And We’re Back, with Free Love

There aren’t too many things I miss about being single (wondering if he’s going to call, then waiting for him to call, then realizing he’s a lunatic and hoping he’ll never call again) but there is one thing: the personal ads.  As a writer, and as a former student of anthropology, I found them endlessly…

Bad News

Well folks, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.  Not they’ve-decided-to-stop-producing-fair-trade-chocolate bad news, or even I’ve-decided-to-join-a-commune-and-go-off-the-grid bad news but bad news nonetheless. You might have noticed that I missed Monday’s post, and those of you who have been following my blog since the beginning of my Great Date Experiment will have noticed that my posts…

How To Tell You’re Becoming an Old Lady

I am officially old.  I know this because when I got home from work on Friday afternoon, my first thought was “I’d really like to take before The Wedding Date gets here.” As we sat down on the steps of the art museum to listen to the “music” (which featured a “world-renown” percussionist from Brazil)…

My Go-To Date

Tonight, The Wedding Date and I are going to the art museum.  Those of you who have been reading for a while know how I feel about the art museum: it’s my go-to date, and frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken us this long.  I always subject my dates to the art museum, and usually I…

Queen of the Whack-a-Mole

My plan, upon arriving at the arcade with The Wedding Date and his kids, is to kick butt.  This way they’ll know whose boss even if I did spend the past hour telling dumb blonde jokes. Unfortunately we start with one of those car racing video games.  I come in 8th out of 8th place…

Finally: The Wedding Date’s Kids

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m kind of freaking out about meeting The Wedding Date’s kids.  What if they don’t like me?  What if we have nothing to talk about?  What if they think I’m lame or terrible at board games?  And, worst of all, what if my relationship with their dad doesn’t…

This is a Wine Tasting, Not a Bar

So, getting back to the Flower Show and my grandmother’s annual pilgrimage to Philadelphia: its 5pm on Thursday and a few of my dad’s co-workers have made the mistake of stopping by.  My grandmother is showing her usual photographs and pauses on one of her two (feral) cats. “Guess what the cats’ favorite cold cut…

Chucky Cheese Might Be a Nice Alternative

My brother and I had a rather phenomenal tree house when we were growing up.  It had three levels complete with a sandbox underneath, a bright yellow slide, three ladders and a professional-grade trapeze set.  (At least I’m pretty sure it was professional grade; we performed some pretty amazing acrobatic routines.) My dad built it…