Am…musings

My neighbor and friend, Marsha, has a group of girlfriends she’s known for years … some for almost four decades. They are wonderful people and have welcomed me into the mix. Last year, was the first year I was invited to Girls’ Weekend. One of the women and her husband have a really nice cabin in Sullivan, Mo. We cook dinner, drink cocktails and have fun.

Last year, I was unprepared, which is a terrible feeling for a “Martha” like me. I did take a bottle of wine for the hostess, but didn’t even think about goodies for the group. There were mini bottles of wine, candy and fuzzy socks (which when mixed with a few too many Pirates on a Diet caused an unfortunate, tailbone-bruising tumble down the steps for me … but it’s the thought that counts).

We’re headed down tomorrow, and I am ready with awesome goodies for this year …

It’s a small paint can decorated with stamped cardstock and filled with a stamped candle, candy and a bottled mojito.

I think they’ll enjoy them … and I had fun making them too.

The minute I set foot into the dining room … I’m ready. It takes almost no thought for me to do it … no thought for me to … flip the bird, in addition to leveling my calculated dirty look.

Much like the dirty look, I’ve learned this one from my mom, who never hesitates to give me the finger … you know the finger I’m talking about. She means it in a fun, loving way … and I typically dish it right back at her in the same spirit … but that ‘s not my intent with this particular bird, which isn’t directed at my mom. This time, once again, it’s an unsuspecting, undeserving target … my computer.

As I explained in my earlier post, my poor computer, by the nature of online dating, has become the recipient of my disappointment and irritation with the men I’ve met on Match.com. However, this time … I’m guessing it’s not on my side. This time … I’m sure it saying, “Move the F on, sister. These boys aren’t worth it.”

I know it’s the truth, and I’m ready to do it.

It’s a ritual. A relationship ends badly or before it really began and I clean house … electronically, that is. All messages “to” and “from” get blown out of Match.com or Myspace. My Yahoo e-mail also gets cleansed. The occasional message that strayed into my work e-mail … I search and destroy those too. Then there’s Google Chat and Yahoo Messenger. Not only do I delete the chat archives, but I also erase the contact … I figure I can always re-add them if necessary, and this saves me from spying to see if they are online … and (who am I kidding?) from the Internet’s equivalent of drunk dialing – inebriated IMing.

In the past year, I’ve wiped the slate clean a few times and never looked back … until a few weeks ago. For some reason … at this point I seriously can’t remember why … I was in my Yahoo e-mail contacts, and was shocked to find five Yahoo Messenger contacts that I’d deleted.

F‘em, I thought, and deleted them for good. Except … the next day I got to thinking (never a good thing), was that a yellow smiley face next to one of them? Did that mean he was online? Didn’t he only start using Yahoo Messenger because of me? Does he maybe want to talk to me? Which I’m sure leads you to ask, “Why is Amber such a dumb girl?”

Well, it didn’t matter that I’d deleted his information … I hadn’t forgotten and added him right back in. Which I’m sure leads you to ask, “Why is Amber such a colossally dumb girl?”

I had drafted this post way back then, but hadn’t wanted to post it with its original ending … which was that I had been unable to delete him. However, after a few days of spying … and thankfully no inebriated IMing, I deleted him for good. Now that I haven’t peeked again in a few weeks, I know I’ve safely moved on for good and figured it was fine to post this without the danger of having to eat crow.

I wanted to share an update … albeit slightly belatedly … on Thursday’s sleep experiment post. Unfortunately, I was exhausted after Wednesday night’s 6-hour slumber. Of course, I may have been just as tired with anything less than 7.5 hours, but without a more scientific approach, I’m just not sure.

I did have a little more proof of the 1.5-hour theory yesterday, however. I had awoken super early, fallen back asleep and was roused by the phone at 11:20 a.m. (yes, that’s pathetic, but there has to be some benefit to not having kids or anyone else to worry about). Although I had gone to bed late the night before, I had definitely gotten enough hours in. However, I was in the middle of a REM cycle by my calculations when the phone rang, and that afternoon and evening I was totally exhausted. Of course, I did have an uncontrolled variable in this mix … a bit of a hangover from several Captain Morgan and Diet Cokes (or “Pirate on a Diet” as my friend Marty calls it) the night before, which could definitely explain the sleepiness.

In the time I’ve been back on Match.com, I’ve met a few good guys (in addition to the stalker – who is still texting, btw, despite no response from me). Unfortunately, a couple of the good ones have also inexplicably disappeared into thin air … calling and interested one minute … gone the next. In the grand scheme of things, I figure I’m better off without these dating Houdini’s. And I have to say, I’m also doing much, much better at not being had at hello. However, (being the over thinker I am) I tend to wonder what happened to them.

This week it occurred to me that maybe this blog and Google were the reasons. I use my full name on my e-mail and instant messaging (probably not the smartest, but I’ve been too lazy to change it), and as soon as I’m armed with that kind of information, I know I’m off to Google to see what else I can dig up. I figured the Houdinis may have done the same and found these “musings.” While I don’t think I’ve been overly negative or mean (except maybe to the stalker), I could see that a guy could be turned off by the possibility of being the subject of my dating disclosures.

