The last three days were probably the most perfect summer days this season. Unfortunately, it is nearly August and half the summer is now a wet memory. I started this day like most others; with a cup of steamed broccoli and a protein shake before going to the gym. I saw Saya, my dear friend and co worker, there. She is the one with the parents who have the picture perfect house on a pristine lake in New Hampshire. We bump into each other there at that time pretty regularly.

A while back, same place same time, I was working with my trainer when I spotted this guy I had seen years ago when I lived here. Surprisingly he was still looking pretty good. He was jumping rope when I caught him from the back side and well, let’s say he got my attention. I meant to approach him, but he escaped before I had the chance. I returned pretty much every day after that at the same time hoping to catch him and it never happened.

I asked Saya if by chance she knew this guy and whaddya know, she did! She said he was the old roommate of a friend of ours who had moved to NYC. We called our friend immediately to get the goods. He was waiting for a client to arrive and we could only get they guy’s name and job before we were hung up on. His name is Phillip. Armed with this new information I returned to the gym promptly at 10:30 every day thereafter hoping to catch a glimpse.

As the days wore on with no Phil, I began to lose hope and interest. Then today I ran into Saya, same time and place, with that fine piece of man catching my attention and getting me all excited running on the treadmill 15 feet away. I asked Saya if that was him; I had enrolled her in my search, scouting the gym out when I was not there hoping to relay a sighting back to home base. She confirmed my excitement and told me to go introduce myself.

Approaching somebody at the gym is a sensitive subject. One, you do not want to interrupt somebody when they are in full stride, two, what am I going to say to this guy now that he has stopped running 15 mins into his jog and plummeted his heart rate way below the optimum BPM? “Hi. You’re hot. Great ass. I’m Johnny, wanna hang out sometime?” If I were Phil, I would deduct serious points for bad timing and poor gym etiquette. I told Saya that she would have to keep an eye on him since she was doing cardio in the same room.

“If he leaves stop him and come get me.”

“What?” she says “What am I supposed to do if he leaves?”

“Stop him, kick him in the back of the knee, wrestle him to the ground. Be creative, I don’t care. That man is not leaving until I meet him. Tell him that there is somebody who is dying to meet him. That will spark his interest long enough for you to come fetch me, please do this for me!” I begged.

“OK” she replied and I walked back to the mats excited at the prospect of meeting Phillip.

It wasn’t long before I saw Saya scurry past me and I knew she was on her mission. I was doing push ups in the corner so there was no way she would see me. When she ran past me again, I caught her mid way.

“I saw him go into the locker room.”

“Gr88888888888888888888888t” I said. This is the second worst way to meet somebody, when they are naked; it is a really uncomfortable situation. Oh well, this was not getting in my way. Luckily and unfortunately he was not naked. I looked at him and asked ”You’re Phillip, right?” after he looked a little puzzled I told him about our common friend and began to charm the pants off him so to speak.

After some small chat I gave him my number. I do not try to get their number. I figure if I’m the one who stalked them it’s only fair to allow them the freedom to decide whether or not to call. I established my interest so the rest is up to him.

I returned to my workout with new exhilaration and drive. Even if he does not call, just finding him and doing all I could in the situation is enough to satisfy me. Although, a date and a look at him in the buff after a shared bottle of a slightly chilled Julienas wouldn’t be so bad either! Woof!

Last week at a restaurant in P’town I asked for a glass of Sancerre. A few moments later someone other than my server came by to say that they were out. This was annoying for two reasons: I really wanted that wine, and our server should have been aware of that fact ahead of time. Somebody was clearly slacking. Disappointment is much more palatable when served swiftly. Hey Ho. No biggie. It was good to be on that end because now I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening to my guests.

Speaking of my guests, last night I walked into work to learn that my section was booked for a party of 14 and that I had to turn them in two hours for another party of 12. With nearly 60 on the books, these parties made up almost half of our reservations for the evening and there were many people turned away because we could not fit any more bodies. Sounds like good news, no? No. With few exceptions, large parties ruin the night for everyone like eighteen wheelers on a two lane highway.

The first party was due at 6:30. At 6:20 we received a phone call that they were running late. Given the state of travel in Boston lately, it was no surprise, just a mere disappointment that would throw everything off. I needed every single person to be in their seat at 6:30 for my magic to work. I contemplated how I could make things work out. Should I tell them that we were out of everything that took more than 15 minutes to prepare? Maybe pretend that they had a pre-fixed menu, order all 3 courses now and have the apps on the table as soon as the first straggler arrived? No. That would not fly. No matter how bastardly people behave I simply refuse to cheat. All I could do was wait.

