garbage with men purged from my emotional slate so I can start fresh. Who knows I may like being single so much that I'll give up men for Lent (not that I'm Catholic, but I think all New Orleaninans give something up for Lent even if they aren't Catholic-peer pressure one assumes). Giving up dating for Lent. Now thats a novel idea. :-> In any event-I hope you all are having a WONDERFUL holiday and that your Christmas is wonderful and your New Year prosperous and full of all the things you wish for....or most of the reasonable ones anyway. Getting some of this stress out of my life by making a decision has oddly left me feeling peaceful. And I've not switched off most of the Christmas music when it comes on, surprising for the female version of Scrooge.
12/2/07 could not resist
Random Pics for your viewing pleasure: Unc with a croaker in Alabama when we were on vacation. Sister Shannon kayak fishing (she caught one too!) Mike and I with "Ed McMahon" at a Halloween party can you believe I served my turkey on THIS, Robbie? Sandy, Mitch and Nick at Thanksgiving at my place Unc with Callie's daughter (GREAT picture Unc!) Thanksgiving spread with peeps The current Meriwether women's Men-Stevie Meatpie and Mike
11/28/07 midnight in her eyes I’m sitting in pain in my doctor’s office. He’s a frugal general practitioner who doesn’t charge much for his visits if he even remembers to charge you….obviously he does everything himself. He must be one of the last doctors in town that doesn’t focus on the dollar. His receptionist, the only person who works for him, apologizes for the doctor running late and tut-tuts him when he opens the door to let me in. He likes to chat with each patient and that’s what makes him run late…its not that he over schedules. In the hour I was there waiting there was only one person ahead of me and I was the last patient of the day. Picture Robert DeNiro with brown, curly, really big Bozo the clown hair and you’ve got a decently accurate image of this guy. He’s comical to see and never in a million years would you put the title doctor on him in street clothes. He remembers me from my previous visit for a bad case of poison ivy and asks me what’s wrong. I tell him that I had a bladder infection over Thanksgiving that I think moved up to my kidneys (based on the intense back pain I’d been suffering with like an idiot for the past 3 days.) Doc tells me to bend over and he takes his fist and beats on the top of my back, then in the middle and then sucker punches me in the right kidney. Well…that’s what it felt like anyway….I look up at him with rapidly thickening tunnel vision filled with stars and manage to squeak out that I could have told him that particular maneuver would have hurt without him mashing my kidney with his manly right meathook. “I had to see how sensitive it was,” he remarks tartly and proceeds to do the same damn thing to my left kidney which doesn’t really hurt at all. I’m not normally a whiner but I could have kicked him. I carefully straighten up waiting for some other doctorly assault. He smiles up at me with his eyes. Bozo hair does not move at all. After all of this punching business is done and he writes me a strong prescription for antibiotics he chats about work and asks me about my job. We drift on to politics and the state of New Orleans (its easy to peg my accent). Before I know it, its after 5. I excuse myself and go. Fast forward two hours. I’m sitting at Mike’s kitchen table watching him pack up all of his fancy Navy gear for his command change. He has to wear his medals and I ask him about each of them. He matter-of-factly explains each to me seemingly almost detached from them and what it took to earn each. He is proud of one in particular and takes as much time to explain that one as all of the others combined. He packs them into a case with his sword for the ceremony. I make him put on his bridge coat. He’s a clothes horse but won’t admit it. I know he likes it when I admire him in his uniform…and truth be told, I can’t help but to. He’s got the body, the demeanor, the bearing and the squeaky clean standards for the uniform. Oftentimes I look at Mike and I can not comprehend what he sees in me other than an adventurous soul. He is so different from anyone I’ve dated before…so…almost perfect in an objective sense. I don’t have any standard to compare him to so he baffles me. I tend to dunk guys in the big bucket of my past experience to try to judge how things will work out with them. The water in my bucket just beads off of him…and I can’t figure him out. “Tab, stop worrying. The only way this isn’t going to work out between us is if you choose for it to not work. I love you and I’m not going to change my mind.” He’s joking about where he’s going to put my engagement chicken. I keep telling him that I don’t have room in my life for the chicken yet. My inner wolf would probably eat the chicken. He doesn’t think I’m as feral as I know I am. I really want to be ready for a big relationship…to be ready to take on a guy as special as this one is…but I’m so afraid that I’m going to do something to mess up. Embarrass him by putting my foot in my mouth (something I’m known for-I speak my mind a bit too much and a bit too bluntly when I do) or have something messy about my past tarnish his image somehow. I know I could use some polishing up, but I’m internally resistant to trying to put on shiny skin to impress people. I’m a wolf at heart. Some of my friends who don’t care for my wolfishness tell me that Mike will balance me out…that I could use that sort of strong, clean influence in my life. The ones who like the wolf don’t care much for Mike. He knows who I am. We’ll see how long he tolerates wolfish-me. I really do like him. Maybe I can rub some of the shiny off of his Knight suit. Listening to: Hold On-KT Tunstall Everybody Knows-Ryan Adams Hungry like the Wolf– covered live by Hole Diamond Dogs-David Bowie Seagull-covered by Joe Bonamassa Midnight in her Eyes-The Black Keys Steam-Peter Gabriel
11/19/07 i feel love Friday afternoon I walk into the salon down the street from where I work to get my nails done. The only person working at the time, a thin, unremarkable, middle aged Vietnamese woman, looks up from doing another woman's nails and asks if she can help me. I tell her that I want my nails filled and she says someone will be with me in a minute. I stand at the polish counter and pick out a color. A few minutes later the Oriental man that owns the salon walks in and has me sit down in the nail chair next to where the two women are working and chatting about the children who are running around the salon. The woman having her nails done is matronly but has beautiful, thick, long black hair. She asks the Vietnamese woman about the age of the kids and speaks of her own grandchildren. The man who owns the salon is gently holding my hand and using the automatic filing machine to grind down the old acrylic nail surface. He works in silence as we listen to the conversation next to us. The matronly woman asks the Vietnamese woman about her husband. The foot pedal operated filing tool that the man is using on my nails suddenly speeds up to about double its speed. His hands tense up and start to sweat. I am astounded by this obvious physical reaction from him-a man who is obviously not the husband of the Vietnamese lady-to her mention of her man. I stiffen up, intensely interested in what he's feeling...I watch his eyes. He's squinting and leaning slightly away from the two seated next to us but is straining to listen