It's a resolution, baby!

There are just 7 hours remaining in 2008 -- a year that I will remember for its crazy, crazy weather, tumultuous economy and the $2+/gallon drop in gasoline prices. I'll remember it personally as the year of my trip to Phoenix, my tattooed backside and my growing kinship with working out.

There was nothing I could do about the global events. For the most part, there was little any of us could do. But the personal events -- now there's something I have some control over.

Every year I write my list of resolutions on a piece of paper and stick it in a drawer in my dresser at home -- and every year, a few days after Christmas and before New Year's, I pull it out to see how well I did.

I couldn't find this year's/last year's list. I'm going to assume I did pretty well and just move on.

A few things I can remember that were on the list -- hits, of course -- were having an improved sense of self, living just a little more healthfully and "dare to be different" each month (hence the tattoo).

My sense of self did indeed improve and while I am still working out and watching what I eat, I am getting to be happy with who I am. We have always loved veggies and fruit at our house, but we have spent the year eating fewer fried and fatty foods.

I haven't been as consistent with the "dare to be different" vow, but I did get the tattoo, started working at a fitness facility (and fell in love with it -- I actually look forward to working out!), and have learned how to live happily single.

So on to 2009:

-- I'm going to try, again, to "dare to be different." Try something new -- just once -- each month in 2009. (Calm down, Mom, I've already got the tattoo. Another one wouldn't be "different" now, would it?!)
-- Have a little more "me" time. This isn't a selfish resolution -- right now I have virtually no "me" time, and the kids have better social lives than I do. That has to stop. ha!
-- Time with the kids will be quality time as much as possible. I have just a little over a year before the first one graduates from high school and, theoretically, leaves the nest. I am eager to watch him spread his wings -- and just as eager to have him return to that cute little blonde 5-year-old I escorted to kindergarten.
-- Spend more time with the folks. This year has been an interesting one with them -- Dad fell on the ice in February and has been battling a shattered shoulder, and the two of them renewed their vows in September -- and I've remembered how much I enjoy spending time with them, and how much I miss that.
-- Embrace technology. It's the world we live in.
-- Be happy. Be frustrated, disappointed, worried, scared -- but be happy. Know where happiness comes from and thrive.

When is a loss a victory?

Food is still winning the fight, but I'm about to make the battle a little more public.

It's no secret that people gain weight over the holidays, but I thought maybe I'd be the exception. After all, my part time job is at a fitness center and in December I started a "butt busters" program with some of the members.

Then I started to feel a little thick. And my wonderful new pair of slacks got tighter. The holidays created shorter hours at the fitness center, so I went a week without working -- or working out.

Today I stepped on the scale. Four pounds more than when I weighed two weeks ago.

So here's my plan: I'm going to hit it hard every week, regardless of whether I work or not, and provide weekly updates through this blog. You'll get to know how many times I worked out in a week, how many pounds I've lost -- or (ick) gained -- and how my inches are going. I won't give out my starting weight, just the difference from week to week (give me some dignity, please!).

There will be blog posts that have nothing to do with this new challenge, but there will be at least once a week updates on how things are going.

To keep it honest and keep me accountable - somewhat - here are my goals: to lose 10 pounds by my birthday in mid-June, another 15 by Christmas 2009 and to drop two pants sizes over the course of a year.

So here we go -- the journey starts on Monday! Feel free to play along -- post a comment with your goals and we can trade weekly results.

Retaliation of the food variety

I think my food is starting to fight back.

No, I don't see my cauliflower sprouting legs and arms and throwing the carrots at my head. My baked chicken isn't suddenly coming back to life and chasing me into the living room.

But I have received a series of injuries -- minor injuries, but injuries all the same -- over the past week that were all due to my consumption of food or beverage.

On Wednesday, while working from home because of snow, I tried to crack open a walnut and the shell sliced my thumb. On Thursday I was reaching into the freezer and an ice cube (yes, an ice cube) pierced my index finger.On Friday I was eating a chip with lunch and a corner stabbed my gumline. And just today, a too-warm cup of coffee burned the tip of my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

What gives?

It could be that for the majority of my life I've had to "battle with my weight." I was only what I would call "very heavy" in the latter years of my marriage but I've never been uber-thin. So I've fought the food battle -- keep an eye on the amount of fried foods I ate, fortunately I've always loved fresh veggies. My weakness for chocolate was offset by my love of salad. I gave up doughnuts and pie and cake and other sinful delicacies long ago.

