Dale Miller

Last night was interesting. I’m not used to spending time with women my own age. Shelly was very nice. We had several things in common, and I think I could enjoy being in her company. A better place to eat is definitely in order, though. We went to Cozymel’s. The food was good, but a bit overpriced (as usual), and the service was nothing to brag about. Nonetheless, I think a good time was had by all (Heather and some male friend of hers joined us for dinner.) Now, of course, the usual problem — where to go from here.

While I was eating dinner, someone took my “personal ad” off the back of my car. I know it was on there when I went into the restaurant, but it was gone when I came out. Now what sort of person would steal a magnetic sign which reads “Male seeking female (501) 952-8373″? What use is it to anyone but me? Oh well, there are all sorts of people in the world.

After thinking about it, and talking it over with youlovemycar (who was little help), I decided to go with the “dress to impress” look tonight. I’m not sure if the impression will be good or bad, but I am not likely to be forgotten.

youlovemycar decided sometime yesterday that dossier would be “perfect” for me, and vice-versa. So, we are having dinner tonight. I’m quite nervous. This is the first real date I’ve had in quite some time. We shall see what happens.

You are Woodstock!

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Part of that is true, part isn’t.

I’m not sure what has come over my cats, but the four that are in the house are all in serious play mode. I can barely take a step without having one or more running in front of me. It’s fun to watch. I don’t think I have ever had four chasing each other at the same time.

I started to title this “Doesn’t anyone ever prufreed?”, but thought that was a bit much.

On the back of a van that I have seen driving on Underwood Road:

So would it be too small a job to correct your van?

Found on a package of “Private Selection” ravioli:

The word ravioli is already plural. Please don’t add an s. (The singular form is raviolo.)

I went to Sufficient Grounds last night for the first time in a few weeks. I spent too much money, consumed too many calories, lusted after too many women — my usual evening out. It was probably better than sitting at home, though.

I should clean up the house today. I tell myself that every Sunday, and I occasionally actually act on that thought.

I was a good boy, and got some exercise today. I drove to Pinnacle, climbed up the east side, down and back up the west, and down the east side again. It has been far too long since I have done that. it took me an hour and a half, and I was panting by the time I made it to the top the second time. I should be able to do that in an hour. I must get back into shape somehow. The motivation just isn’t there.

On another note. I had wondered which route was best from my house to Pinnacle. If I take SR 113 and SR 300, it’s 21 miles. If I take 113 to 10 to 300 it’s 21.4 miles. So, given that 10 is far faster than 300, that’s the way to go.

Yet another marginally related note. I need to drive slower. I realized one morning this week that I managed to drive at least double the speed limit on two of the roads I travel. On Underwood that’s not too hard, since the speed limit is 25, but I really shouldn’t drive 115 on Highway 10.

Free association reigns. As I was coming down Underwood this evening, I came up behind a county sheriff’s car. Fortunately I saw him far enough away to not be going too fast. He was apparently just out cruising the countryside, which I think is an admirable thing. However, when he reached the end of the asphalt he turned around. What is that about? Don’t those of us who live on dirt roads deserve police patrols too? I guess he didn’t want to dirty his shiny patrol car.

It was a good week. Nothing particularly exciting happened, which can be both good and bad. I stayed busy at work, and that’s usually a plus. I prefer to feel productive.

I haven’t made an entry here in what seems like forever. Sometimes there are things I want to write, but those urges seem to occur when I’m not in front of a computer. By the time I am in the right place, and have time, I have forgotten them. One of the problems of old age, I guess. (Or maybe it’s just that I’m absent-minded — or the thoughts weren’t particularly profound to begin with.)

I need to figure out something to do this weekend. The “get healthy” part of me is telling me to go and climb Pinnacle Mountain, while the lazy/depressed part of me just wants to go back to bed. The “let’s go have fun” part wants to find a field and go fly kites, but that really isn’t all that much fun by myself.

I was hoping to have youlovemycar over for dinner this weekend, but she went to Fayetteville. Anyone want to come over and eat spaghetti?

I had decided many days ago that for my emotional well-being (such as it is) I should stay home tonight. But there’s just something about being forced to stay home that makes me want to go somewhere — anywhere.

No, Dale, you don’t really need to make a 20-mile trip to Kroger so that you can have fresh milk for cereal tomorrow morning.