A Burp With Your Mouth Closed Occassion

I took M to a formal occassion on Saturday night. Mainly because it was my weekend and I had already shipped her off to a babysitter on Friday night, and cowboy and I are somewhat back to our impasse from right before the holidays - do we or don't we meet each other's kids?
In preparation, we went shopping on Thursday and she picked out a brown and blue dress with a brown cardigan (duh, she's my kid - she will have a sense of style). We talked about behavior expectations, and I asked her if she knew how she was expected to behave. She so matter of factly told me, "I know, burp with my mouth shut." OK, I'll take what I can get.
Saturday afternoon she got dressed, put her tights on with her new shoes and looked amazingly grown up. I struggle with this a little bit since if she looks 'older' than she really is at 7, how much older will she look at 13?
Anyway, Saturday night was probably the most grown-up, polite, well behaved I have seen her ever. She got up on the stage to help call the raffle numbers using a microphone. She survived a sit-down 'fancy' three course dinner. And she held it together until after 10pm with no attitude.
Unfortunately, she only has so much capacity to be good for me. Once that good is used up, it's gone. I think for every hour of good, she needs at least two hours of bad to recoup. After four hours of good Saturday night, and a few hours of good this morning, I figure she's in brat mode for me until at least Friday.

Age Is Just A Number But It Still Matters

Bushwhacker's has one. Duke's has one. Cowgirl's has one. I'm pretty sure every bar has at least one. No, not fat girl in a tube top - Skeletor Man! Think back to He-Man Masters of Universe...but Bar Skeletor is that one scrawny, wrinkly, frail looking old man that hasn't come to terms with the fact he's old yet. Bar Skeletor gets down on the dance floor with his bad self all decked out out in his awesomest Member's Only jacket that's survived the last two decades, hideously ugly cowboy boots, and his whitest dentures (I guess, I don't know that last one for sure). Bar Skeletor at Cowgirl's last weekend followed me outside to smoke and bum a cigarette. OK, I certainly won't be selfish when it comes to things I voluntarily buy that will eventually kill me. Since Skeletor is bumming a cig, I figure he needs a light too. But no, Bar Skeletor has the coolest old man gadget ever - a lighter on a retractable cord attached to his belt. Yikes!

Last Saturday was the weekend celebration of Fat Tuesday. My turn to save a table so I get there a little before 9 and there's no tables left, so I had to share. I had my pick of "mr. 80's" with the almost mullett (oh baby!) or "mr. suave" with the button up shirt that really needed to be buttoned one more up. I went with "mr.suave" since they had a tall table.

But not everyone there Saturday night was old or uncool. I met a cute, slightly buff, blond haired, blue eyed guy named Greg. Greg bought me a Bacardi & Coke and came back to our table to sit with us for a little bit. As we shouted over the music, Greg asked how old we were. Kell replied 39. I replied 33. Turn about's fair play so I asked Greg how old he was. Oh, turns out he's 24. Another 'Yikes!' but for a totally different reason.

Decision 2008

Supposedly conflict is a natural part of life. I'm just not sure it's supposed to be as big a part of my life.
2008 is my year of anti-resolutions. I still drink, smoke, eat fast food, and don't exercise. Yet I have always wanted to do Hood To Coast. The disconnect of course is I don't run but Hood to Coast is a running relay. My department snagged one of the work sponsored walking teams for Portland to Coast, so of course there is just a little tiny bit of peer pressure to join Portland to Coast. Plus I have always thought the experience would be a once in a lifetime type thing. Hmmm, what do I do now? Well, now I'm doing the Shamrock Run 5K and probably the Starlight Run for training so I can do Portland to Coast. Guess I have to at least get off my ass long enough I don't freakin' die next month during the Shamrock.
Next conflict - to buy or not to buy? I have always had an inexplixable love of sports cars. I do not know where it came from. Certainly not my parents because my dad barely knows how to check the oil. My mom owns a hybrid and formerly drove a minivan. Not a clue where the fascination came from. I have an opportunity to buy a Camaro, very similar to the one I used to have, for a very good price. I have absolutely no place to put a second car in my one car driveway. I have no need for a second car on my 2.3 mile commute. M's dad is gonna have a shit fit and accuse me of taking him financially for everything he had. Neither of my car's will get over 15 mpg.
But on a purely emotional level, it's a fun car so I'm gonna go for it!