But now I wonder if the food is starting to fight back.

"C'mon," I can hear it saying, "just one bite. We won't hurt you. You'll like us, we promise."

Yeah, right.

Where do I find self-defense classes to protect me from attack food?

And for the rest of you ...

Forgot to add these to the bottom of my last post, but here is a list of other fun holidays in December:

Dec. 2: National Fritters Day
Dec. 4: Wear Brown Shoes Day
Dec. 8: National Take It In the Ear Day
Dec. 12: National Ding-a-Ling Day (See? Everyone gets a holiday!)
Dec. 13: Ice Cream and Violins day (I have no idea why these two go together)
Dec. 16: National Chocolate-Covered Anything Day (Yet another favorite!)
and ...
Dec. 30: Festival of Enormous Changes at the Last Minute (There's only one of those each year?).

A day just for me

Finally, a holiday devoted to me and my kind that I can truly, truly relate to.

The day after Christmas, Dec. 26, is National Whiners Day. I can't wait.

I don't know if I've always been a whiner or if the people I know now just bring it out in me -- but for the last three years I've become somewhat of a whining icon. I even won a "High Maintenance Award" in 2006 from my then-editor.

Whining truly is a craft. I don't whine like my 13-year-old daughter whines -- you know, with the foot stomping and "it's not fair!" declaration at every turn. I apparently got so good at disguising my whines that for the longest time I didn't realize that what I was doing actually WAS whining. Until I asked my friends. Co-workers. Family. Kids.

Oh, yeah. I'm a whiner.

Aaaah, the Good Ol' Days

I miss Santa Claus.

You know, the big guy in the red suit who comes down your chimney or through your door and leaves lots of goodies? You leave him cookies, he leaves you a bike or a sled or a Wii?

Where did he go?

The kids and I set up the Christmas tree and put out the decorations, and the whole time I kept thinking about that one guy who was for so long such a big part of our lives. Growing up he was the one I turned to, hoping for that one special thing every year. He left for a little while when I was in high school and college, but then after I got married and the kids arrived, Santa returned, full of promise and holiday spirit.

Now the kids are teenagers and Santa is nothing more than a stuffed doll counting down the days to Christmas on my bookcase.

I remember when the kids were little I sometimes -- very selfishly -- couldn't wait for the day when they no longer believed. Some fictional fat guy had been getting all the credit for the good stuff and I didn't like it. Little did I realize then that he was also getting the blame for much of it: if that XBox didn't show up under the tree it was because Santa didn't think it was a good idea. No pony? Santa didn't think we had room.

And childhood squabbles were a dream. A casual mention of "Santa's watching" brought calm to any storm; now I'm left to my own devices to stop teenage bickering.

Oh, yeah. I miss Santa.

Thumbs up

Last week I wrote about my pending order with a local Angel Food Ministries distribution site and noted that I'd check back with my thoughts.

I'm impressed.

The distribution site I chose is the closest to my home and is in a small town, so the numbers they serve each much (about 30) are much smaller than those served by Cedar Rapids sites. That would be the reason -- that, and the uber-efficient assembly line-like process of bagging the food -- that my first stop was so fast, in and out in less than 10 minutes.

But that wasn't the most impressive part of the order. The food was top-quality. My order included four individually frozen strip steaks with a very small amount of marbling; 1.5 pounds of pork ribs; 1.5 pounds of chicken breasts; breaded chicken nuggets; a salisbury steak frozen dinner (great for the kids on the nights I work late), and a host of other things.

Not bad for $30.

Food from Angels

Sometimes you have to be hit with something a few times before it finally catches your attention.

I first learned of the Angel Food Ministries program almost a year ago when my pastor and her husband brought over some food that they had gotten in the program and wouldn't eat -- she's a vegetarian and there is only so much meat he can eat on his own.

I thought about doing a story at the time, but discovered a coworker had done one just a few months earlier.

Then came what had to have been the worst 12 months in Eastern Iowa history. Snow and ice blanketed the area in near-record levels from November to mid-April. A spring thaw was barely under way when immigration officials raided a kosher meat plant in Postville, arresting almost 400 illegal immigrants and devastating a small community. On Memorial Day weekend, more than half of the community of Parkersburg was flattened by a tornado. Then the water came -- and came, and came.

As Eastern Iowans were recovering from a rough year, the economy took a drastic downturn. It was time to find "deals" wherever possible.

