The Economics of Dating?

I'm a night owl. I'm usually getting my second (third? fourth?) wind around 10:00PM and there are way too many nights that I end up staying up much later than I need to. And I subsequently pay for it the following morning when I drag myself jump cheerfully out of bed at an hour that most people find acceptable and I find down right painful.

Watching "Nightline" is usually part of my attempt to slow down and get ready for bed and I was blown away by a story Monday night about dating in a down economy. Am I the only one who was unaware that dating was highly sensitive to the economic climate? I must have missed that in B-School.

Now, I can completely appreciate that people might not spend as much on expensive restaurants or other activities, but according to these folks we are in the midst of serious dating reform. Apparently the dating behaviors of flush times are no longer acceptable.

(Um...I'm trying hard to follow along at home, but I'm just not getting it.)

You can click the link above to read the full story, but here are are few gems that I need to share to bring you into the twilight zone with me. The love guru quoted through the piece is Rachel Greenwald, dating coach, matchmaker and author. She cheerfully explained that "there doesn't have to be a monetary value associated with the perfect date; it's all about the company. People are doing different things, and now they value partners who can bring more depth to the relationship instead of just a hot babe."

(Well, hello Captain Obvious. Glad you could join us.)

She went on to explain that it used to be OK for your online dating profile to say you wanted someone who makes more than $150K, but in this dating economy it's better to say that you want someone who has a kind heart.

I suppose that's it's OK to say whatever you want on your profile--and I'll admit that I don't have one so I might not be an expert on this point--but I feel pretty confident that if the crux of your profile is resting on the financial status of your potential prince charming, well, let's just say you might expect to get what you pay for.

According to Nightline, "People are not looking for style and flash and hookups as much as they were," Greenwald said. "Now they're looking for substance and someone who can be with them in good times and, more often, bad times."

So if I'm catching on and making sense of all this, it sounds like one of the effects of the economic recession is a renewed search for substance, character and integrity in a mate.

(Sounds to me like things are looking up.)

Toe-tal Appreciation

Today is Cinco de Mayo. A day when Mexico celebrates victory over France. Well...I think that's the story. I never really got into history. For me, Cinco de Mayo is all about the opportunity to enjoy a margarita or two and gorge myself with queso.

Today is also a different sort of "Independence Day" for me. The pins are OUT!

I'm not going to lie. The removal of the pins was not exactly pleasant. OK...it hurt like hell. I had an equal number of people suggest that it would either be completely painless or hurt a lot. I went into it prepared for a lot of pain while really hoping that I wouldn't feel a thing. I'll spare you all the gory details and just say that it really hurt and I just might have let out a bit of a scream on the first one. Or maybe even a loud scream. And I'd like to think that's saying something because I've been forced to develop a pretty high tolerance for pain.

BUT...it's done! To mark this momentous occasion in my little life, I'd like to declare today to be NATIONAL TOE APPRECIATION DAY.

(I'm sure that Mexico doesn't mind sharing the day. It's probably a nice distraction from all that "we're the home of the swine flu" PR nightmare they're grappling with right now.)

To celebrate NTAD I'd like you to just stop and think about all the things your little piggies do for you that you daily take for granted. Here are my top 6 reasons that I love my toes:

1. They're pretty fundamental in the ability to walk, run and jump. Not to mention all that P90x and Jillian Michaels Shred mania that so many of you are suffering through enjoying lately.

2. They so willingly squeeze into all those beautiful shoes that line the shelves of my closet. Oh, pointy-toed stilettos, how I've missed you!

3. There would be no lovely walks on the beach and digging your toes blissfully in the sand if you didn't, you know, have toes to dig in.

4. Dipping your toes in the pool. Enough said.

5. Pedicures just wouldn't be the same. Those toenails are a canvas upon which I can enjoy my "Chick Flick Cherry" nail polish on a daily basis.

6. Two-stepping. I don't boot scoot a lot these days, bit I love knowing that, thanks to my toes, I can.

I know there are more reasons that I can't think of now, but six is a nice random number. Comment and tell me why YOU love your toes!

Oh...and there was a lot of discussion in my world about how exactly I would be "declawed." I was betting on an instrument that was in the family of fancy pliers. Turns out that it was actually a pair of fancy scissors instead. I took a photo for those of you who were morbidly curious (you know who you are).

I turned away as soon as I took this and didn't watch the actual removal.

Feeling it was, well, more than enough.

Coming Out of the Cave...

SOON! I'm working on several posts (all in my head at this point) and look forward to writing a lot over the weekend. I'll resist the urge to actually write a "real" post now as I'm supposed to be, you know, doing the work thing. But I had to check in and say that I'm excited to have FREE TIME this weekend.

Not to mention how thrilled I am to be rested enough to actually form a coherent thought.

That always helps.

Between now and then, if you want your world turned upside down a bit check out these spectacular posts from Angie and Melissa. They are fabulous (and famous) bloggers on an amazing trip to India right now with Compassion. Our world is so much bigger than we can comprehend and there's so much out there beyond our comfy and down right opulent lives. So much we don't want to have to think about, and yet it's unconscionable for us to just ignore what the vast majority of the world endures every single day. I've been following their trip as much as time has allowed this week and am moved, wrecked and just in awe of what they are experiencing and they way they are sharing it.

