Dreaming of Alaska

Just finished this book about Heimo Korth subsistence living in the Brooks Range of Alaska with his wife.

Sigh.  My dreams of the last final frontier, the place of legends, Alaska.

I'm now reading 4,000 Miles by Boot, Raft, and Ski--A Long Trek Home by Erin Mckittrick.  She and her husband backpacked from Seattle to the tip of the Brooks Range of Alaska, all on foot and canoe.

I'm wondering how my Alaskan friend is doing.  

Haven't talked to him since the big blow out when he got funky-drunky and brayed at Hipster then stumbled home while his angry girlfriend picked up his phone and sent me a text blaming everything on me.  Nevertheless, I miss him.  I have no one to talk about my Alaskan-obsession with other than him.  He's got that same fever about Alaska in his veins like I do.

Too bad he's got too many issues going on in his life.  Oh, well. 

What else is going on?  

Finally, I figured out what Shawn from the gym's last name is!  So I found him on Facebook, but he's never on Facebook and has all his security settings turned on, so I can't find out much more about him without just just brazenly asking him!

So, I'll have to pull up my big girl panties and do just that.  I did make small talk with one of his nice friends from the gym.

I'm a firm believer that if a person's got cool, grounded friends, then that means that the person is probably cool and grounded.  Then there's the Wyoming-sweet-little-artist guy.  I say "little" because Sipsey and I think he's probably only 5'8", and that could be why he's hemming around with meeting.  Short guys are touchy about their shortness like chubby women are with their weight.  I don't think a guy has to tower over me just to make me happy.  LOL.

Soooooooooo, we'll see.  In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the ride!

Cold Feet or Just Stupid?

Look, I'm a dork cross-country skiing.  Pretty cool, eh?

Speaking of dorks, Country-Wyoming-Artist kind of blew it last weekend.

We were supposed to go out on Saturday, and he was SUPPOSED to drive over to meet me, but he wasn't being very certain in our plan making--tiny red flag.  Nevertheless, I was looking forward to it all week.  Then, at the last minute he says he must drive 150 miles in the other direction to Sheridan on Saturday to get his taxes done by his family's accountant, so we can't meet after all (after THREE months of texting, I might add).

Cold feet or just plain stupid?

And there I stood looking at the cute outfit I'd put together readying to go out, phone in hand.  He texted me, "I'm sorry I ruined our weekend."

Well, what does one say to that?  One says, are you just looking for a Fantasy Girlfriend?  Many men on the internet want just that.  They really do not want to date anyone, but they're lonely, so they text up and down a woman, but they never want to actually meet.  They like the NOTION of a possible girlfriend, but nothing more.

So today, I laid down the law and texted him that very information, asking him if that's all he wanted and being very direct.  I haven't heard back yet, so he must be back at work doing his three-day, 14 hour shifts, hence won't hear back until tomorrow.  Look, I don't want to waste my time.  If Wyoming-Artist just wants a fantasy-girlfriend to text when he's lonely, I'm out.  Especially when there are other dorks who want to take me out. 

Other dorks like Deadwood Dick, who is still unbelievably texting me.  I think he's too pushy for my type.  He's not sweet and gentle like my Wyoming-Artist.  He's brash, outspoken, like Fleishman from Northern Exposure.  Opinionated.  Smug.  Deadwood Dick, is well, a dick.  But he cracks me up in a combative type of way.  He's so NOT my type.  He's very Nordic looking as in he could play a Viking, which I find weirdly attractive.  And he's got a cabin off-the-grid which is quite appealing.  He's educated, an engineer (why do I attract engineers?), but like Cowboy-Artist he works for the energy biz now, so on a weird unpredictable work schedule.  He's well-off, been around the world, a widow who lost his family to 9-11, but I don't know the details.  Intriguing. Definitely NOT boring.

But he pissed me off last month, remember?  He still thinks I'm a surgeon, so I don't know how that's gonna play out.  LOL.  Then there's Dean-o, the hunky oil patch worker who blows into town when he's got his 4 days off.  He wants me to spend the whole weekend with him this weekend.  Uhm.  Really?  I hardly know you, joker.

Then there's the car salesman who's super cute, and of course the engineer from my gym.  He's the pick of the pack, the very best fit for me--we both have masters degrees, in his 40's, has hair, loves to work out like I do, has a Harley and loves to ride, super CUTE and very nice and polite.  I am really crushing on him, and he likes me too, but we're at a stalemate, and I'm not sure if he's dating anyone.  And I'm too chickenshit to just plain out ask if he has a girlfriend.  Sigh.

Stay tuned.

Friendship and Being Cranky

My Quiet, Groovy, Life.  Happy with my alone time, sitting at Indy's yesterday after three hours at the gym, and getting ready to go home, have some wine, listen to Prairie Home Companion, and bliss with my dog.

But I am different.  I view friendships differently because I am SINGLE and not ashamed.

If you're single and friends with single people, there's a sort of a Democracy going on.  It goes like this:

"Hey, man, you wanna hang out Saturday?"
"Sure what were you thinking of doing?"

And it sort of goes from there.  But I've noticed things different with my neighbor whom I'm friends with.

"Hello?"
"Hey, girl I've been thinking about you.  Let's hang out."
"Dude, I've not hung out with you in over a year, but OK.  What looks good to you?"
"Well, hubby will be out of town, so I was thinking . . ."

Did I mention that she ONLY wants to hang out, when her husband is out of town?  When he was stationed in Iraq, we hung out all the time, but the minute his ship landed, and he was back, GONE-O.

Whenever I get STUCK at the gym watching (the worst cooking show, ever), Ree Drummond's Life at the Ranch, or whatever the hell the backwards show is called, I'm reminded of my neighbor and other women like her who completely disappear into their man, and think doing so is super neat.  Ree thinks she's the head of the household, calls herself a "Writer" whatever!  Ree, your husband runs the show because basically, you DO NOT WORK, and he pays all the bills!  You are a glorified housekeeper, cook.

Likewise, my neighbor thinks it is sort of cute that she asks, like asks for permission from her asshat husband, to hang out with me, on the rare occasions that we do hang out, even though "hubby" (anyone who says that word around me will be shot) is out of town.  Patriarchy gone bad, let me tell you.  And every other gawd damned sentence is, "Well HUBBY thinks" this or that, as if he's gawd himself, and this is only because he is a man.

It's like some women glorify men, or maybe I just have a shitty attitude.  But I have NEVER disappeared into a man, nor would I respect or want a guy who's disappeared into me.  You have to have your OWN life. 

Speaking of men, what's going on here?  Not much.  (Crickets chirping) Cowboy-artist is still texting me.  I'm wondering if we are ever going to meet or if it's that fantasy thing that so many guys do where they just text (you never wind up meeting them), shrug.  No news from Deadwood Dick, but I am getting an occasional text from the cute car salesman in town, but it seems the timing is off.  Hipster has disappeared from the radar.  BUT, I spent about 45 min. talking to Shawn-the-cute-guy-from-the-gym at Paddy's.

He's cute.  I'm friends with his best friend's niece.  He's educated.  But I'm approaching it as a friends-only thing, because I can't figure out if he has a girlfriend or not.  So best not get hopes up.

So pretty quiet around here, UNLESS Cowboy-Artist comes into town this weekend, so stay tuned.