OH. MY. GOD.

You need twenty quarters to park for two hours. I keep feeling like my math can't be right because that's far too many quarters for a person to have on them at once. But fortunately, a block and a half later you can park for zero quarters.

Two and I met at the entrance of the Franklin Institute. They have a Night Skies program with stargazing on the observation deck, a talk in the planetarium, and also a whole lot of space-related thing you can look at and pick up (like an astronaut's lunch box, of course).

We found our way to the ticket line- this event was way more popular than either of us had anticipated-- and were talking comfortably from the get-go. One of the first things he did was give me a cool set of coasters. He's a craft-fella, and he makes them. They've got misheard lyrics and are pretty awesome. We laughed at the things people hear by mistake, and it was actually a great get-past-the-initial-awkward! He asked a lot of questions, which was nice too.

The F.I. was pretty crowded, and it seemed like no one really knew where they were going, so we sort of wandered until we ended up at the most elaborate elevator doors. We took them to the observation deck where several telescopes stood with their "owners." The evening was a little cloudy which was kind of a bummer, but what was really a bummer is these massive machines were set up and everyone was ooh-ing and ahh-ing, but we quietly determined that this was some sort of Emperor's New Clothes business. You could see one of the stars better without the telescope.

The next telescope was aimed at the Comcast building.
There weren't even any people inside to spy on.
It was just a building.

The third telescope was a real monster. It was about four times the size of you, and all you cold see in it was your fluttering eyelashes. The women working at it was telling people all about something, but I don't know if anyone was following it.

This was all great! So many people, and none of them knew what was going on exactly, but the weather was mild and everyone seemed happy.

We ended up on the second floor at a corporate holiday party but decided against joining them because even though sometimes you can, it doesn't mean you should.

Following that, we found a computer that made you guess the time using a parking-meter-on-the-moon as sun dial. Things were of course getting pretty competitive, and conveniently this game was placed right beneath a constellation wall. People were waiting their turns to pick up a piece of plastic and hold it up toward the wall to see stars and patterns appear before their very eyes. I don't know why, but suddenly the power went out along that wall, while we were sitting with all these people looking in our direction through Plexiglas. It was one of those "and then a kid gasped loudly" situations that was kind of embarrassing.

We made our way to the planetarium for a very interesting (and sort of sad) talk about Dark Matter. The stranger to might right had one of those loud/whistling boogers in his nose and it kind of took away from the talk, but it was still interesting. Afterwards we decided we'd either take the elevator to the fifth floor, or go find dinner. Luckily (or so I thought...) the line for the 'vator was long, so we decided we'd had enough of this sky business, and we left for dinner.

Pizzeria Vetri is a couple blocks away and also awesome. We decided to go there and I was glad. The conversation was still going great, he's a nice guy- had some funny stories and laughed at things I said.

We sat at the long counter that runs the length of the front window and talked. We ordered pizza and it was out in barely any minutes. It was completely delicious. Everything was going really well. But then I started to feel a little not great. But then, then, I started to feel even more not great.

I knew I had to be sweating and maybe even gray or green. "Listen...." I interrupted him. "This has nothing to do with you, but I think I have to go." He looked at me, kind of surprised. "I have no idea what's happening..." I felt even more gray or green.

"Do you need to..." but I just walked away. He was sitting along the counter, looking out at the street, and I just walked straight toward the bathroom.

And I threw up.
All over Pizzeria Vetri.
Like...I projectile vomited. Maybe it was like that scene in The Exorcist?
Maybe it was like any scene where someone just completely loses it all over a crowded restaurant.

I walked, hands up like a surgeon, toward the bathroom. The kitchen staff (oh hey! They have an open kitchen!) was kind but also, I'm sure, completely horrified. Someone was in the bathroom. I had to just stand there, covered from the neck down in my own puke.

The poor girl opened the door and made eye contact with the worst-monster version of myself. I went in the bathroom, completely sick again and again. I rinsed my dress in the sink, but it was still an all over nightmare. I finally buttoned up my cardigan, pulled myself as together as I possibly could, and walked out to my waiter and the rest of his gang. He said he didn't think anyone saw. It was very kind of him. But you KNOW that's not the case. I don't want to be completely disgusting, so instead: just don't imagine the most horrible thing ever. But know that I caused it.

Two was still sitting along the counter with all my belongings and I headed toward the door. He turned his head and we made quick eye contact. I ran away.