to everything being said. His hands are now soaked with sweat. The women next to us are totally oblivious to him and me and what each of us is experiencing in that moment. In the back of my head I realize that I've never felt a physical reaction from someone so intimately...and not even know the name of the characters on the stage set before me. Deep in the thought he provoked, I'm transported to my own sweaty palm heavy foot on the pedal memory as I ponder what causes us to have these reactions to other people. Its late at night and the brown eyed man who's bare chest my head is on is quietly stroking back my messy hair and humming along with some sweet voiced guy yodeling an old cowboy tune playing on the cd player from the nightstand next to his austere, hand made iron bed. I listen to his heart beat and the distant traffic rumble outside of the window of his old wooden home and try to fix the strong, highly appealing scent of him into my memory fully knowing this instant in time won't even make it to dawn. My heart is quietly breaking knowing that I'd silently fallen for him in that instant and no matter how much I want him to, he will choose to not last in my life and this moment won't go anywhere....except to some little squishy compartment of gray matter that I can drag up again when someone else's sweaty palms remind me that I'm not the only one who hadn't got the love they wanted from a particular someone returned. Listening to: I Feel Love-Venus Hum Bold as Love-Jimi Hendrix Smoothie Song-Nickel Creek Ape Man-The Kinks
11/14/07 find your way back To make up for my lack of writing due to time spent in love jail and in a kayak...you get a two-fer today....my post and that of 'guest' writer, Seatec! Should you choose to proceed, you'll be treated to two different takes on the same trip. (I'll put Seatec's post first in orange:)
Horn Island
11/08/07-11/11/07
Tabitha and Me
Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone.—The Dhammapada
I drove down to Mississippi Thursday. It was a fairly long drive as I hit the south side of Atlanta rush hour and then Montgomery, AL rush hour too as they are an hour behind Atlanta. I was going to see Tabitha, Suncat to you pnetters, who is a dear old friend of mine. I hadn’t seen her since our July hike/paddle. Actually, that was the first time I had ever met her even though she was a good friend of mine before July. The marvel of modern telecommunications I guess… a unique thing for me. This was my chance to see one of her favorite places, Horn Island. My first paddle in this part of the country.
We met in Pascagoula. She had arrived before me and was there to greet me when I arrived. When I got out of the car, I saw her and her smile. I instantly smiled back. Her smile is infectious. She has an energy that will envelop you whether you want it to or not. She instantly made me excited about our trip and forget about the long drive I had just finished. I was really now looking forward to our weekend.
Friday morning had us up early. This central time makes getting up early easy for this East coast time guy. We get the cars loaded, have breakfast, and headed for the landing. This landing was in a really good neighborhood right across the street from some very nice homes. I was surprised and a little disappointed that it doesn’t have that same strong salt feel and smell as the Atlantic. I love that smell. I think from growing up in Miami it makes it feel like home. At the put in, we run into another group of kayakers. They are Haystackers, which is a paddling group from Louisiana. Tabitha is a member of the group and the woman, Mimi, was the person who taught Tabitha to roll. There was also Tom who was friendly and seemed like a very nice guy and three others whom I didn’t get their names. One was a relative newbie and the other was a couple in a beautiful strip built tandem. They were also going out to Horn Island. With our boats loaded we left before them since they were still getting their gear organized. The conditions were perfect. The sky was blue. The air was warm. The water was warm. There was barely a ripple on the water. You couldn’t have requested better conditions much less plan them three months earlier. Tabitha and I paddled and talked our way out past Round Island. She was my tour guide and told me about the lighthouse that is there. We reached the shipping channel and there was not a ship anywhere on the horizon in any direction. Everything so far is better than you could have asked. The only thing we were seeing was dolphins and pelicans. I do love to watch the dolphins and they bring an instant excitement when you see them break the surface near you. Tabitha and I were calling out to each other when we see them, “Dolphins 12 o’clock. Dolphins 10 o’clock”. With the conditions so calm it was easy to see them and occasionally they would change their directions and come towards us. It was a true highlight of the trip.
About a mile from Horn and seven or so miles into our paddle, Tabitha asked me if I wanted to camp on Petit Bois (which is pronounced Petty Boy. Is this bastardized French???) to which I said, “Wherever you want to camp is fine with me.” We stopped at an island called Spill Island, which is between Horn and Petit Bois. We had lunch there and looked for some seashells. It was cool as we were coming close to the island it was covered in brown pelicans. They all flew away as we got close. There must have been over a hundred pelicans. It reminded me of a scene in the movie “Pelican Brief”. From here, we made the two-mile crossing over to Petit Bois. It was amazing how calm the water was and Tabitha kept reminding me that this is not normal.
At Petit Bois, we found a great campsite and proceeded to get set up. Tabitha took care of the tent and I proceeded to collect the firewood. How sad is it that on a deserted island ten miles off the coast that people dump their trash. I found a few things but the worst was an old CRT monitor…Come on people!
Close to Sunset, we had our first sign of the land critters of Petit Bois. A small raccoon that was feeding in one of the tidal pools on what we assumed were crabs. We walked down the beach toward him to investigate but didn’t get too close and didn’t want to disturb his hunt. He stopped and stared at us for a moment while we watched him. We let him get back to hunting and continued to walk down the beach. We stopped and watched the sunset. The sunset was absolutely gorgeous. The pink, orange, and red that filled the sky…it was breathtaking. I could watch that sunset everyday for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. It was spectacular.
The fire and charcoal had gotten good and hot by now so I started cooking the steaks (the same we had Bill) I brought and Tabitha was making us our side of Stovetop stuffing. It is one thing I love about kayaking you can bring so much better food than backpacking. While the food was cooking we had the most amazing peppermint hot chocolate courtesy of Tabitha. It was to die for good. I have to get it for all my camping trips now. We ate well and washed it down with Yuenglings I brought for Tabitha. This is truly the way to enjoy dinner camping, steaks and beer. Unfortunately, this is about the same time that the biggest bug bastards of all time arrived…the tiger mosquito. These bug bastards ate me alive through my clothing and somehow are able to fly in decent wind. I had to put on my paddling jacket to stop them from eating me alive. Tabitha was covered in deet and they were still getting her too.
