Help! I smell smoke: How I was able to break out of my shell and attract the man I'm seeing

There's something to be said about not being a shivering waif waiting for someone to speak up for you.  I'm single.  So much so, I've forgotten what it's like to have a steady companion aside from my daughter.  But one day, I decided to stop waiting for a man to speak to me and show interest.  After all, that method didn't seem to be working for me.

The last man that showed interest, after about a month and some change of dating straight disappeared.  I'm talking that Harry Houdini himself would have been amazed at how crazy the shit was when it happened.  I figured at that point that I was slipping.  I expressed my concerns to a couple of my friends when I had a gut feeling that something was amiss and they said I was basically paranoid.  But when he vanished.  I knew.  And I was pissed.  I was pissed because I let my guard down and suspended my disbelief only to be disappointed.

Then there was the man before that.  He was my companion of all of a year.  I'd overlooked a few key things: the hatred in his heart for his ex wife, the gas and lights at his home being shutoff, and his perpetual need to prove that he could sustain a business -- even when it was painfully clear that he could not.  But the final straw was how clear I could see his character when my mother died.  That was it.  Check please.  I'm outta here.  And I was gone.

So flash forward to today.  I'm leaner, meaner and a lot more discerning about who is allowed to call my home and say that they are interested in a date.  I've for the most part, laid back and watched and waited someone I was interested in, not just the lucky dude who flags me down.  I could hear my cousin's voice saying you better stop waiting on them to say something to you.

I was sauntering out of my condo on afternoon, sundress and natural puff of curls blowing in the breeze when what to my eyes should appear?  Not one, two or three firefighters.  Four!  I said hello and there was one.  Our eyes caught and his hello seemed just a tad friendlier than the others.  So I locked onto his glaze and smiled.  But I had my daughter with me.  That's a no go.  I don't flirt with her in view.  But what was I to do?

He was handsome with his rugged exterior and twinkling eyes.  Well, I did what any girl would do.  I proceeded to the gas station.  After all, I was low on gas.  As soon as I stepped out of my SUV, I calmly called the gatehouse at my condo.  I asked the security officer if the fire department was still there and she said yes.  So I asked her to convey a phone number to Mr. Twinkly Eyes and I heard her as she gave him my name and phone number.  Later that night, I had a text of him introducing himself and my heart almost jumped out of my chest.

Well. that was at the tail end of July.  I am happy to report that I've been seeing him pretty much ever since and there is something to be said for taking a hell of a chance.  He makes me feel extra girly and he's an unparalleled cook.  Who knew?  Well, I wouldn't have, had I not said a simple hello that afternoon...

Happy Birthday to us

Seven years?  Can it be so?  We celebrated her birthday and there was dinner and a trip to be pampered.  No balloons or Chuck E. Cheese madness for us this year.

I stand amazed that my daughter has been growing for seven years and has the height, vocabulary and beauty to prove it.  Have I weathered seven years of single parenting and come out alive?  I toss my short, sleek hair back and laugh.  Yes, I certainly have.  *At this point, my daughter would remind me that my hair doesn't move when I toss it, but I digress.  I feel like Picasso as I step back and say that I created that young lady.

Times have changed.  I have changed with them and even when it was at its bleakest last year, I pressed on.  I had to and couldn't afford to crumble.  I have seven-year-old eyes watching my every move to figure out what position she was to play.  She played it, too.

When I returned from my nine days in the hospital at my mom's side, my daughter watched me renew myself as a domesticated and humbled parent.  She also watched when I didn't eat my peas and made sure to fuss at me until I did.  It's funny how the roles reverse and sometimes the adult becomes the child.

I've learned to be even more skillful and resourceful.  I guess you can say that I've sharpened the saw.  I emerged a greater person, not because I was confident, but because my mom would have wanted me to.  I couldn't falter.

I hadn't stumbled when my relationship with my daughter's father crumbled into dust.  I hadn't stumbled when I took a leave from my employer after the loss of my mom and my supervisor was not feeling it.  I simply didn't give a shit.  My mental health had to prevail because I have seven-year-old eyes watching me.  2011 showed me that I inherently know what to do in every situation that comes my way.  The answer is right there inside and all I have to do is listen to it.

That is how I made it through these seven years.  That little voice inside.

BMJ's amazing technicolor dream shawl

So,my daughter goes to Waldorf school. Love the school. Love the teachers. Love the change I see in my little one. Anyhow, every morning for the last month or so, I have been eyeing this beautiful, hand-knit, rainbow silk yarn shawl. It was displayed so temptingly in the display case nearest to her classroom. Every morning, there I was eyeballing it, willing to come home with me. So, I decided to save pennies from my retro paycheck at work to get it. I prepared for, wait for it, wait for it...

$600 or so.

A sizable chunk of my retro, but this annual auction is for her school, which is one of my favorite causes right now. Anyhow, it was looking good for me at the auction. My first bid was $200 and I was so grateful that it was part of the silent auction because the live auction folks have money much longer than mine.

So along come three other ladies. I was unwavering. One lady bid only once. Now we're down to three. Another lady bowed out around $450 or so. Now there are two.

This lady was feisty! But I am feistier. However, I had to keep reminding myself that this money was for my daughter's school. Not just about a purchase. So, here we were. My challenger went $500. I went $525 and she turned to me and said, "my husband said $500 was my limit." I had my game face on. Being single seems to have its advantages because at that moment my only limitation was the voice inside my own head. And at that exact moment, it didn't care about a limit. It simply said, "Get your shawl and quit playin'!"

My mind said that her declaration of her highest bid was a trick to get me to reveal my final number. I am no fool. My facial expression never faltered. As I stepped toward the table to bid, she bumped me with her hip. Still unswayed, I then bid $525. She frowned, snatched the pen at 20 seconds to go and went $550. She tried to even stand in front of the paper. I politely got her to move -- totally against her will-- and bid $600 in the final seconds.

I already knew what I would pay and that the hands that knit that lovely shawl had a hip librarian and mama like myself in me in mind for it. I am so happy that I got my beautiful shawl and supported Waldorf education simultaneously.