Um. Excuses anyone?

Crickets Chirping.
Grass growing.
The low rumble of tumbleweeds blowing across the plain.
Yes, that is the sound of silence. Or lack of my posting.
And I have received more than a few reminders that I am long (ok - WAY LONG) overdue on getting the latest and greatest out to you, my few faithful readers that haven't abandoned me and moved on to greener pastures.


So lets all grab the floaties, and dive head first back into the crazy, dysfunctional and somewhat drama filled life of Meghan
**deep breath**


Pleased to start with the good news. Patrick is home. Safe. And currently making up for lost time in the getting-into-trouble-because-I-am-24-and-male category. But good on him, he has deserved it.
He will be making a little trip up here to in a few weeks to get some new ink -- I know, I know. I shouldn't encourage. But for the record, of the 4 of us wacky Smith kids, we fall into 2 very distinct categories of teenage rebellion; we are either pierced or tattooed. Patrick and I fall into the later category. It was a constant area of disgust for my mother - but hey, we move on.
He is going to get some new ink and I have a design all picked out for my next one. Just need to get the time scheduled. This will be the new design that I am going to get. I had wanted to do something for my mom and looked all over for something that was still me and wasn't say -- a crying angel on a lotus leaf or something.
Memorial tattoos have a certain cheese factor that I was hoping to avoid-- no offense to those that have them, but I really wanted something that fits me. So there it is. Stayed tuned for the actual commitment of ink to skin, but it will happen some time soon.
Patrick and I will bond over our apparent addiction to ink. Good times.


In the boy category.
Oh, the boy category. One would think at some point I would stop being so damn optimistic and just accept that I do in fact live in a cess-pool, bottomless mire of a dating pool.
Self-loathing aside.
As I mentioned last time - I know, it was a while ago, dust off the cobwebs of your noggin' -- I joined a new online dating service.
No More Dates.
Well, I had set my preferences to no children. As in, I don't want to date anyone with kids. Nothing personal, but I want my kids to be my kids. And somehow the step-girlfriend (is that right?) role, is not one I am looking to take on. Relationships are hard enough without that issue.
Back to the topic - so I had it set for no kids. And that meant no matches. So, on the advice of my friend Beth, I switched it up -- just to see.
And low and behold - I got two right out of the gate. Neither of which I felt would have been a good match, so I closed them out and switched back to the no kids checkbox. And guess what -- nothing. Not a single match. So apparently, if I want to date someone in Des Moines -- or the surrounding metropolitan area - I need to accept children into my life.
Whatever.
And besides, why would I when I have drunk Irishmen calling me every 3-4 days at all hours of the night? I mean, what girl wouldn't be flattered by that?
Although in true Joe fashion, he cracked me up the other night. So he called. And guess what, he wanted me to come over. It was 1 AM on a Wednesday night people. My message was a resounding NO.
(Arguments about why I answered the phone in the first place are a separate issue - we will get to those later)
So after a series of back and forth conversation that went something like this
Me: Joe, its 1 AM. My alarm goes off in 5.5 hours and I am not coming over, good night.
Joe: Oh come on, just come over. I want to see you.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Till finally he says to me " you know you want to come over". And I responded, "What is that your Jedi mind trick or something?"
He responds with a yes -- and again "You know you want to come over".
I was like, yeah -- Jedi powers notwithstanding no --. So then he says -- hold on.
Pause.
"You know you want to come over"
Pause.
I was like, what was that --to which he told me that time he was waving his hand.
Yes kids, waving his hand over the phone to get me to come over. I pretty much lost it right there. Hysterical.
When I told this story to Lisa, she was like, at least he still makes you laugh.
Yeah -- making me laugh has never been an issue with him. Its all the times he makes me want to cry that we need to work on.
At that point, I told him good night (again), turned the phone to vibrate and went to bed.
There have been subsequent conversations and I really don't know when this is all going to end. Who knows?
And in the boy category trifecta -- I got another match from the Executive dating service -- which is currently batting .000 for me. This match is named, Joe and is 27. That kids, is where the similarities end. In fact, he had me thinking I really have turned into a hardened, caustic, bitter woman. And why, you ask would an email cause such feelings?
Here are a few of the quips from his self statement or whatever they call them:

I believe in the Golden Rule and do my absolute best to practice this
philosophy in my interactions.

I try to help out people less fortunate than myself and volunteer.

I try to treat a girlfriend as both a princess and an equal partner.

So, yes. They have decided that I need to date an Eagle Scout. I of course,
sent this to Martine to confirm that in fact, the cheese factor was indeed
high. And she agreed, but said I still needed to contact him. So stay
tuned on that one.

And I have further proof that blogging is probably what is keeping me sane -- which might account for my recent questions of my own sanity and the lack of
blogging.
This CNN article basically confirms for me the truth. I need to keep all this
craziness out of my head is to keep it out on the Intertron where it can be disseminated, discussed and deconstructed.

All the babies are good. Growing and cute as hell. I can't keep up with them. They need to stop growing so I can see them more often in the assorted, OMG - so cute - stages.

And so, I promise to be better. Really. I swear it.

Now Listening: Sea Change by Beck