Dont Mince Words

I rushed back from a quick weekend with an old girlfriend to have a date. With Dixie in the car and my luggage in the trunk, I went to Panera for my second date of the year. Or at least it was my second date of the year at the same Panera (their choice, not mine).

Hibiscus tea in hand, I learned Jim was really boring in person. After I got over his overly belted mom jeans, bright white sneakers, and comb-over side part, I realized I could never open my mind to the possibilities because he didn’t drink. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I had lots of friends of Bill when I live in Los Angeles. But he doesn’t “get” beer and believes Richmond Beer Lovers must be comprised of alcoholics. I like to think of us as beer foodies. The other thing I’ll never understand are men who are 50 who aren’t sure if they want kids. Seriously. Like you really want to be Medicare age when you are trying to pack a kid up for college? I feel sorry for that kid and your annuities.

I quickly wrapped it up as another dating adventure and returned to the car where I was greeted with a wag and a smile. Better luck next year.

The MaxiPad

I sold my first house, the sweat-equity 1908 money pit, in 1998. Since that time, I’ve lived in four states and had 12 different addresses. I consolidated my stuff down to the bare necessities and when I got laid off the last time, I sold everything and UPSed 18 boxes to Virginia. I’ve been in my “retirement” house for three months now and I’m so thankful I’m not a hoarder. I’m building a home without the nicked and scuffed leftovers of prior lives.

One thing has changed since my last home purchase – the internet and ecommerce. Home delivery and Amazon have made the need for a boyfriend or husband to hump something into my car obsolete. I see the UPS guy more often than all my old boyfriends combined. The other night, he was removing a package from my front porch when I opened the door.

“I’m so used to coming to your house, I forgot other people on your block might order things too,” he said laughing. Several nights later he was back delivering my fall California wine club package. I tipped him $20 and thanked him for helping me move in.

About 90 percent of my home is furnished now. It’s nice to be able to buy things that fit the space instead of making old things try to work. As I write this, two white guys are on a 40-foot ladder painting my balcony. That’s another thing that has changed.  If it requires a tool or prop I don’t have, I hire a man. That’s what they are good for. The time I save can be spent drinking beer while sitting on my new sofa online shopping.

When a brewpub opened called The Answer, I had to go. I strategically scheduled an offsite meeting with my graphic designer at 4:30 p.m. to check out the 30+ taps. After a month on the job, we still had to finalize our corporate world domination plans.

I believe I was on beer number three when a man came up to to our backs at the bar and introduced himself with “I had to come over here to see the only two pretty ladies in the bar who can last two hours drinking beer.”  He obviously did not go to college with me or know my passion for the beverage.

I guess I need to update my online dating profiles with “can drink beer a long time.”  Who knew that was attractive?