I was reminded about Angel Food Ministries, a national program available to everyone, regardless of age, race, income, religion or any other discriminating factor. Participants order a box (or two, or three) of groceries valued at about $75 and pay just $30. The menu varies from month to month, and each box contains the same thing, but the food is name brand, top quality product. The distribution centers are typically churches.

I wrote a story about this program and how it would help those in need, and those looking to save some money. I received no fewer than two dozen phone calls from people wanting a complete list of participating churches.

I had to give it a try. The November box includes, among other things, four sirloin strip steaks, chicken hindquarters, a dozen eggs, vegetables, frozen chopped steak and gravy (great for a 16-year-old boy) and a list of other items.

My order comes in on Saturday. I'll let you know what I think.

(Oops! I forgot to include the progam's Web address so you could check out the menu or find locations. It's at www.angelfoodministries.com)

Halloween from an outsider's perspective

Halloween has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I remember a few costumes from my younger years -- a hobo, punk rocker, Holly Hobby -- but the memories that stand out most clearly are trick-or-treating for hours in a time unmarked by fears of child abduction and the inevitable dentist appointment the next day (evil parenting on my mother's part).

As a mom, I remember my son's first costume (white sweatshirt and sweatpants with "spots" cut out of black felt to make him a cute little Holstein), trick-or-treating in small towns where we knew everyone and gladly taking the discards from the kids' buckets.

It surprised me, then, to hear two visiting journalists in our newsroom discussing an invitation to a Halloween party. The journalists, from Colombia and Algeria, had been invited to a party and the man from Colombia worked to explain to the man from Algeria what Halloween was.

"People dress in funny outfits and the children go to houses in search of candy," was how he put it.

At first I wanted to stand up and say, "No! There's more to it than that! It's a holiday rich in tradition, how can you just dismiss it with a few words?"

Then I thought about it -- what else is it, than a day for people to dress in costume and send their children from door-to-door in search of candy? It's the one day a year we expect neighbors to supply our kids with sweets and, by the same token, we become willing to spend $20 to $50 or more on candy we know we likely won't get to sample ourselves because we're passing it out to the kids who come knocking on our own door.

Sure, there's a long pagan history behind Halloween and, for some, that's an important story to remember.

For most of us, though, Halloween is simply about the chocolate.

Aaah, the irony ...

Over the course of my 40+ years I've learned that life is full of fun little ironies.

When I was in college, I would pull the inevitable all-nighter studying for a test, only to discover the test was the next Wednesday or Tuesday or whatever. I remember sneaking in past curfew in high school to find both my parents sound asleep and then, banking on that happening all the time, intentionally staying out past curfew only to have them both standing at the door when I got home.

This year I've learned -- twice -- that my body is in on the joke, too.

For the second time this year I've broken out in shingles -- a skin and nerve disorder brought on by the same virus that causes chickenpox. A person can't "catch" shingles -- the virus lays dormant in your body and some people get it and some don't.

So who gets it, and why me?

Shingles is most common in adults over the age of 60 (that's not me), cancer patients (not me, either) or those who are under stress (oh, there I am).

Now, here's the kicker: shingles is caused by stress. It causes such nerve pain that I stayed home from work for two days last week -- both deadline days, no less -- because the thought of driving 30 miles and sitting in an office without a heating pad was not an appealing one. Staying home from work and potentially missing deadline causes me stress.

See the problem?

Life is just so funny.

What did we expect?

I've been really nervous the last few weeks. Once talk started centering around "recession" and "bailout" and the Dow started dropping, and dropping -- I got jittery. Things can get pretty hairy around here already without the economy taking a nosedive.

Then I got to thinking. Really thinking. Had we been paying attention we probably could have seen this -- all of this -- coming.

I'm not a prophet by any stretch of the imagination, nor am I an economist. Hell, I didn't even take economics in college (which could explain the state of my own checkbook, but that's another blog post). But I am an adult, I have lived as a married woman and as a single mother and have participated in the free marketplace as both. When I took a sabbatical from writing six years ago and sold real estate, I got to be on the other side of the market and started noticing things I hadn't paid much attention to before.

People who had no business buying houses were buying houses. Banks were authorizing people to spend way more than they could afford, and real estate agents were swaying their clients to the higher end of their authorization. Mortgage rates at that time were at 5 percent and lower, and mortgage lenders began offering 100 percent loans.

I remember telling my business partner at the time that in 5 to 10 years we would start seeing a lot of the houses we were showing and selling -- particularly those to clients who insisted on the 100 percent loan -- back on the market. Right after the bank foreclosed.

