**The 'WINK'**

I have been tinkering with Internet dating of one version or another for about 3 months. It has an interesting allure.

There is a weird voyeuristic "shopping" quality as you work through databases like Match.com. The sheer numbers make you develop interesting filtering strategies.

Even if the better side of yourself doesn't use physical characteristics as a key initial factor (I for one seem to go for the eyes) one never really considers a person who doesn't post a picture.

Then there is the tendency to not read beyond the first paragraph if your interest isn't captured. Match.com is the MTV of dating - short attention spans, quick reads, scan the pix, and then move on. The service is set up to feed into an impulsive, quick decision-making process. Users probably yield enough inquiries from prospective matches that that they keep re-upping their subscription.

I have been getting more "winks." Winks are the stupidest thing in the world, by the way, because all a wink means is that a person isn't willing to make an effort to actually send an email saying "hi" look at my profile and email me if you are interested.

I have this theory that some guys just whip through pictures and click the "wink" button with vigor going for absolute numbers in hopes of generating a response from a small percent.

More often than not I write back (cause I hate ignoring anyone, clicking on the "not interested" button is, to me, as obnoxious as a wink, although sometimes I do it). When I write back, typically I ask what they possibly think we might have in common (maybe framed a little more delicately).

One guy actually emailed me and asked me to look at his profile cause he thought we might be good match. I looked and this is a guy with a toddler, is politically conservative, likes playing golf... I am thinking,

"ARE YOU KIDDING?! Have some self control with that damn wink!"

**It takes a village to find me a date**

Well if you have been suffering through my postings over the past few months, you will know that I have tried Internet dating services. I am ready to pass judgment on the experience so climb aboard for the ride.

My first effort was to lurk on Match.com (which means I posted a profile but did not join). I used a nearby zipcode so my hometown wasn't listed. Probably a combination of privacy and humiliation drove that decision.

I have to tell you that the people who indicated interest in me, typically using the highly refined and sophisticated form of Match.com communication known as "winking," made me 1) really worried that I was a total loser and 2) really glad I didn't list my real hometown. I concluded it was a grand meat market and moved on to "higher end" dating services.

On the advice of several people, apparently well versed with the world of Internet dating, I explored eHarmony.com. I succumbed to the ad copy that beckoned, "Take the eHarmony Personality Profile and get instant, objective feedback on yourself and how you relate to others." Sounds harmless, could provide insight into my soul....

Damn thing took hours to fill out. But I got my personality profile and by all indications I am not too much of a freak.

Well, if I didn't wake up one morning and find in my email, two messages from eHarmony telling introducing me to Lou and Tim. Well, I went right on line and found me a two-months-for-the-price-of-one coupon and joined, because these guys were carefully selected, right? Much better than a meat market.

I spent two months with that service was sent a total of 7 names (from a database that included a major city!). Only one responded. And he was absolutely uninspiring. Never had anything of substance to say. I guess that profile didn't quite pick up on the fact that I would actually like to have an intelligent conversation with someone.

My membership ran out, but I still receive an occasional match. The last two have been intensely religious.

Missed the boat on that one too, eHarmony.

My Internet dating gurus convinced me that the numbers game with Match.com made it a better choice. So I went and actively looked for people. I have had better success, although the vast majority are not interested. No one interesting has approached me. So I contact complete strangers. Fascinating process. You get used to the rejection (this must be what happens to telephone solicitors). Most don't respond and it is interesting how one can become slightly grateful for those who at least take the time to email back and say they are not interested.

I have been in contact with one person. I saw his profile and realized he contained two qualities that caught my attention. We may meet next week. I am supposed to find a restaurant somewhere between here and his home, which is about 60 miles away. I rarely get out of my town so this is a daunting task (he asked that I not select a corporate restaurant - how cute and yet it completely eliminates the ENTIRE I-5 corridor). So I spent my lunch time at a media conference yesterday drilling those at the table (strangers for the most part) for restaurant recommendations. One guy even called his wife on his Blackberry seeking suggestions.

There was much merriment and joking at my expense at that table.

Once again, the future of my first blind date is in the hands of a "village."

**How to be ungrateful**

The saga of colleges continues. My son, bless his lucky heart, managed to get into his first choice college of engineering. To boot, he received a financial aid package that was unmatched by any other school, save my alma mater.

So his fav. college seems to be the choice. The only challenge: coming up with the "family contribution" that totals half my take home salary. His father will not help vountarily, even though the family contribution includes an estimate of his income.

So I have to come up with that too. Swine ex.

Part of my solution is to ask my son to work this summer to contribute to the cost of college.

Originally he was keen on being away for the summer and working for my brother. Good money, bad influence.

Now he has decided he misses his girlfriend and wants to stay in the local area for the summer.

Understandable and it looked possible... for a bit.

Then his one job option (the one employer who would give him a job sight unseen) fell through.

So unless he can rally his friends here to help find him a job, he likely will have to go east.

And for that he is apparently PISSED AT ME.

Now how is it that I, the one who is telling him that I will come up with the bulk of the college money, even if I have to sell my house (which is a REAL possibility) is the one he gets annoyed with. His father is doing squat.

THAT is how to be ungrateful.

**How can this be?**

I am a francophobe!

Your Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

**Failed attempt to replace Peter Jennings**

It was with great sadness that we learned of the Peter Jenning's battle with lung cancer. It means that a replacement is necessary, even if on a temporary basis.