After a few minutes of deep, deep breathing on the corner of 20th and Callowhill, I looked in the window and gestured to Two. He came out with all my stuff and I apologized. This could certainly appear to be the most elaborate plan to ditch a check.

He handed me my things and I tried to give him money. "What are you talking about?" he asked, and it sounded so sincere.

"I owe you money for the bill and I'm SO sorry." He looked at me. He said he got it and not to worry. "Wait------do you know what just happened?" I asked him. He shook his head no, he thought I'd just gone outside for air.

Instead of just being privately disgusting, I said, "Wait...so you didn't see me just throw up all over that place?"

This guy was an absolute gentleman. He was either being as polite as can possibly be, or I really lucked out when I picked the counter facing along the front of the place, instead of a table where he would have definitely seen. "Let's get you to your car," he said. I didn't want to get into his car because I HAD JUST THROWN UP ALL OVER MYSELF AND SMELLED HORRIBLE.

He insisted. He said there was no way I should be walking down the street like that, and feeling sick. And it's not a big deal, it happens. And I am so so so grateful for his kindness, and for his ability to not be like WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED when I ruined Pizzeria Vetri.

So he took me back to my car and was so sweet about the whole nightmare, and even though I wasted a perfectly good, perfectly delicious pizza and also made a huge scene and everything, we'll be doing this again. But without the gross parts next time, if I can help it.

The First

FIRST, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY: Just because someone wants to know what color you like doesn't mean you have to question your feelings for them. They may genuinely want to know. And you may accidentally be a pre-judging dummy who is maybe afraid of rejection. Maybe they have reasons for asking. Maybe it was completely reasonable and relevant to the conversation but you just saw it in isolation and rolled your eyes because now you're both one kid on another kid's shoulders, wearing a trench coat. I'm just stating that now, and I'm not going to talk about it any more probably.



One and I had talked about going out before I decided to write again. I'd also been awake for 31 of the last 34 hours, so we decided to do something to do something not so involved.

We decided to get dinner and see what happened from there. He suggested a place, and for whatever reason, I said no and suggested a place I didn't know, that was supposed to be new and good. Their site also said they were open until 11:pm. I got "there" a few minutes before him, but I couldn't figure out where I was. I was parked in front of a closed grocery store that was supposed to be an open restaurant described as "elegant, fine dining."
This is what it looked like:

So I was convinced One would think this was some weird sting operation. It turns out this place was IN the grocery store and it wasn't open. So we ended up going to the place he suggested initially and that was a good move, he was right.

After dinner we talked a bunch, drove a lot, and looked at cool stuff.
Here, I'll show you something you can't really see.

Just believe me that that's an old train. The picture was taken with an old polaroid. He brought it along, and despite the bulbs being endangered-nearing extinction, he let me use it. Also, this date happened last week, so it's old news. SO MUCH OLD.

I am glad to report that:

• neither of us approved of the little dog that the man held over someone else's table. 
• dinner was good; conversation was better.
• though movies are important to him, he didn't hold it against me-in fact: he didn't even care-- that I haven't seen Star Wars.
• we did not see Goat Man.
• after driving a great deal and not finding ANYWHERE else, he was just as delighted as I was to arrive at an Applebee's. They have sangria for $4. If you don't know, now you know.

Verdict: it went well. We went out again and he gave me this:

That's a cool dog. COOL DOG.

I'm somehow way ahead of schedule...

I've got date #1 tomorrow night. We're meeting before I go to my 15 year high school reunion. This is either a good, the worst, or the best idea. The way I see it is: I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and while I don't think my life is boring, it's not really easy to catch up at these things. I'm pretty much in touch with anyone I'd be talking to through Facebook anyway...this is just going to make small talk a lot easier.

Apparently dates #2 and #3 are coming up with plans.


I haven't even started to actively seek yet. These all just fell into my lap like some Thanksgiving miracle.

I'd write more but OF COURSE I somehow managed to completely burn my fingertips while cooking carrots.

Questions I've Been Asked

What's going on here?
I'm going to try to go on twelve dates this December. There isn't some fantastic story behind it. Basically, the name was funny: The Twelve Dates of Schmidtzmas. I'm single, it's something to do, it gives me something to talk about, and I'm not expecting to meet some perfect person, but I'll most likely meet some interesting people, and I'll have some stories when it's over.

