First off, I want to thank all of you for your kind words in the comments on that last post. I really appreciate all your lovely sentiments of support, and I'm sure if I ever told my family about this little corner of the Internet, they would, too.
I'm actually trying to decide just what my grandma would say if she knew her picture was on the Internet right now. She never understood the Internet, of course, and probably never touched a computer keyboard in her life. I remember my mom trying to explain e-mail to her... The closest she ever came to any wording my grandma understood was, "I write letters to people through the TV." On a semi-related note, CDs have always been "little records." We never even tried to explain MP3 players to her. Technology was not the woman's forte, obviously. Frankly, if my grandma knew that a stranger in China could, if they were so inclined, pull up a picture of her on a screen in their living room right now, it would blow her fragile little 96-year-old mind. Let's hope there's no Wi-Fi where she is now, shall we?
Dead relatives aside, I had a busy and mostly fun weekend, and I hope all of you did as well. Last night into today was a two-part birthday party for a good friend, and Friday night was date #2 with the man we're apparently now calling the The Neighborhood Giant. We had drinks at an Irish pub near my house, which was interesting because at the same time, my friend Carrie was enjoying drinks with an older gentleman I know as The Bohemian Woodworker at a different Irish pub across town.
I got an e-mail earlier this week from One Smart Cookie, saying she enjoys reading my dating stories because she feels like I am her own personal Sex & the City episode. I say that if that were true, I would be getting decidedly more action and I would require decidedly more fabulous shoes. But still. If I were writing this in Sex & the City style, it would be hard not to segue from my date at Keegan's to Carrie's date at Brit's by saying, "Meanwhile, in an Irish pub downtown..." I'll resist the urge to take that comparison any further. Instead I will just say that following the drinks, I took the Neighborhood Giant back to my house, where instead of doing Carrie Bradshaw (or Carrie [LastName]) proud by engaging in the sorts of things that require a cut-away camera shot, I simply kicked his ass in Boggle. "You bring dates back to your house to seduce them," I e-mailed to Carrie yesterday. "I bring them over to destroy them with my superior word power."
All right. Between some deadlines at work and a trip home for my grandma's funeral, I'll probably be pretty scarce on the Internet this week. Try not to do anything too exciting while I'm gone, OK? I so hate being the last to know.