Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Why I’ll always be single

I always figured I’d meet PerfectMan in one of the usual ways. For example, a "meetcute", whereby we’d be walking our respective dogs near a duck pond, when the dogs see the ducks and go bonkers running around and the leashes get tangled around our legs and PerfectMan and I go tumbling into the duck pond and fall instantly in love, sodden hair and all, while our pups gambol and frolic about happily.

Or PerfectMan would fall in love with me through my blog and would start sending me gifts and cards that would seem creepy if they weren’t from someone with the amazingly good taste to love my blog, and then PerfectMan would be accidentally arrested for stalking when he gets a little overzealous but someday we’d laugh and laugh over how I maced him the first time we actually met as he snuck into my backyard to plant some unusual varieties of tomato plants for me, his true beloved.

Like I said, the typical ways.

But I’ve recently come to the realization that even if these scenarios were likely to happen – and I’m not saying they’re NOT, but The Kone and I aren’t exactly in the habit of daily strolls near duck ponds – that I wouldn’t exactly be batting a thousand in the man-keeping department after that.

Why? Well. I’m glad you asked.

I came to realization #1 when Kim and Melindy came to stay with me and The Kone in May for Kim’s Birthday Extravaganza. I figured that Melindy could have the spare bedroom, and Kim and I could share my bed, and Kona would graciously allow Kim to have his usual spot, while he slept at the foot of the bed.

I was clearly smoking crack when I came up with that little rosy scenario, because this is what actually happened:

On night #1, I had the brilliant idea that I’d sleep in my usual spot on the left, and when Kona saw Kim in his spot on the right, he’d sigh but jump up to sleep across the bed at the end. So Kim and I get into bed first, and I encourage Kona to follow, as I pat the foot of the bed, where there’s plenty of room. He stares at me. Goes to Kim’s side (aka his usual side). Goes to my side. To Kim’s. Ignores me patting the foot of the bed. Then he eventually does decide to jump up after about a half hour of this…..jumping up where Kim is, totally ignoring the laws of physics that say that 2 objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

He does that a lot.

So Kim’s sitting forward, and he’s behind her, with absolutely no inclination to move. So I get out of bed, at which point my beloved sweet momma’s boy of a dog who can’t be without me for seconds…..nestles into my spot, sighs contentedly, and promptly shuts his eyes. I think he even started snoring.

I sleep on the couch. The rest of the time that Kim was there, she got into bed on the right, and The Kone had no problem whatsoever occupying MY usual spot. So much for the whole “I can’t let you out of my sight, momma!” routine that he likes to use. Hmph.

So there’s an issue with the bed routine, should I be dating PerfectMan for 6 or 10 months or so and deign to let him sleep over. But wait, that’s not all! Because quite frankly, I’m not even sure we’d make it to that point.

You see, Kona and I have this, well, routine. Which would kick in after, say, I’m out on a date, and decide to invite PerfectMan in afterwards to sip some fruity cocktails and watch Hoarders, while we talk about how astonishingly funny I am, in a wittily ironic and bitter way.

The problem would arise when we step into the house, because this is what would happen, as I envisioned in Realization #2, as this is what happens every single time I come home, whether I'm gone for 30 minutes or 2 hours:

Kona would come running up and jumping, all excited. Then he’d dash to the back of the house, holding a shoe or toy or something/anything in his mouth, and I’d have to run back there to let him out. At which point he’d barrel outside, do a lap around the yard, then barrel back in. Then he’d pick up a shoe – preferably one I would have just kicked off – and he’d run and scamper around the house while I chase his little puppybutt around like a lunatic saying “Who’s got the SHOE! Oh boy! Who’s got the shoe??”

Oh yeah, and Kona expects some kind of treat or leftover when I come home after an evening out with friends, so I’d snatch out of PerfectMan’s hands whatever he thought he’d be having for lunch the next day, and give it to The Kone.

Then if PerfectMan hasn’t already left enough of a vapor trail as he quickly departs the loony bin, we’d attempt to snuggle on the couch while following the aforementioned Hoarders/TashaAccolades plan……with Kona sprawled out in between us, pushing at us with his little pawsums as he takes up more and more space on the couch in an enfeebled attempt to eke out just the slightest bit of comfort.

Now personally, me, I don’t see why any of this should be a problem, but hey, maybe that’s just me? Probably. None of this really fits in with the romantic little cocoon one hopes to be ensconced in after a date with PerfectMan, not when you add the running-around-the-house-chasing-Kona bit. Oh well. Priorities, right? It’s not like my whole life revolves around HRH The Kone or anything……

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Flying the Tasha skies

Ah, so much to catch up on, so little time! Where to begin? Well, how about with the trip to Philly to see my Cancerchicks at a conference, which started out with a cropduster powered by a generator? But I get ahead of myself…..

So there I was in the American Airlines terminal, waiting for my plane to Philly, which is of course delayed. Mechanical issues, of course. Which is always worrisome, because what with the fines they give airlines these days if they’re late, I imagine them frantically slapping things together with duct tape, just to get the plane off on time.

We finally get onto the plane, which is a tiny little кукурузник, and I’m already peeved not just because of the delay but because the plane is SO tiny that there’s no room in the overhead bins for any of our wheelie bags. Then the true fun begins.

Captain: Okay folks, this is your captain speaking. Sorry about the really loud noise at the back of the aircraft! That’s the generator we had to plug in to power up the plane, since we couldn’t get one of the engines to work.

I swear I am not making any of this up.

He continues.

Captain:… we put in a new computer card and plugged in the generator and hopefully that’ll get us to Philly without that one engine!

The girl sitting next to me and I look at each other.

Girl: Okay, I didn’t need to know any of that.

Me: Umm, yeah, me neither. Not really on a need to know basis.

Girl: Down an engine?

Me: Plugged in a generator?

The whole plane is unusually quiet.

We manage to take off, and other than some major turbulence, the flight is pretty uneventful. Then as we approach Philly, sort of, I notice that the plane is starting to circle. Our illustrious captain speaks again:

Captain: Well folks, we were slated to get into Philly relatively on time (because we now cushion the schedule with an extra half hour just in case), but then we got word that there’s a boat in the harbor, so they’re rerouting all of us until they can get that boat moved. Shouldn’t be too long!

Again, the girl and I look at each other.

Girl: A boat?

Me: Blocking the planes from landing? WTH?

We finally land – finally! – and as we sit there on the runway, yes, another message from Captain Cropduster:

Captain: Okay folks, we need to wait for our chance to taxi in, but in the meantime, so that our generator doesn’t overheat, could those of you sitting near the windows close the shades, and make sure those air vents are open? Thanks! Should have you in in a jiffy.

I start laughing at this point. Seriously? Close the shades?

Me, to my seatmate: See, this is par for the course for me. I’ll tell my friends waiting at the airport for my plane to get in about our кукурузник plane powered by a generator delayed by a boat, and they’ll just say, oh yeah, we figured as much.

Sure enough. I call Cori to tell her I’m waiting for my wheelie bag to be dumped in the gangway, and explain the delays.

Cori: Well, it IS you – this doesn’t surprise us. At all.

Let this be a warning to the rest of you – if you see me at the airport, you might want to rethink your travel plans…..