Also, I've been meaning to write more often. I keep just not doing it. (I write a lot for work.) But because there is a deadline and almost a check-list, I can't really procrastinate.


Is this for real?
Yep.


Why are you doing this?
Because I did it five years ago and it was fun. I decided to do it at first because the name was funny to me. I decided to do it again because sometimes you do something twice. Also, people have asked if I'd do it again, and at first I thought they meant "Is this something you'd do again?" but it turned out that some of them meant "I liked reading it (for whatever reason) so will you do it again?"

Let's pretend this is my generous gift to society. It's the least I can do!


How are you meeting these people?
Lots of ways. Some of them will be from the internet (because it is 2015 and that's how we do things). Other people will be someone I might know from somewhere. Or maybe one of my friends will set me up with someone. Maybe I will meet someone from just like...however you meet people. You know....ways.


I've got a friend you should meet.
That isn't a question, but ok. Tell them to email me.


Do these people mind that you're writing about them?
Geeeez, I hope not. I'm telling everyone about the blog before we go out. They know I'm going to be writing about them.


Aren't you worried about weirdos?
Sure. But also, not really, no.


Aren't you worried about STDs?
What are you even talking about? How have multiple people asked me this?


What's your favorite pizza?A plain pie from Louie & Ernie's in the Bronx.

THIS THING'S GETTING RESURRECTED.

I'm going to attempt to go on a dozen dates this December.

There. I said it.

When you don't like to correct people

Even though she had my name and all my information in front of her, the woman at the bank must have had me confused with someone else.

I was too...something...to correct her and somehow ended up telling her I loved my new place, my sister is doing well and has been busy, and then she asked if I was still married. She looked at my hand as she asked.

I told her that no, I wasn't still married. And she looked mortified. To make her feel better I continued, "It was on my terms and I'm much happier this way. Sometimes you just have to let things go." Her mouth widened. "It really was a positive move, better for both of us!" Then I left. Some poor blonde with glasses is going to be confused with her next deposit.

You're good at contests. Why don't you enter one where you win a husband?

"You're good at contests. Why don't you enter one where you win a husband?" my little sister asked, sincerely.



Last weekend I slept in a won!-hotel room, had some won!-pizza, and saw a won!-performance of Philadanco at the Kimmel Center. I don't know if it's technically a win, but I also found money which covered dinner.

On Thursday I learned that I was the winner of four tickets to a movie. Conveniently, I also won a gift certificate to a restaurant around the corner from the theater. So that's a fun evening.


And now I have a ticket I won't be using for tonight's Polyphonic Spree Holiday Extravaganza at the Troc. So I'm going to share the fun of getting and give it to someone else.




Who wants it?

This magnet is a blog or something

It's like this thing is a magnet. December is once again nearing and I've somehow stumbled back to my blog like a drunken lady hoping to find whatever earring she thought she wore, but didn't. But it won't stop her from asking everyone to scoot out of the (wrong) booth so she can dig around in the crack like a moron.

That analogy was unnecessary.


Yesterday while raking leaves and wishing it were snow I sort of wished I would re-do this whole December project. But I don't want to resurrect it only to find it's a terrible idea.
Then again, you have no idea when I last went on a date with any level of success or at all. I did do a fun little speed-dating thing last week. I'm fairly certain I was the oldest girl in the lineup and I really dazzled those dudes with my favorite book: Pocket Thesaurus/wallet combo. Seriously. That's the stuff babes are made of. (Not babies. Babes. Guys, I called myself a babe. Now I'm making a "yeah right face!" And I'm not looking for you to agree or disagree. I'm just filling you in because no other person is in this room to see what's happening.)


((INTERJECTION: WHAT IF I DID A BLOG WITH A CAMERA ON AND YOU COULD READ AT THE EXACT SPEED I TYPED AND WATCH MY FACE CHANGE AS THE WORDS HAPPENED? THAT WOULD BE SO BORING AND HARD TO FOCUS ON. DON'T LET IT HAPPEN. ALSO, THIS WHOLE PARAGRAPH AND THE SENTENCE BEFORE WOULD BE OBSOLETE.))



So- I haven't been on a date in a little while. I've been so busy doing my stuff, that I managed to forget about finding a better half to woo and swoon over and adore. Instead I've been studying things to be a better worker-at-my-job, I've raked a few leaves, and I've gone as the third, fifth, and seventh wheel to dinner with so many wonderful friends.