We retired early to bed to avoid them. The great thing about sleeping on the beach, at least for me, is I sleep like a baby and fall asleep quickly. The sound of the waves lapping up against the shore relaxes me and puts me to sleep. I will say I didn’t sleep as well as I should have but it was no one’s fault but my own. I didn’t completely close the cap on my sleeping pad and ended up sleeping on the ground. Thankfully, it was sand.
I woke up well before sunrise and watched the sunrise Saturday. Tabitha was still sleeping. It didn’t compete with those off of Capers Island or those of my youth off of Key Biscayne but nevertheless it was beautiful and I was thankful to get to see it. Tabitha woke up later. I love this about her too. She is in slow motion until she has some caffeine. We made some hot chocolate and oatmeal for breakfast. We then broke down camp and headed over to Horn. The conditions again today were perfect like the day before. We saw the Haystackers coming over from Horn and we paddled over and said hello. Parting ways again, we made our way to the SE side of Horn and stopped for lunch.
After lunch, Tabitha, in true island spirit, took a nap and I jumped back in my boat and paddled up the island with the intention of exploring and to also do some rolls. Ever since Tripp put in the thigh braces into my boat, I am falling in love with it. It is FUN to paddle now and I am able to test the boats limits. It is no longer just a turbo freighter. While paddling I did some onside and offside rolls effortlessly and worked on my side brace. I was Mr. Parlor trick for the beachcombers on the shore searching for shells. Those thigh braces also made the paddle back Sunday very manageable. I owe Tripp another big thanks when I see him next month.
The sun was starting to get to me and I needed some shade time so I paddled back to Tabitha. She looked so peaceful sleeping there I had to take her picture. She woke up and we set up my tarp. We now both lied under it and enveloped that island spirit. While lying there in just a pair of shorts, I couldn’t help but think as I looked out over the sugar white sand, the clear water gently lapping at the shore, the pure blue sky, and feeling the warm air temps that I was less than five hundred miles from home where the temps were cold. If I had stayed home this weekend, I would have gone up in the mountains and would have been dealing with freezing temps as it would have been well below freezing at night.
We both decided to take a walk and go visit with the Haystackers after our nap. They had a nice paddle over to Petit Bois and we talked for a while. They invited us to come back later that evening to enjoy their campfire and we said we might but decided not to as those bug bastards were out again on Saturday. We walked back to where we were camping and enjoyed the sunset along the way. Not as beautiful as Fridays but it was still beautiful. Back at our campsite, I cooked the burgers and Tabitha again did the sides. Once again dinner was good. For desert, we had the Peppermint hot chocolate. Did I mention that it was fantastic? After dinner and cleaning up, we walked down in the other direction exploring the island. Tabitha caught a ghost crab. Actually she caught two but the first one was a little big and was pinching the blank out of her finger. She dropped that one and he ran off. Again Saturday night the bug bastards were out in force and forced us back into the tent early. We talked for a while and took a sick pleasure in killing the bug bastards between the tent and the fly before going to sleep.
Sunday had us up early again. The wind was blowing about 25 knots and there was now texture to the water and the water out in the bay was white capping. Part of me said, “YES!!!! This is going to be fun.” Another part of me said, “SH_T! These were not going to be the easy conditions that we had the previous two days.” Tabitha, who is a very strong paddler, hopped into her swamp fox and gracefully started out through the surf. I, who am much less graceful, did my sit on top approach past the first set of breakers and then fumbled with my skirt getting it attached. Tabitha had put a few hundred yards on me so I had to paddle hard to catch up. The influence of the island resulted in some confused water leading into the bay. I found it enjoyable and fun to paddle through. I wish we had these conditions Saturday and our Saturday conditions Sunday. This would have been a lot of fun to play in but not what I feel like making an 8-mile crossing of open water
The paddle back was enjoyable to a point. With the 25-knot winds blowing us off course and the two-foot chop with three foot swells it made for a longer paddle. Tabitha, deciding to use her thin bladed gp, was basically paddling nonstop. Because we were blown off course we stopped at Round Island. There isn’t much to it but there is an old lighthouse that has been knocked down and the only thing left is the base. Being the fool that I am, I had to walk across a board, which felt like it was about to break with each step, and a log to go stand on the lighthouse. Not the smartest thing I have ever done but far from the stupidest. I guess I do it because its there. The paddle back from Round to the takeout was mentally grueling as I was tired of fighting the wind and not knowing exactly where I was going. I was ready for the paddle to be done. As a whole, it was an uneventful paddle and I was proud of how well Tabitha did paddling back. I had no doubts that she could do it but I was impressed with the steady speed and consistency she exhibited.
At the takeout, we unloaded our boats and then loaded them on our cars. We said our goodbyes talking about how we are going to have to do a trip again soon. But like all good things it had to come to an end with Tabitha heading west and me to the east. This was my second trip with Tabitha and neither one has had a moment of disappointment. They have been nothing but a breath of fresh air and enjoyment. Her spirit is infectious and she leaves me laughing sometimes to the point of tears. I can’t wait to see what the third installment has in store for me. Tabitha, what do you say to a January hike in the snow covered mountains? HAHAHA, Oh, I am crying now. I can feel her virtual punch to my shoulder right now and that look she gives me that makes me smile. Thanks again Tabs for a great weekend and showing me Horn Island.
Ok everyone. Thank Tabitha because she took pictures of the weekend. They are in reverse order for some reason but it will give you an idea of the weekend.
slideshow of pictures
(Now my account:)
November 11th-The wind is whipping outside of my little 2-man tent at better than 25 knots. We are camping on the very eastern tip of Horn Island, open to both the Mississippi Sound and the Gulf. I had gotten out at about 2am and secured the rainfly that I had just draped over it several hours earlier to keep the dew out. Never fully fell back asleep so when the first light of dawn lights up the tent in an orange glow I open the zipper to watch the sun rise. Seatec stirs next to me. It feels good to be the one waking his butt up for once. He's usually the last one to go to sleep on our trips and the first one to wake up.