Right here and now I'd just take back each and every complaint I've had over the past few weeks about how "hard" things have been lately. Seriously. I'm going to complain about too much work? Or PC problems? Or even a couple of silly toes?

Geeze. What a brat.

More soon...

"Toe"-tally Disgusting

Well, I don't get it, but apparently photos of my broken toes are in high demand. My original thought was that I would post a link to Flickr or something so you wouldn't see them unless you really wanted to, but I'd have to set up accounts and these days I just don't have that kind of time.

So if you don't want to see it...now is the time to leave the page. I'll try to add some space so you have to scroll down and aren't immediately assaulted by the lovely images. If that didn't work and you saw it anyway I apologize. But only sort of, because let's face it...I have to not only look at, but also feel it....and wrap my brain around the fact that there is metal protruding from my body. So. Completely. Disgusting. And bizarre.

I saw the doc yesterday and all is on the right track--the pins will be in for 4 more weeks (UGH!) and then I should be back to normal within a few weeks after that. The pain is very manageable and I'm SO grateful that they gave me this post op sciatic nerve block pump thingy that left my entire right leg numb for 3 days. I could still feel the toes some, but not nearly as much as if I'd hadn't essentially had an epidural in my leg. The pump thingy, by the way, also very bizarre. And my roommate deserves a medal of some sort for not only helping me get around when I had no feeling in my leg, but also for helping me pull the catheter out of my hip when the pump ran dry. That's a quite a story in and of itself, but I have the feeling that I've already crossed way over the TMI line and will have enough respect for us all to just leave it at that.

I genuinely feel like I lost a week of my life to the twighlight zone...who knew that two little toes could cause so much trouble?! HUGE thanks to Amy, Clare, Stephanie, Laura, Tracey, Liz and others who helped me out so much last week...I can't tell you how much I appreciate and love you guys!

OK...so without further ado...

Here's what it looked like the night before surgery:

Here's what I was able to see until yesterday morning:

And here's what I have to look at for the next month:

My co-workers have nicknamed me "The Claw." Nice. Apparently I am as prone to odd nicknames as I am to all the injuries.

Getting to the Root of It

The image of "roots" is something that has long intrigued me. It's probably because of its Biblical significance--the vine and the branches, being rooted in Christ, etc. It's a common metaphor. So I'm drawn to photographs of trees with lots of groovy roots and even spend time looking at the roots of weeds when I pull them. (OK...a) yes, I'm a dork and b) yes, from the looks of my flowerbeds it would appear that I think flowers, shrubs and weeds should all coexist and the truth is that I don't weed them very often). Nonetheless, I think roots are cool.

All of that said, my long holiday weekend was a bit interrupted by another, much less groovy kind of root. In my tooth. Up close and personal in the form of a root canal. Ouch. So lest you think that I just ignore my dental hygiene, there's a back story to this one.

When I was around 11 my parents had the grand idea to buy a new game for the family to enjoy. I don't recall the official name of the game, but it involved placing two stakes in the ground (akin to horseshoes, a time tested family favorite of ours) and then tossing these disk thingies and trying to "ring" the disk on the stake. The disks are round with a hole in the center, but with these triangular pieces that also have holes in them--tough to describe, but you basically get points based on where you "ring" the disk.

So there we are, playing away and, as with all games that involved my brother and me in those days, the tide turned, tempers flared and before you know it (completely unprovoked, I'm sure) J decides to sling that sucker right at me. He told the story recently and swears that he was aiming at my shins or knees and remembers just watching it slowly rise as it sailed towards me before hitting me square in the mouth.

We're not going to talk about the pitiful lack of instincts that prevented me from moving out of the way. I'm sure there's a reason that I just can't recall at the moment. Really. There must have been a reason.

The disk hit me right in the gums above my top right tooth. So...yes...not only did I not move, but apparently stood still with my mouth wide open. Another point I'd like us to just gloss over. Except I can't because this is where it all comes back around. So the disk sliced open my gums and, as I wouldn't come to realize for many years, actually damaged the root and ultimately killed that tooth.

So 25-ish years after the incident, the tooth has been starting to discolor and the dental professionals decided that it was time to clean it out, hence the root canal that is impeding on my nice, long weekend.

[OK...gross alert...don't read this unless you like crazy medical details.]

The endodontist (Dr. Staci Ianiro--fabulous and I highly recommend her if you need someone to inflict pain in the name of dental healing) gets into the tooth and lets me know that it's "really cool". So, while I really dig Dr. Ianiro and she's a hip young doc, we have very different ideas of what qualifies as "really cool". She then tells me that the tissue inside my tooth and up through the root has mummified. That's right. Mummified. I won't give you any further details, but you can feel free to call me King Tut. Well...I'd prefer Cleopatra.

I'm happy to report that the pain has now mostly subsided, and due to Dr. I's handiwork the tooth has already changed back to it's proper color (yay!). My brother is completely unfazed despite my attempts to make him feel very guilty about all of this. I'm determined to plot a little friendly revenge but haven't yet decided what it will be.

I guess I should just be glad we weren't playing horseshoes.