Woahhhhhhh Nelly….

It’s a mixed up, jumbled up, wonderful world.

My “tweet-kend”……. Friday… The excitement of a date for the very first time in a long time. A 12 mile drive to meet and I swear I musta smoked 7 cigs. The idea of just putting one foot infronta the other gave a baby boost to my psyche…

A very attractive lady. A very nice lady. A wonderful smile lady. Whole lotta good- good mom, educated, humanitarian. Couple of drinks – shared meal.. In departing, “well then will you let me buy the next time we go out?”.. Another bump up to my psyche.. Shee-ittt, this is gonna be a great weekend…

Back to town later that night, met buddies…… “How’d it go?”.. “I think real good, thanks.” Had a beer with them – Friday is usually my very late night out ‘playing idiot’ – but, for some reason, just didn’t feel it. Went home – at peace. Walked in door Friday night early and……….

“Figgy?... Figaro, please, NO, you can’t be dead?”….. Was. Seventeen year old cat. Son’s favorite. Dayum. Fig was a wonderful, interesting kitty. Had the coolest ‘cinnamon bun’ swirl on both sides of his body you’d ever seen. Poor little feller was cross-eyed, but it didn’t deter him from going to discover. He’d run into a wall, bounce back, turn, and full steam ahead.

Took son to work Saturday morning, didn’t have the heart to tell him. Did tell him on the way home. ”That’s messed up… I loved that cat.” And I know he did. Fig was a conversation piece between us… his ‘2nd’ nickname was “Sweets”, and also “Petey.” Son would ask “how’s sweets and what he doing?” He was usually either in the tub, on the bed, on a cool spot on the floor – a content feller, seemed to enjoy life.

Figgy was the only cat I’ve ever seen where, if you call him, whistle for him, he’d come. Perhaps he was our answer to no longer having any dogs. Anyways, blessya Fig, you almost died ten years ago (urinary tract infection.. some $400 vet bills later vet said.. “last hope.. gonna give him Gatorade in an IV”.. worked for ten years.

More tweetkend. Saturday, didn’t even feeling like going out – did for about an hour – back home to cruise the internet. I’d sent Ms. Friday night date a note thanking her, and actually an invite to go out Saturday. Where I’d sent the note – you could tell if someone had opened/read, and the entire night passed – no look at the email. I’d only checked 267 times to see if she had read it. Hehe.

Sunday morning, still nuttin’. Got son to work. “So pops, after I get off, you drive me to get new shoes, and I’d like to stop at Best Buy.”…. Sure son. My 40th class reunion planning meeting was at 3pm. Son gets off work downtown KC at 3pm. I’d emailed (said with love) whatshername earlier in the week to ask for assistance with a ride for son, explained the 40th reunion planning party.. no response. Par for the course.

Onea my alltime favorite teachers/professors was a guy named Dr. Schmock. Psychology, William Jewell college. Onea the ‘games people play’ I remember him telling us was the game “ain’t it awful’.. and I find myself today perhaps pitifully participating in a game I’d really rather never play – but hey, woah nelly, here I am.

I know! Good shit, followed by bad shit, more bad shit… I’ll watch the Chiefs! Rollercoaster – please – tell me… it’s time for the uphill ain’t it? Arch rival, Oakland Raiders in town… worst quarterback in the league.. 70+ thousand screaming, red-wearing fans.. home opener.. YES! YES! YES! Just what the doctor ordered! Lost, last two minutes of the game. Shee-it.

Picked up son, missed meeting. Went home, checked on Figgy’s grave to make sure no critters unearthed him. Checked email. Finally. “I still believe in others.” Hmmm. So, reckon that meant we’re not going out on a 2nd date. Oh I feel so foolish for telling buddies “went well, thanks.”

Before you call in the shrink, first know: I love life. I even loved most parts of the weekend. Great music. Reminiscing about Fig, how I’d brought him home as a kitten in the first place. Looking thru old pics of my family.. Even the Chiefs, in defeat, had some good things happen.

And on the dating thing. Don’t feel sorry for me. There’s a fair number of women that make contact with me. I am just too GD picky. My right though (and, the right of Ms. Friday night date too.)

At work now, Monday morning. Will do my share of horsing around today. I ain’t no gardener, but onea my favorite things in the world is to “see how many smiles I can grow” in a day. For real. It makes ME happier when I try to make others happy/laugh. Some efforts are pretty lame, I’ll admit – but then sometimes, I’m rewarded back by a co-worker with a shit-eaten grin.. and I’m reminded “yes… thanks God… this IS a pretty darn good world, life…. even if it doesn’t always workout like a paint by the numbers plan.”

K. Done. Nuff said. No more horsing around here. Woah Nelly. Happy day, love, Victurd.