Seatec makes a little waking up noise in the back of his throat and props his head up on his hand to watch the sun rise over my fleece and dried salt covered shoulder. I'm facing away from him to watch. Our view is framed on the left by a red sea-bag, on the right by an orange water bottle and on the bottom by the red tent tub and sand lit up in a pink glow from the sun....which looks like a liquid orange ball trying to pop up out of the gulf. As we are watching in relative silence over a hundred pelicans following a school of fish start diving in the sunrise. Its an unbelieveable and awesome sight. I briefly contemplate getting my camera knowing my pathetic point and shoot won't do the moment justice and decide to just try to burn the moment into my memory. The cold, salty smelling air rushing into the tent from the rainfly being open makes me feel that much more alive. Thankfully the cool air makes 3 days of no bathing facilities tolerable at least to the non-bathers. We reluctantly get out of our the sleeping bags and begin to pack up to leave. Seatec has never been to Horn or to any of the Gulf of Mexico islands we visited. This was my first visit back after Katrina (my regular readers will remember, my last trip was with little Joe back on Halloween in 2004.) Horn is much different...many of the trees are gone and most of the sand dunes that were over 20 feet high are flattened to little bumps. It was sad to see but for once this isn't a man made mess...its nature-made...and all part of the grand cycle. 3 days prior to this, Seatec and I hooked up in Pascagoula for this trip, which we had been planning since August. My excitement on Friday morning was probably contagious to him; I was literally jumping up and down as we were waiting for our Burger Doodle breakfast. The girl behind the counter with the orange hair and lip ring is observing me with half a smile probably wondering what kind of drugs I'm on to be so energetic at that time of the morning. Seatec laughs at me all the time. I think he laughs at me when I'm sleeping (and he never seems to sleep)...I must be funny looking to him because sometimes I see him watching me with a strange look on his face and when I catch him looking he laughs. Usually the dialogue goes like this...I catch him watching and say, "What?" He looks at me and laughs and says, "You, your funny." "How the heck am I funny? I'm not doing anything!" "You were making a face." "I'm expressive," I reply. This happens often in our limited time together. I'm finally getting used to being watched. Seatec is a very strong paddler and I have trouble keeping up with him. He usually makes 5 or 6 strokes with his paddle and pauses so that we keep the same pace. I never stop paddling with him. Never. He even goes back and forth in front of me (not to mock me but just so that he's not bored.) He enjoys the dolphins as much as I do-both Friday and Saturday we spotted several pods of dolphins, one set just a few feet off of Spill Island where we had lunch spread out on a big blue tarp he brought. Spill was our first stop on Friday as we were going to Petit Bois. It was covered with pelicans, both white and brown. Seatec 'officially' renamed the island "Bird Island" - very appropriate considering. The weather was gorgeous-we couldn't have asked for better. It was in the mid 60's when we set out on the Sound on Friday and the water was like glass. It was a high contrast though to the seas we dealt with on Sunday; the hairiest part of the paddle being the paddle around the tip of Horn where the two bodies of water meet (the Mississippi Sound and the Gulf of Mexico). The water was in a confused state and shallow-waves coming from every direction in no predictable pattern. It was fun to watch Seatec having the time of his life literally 'playing' on them...meanwhile I'm fighting for dear life to stay upright. He may be funny to watch get in a boat, but he's all grace and strength once he's in. Seatec's QCC 500 is a 'turbo freighter' as he calls it, but he really does make it look like a much skinnier boat than it is with his penchant for speed. (did I mention how closely the yellow in our boats match? :-) Have you ever done something and while you were busy doing it you were wondering to yourself, "Why the hell am I doing this? Its so much work!" but then you reflect back on it when its over and you realize how much fun you had and how wonderful the experience was? That is what these trips are like for me. When I start paddling on a trip I know is going to take me better than 2 hours my arms are protesting for the first half an hour, my skin burns from the heat of the sun, my behind hurts from the kayak seat, my mind aches with the thought of having to keep paddling or go nowhere, my bladder tells me it has to 'go' but something in the back of my head is memorizing the way that orange kayak looks up against quicksilver water, remembers the way the water scents the air, and enjoys the feel of a wooden paddle in my hands. I look down at my arms and know that even though they hurt they are doing something that they are meant to do....which is not push a mouse around on a desktop...but move water underneath a boat to earn me an experience I will never forget. Seatec is one of the most interesting people I know; very cerebral. We spend almost every waking moment talking (another interesting aspect of him-he talks a great deal and is very open about most anything). I bounce ideas and thoughts off of him-he devils advocates, defends, contradicts, argues, picks apart and over thinks everything I hand him. Our relationship has almost always been like this since we started talking online years ago. In person it becomes more intense, like we have a huge amount of thoughts to get out...a chance to watch each other's body language which is something we have to guess at in our regular email conversations. He has a habit of touching his tongue to his upper lip when he's recounting a story; he has almost no accent when he speaks; his hair is NEVER out of place; he has a good, natural scent...things I never would have known had we only talked online....he notices that I'm animated with my hands and tend to make funny, exaggerated faces; I have a thick New Orleans accent and a lopsided-I-know-you-smile for my close friends....our trips are suddenly, at least in my head, as much about spending time and learning the ways of a good friend as much as they are about having an adventure on land or sea. On parting, as in greeting, he wraps me up in his huge arms (nice guns to you pnetters) and sort of lifts me off the ground in a hug and I bury my face in his neck (something that doesn't smell half bad in spite of 3 days of no bathing) and we part with the promise of a future adventure.
Listening to:
Hard Sun-Eddie Vetter
In the Colors-Ben Harper
Bittersweet-Big Head Todd and the Monsters
Addicted to Love-Robert Palmer
Sandman-America
Trick Bag-Earl King
Find Your Way Back-Jefferson Starship
I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You-Colin Hay
In Formaldehyde-Porcupine Tree
Ain't Nobody Here but Us Chickens-Gatemouth Brown
Pack it Up-Freddie King
Eyes on the Prize-Mavis Staples (I actually had this stuck in my head for most of the paddle back...it was my motivation for getting to land)
Snake Farm-Roy Hubbard
Watermellon Man-Herbie Hancock
10/24/07 spirits abandoned I hate breaking up. Its not nice ever no matter how nice you try to
make it. Weekend before last I knew it was time to make some choices and really the choice was very clear who I was going to pick.