It had been a while since I’d Googled myself (and if you haven’t … you should) so I tried a few minutes ago. Apparently there’s a singer named Amber Morris, but with the addition of “St. Louis,” it’s all me. However … sadly … no Ammusings, at least not in the top 20 results.

But it’s ok, I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off and keep blogging … and dating despite the disappearing acts.

It’s 5:57 a.m. as I type these words.

I typically say I am not a morning person, which isn’t technically true. Unlike many other non-morning people, I’m not a total crab-ass in the morning. After taking a little time to wake up, I’m normally in a positive mood and fully functioning (the fact that I’m writing a blog post after waking up 10 minutes ago is proof positive). So as opposed to an anti-morning person, I’ve deduced that I am a lover of sleep … a Dozing Diva, if you will.

As a Dozing Diva, 5:57 a.m. is not a time of day I normally see unless I have an early commitment. Today, I do not. Today, I’m trying a sleep experiment.

At work a few weeks ago, we were chatting about the number of hours of sleep we each prefer and actually get. I had always targeted (and usually hit) 8 hours a night during the week and 9 on the weekend. A co-worker mentioned studies had shown we should get sleep in 1.5-hour increments after the first 3 hours …. so sleeping for a total of 4.5 hours, 6 hours, 7.5 hours or 9 hours. The reason (in non-scientific terms): REM cycles last 1.5 hours and interrupting them is bad and results in feeling less rested.

My love of sleep means I gobble up every article I see regarding sleep tips, recommended hours, etc. and I was shocked I’d never heard that wisdom. That very night, I opted to hear the Wii Fit fitness tip (something I usually skip) and it was about the importance of sleep and sleeping in 1.5-hour increments. I figured it was fate and that I needed to test the concept.

Nine hours during the week seemed like a stretch so I’ve been shooting for 7.5 hours. One big change I’ve made is not sleeping around the snooze … I’ve always known that was bad, but now I have a basis for it. Instead, I’m forcing myself to slowly wake up using one or two snoozes.

It’s been a few weeks, and I think I feel a little better. I also feel validated by one cool thing I’ve noticed … on weekends, when I don’t set the alarm I wake up exactly at the 1.5-hour increment (i.e. my typical 9 hours on the weekend). Today, it was exactly at 6 hours. It’s rare that I wake up before the alarm during the week and normally, I’d go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the alarm was set for only an hour later so I decided to really test the theory. I normally crash in the afternoons/evenings after less than 8 hours, but now I wonder if it was actually because I hadn’t been sleeping in magic increment. I’ll keep you posted.

So … Mr. Overzealous from Match.com has texted five times. Twice Wednesday … with the aforementioned “I have a good feeling about you.” Then on Friday night. Then on Saturday morning. Then just a few minutes ago.

I have responded exactly … never. Despite that, his last text said, “I haven’t heard from you for awhile.”

Again, I know I’m not being nice. And I had planned to let him know I’m not interested (I am, after all, the girl who bitched about boys not using their words.), but just hadn’t gotten around to it. I’m just amazed the messages haven’t stopped.

I’ve posted before on a peril I face with online dating via Match.com and MySpace … being had at hello (i.e. getting too invested in e-mails and IMs) only to be let down by a lackluster phone call or meeting. This week, I experienced the anti-“at hello.”

I got a wink and e-mail from a cute guy early last week. He had a nice profile, but his recent divorce (November) set off a small red flag. Unsure and a little busy, I procrastinated on returning his message. I explained things were hectic at work and he was gracious, responding with his number for texting. I was impressed with his understanding and I shared my number.

What followed was a minor flurry all in a two-hour period, including another e-mail and two lengthy texts, one ending in “I have a good feeling about you.” Overwhelmed, I didn’t respond and he texted again tonight just to say, “hi!!!” (with all three exclamation points).

Really? Yes, I know this is sexist and isn’t nice, but … the “good feeling” seems like something a girl says to her friends … and nothing that should ever be said out loud by a man within a few initial conversations. And the overzealousness typically stops me in my tracks.

Of course, I can hear a few of my friends saying, “You’re too picky. This is why you haven’t found someone.” Maybe they’re right, but I guess it has to feel right … especially at hello. And now in hindsight, although I feel a little guilty, it definitely feels better to know at hello, rather than the delayed disappointment.

I felt something hit my hand when I was on a walk this morning. It almost felt like a bud blown from a tree, but my brain quickly processed that I wasn’t near any trees. I looked up, but not too long (to avoid getting hit in the face by what I feared had hit my hand) … yep, two birds were circling overhead. A peek at my hand further confirmed my theory … I’d been pooped on!

I lived in Florida for five years, where an abundance of seagulls and other avian creatures often perpetrated this crime. Although I was never the recipient, I’d seen it happen and remembered the line always delivered to help make the poor target feel better … it’s good luck.

This line definitely occurred to me this morning, especially I realized the only spot on my whole body that got hit was my left ring finger.

I’ll hope it was luck … but it was definitely gross regardless!!!