On that note: it's time to maybe get serious a little.
So...when are you free and what should we do?

it's almost december again...

I'm not going on a bunch of dates again, I can tell you that for sure.
As fun and awesome as it was, I'm getting old (and my car just broke down in the middle of a busy intersection.) I'm in no mood to put myself out there, arriving by way of bus or a ride from my sister.
(nice segue...)

AND NOW A SERIOUS UN-PAID ENDORSEMENT--

I have the secret to younger skin. It's this incredible little pot of moisturizer made by Robanda.
A couple of years ago I used this stuff and a fifteen year old lied about his age and asked if he could come do magic tricks for my students. First he thought I was in high school. But when he learned I was actually TEACHING he realized this was a great chance to perform. He also claimed to be 17, then 18 and finally said something about being a sophomore.
That was the first day I ever used this moisturizer and you bet it wasn't the last.
My boyfriend-at-the-time found me trapped in an awkward conversation with this darling kid in the magazine section of a bookstore and I was quick to grab his arm and get all "OH, YOU MUST TALK ABOUT MAGIC TRICKS WITH THIS GUY!" because it was so uncomfortable and everything.
But yes. Totally awesome that someone would think I was in high school.


Last week I was out with this awesome guy and got embarrassed when the waitress wanted my ID. BUT I can tell you for sure: I'd moisturized that day!
THEN last night I went out with my babysister (who is actually 24 and not at all a baby) and these guys were talking to her. I can't imagine they were actually meaning it, but apparently they thought that I was the younger of us.
That happens a lot.
Often people think I'm 24 or something. It's embarrassing to say it, because maybe it sounds like I'm trying to get you to respond in one way or another. It's an age. Quite seriously, it shouldn't even be something of which I'm wasting our (my? maybe nobody will ever read this...) time with here...

THEN TONIGHT...
Tonight I went to pick us some groceries with that same little sister who passed for older than me last night.
I hadn't put on any moisturizer because I was cranky and didn't bother doing a thing to myself. My car broke down in the middle of the road. I had a rotten day in general.
We were at the register and I paid $3.98 for some peppers and bread first. Then Susie got the rest of the stuff and I picked up the bags to walk away. She didn't see me pick up the bags and asked the guy at the register if she had more stuff. He responded, "Yeah, your mom already took it."





Again, I hadn't put any moisturizer on this morning.

Come hang out on Wednesday night. Hear some stories, drink some liquids and be awesome!!

A. I can not believe how much I accomplished tonight.
B. Help yourself to the blubes in the fridge. They are on their way out.
C. I am extremely excited to celebrate making it through the vicious stink-eye of a major storm.
D. Typing on this phone is not easy.
E. Stuff smells like Easter Eggs.
F. Pretty much thrilled.
G. Grover. G. George.

The Lady and the Nissan Acura

In the pouring rain this lady tried, coffee in hand, to get into her Nissan Acura.*
She kept clicking the button on her key, lights were flashing and the beep was loud.**  She fought for more time that people should with a door that didn't care. The man at the the table across but facing mine watched, unflinching. He seemed to lack the level of amusement I displayed, basically allowing my eyes to dart around the joint, praying that someone would notice and commiserate with me. We were dry and watching as her identical Nissan Acura whooped and glowed in the next spot over. Finally she realize what the man and I already knew and flung her arms and drink up into the falling rain.
The lady got into the Nissan Acura,  HER Nissan Acura and peeled out like nobody's business.
I wanted the stoic man to look at me.We shared this weird experience and he didn't even act like anything at all.

A few minutes passed. That man got up and walked out to his Nissan Acura, the one the lady wanted to get into.


Really, my jealousy is overwhelming. She should have attempted to get into MY car. She should have thrown her arms and coffee while I looked on, very no-big-deal like.

My new goal is hiding somewhere in these words.




* I realize technically there is no car called a Nissan Acura. Don't try to call me out on it. It's something I will continue to believe until I die of natural causes at an old age.

** I don't have a click-key button. I am both practical and cheap. I realize when my locks inevitably break, I will have neither the confidence nor the electronic know-how to comfortably play with wires. Instead, I will display vast volumes of chutzpah as I dismantle the doors in an effort to recreate levers and latches.