Then I started looking around me and seeing what was happening. We -- a collective we, being my friends, neighbors, coworkers, colleagues and people I don't even know -- have this need to be constantly updated. We drive our cars until the loan is paid, then we get a different one. We job-hop until we've tried everything. Our cell phones are exchanged for newer, bigger, more complex models all the time -- and do far more than allow us to just talk to someone in another building or city. We can email, watch television or videos, get news updates sent to us -- all on our phone.

Americans buy because we can. The idea of "needing" something has become so abstract, I'm not sure many people could actually identify a "need" vs. a "want" if asked.

So while it scares the living hell out of me, maybe this mess is a wake-up call we so badly need. Something to say, "Enough. Get back to basics, people. While you still can."

Six months down, six to go

Milestones are always wonderful, no matter how inane.

Two days ago I hit a big one. Well, a big one for me. Monday was the six-month anniversary of my one-day Driver Improvement Class, a day in which I was given a 12-month challenge to not get any more speeding tickets under threat of losing my license.

So far, so good.

The threat actually extends beyond speeding -- I'm not to get any kind of moving violation prior to March 29, 2009 or I will, as mentioned, lose the license. Ordinarily I wouldn't worry, but being a person who can't remember ever going six months -- let alone 12 -- without getting pulled over for something, I'm a little nervous.

And truth be told, I almost didn't make it. One morning after altering my route to work because I had to take the kids to school (this is an important part of the story) I accidentally rolled through a stop sign -- right in front of a state trooper.

To my defense -- and she believed me -- the route I usually take has me turning on the same road, but with a yield sign instead of a stop sign. The new route had a stop sign. I didn't notice. She did give me a warning -- and a stern scolding for talking on my cell phone, something she said may have contributed to my not noticing the stop sign.

Oops.

But as I said earlier: so far, so good.

One thing I have learned about myself is that I do truly love to drive fast. It's not because I'm running late or because I'm in a hurry. It's because I really don't like being behind people. Or being passed by people. I'm also the person who is always -- regardless of traffic flow -- driving in the fast lane on the interstate.

I am learning how to drive more efficiently (I refuse to say "slowly.") One of the first things I noticed is that my 2001 Camry, which had gotten about 24 mpg on the highway before driver's school is now getting more like 28 to 30 mpg, depending on the wind.

Another thing I discovered was that my 16-year-old son, who hadn't expressed any interest in learning how to drive, was determined that I was not going to be the one to teach him. He scolds me when he sees me hovering around 60 on the highway -- "Good God, woman, just what does it take for you?" he says to me.

Great.

How did my kids get older when I didn't?

I'm not really sure how or when it happened, but somehow my kids grew up.

I thought I'd been an attentive mother, attending as many of the ball games as possible, getting the braces when needed, doing the school shopping, taking them to the movies and concerts and fairs.

Still, it took me by surprise.

Oh, I started getting little hints -- we'd get solicitations from colleges addressed to my son, my daughter started wearing a little bit of makeup and shopping in the juniors section of stores -- but I didn't think anything of it. I was still the 30-year-old mother of toddlers, at least in my head.

Then the other night it hit me. My son went to a college fair, talked to some representatives and came home with the announcement: he knows where he wants to go.

College? Really? How is that possible?

Then I sat down and started to think. He's 16 and learning to drive (he wasn't interested until now). He's a junior in high school and catches rides to games, movies and other events with friends. He's four inches taller than me (which should have been my first clue, really).

And he's interesting. Not that he wasn't before -- I've enjoyed every stage of my kids' lives (mostly!) but now we sit down and talk like "grown-ups," about real things that matter in places outside our little home. We talk social issues, music, politics, world events.

Then I started thinking about my daughter. At 13 she's not as advanced as her brother, although in some ways she's even more so. She's wearing a little bit of makeup and has a stylish haircut -- beyond the cute little bob I used to make her wear. She got asked out for her first date (she's too young to go, but she did get asked). Like her brother, she too is interesting: we talk about social issues as well, but also the changes that her circle of friends will go through, her hopes and dreams, and her strength in her faith.

So now I accept it. My kids are growing up, and they have been -- right in front of my eyes. They're growing into incredible people, and I'm excited for their futures.

But I'd still like to know how they got older when I didn't.

It's all relative

Like many people, I don't like to admit when I'm wrong. I dislike it even more when I learn I'm wrong about something I have been vehemently opposing for quite some time.

Such is the case with online social sites and electronic communication.