The ever-nice Brian (the one who was trying too hard) was the first to get the proverbial dating axe. Second, surprise this may be to
a few knowing how much I was getting into this guy, was the Cajun (my emotional favorite-but who kept warning me off of dating
him because of his lack of time. He knew that I was one gentle breath away from being able to fall in love with him-he's that kind of
charming and I can't remember the last time I kissed anyone who kissed as good as he does and I was definitely having those silly
fluttery feelings in my chest every time I thought about him- but he never seemed as into me as I was into him. So, tough as it was, I
did the right thing and actually LISTENED to what he was telling me and let him off the string.) Oddly enough, this leaves the one guy I
never thought would work out. The Type A Guy whom I can't think of a good nickname for. So I'm just going to give him his name
back and his name to you all, Mike. Mike is an interesting guy and as I've said before, an incredible overachiever on top of being
handsome (I still can't figure out how he sees me as a match, but I think he's looking at it from an active side rather than an
achievement side). Very quick and vague background on him-he's a Commander in the Navy has a law degree and is also a politician.
Impressive resume-far too impressive for me to have been comfortable around for our first couple of dates. Best I can tell, so far
so good. He camps like a real trooper, good with fire, scarily fast in the crappy blue kayak (actually faster than I am in the Fox
without even trying) and really does work out, spends time outside and lives a surprisingly simple and austere life. (shockingly
simple-more simple than mine is-which is impressive for a fairly high powered guy.) We had something of a "discover each other's
life" weekend this past weekend. I took him to a work function, he charmed my Navy bud Art with ease and several other coworkers
and one of my big bosses, then we went to some event he had to attend at the Old State Capital. This event of his was a first for
me-I've never been to any political event of any type other than the mass Gathering of the Sheep-ele to vote on a Saturday. First off,
I was fairly nervous-I felt like a rather conspicuous fraudulent interloper. No one seemed to notice because I got the general
impression that everyone was busy trying to not make any enemies or piss anyone off, which when I realized this, suddenly I was
amused. It became a game to pay attention to how people greeted each other: "Nice to SEE you," being the most common (Mike
tells me that is to cover the bases in case said individual had met you before and didn't remember.) I was hell bent and determined
to NOT use this-my new favorite is "My Pleasure," mainly because I didn't hear anyone say it. After some of his "flesh pressing" as he
calls it, we walked into the room where the speeches were going on...and there was an overwhelming smell, to me at least, of
ammonia. Of course, because I have NO tact or filter whatsoever, I blurt out in Mike's ear, "Do all politicians smell like urine?" I asked,
not innocently at all. Mike's eyebrows go up into his forehead. "No, Tab, I think thats just OLD people." Surprisingly he didn't
dump me right there-I think he was actually mildly amused by my lack of tact.
I think the highlight of the evening, though, was touring the Old Capital. Mike took me through a few of the rooms and gave me
some of his insider knowledge of the history and secrets of the building. Later that night we went to a pretentious martini bar
full of yuppies. I felt like goofy arm candy but the dirty vodka martin was passable. The next day we went camping on the north
shore of Lake Ponchartrain - Mike did excellently-excellent with starting a fire, camped without complaining and was very good sport
overall. I'm trying to talk on the phone to Seatec right now about an upcoming camping/kayaking expedition (very soon) so I
can't concentrate, but in the meantime-here are some photos....
Listening to:
Steve Earle-Satellite Radio
The Band-Chest Fever
Keb Mo'-Am I Wrong?
Jimmy Witherspoon-Don't Let Go
Aretha Franklin with Ray Charles-Spirit in the Dark
Roy Rogers-Walkin Blues
Stick McGhee-Drinkin Wine Spo-dee-o-dee
10/17/07 looking for a fox
Sister Shannon and Bro in Law Nate Nate came in for their vacation a couple of weeks ago.
We made plans to go to the beach and drag Unc and Nate's sister Ravonda and her friend Celeste
with us. (Picture this rag tag crew - ages from 26 to 73). Unc is hell bent and determined to get
Shan and Nate to eat at Fatty's before we head over to Ft. Morgan, so we packed up both kayaks
and met Unc at his grand Garyville estate at 11:15 to beat the lunch crowd at Fatty's for Thursday
White Beans and Shrimp (an excellent dish if you are into good country cooking). Fatty's, a red
checkerboard table cloth sort of place, is always packed with refinery workers, cops, firefighters
and the older Garyville residents. (Men in Uniform usually equal eyecandy so I'm always up for
Fatty's...but once again, I digress). We get to our 3 bedroom condo on the beach at about
4pm-its a great place and we got it at a nice price. Unc and I are sharing a room with bunk beds.
I had to take the top bunk since my hard headed Unc fell off the roof of his house a few years ago
I don't trust him climbing anything. (I'd have taken it anyway-but I have to razz him about his
climbing skills.) Sleeping in the same room with an old man who's been a smoker for literally 60
years is not a restful thing, trust me on this, my ether friends....he snores, gets up numerous times in the night,
has to inhale his little huff n' puff thing that opens up his lungs and to top it off suffers from charlie horses that literally
cause him to jump out of bed cursing. I was laying up there in the top bunk listening to all of this thinking that each one
of those damned cigarettes is going to be a nail in his coffin. He can barely breathe....if it weren't for cigarettes, he'd
probably live to be a hundred years old. Unc knows I didn't sleep that night and offers to sleep on the sofa. I have to
admit I didn't argue with him. Its hard to not feel sorry for him...but on the same token...like any habit....he did it to
himself. Its like a punch in the chest to think of how much healthier he'd be...how many more years he'd have if he hadn't
smoked for so long though. And you all know I love him and consider him like my own dad. Ok this is not where I
wanted this story to go. I'm depressing myself. Back to the fun stuff. We had 20 mph winds the whole time we were
there due to a nice low pressure system in the Gulf. Loads of fun playing in big salty waves on boogie boards...almost 2
hours spent trying to learn how to use a skim board (and falling flat on my face, butt and back.) On Saturday, Shan and I
paddled in the bay to a cut to the gulf where Nate took over the blue kayak. He and I tried to paddle through the surf into
the Gulf and were flipped over by almost 5' breaking waves every time. We were both so tired after 4 attempts we just gave up and
paddled the kayaks back through the bay to the condo. I thought for sure I'd be able to make it through, but sadly my surf
skills are gone after so many years away from rough lake conditions. Its so tough being in that kayak, making it through the
first few 3'-4' waves....trying to find the spot where you think you'll be able to make it through and seeing a huge 5' breaking wave
just appear in front of you....bracing your body and the paddle....not being able to turn the boat fast enough and having it
bring the nose of the boat up so fast and drop it back into you. Everything happens so fast when those waves come up....
your body tenses up in anticipation and you suck in a huge amount of air waiting to go under...and try not to laugh when it
happens because its as fun and scary as any amusement park ride. I can very distincly remember each time I turned
over....each time what I did wrong and couldn't correct....grabbing onto the combing of the boat underwater trying to keep my eyes open and desperately
holding on feeling the waves try to yank the kayak away from me...water way over my head...waves continuously crashing
down and trying to not laugh and drown all at the same time. Its an incredible feeling and its exhausting all at the same time.
