Cheesecake and Phone Numbers

Took the family to the Cheesecake Factory last Saturday. We're still trying to decide what to order...



Man, that menu is longer than Beowulf. And the portions? Now I know where Fred Flinstone was dining when they put that side of beef on his car....


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Up all night with McCoy on Monday - ear infection. Poor kid hung pretty tough, but at 5a the following sentence still flew outta my mouth:


"Kid, you're gonna have to f*cking suck it up and go to sleep."

Nice parenting skills.

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Nervous about the UT/OU weekend. Not so much the game - I think the squad that best takes care of the ball will win, for the record - but with a pending handshake. See, one of the guys that we'll go with is one of about three people I still know - and about one of 68 in captivity - that will cross you up with either the traditional handshake-to-bro-grip combo or the trendy handshake-to-hug duet (see 9/25 blog entry). I'm gonna botch it up, I just know it.

You women have it easy. Ya'll just hug it out, whether you like them or not. Unless of course you reach celebrity status, in which you have to do the double-cheek kiss thing.

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Met a nice fella at the park a coupla ago. We were both toting along our boys - McCoy a shade shy of 2 and his about 18 mos - and struck up a conversation about sports, kids and the like. About the same age, similar likes, all that. Talked about playing some golf sometime and exchanged numbers. (It's an awkward thing, by the way, asking a dude for his number.)

Anyway, my cell was in the car, so I just memorized his number, and he entered mine on his PDA or whatever ya call it. Used to be good at that, back in my days 'o singledom, remembering numbers with my bean.

My method was easy - sports jersey numbers. For example:

Me: "Can I get your number?"
Her: "You won't remember it."
"Sure I will, just tell me."
"Okay. 510-9612."

Which I would quickly translate as the following:

5 - Johnny Bench
10 - Fran Tarkenton
9 - Ted Williams
6 - Julius Erving
12 - Roger Staubach

You might think dialing up Bench, Tarkenton, Williams, Erving and Staubach would be trickier than just remembering 510-9612. Tell my brain that...it's a strange, murky place.

Anyway, that was 1988, and this is now. I can't recall even the neighborhood of the Park Guy's number. Tried the traditional route - see where that got me. And now, two weeks later, he still hasn't called! I thought we had something, a connection, some chemistry. I'm a contestant on "The Bachelorette," and no rose is coming my way.

I'm trying not to dwell in it, but frankly it's very difficult.

God I hope he calls.