Unfinished Life has obtained heretofore unpublished photos of a final contender for the anchor seat, next to a co-anchor destined to be the next Katie Couric. But that is another story.

Shiloh made her broadcast review with style. She was controlled and professional:


Until.... without warning...a story on feline dysentary. Shiloh tried to leap over the desk. Swine felines.


She blew her chance for fame. But.. fortunately Shiloh's manager had secured a two year contract and while the network could pull her off the air, they had to pay her nonetheless.

So they put her on the studio cam. Let's just say... it didn't work out for physical limitations that did not fall under ADA protection.


Undaunted and a little desperate, executive producer had an idea. To justify this multi-million dollar contract, Shiloh was moved into master control to work as technical director.


It worked... for awhile... until she put up a graphic of a dog biscuit during the announcement of the new FDA food guidelines. Bad Shiloh!


Shiloh was escorted from the premises. The executive producer was sacked. Lawyers are involved. It is very ugly.

**Celebrity watch**

I can't help myself. I get very excited about the prospect of meeting famous people.

I remember in college having the opportunity to interview IN HIS CUSTOM TOUR BUS, Chris DeBurgh. Before you double over with laughter, this was BEFORE "Lady in Red," back when he wrote decent Irish ballads and had not sold-out to Top 40. I booked him as the opening act for America (who totally sucked at their attempt at a comeback). I also worked at the radio station and was tasked to interview Chris (yup, first name basis). Well, I sat down with my mic and my reel-to-reel deck along with my friend to do the interview and I just sat there gawking. Couldn't ask a single question. My friend did the interview and I just stared.

Barbara Walters I am not.

But I think people sense this about me, so when James Brooks (yes the director) brought his son this way to looks at prospective colleges, I was not informed ahead of time, even though he would likely be one of my students. The entire concern was compounded by the fact that Brooks (senior) is single. They probably made a good call here.

Another celeb of sorts has moved into the area. He only is likely to be familiar to nutso, risk-taking mountaineers and those of us who devour Outside magazine each month. This gentleman is a backcountry skier. Not a cross country skier, but someone who scales peaks, and then skis down them. We are talking 50 degree angles here. I happened to read about him and another extreme skiier in Outside magazine. Lo and behold, the very next day, I learn from a friend that he just moved to town, and the two of them, now neighbors are climbin Mt. Adams this weekend and telemarking down. Welcome to town Mark.

You are so out of my league.

**April: the month of the bitch**

My relationship with April is a troubled one at best. Yes, the trees are leafing, the rain is subsiding, the temperature is a near perfect 60-70 degrees. It also is the month to celebrate the birthdays of my two dear sisters. It is my old advisor's birthday this month too, although he never acknowledges it when I send him a card. And at least after the halfway point I can check those damn taxes off the todo list.

So why am I not in a state of bliss? Blame it on my old job. Yes, this week would have been final exam week if I still worked there. That means that next week I would have started my 4 MONTH SUMMER BREAK. At my new job, even with all of its benefits, like lower pay, longer hours, whiter students (I list with obvious sarcasm), I still have another 5.5 weeks of teaching. In another week my students will be asking each other, "Why is she such a royal bitch these days?"

Question answered.

**So where the hell has SHE been?!**

Jeeze, life you know!

In spite of rumors, I'm not dead... yet.

Here is the trip report. Not that I have any idea what a trip report is (Something that my niece and her friends always "file.")

So in response to the "update your blog" borderline harassment... I will respond to the various scenarios posed to explain my lack of "blogging."

In spite of a good faith effort, I did not find God in Death Valley.

And NO,I did not "fade into oblivion" smoking seed pods or inhaling or shooting up the chemical derivatives of rare wildflowers that blanketed some of the remote canyons.

Ummmm, can anyone identify this particular flower (and let me know if I should seek medical attention:))?



Nor did I succumb to the effects of poppies. But there were A LOT of poppie-like flowers.



I did contempt existential questions... such as why is it that my offspring are so darned beautiful? More evidence, I guess, for the skipping-a-generation argument.


This is our obligatory Sound of Music shot (I would load the highly embarassing video, but I don't know how):


But her feet are bigger than mine:)


I did find one cosmic looking flower, all by itself along the road. The only one I saw the entire time. Took a "Sarah" picture:


Then there was the Death Valley version of the Burning Bush:
(Not to raise references to the religious right, but it is a parasitic little creature that sucks the life out of freestanding, never-did-anything-to hurt-another-living-thing plants)


We did the obligatory hikes for the views, exercise and to get away from the mobs who had the same brilliant idea to come to Death Valley for the wildflowers.


Way off in the distance is the low point in Death Valley. A couple hundred feet below sea level and an old dry saltwater lake.
Normally a desert gets 6-10 inches of rain a year. Death Valley averages 2 inches of rain. As of mid March the park had received 6+ inches (more than has ever been recorded). And the "rainy" season was not over as of that point.

Below is a close up view of the "dry" salt lake called, "Badwater Lake."


I told her not to wash her face! They never listen to their mother!

We decided to return to Oregon the way we came because every exit just beckoned to us.	God, I-5 rocks!

Yes, it was tempting, but we did not stop here... at least for very long:)


We made it back, and dog gone it if my job wasn't still here.

More later. Those pesky taxes are calling.