You don't want to stop but you know if you don't you'll probably loose a boat or a paddle or drown. If you have been out
there...you understand...there is some sort of madness in the surf that takes over your head and makes you want to go
out into it. Its like letting go of your soul to the sea and its no sacrifice at all. I can honestly say that if I died kayaking it
would be a damned shame but it wouldn't be a bad way to go. Heck of alot better than dying in a bed with a bunch of tubes
hooked up to a half alive future carcass. Again...I digress. (Poseidon is going to hit me with his trident for sure-oh well,
so be it. Just not now. I've still got some stuff to do.) Unc cooked for us all weekend but we did break away a couple of
times to eat, the most memorable occasion a trip to "Lamberts, Home of the Throwed Roll" which is a few miles up the road.
Most of you from the south have heard of this institution on the coast. Its like someone bred a "Friday's" and a
"Cracker Barrel," gave the love child, "Lambert's," an intense course of steriods and handed the brat a whole lot of bread.
The result is fabulous though. Food is good country cooking, music and decor is very southern fried country fun
(someone really digs mules), and well, they throw the customers the rolls. From across the room if you are brave
(Shannon is brave....but not a catcher...more on this in a minute), or from right next to you if you are a bit more timid (me).
My goofy sister Shannon....whom we all love, bless her heart, decided that she needed a roll, when "Roll Boy" was quite
literally across the room. She raised her hands for one, he naturally thocked it in her direction and she, glasses wearing
half blind third child of our mother, allowed the roll to pass beyond her hands and plug her square in the face.
Whole damned restaurant erupts in spontaneous laughter because when Roll Boy is throwing rolls everyone is looking to
see where they are going. (He's a good pitcher. He really did hit her right in the head.) I wish I would have had a picture of her
reaction, because she turned pretty red and was laughing rather hysterically....so much so that Roll Boy, whom we observed
was missing a couple of front teeth, no doubt from missing something harder than rolls with his hands, came over to
appologize to her for his 'miss throw' - which was actually her miss, not his. She loved it. She's an excellent sport, if not a
roll catching athlete. Monday night after we got home, Shan, Nate and I met Amber over at her bar. Mr. Type A met us out
(someone help me with a nickname here-I've got to come up with something better than "Type A") - I have to admit I wanted my
sisters to meet him and give me their opinion. We all cut up a bit too much. Molly, our Aunt Cindy and Africa Steve wound up coming out...Flaming
Dr Peppers and Irish Car Bombs were consumed. (Cindy did not partake-but I did get to beat her in pool after consuming
before mentioned adult beverages.Don't take that as bragging, though. I'm terrible at pool. She's just worse than I am.) Type A didn't
hang out too late-he had things to do in the morning but he definitely got points in the Tab book for making the effort to meet me out
in New Orleans on a Monday night. Its almost scary how much he's filling out the "Tab Punchlist" I wrote about earlier...and I'm having a bit of
trouble understanding now what he sees in me.....he's achieved a large amount of personal success and recognition...I can't help
but to wonder sometimes if he's going to pull a John on me and its sort of causing me to hold back with him. (I'm learning....not to
trust so easy...a painful lesson.) Honestly I'm having a bit of trouble articulating here everything I'm feeling with this guy and part of it is because
of the sum of my past experiences....some of it is that I'm just tired of being hurt and used....and part of it is I really want the RIGHT guy and I don't want to mess up again either. And now....now...these guys who are so incredible on paper...who have achieved or are in the public eye (and for some reason keep finding me)...they scare me....and I can't figure out why (other than having been burned by one before? Good enough reason I guess). I'm worried on some level that someone so little as me...may be just a conquest for a Big Fish...even as wolf-like as my own nature is...in the past I've rolled over pretty easily for a guy I like and let him be the alpha wolf. Not any more though. I'm definitely getting that under control ... but its not easy; and on some level I worry that I'll play it wrong with the right guy. Oh well. Guess the right guy will work though the crazy layers of my romantic past, put me on a pedestal and treat me like I deserve to be treated. Is Type A the one? Time will tell. Pictures from vacation...we got a couple of shots of a "real" fox out in front of the condo-she was there every night. Unc fed her some of the fish he caught in the back bay.
baiting the fox
Unc catching Bull Croakers
Its all about the booty
Nate and I
Nate in the yak
launcing in the gulf
Should I bother to try this again?
Swamp Fox full of sea water
Nate's boat after getting dunked
Again?
Forget it.
nice try
Utter defeat
later Nate
Beautiful Brother in Law Crack
Nate and Ravonda
Nate and Shan
Nice try
Ravonda and Nate
Ravonda
Ravonda
Ravonda and Celeste
Shan
Shan and I
Shan and I
Shan in the yak
Unc baiting the fox
Unc and I
the vixen
Me, Ravonda and Celeste
Waiting for the fox to come eat the fish
what are we looking at?
the Day's Aftermath
listening to:
RL Burnside - "Let My Baby Ride"
Marlene Dietrich - "Lili Marlene"
Beck - "Lonesome Tears"
Waylong Jennings/Willie Nelson - "Mamas Dont' Let Your Babies Grow up to Be Cowboys"
Colin Hay - "Overkill"
Beck - "Pay no Mind"
10/10/07 odd observation only Tom Robbins and Tom Waits must be brothers in spirit. I am amazed by their similar style, along with being touched, often confused, sometimes deeply relating and occasionally left in tears. The haiku about the swallows literally left me choked up (the character in the book who wrote the haiku....his wife had a miscarriage....the "swallows" were how she described the way the baby felt in her belly) and I had to come write about it. Tom Waits "Blue Valentine" elicited a strong reaction when I first heard it...not tears....but a deep melancholy. Both Tom's make it easy to feel the pain of the subject about which they write. Read and Listen with an open mind to their work. It is honest, visceral, sometimes deep but usually fun. Always it is worthy.