For months I have been lamenting the fate of communication as more and more I see people texting, sending messages through instant messaging and communicating via email. "Where are the phone calls, the face to face conversations?" I'd ask.

I even went as far as to write a story on the fast fade of communication, thinking I'd find experts who agreed with me that before long, we'd be standing face to face with our partner, cell phones in hand, texting our "I love you's."

I was wrong -- but that's just the start of the "wrong" I don't like.

I did find one person who agreed with me that yes, the art of communication is quickly becoming lost. I found three others, however, who believed that the fact that people are communicating -- regardless of the mode -- is still a good thing.

OK, I can see that. It truly is a good thing that people are communicating and that we're finding many different ways to do so. Rather than oppose modern technology, I should embrace it as just one more way to keep in touch. After all, where would we be if people like me opposed the telephone as "too impersonal" and were successful in its demise?

Still, I couldn't get past the loss of the spoken word, the nuances of conversation, the meaning that is conveyed in tone and lost in the written or typed word.

Then along comes Facebook. And MySpace. And Twitter.

And my "A-ha!" moment.

I've got a Facebook profile I use daily for posting notes, keeping up with friends and even playing games. Through the games, I've entered into some friendly rivalries with co-workers, some of whom I'd shared little more than a friendly greeting in the hallway.

Now we find ourselves laughing about the latest results of the game (right now I'm winning -- not that I'm competitive!!) and gradually breaking into conversation about our families or interests. We're laughing in the hallways, chatting in front of the sinks in the bathroom or (gasp!) sending emails across the room, chiding the other about the latest score.

I get it now. All this modern technology and various communication really is a good thing. I won't say that I give up because to give up is to admit defeat.

With more options for communication, I think we all win.

Recovery

I know, in my heart, that things are going to get better in Cedar Rapids. Until that happens, however, it's going to be a long, emotional journey.

I got my first real glimpse at the flood-ravaged community last Saturday when I was covering a community clean-up day at the Mother Mosque of America. To get to the mosque from my newspaper's downtown office meant driving through the empty and desolate downtown, with many storefronts filled with broken windows and the sidewalks filled with soggy drywall and rotted furniture.

That part of the journey, however, only barely braced me for the second half: the mosque is located in the middle of the neighborhood that got hit first and, probably, worst. Driving through the streets, made one-lane by the Dumpsters, trucks and debris, was like driving through a war zone. House after house after house had not just a few belongings in the yard and curbside -- entire lives were stacked for all the world to see. Toys, furniture, clothing. A gas grill hung upside down in a tree in front of one home.

The city is filled with stories like this, streets still filled with remnants of what used to be. But it's also getting filled with more positive stories: a 14-year-old girl who moved from Cedar Rapids with her family two years ago and now lives in Tyler, Texas, started what she thought would be a small donation drive for things she and her siblings could drive back when they came to visit their father. The donations -- gathered over just two days -- instead filled two semi-trailer trucks.

One local bank, after learning that flood victims were being charged $2 each time they used their Red Cross ATM cards, found a way for the holders to access the funds without paying the fee.

Donation drop sites are actually making lists of things they no longer need, such as clothing, because the supply had been so great.

This is why I love Cedar Rapids, and this is why I believe, with all my heart, that the city will not only recover but will excel in its results.

Guilt that comes with being safe

I am doing right now what more than 24,000 Cedar Rapidians can not do: I am sitting in my own living room, at my own computer drinking a glass of diet soda with my feet kicked up and writing a blog about how good it feels to be safe. I don't live in Cedar Rapids, I live in a small town outside city limits. I am safe from the rising Cedar River, the water shortage (how's that for irony?) and the power outages.

And I feel incredibly guilty.

People I care about can't get into their homes or businesses. They can't shower, or wash their clothes, and there's no real word on when that will change. People forced from their homes are sleeping on cots in school gymnasiums with hundreds of strangers just feet away.

And the city I've come to love as home in the short six years I've been here will never be the same.

One of the wonderful things about being a journalist is that while all the world around you is watching as news unfolds, you participate. You talk to officials who have the answers, you wade through the rising waters of the river as it begins its historic flood, you talk to families who have lost everything.

One of the hardest things about being a journalist is you're also human, with human emotion. It's hard to be sitting here, in my home, after having heard the stories I've been told this week.

One 35-year-old woman told about how angry she is with her father because he stayed in her childhood home too long and had to be rescued -- causing all the familybelongings to be lost.