At seven there were four people present. Sensing the aggravation, the host of the group apologized and I appreciated the sentiment, for the moment. The entire party wasn’t assembled until 7:30 and even then they were scattered about talking on cell phones, smoking outside and cluttering up the front of the restaurant. I was defeated and we had yet to begin. I had two other tables of nice, normal people that would most likely be the source of any real money to be made that night and I had to hussle them through like it was a soup line to accommodate the hoard. People were ordering bottles of wine then disappearing outside to chat on the phone. There was not one moment when all 14 people were at the table. In fact, they had called earlier to say that they were 13. I had the bus girl take away a setting and then when they all “arrived”, they were in fact 14. When the bus girl returned with the chair and silverware, a cocky woman said to her “Oh, you were short one”, she shot back “No, you’re one more than you said you would be.” Well done Holly!

I took my time, because I could not get everybody seated long enough to get their orders and I will be damned if I am going to obtain their orders in parts. That would be a tactical disaster with the kitchen and the last time I checked, I wasn’t a truck stop waitress! I finally decided that I was not going to be there all night while they ran up their mobile minutes on my watch. I took the order for 11 people and when I asked whether or not the other 3 would like to place their orders I was told that they had gone. THEY LEFT! I could not believe it. Three people make a difference. We could have easily arranged the table down to make way for additional more courteous and on time guests, but no I was stuck with these people.

I was worn down, my spirit broken I decided to accept my fate. There have been plenty of times where I have come out way on top and this was no big deal in the big picture. A minor upset. But, for the love of Pete, there could have been a more courteous manner that these folks could have adopted? In their defense, when it came time to pay up, the woman who was the first to arrive also paid and slipped me more than enough. In the end I suppose that’s all that really matters.

Usually when I fall behind in my writing I don’t back track. But I feel that this entry is deserving of a little time trip backwards. Last Sunday I was the guest celebrity judge for the Purse Party. Yes, the Purse Party. It was orchestrated by Vernon Wall of Iowa and was a fundraiser for an AIDS charity and a shelter for women.

I am all for charity and having it in P’town made it all the more appealing. Ms. Richfield, a local entertainer was the MC and a damn good one.

Every year a group of guys get together for their vacation in P’town, the boys hail from Iowa, Georgia and as far away as California. They all donate some cash and some of them participate in the contest that bears the name of the event. The rules are simple, create a purse and a pair of pumps to be judged by the judges and have a good time. Every contestant was introduced and asked to tell a little about their entry; what it was made out of, how they made it and where the inspiration came from. Those that were immediately dismissed were those that purchased their purse or lacked any creative drive. We narrowed it down to 3 finalists. The third place contestant purchased his purse and only qualified with a small Velcro attached pouch that he added. Looking at his entry you can see why he made it to the final round.

The second finalist was a close second indeed. His imagination and the time he invested did not go unnoticed.

But there cannot be two number ones.

This purse was made entirely out of chopsticks. It conveyed a political message of which I have no recollection, I should have written it down. Anyhow here is a picture of me with the winner, whose name I forgot!

I really need to be more attentive to the details. Forgive me, winner of the 2006 Purse Party. Congratulations Vernon on a great party and for raising more that $600 for some great charities. I had a wonderful time and look forward to helping you out in 2007.

Last month I had lost a big filling from my mouth during a time of slight turmoil and unrest. The minor loss proved to be a major catalyst for change. From a psychological point of view, dreams about losing one’s teeth or loose teeth are a sign of loss of control and or a sense of being unprepared. In my experience, that has been pretty accurate. Knowing that, when my filling fell out it was a clear and loud sign that was taking physical form. It’s that relationship that I have with my body that often speaks louder than life itself. I was amazed at how blind I had been and to a large degree, lost control.

To take care of the problem and fix that life saving molar I turned to my buddy Chris who happens to be a dentist. It helps to have friends. It was a very large filling, I remember when I had it done. My mother took me to a local dentist who saw the cavity and claimed that a root canal was imperative and needed to be done right away. Following a cursory inspection of the shoddy facility Ma Hazzard said, “You’re out of your f’ing mind, we’re going somewhere else”.

That’s how we found Dr. Jeffery Orchen, who would be my dentist until I left Ohio. It was a major cavity, but I was spared the root canal by Dr. Orchen and left with a nearly 50% filling to fall out in June some 18 years later.

At the dentist’s office today I was given two doses of Novocaine and left for 20 minutes. Apparently this was supposed to be enough to make my lips and face numb. It was no where near numb, I was given two more. It wasn’t until after the procedure that I really felt the effects. It is a very annoying feeling, being numb and I forgot how dreadful it is. Drinking water required mind over matter and left me and Milo quite moist for the ride home.

With that ordeal behind me it became clear to me that I had some other things to deal with. Namely to take control of a situation I had been ignoring. I’m a big boy, I should know better, but sometimes I get my priorities out of whack and it takes a big piece of metal falling out of my mouth to remind me what is important.