10/03/07 words for two
Have you ever really been shocked by some bit of news that in the back of your head you knew would come
eventually? Well, I was pretty much picking my jaw up off the floor when I heard that Harry Lee, the long time
Sheriff of Jefferson Parish passed away this morning. There is almost no point in my trying to write about Harry
Lee. Enough people will do it...he was truly the last colorful politician Louisiana had left (even though I think we'll
raise up a brand new crop of them soon enough. Some are probably laying the groundwork for a Technicolor history right now as
I write this.) But let me say this-its not too many Sheriffs in the world who get their own plastic magnets and
beads to throw in Mardi Gras parades...and not too many who are as loved, hated and respected as he was...and
there ain't too many Chinese Americans who become sheriff of a mostly white southern suburb and wear cowboy
boots and love country music and hate nutria rats to the point that you turn your deputies on them. (Thats
neutrals to you, Tu-Bobbi). Well, God bless you, Harry Lee. I hope you are in Cowboy Heaven...I hope you can eat
as much as you want up there and not gain a damned pound, and I sure hope there is good cowboy music, damn
good guns and a lot characters up there in Heaven for you to enjoy your eternity with. You deserve a good one
because you were a man with principals, convictions and a real bootstraps stand. You passed a lot of people's
foxhole test, Harry-they would have followed you in any battle. I miss you already and I know I'm not alone. I had a 3rd and most interesting date with Super Type A that in retrospect was an odd parallel to the whole John first date. (I have got to think of a better nickname for this guy-he deserves a good one and all indications are that he may be around for awhile; I may just ask him what he wants his nickname to be, but that wouldn't be in true tab style.) Its an incredibly beautiful, cloudless and reasonably cool end-of-September morning and I'm pulling the kayaks out for his first paddling trip. Knowing its unladylike I fight off every urge in my brain to dive into the cool waters of the Diversion. The other stopping of the urge was to maintain the cover up of some evidence from a date gone wrong the night before (a set of white trash hickeys in full bloom on my neck). Keen eyes, he noticed it and laughed about it....knowing full well I'm working the full dating field...juggling time between 3 different men right now like a professional but its starting to get the better of me and I know some thing's going to give soon. Either I'm going settle on one, accidentally fall in love or ditch it all again pretty soon. Truth told, all three are good guys, but I know the field is about to get cut down fast. I'm not stupid enough to think that my guys aren't dating around too, but I have the impression that if I gave any indication of wanting to monopolize any of these guys time, it would be mine for the taking. Type A is incredibly impressive-he doesn't even have to try-this guy has a resume that just about anyone would be proud of but almost no one would have the internal drive to achieve...and on top of this manages to be athletic, tanned and as tight as any 25 year old guy could hope to be. Another one I've not written about (a rock hard bod, handsome face, great job, sweet southern drawl and reasonable smarts is trying a bit too hard), and of course the Cajun who isn't really trying at all, but who for some reason attracts me like a tree frog to a fly n' moth free buffet under the porch light on a hot summer night. (my theory is that he has superior pheromones along with the melt butter accent.) But again-I'm getting away from my story. Back to Type A. Stud to the core. Gets in the kayak with grace, I don't pull the head-in-his-lap-to-adjust-the The water is pretty quiet-very high for this time of year, filling back into the swamps. The Petite is flowing backwards from all of the water draining upstream. We truck back into a cut that has "Posted - do not enter" all over it. He follows me without saying a word about it. (guts following me into a place like that-gotta love it.) I'm busy trying to show him how Banana Spiders dance if you diddle with their web; he spots a water turkey. We listen in silence to the symphony of bugs all around us. I wonder in the back of my grey stuff why I can't have one guy who will do this sort of simple alive beautiful stuff with me all the time. My heart yearns...aches for it. I have to tell myself again that just because a guy shows some interest in it doesn't mean he's any more special than any other guy...a big mistake I made with the previous boyfriend now-kayaker. Then my mind tells me that this is a guy who's lifestyle proves him as 'for real' - he's tough and intelligent in spite of being high profile (the very thing that made me so nervous on our first date and made me almost not want to date him, and yes, I did tell him this on our last date.) Anyway-the date progressed from kayaking, to lunch, to beer, to the Take the Man for a Walk part then on to more drinks, a lot of talk and some mild PDA at the Tiki bar down the street to a movie on my couch to both of us falling asleep right there to the flicker of the television fairly late that night. Third date. I am proud to report that he neither observed nor experienced me drooling on anything. But here's the bad part. This guy is really smart. He knows I'd be a push over. He is challenging me to not be without ever saying it. I don't know whats the bigger challenge-keeping up with a guy like this or keeping my heart locked away in the safe I'm holding it in right now. In any event....Super Type A is probably too different from me, but what the heck. This is too much fun and an experience I'm not likely to have again. I'm know I'm worth it even though I'd be a scandal in his world. Never know, maybe thats what he's looking for. Maybe he'll pull his boat up along side of mine. Maybe he won't. Maybe I paddle alone. Maybe not. Maybe the bugs sing for me only. I know I carve the water underneath me with grace and beauty. It is my art. It may be my art to work alone. I just hope it is not. My heart knows you, Robbie. It always will. There are very few people who I can say that about. Its wonderful for me that you are one of them.)
Listening to: Oh! You Pretty Things - David Bowie
Gris Gris Gombo Ya Ya - Dr. John
Since I Fell for You - Dr. John
Paper and Fire-John COUGAR Mellencamp
Jesus Gonna Be Here - Five Blind Boys of Alabama (check out Tom Waits version of this too)
Words for Two - Six Organs of Admittance
Batchelorette - Tori Amos
Cornflake Girl - Tori Amos
9/27/07 Houstonization Saturday I went on another 1st date. Nice but nothing
earth shattering. Didn't feel any spark or particular attraction, which was compounded by the fact that the person
in question agreed to go dutch. (A first date killer in my opinion. I always give the guy the option of 'dutch' but if he
accepts on a first date I assume its because he feels I'm not worth the effort of a second...so he gets written off.