"Those weren't just his things, they were our things. He shouldn't have made that decision on his own," she said. "I just hope I can find one picture, just one picture that can be cleaned and restored."

There was the 95-year-old man who had to be rescued from the second floor of his home because he refused to evacuate and leave his dog.

Another person, this time a close friend, two years ago acted on her dream and bought a specialty candy store in downtown Cedar Rapids. She took an already successful store and made it thrive. With the threat of flooding more than a dozen people showed up at the store to help her move all of her inventory to the fifth floor of the building into a cooled conference room.

By Thursday, June 12, the water from the Cedar River enveloped her corner store, just as it did dozens of other businesses downtown. Later that day, her son and his family lost their house.

Before the river had even reached its crest, city officials in Cedar Rapids issued a dire warning to all of the city: most of the city's water systems had been breached and the city was operating at 25 percent capacity. Water use had to be limited to washing hands -- only. The entire population was officially impacted by the Cedar River's epic flood.

Dating Suggestions

I don't pretend to believe I'm a dating pro -- good Lord, far from it. Finding myself back on the "dating scene" after 12 years of marriage and then a tumultuous three-year relationship was really kind of frightening.

But I have been out there long enough, and been on enough near-disastrous dates, to know there are some things that we all need to keep in mind when getting out there again. Most of these are going to seem as though they're slanted toward the men, although I have been my own worst critic of late so there are some hints for us ladies, too.

1. Quit the lying and lame lines. "I'll call you tomorrow" didn't go over well in our 20s, and it's even more pathetic now that we've seemingly been through a marriage and raised or are raising kids of our own. Grow up.
2. It is perfectly fine to say, "I had a nice time" and leave it at that. Following up with "I'd like to do it again" when, in fact, you'd rather have teeth pulled or watch golf on a television with no sound and poor reception is, like No. 1, lame and pathetic.
3. If you are on a blind or first-time date with someone you've met online or in some other venue and you see it's not going well, I don't see anything wrong with saying, "You know, I think this could be a better friendship than romantic relationship." You might even feel comfortable asking -- or offering -- to split the bill (this IS the 21st century, after all). Asking to extend the date and go to a movie ONLY to pretend to have no cash so the date will pay is just wrong. (Yes, that's experience talking. )
4. Don't sell yourself short. If you ARE meeting someone from an online venue, don't put negative images in his or her head before you even meet. Saying "I'm not a Barbie" and following up with how nervous you are because you're not a size 6, or guys saying, "I haven't been to the gym in a while" and then talking about how thin you used to be only sets yourself up for failure. NO, the person on the other end of the line isn't going to be "pleasantly surprised" -- they're going to come in to the date viewing you in a negative way rather than open to what you really are.
4b. You also come off sounding whiny and insecure, and no one finds that attractive (again, yes, experience talking here.)
5. Confidence is sexy. Not to be confused with arrogance, confidence is the state of mind that allows you to be comfortable in your own skin and with what you have to bring to the table. You're not a size 6 or a model from GQ? So what! Are you charming, interesting, funny, intelligent and easy to talk to? That's a much better offering, in my book.

Dating in my 40s -- Lessons learned

It should really have come as no surprise that dating in my 40s would be vastly different than dating in my teens and even early 20s. But it was.

No one wants to meet in person anymore -- God forbid, you might have to actually talk. You remember talking, you open your mouth and words come out. Sure, they may make absolutely no sense, or they may make you look like a complete ass at first, but they're real words. You can't take them back by hitting delete -- you actually look, gasp!, like a human being. And talking may -- and often does -- lead to conversation, which could lead to laughter, sharing, getting to know the real someone.

So I tried the online dating thing for a while about a year ago, then swore after a series of bad dates that I'd never do it again. That, of course, brought me back to the "no one wants to meet in person anymore," so I again find myself out there in the cyber dating pool.

The good news is I have learned a few things: I've learned to read between the lines and know that if someone lists "tell you later" under occupation, it generally means, "I don't have a job and am looking for someone to support me;" I've learned that people don't always have their bases covered, and "I can get off early and meet you for dinner" actually translates into something that leaves you wandering around Lowe's for an hour and a half (or longer) before you finally give up and go home; and I've learned that if you say you have an "average" body type, more often than not men are going to expect you to look like Barbie, no matter how much you try to tell them you're not.

I've also learned some positive things: I've learned that the more you get out there, the easier it gets; that men are often just as nervous and insecure as we are, ladies; and that, truly, dating in my 40s in a lot of ways is more fun and interesting than it ever was in my teens and 20s.