Big tip here guys-many women do this....but if you accept....you'll have a heck of a time getting another date out of
that chick again. We do this to give you an easy out and to make a play at being gracious. Its a test to see how much of a gentleman you are and whether you think we are worth it.) Anyway, the conversation was good; it was a pleasant way to pass a couple of hours and thankfully I wasn't a nervous wreck like on the previous date I had with another super intense Type-A personality guy. Truth told, this guy wasn't really pushing
my buttons too hard anyway because of the fact he has a very young child and its an issue for me, which I was open with him about before we agreed to meet. So much for that. My hunch on his interest level so far seems true-I've not had any contact from him since that night. Since the night ended fairly early, I called my
Cajun friend fully expecting to find him exactly where he was-nodding off on his couch after the afternoon's LSU
game. He tells me to drop by. Chloe remembers me and I am thankfully spared an extended sniff. We park on his
couch and talk light topics: football, work, travel. For some reason he never really wants to gab about deeper
subjects until after he kisses me (seems to be a pattern for him...and he is an incredible kisser and he knows it.)
Of course I can't resist telling him so. "So, why hasn't that made it into the 'Tabloids,'" he is referring to my
site....his play on my name. "I guess because I didn't think you were at all serious about about me," I reflect
back. In his defense, he has been constantly warning me that he is not sure about having a relationship because
of his lack of time....and I've still not gotten around to asking him why he wanted to date in the first place....but its
no matter really-its fun, he knows it is for now and that of the few guys I am dating, he is my favorite-but also the
least available and the most resistant to moving on to anything beyond the occasional light date. Yes-he confuses
me with his honesty. Imagine that.To bad I've found his company the most relaxing and natural....much like how
I enjoyed John's company....but with all of the caveats up front that John wasn't giving up. Ultimately with that experience in mind it does make it easy to keep my heart and lower body out of the picture...and good for him for having sense and being a gentleman. If he were to throw caution to the wind with me-its certainly in my impulsive, wild nature to do the same, even though I'm really making the effort to not get serious quickly again. I do have to keep the
"punch list" in mind, you know? My kayaker may be out there still. Fast forward to Monday. Its pouring rain and
I'm rushing down I-10 to Kenner to catch a flight for a conference. My old boss from the New Orleans office is
accompanying me. We catch up on the plane; its hard to believe that just 2 years ago he, my group lead and I all
shared a dinky little house after Katrina. Its easy to fall back into that almost comfortable familiarity of discussing life
with someone you spent so much time with after such an intense experience. Through the airport I have to
step quickly to match his long legged stride. I secretly think he enjoys forcing me to try to keep up-some bizarre
competitive component in an old man. We pace each other for drinks at the hotel bar that evening too while
watching the Saints loose again. I retire early and leave him with some other Scot and Brit attendees from the
conference discussing the differences in rugby and American football. The conference is a unique experience -
its for a software that has applications across several different platforms but is a specialty application itself. There
are people in attendance from across Europe, South America and North America. Out of over 40 attendees, there
are only 2 women. I never feel intimidated but I know that I'm a distraction in an old male group like this; I find it
amusing to watch them converse with ex-boss in semi-dismissal of me, literally reading their looks at me as though I am there in the capacity of some sort of eye candy....until I pipe up with an intelligent, informed observation about a technical topic concerning our industry....and see sudden respect and often genuine delight cross their faces; one by
one I encounter and knock down their misconceptions like bowling pins. Of course its a pleasure to wield a heavy, accurately placed bowling ball. :-) The old dogs at the bar are
excited to talk rugby with me and I had the attention of one Scotsman for close to an hour as we traded stories.
Sometimes I think that is why they send me to things like this though-I'm as entertaining as I am useful. Whatever.
I'm also learning and having fun so its a symbiotic sort of relationship. After a long night in a strange room (you
know-you wake up in the middle of the night in a fog and don't comprehend where you are) I'm ready to go home.
Normally I like the out of town business trips but this hotel feels forced....like some old fraud masquerading as
something it used to be but isn't any more . It has the feel of an old casino that got its last face lift from a Miami
designer in the mid 80's-everything teal, pink, gold and black...that over the top giddiness that fits the busting at the
seams town its located in. Nothing like the timeless aged beauty of the ancient buildings of my more empty home
town. But then consider my bias. For a little comfort I replay a message that I've saved on my phone-my sister
Shannon and Unc calling about Shan's visit back home soon. She calls Unc "Uncle Grumpy" which he dutifully
repeats into the mouthpiece; the sound of their different and familiar voices a quiet happy music; an uplifting
counterpoint to my ears and a concession to my abused vision.
9/20/07 paddle fest pro pics
When you open up the page, on the right hand side of the page is a little picture slide show...
the 2nd through 5th pictures are of a lady trying out my orange boat, the Swamp Fox and the 8th and 9th pictures down are me in Mimi's boat (its a beautiful yellow Nigel Dennis Romany LV kayak-really carves through the water-I sometimes wish I would have gotten this instead of my Swamp Fox, but...that said....I may get one eventually!)
If you scroll down further you can see a few shots of my buddy Art in a blue boat-he's taking Mimi's kayaking class. (13-14-16 & 21 is a closeup!) We are also in a couple of random shots here and there.
This was from the Bayou Haystackers paddlefest on Saturday. It was a beautiful day for the water.
9/19/07 dreamgirl
I was chatting with a guy friend of mine who is not local...telling him more of my dating saga. He thinks I'm just playing with all of these guys (so not true-I really do want to find one who will put me on his pedestal). Well, anyway, the question came up, "Tab what on earth do you want in a man?" So I told him that I actually have a rather serious punchlist of what I want! He laughed and asked me to send it to him. I'm going to share with you my punchlist in its unedited form...and then HIS answers to my punchlist. (how like me to have a damn spreadsheet on what I want in a dream dude.)
Here goes:
WOULD LIKE TO HAVE
UNREAL DREAM DUDE WHO PROBABLY DOESN'T EXIST AS A SINGLE MAN
and now for his responses to the list:
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