The drought has ended

If you look outside right now, you might think otherwise. It's mid July in Texas. I've seen more 99 and 100 degree days than I'd care to at this stage of the summer. My poor lawn has shriveled up after enduring the sun's relentless rays. And yet, I declare that the drought is indeed over. I am posting to this blog once again. So what has inspired me to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw? The need to document the events of the last 24 hours, or really just those of yesterday evening. Before I commence, I must revisit my declaration of several months ago. It's time to change. Let the social experiment unfurl. Well, I did just that.

I must admit my performance was much stronger in some arenas than others, but I indeed set down that path. I unleashed the Internet hounds on my social life and was instantly overwhelmed. Judging from my dedication to this blog, you can imagine my ability, or really inability, to maintain viable communication via any electronic media. I blame it on my PC based work environment. I'm hacking away at a keyboard and staring at a monitor all day long, so why would I want to spend my evening doing such? Please ignore the fact that I'm doing so now. So the experiment started out fast and furiously, and I failed miserably. Sorry gentlemen. The lure of meeting you was not enough to get me to my laptop. Except for one.

I'm not sure what it was that kept me engaged, but I was and still am. I survived making that first phone call, which even for me, was a terribly nerve racking experience. And I equally survived that first date. It took us a month to get our schedules aligned enough to sit down to dinner and wine together. It really was no easy feat. Mother Nature and O'Hare airport were doing their darndest to keep us apart. But I finally made it home, and we finally met. That date was seven hours long. I think we must had been playing catch up since it took us so long to get together. Who would have guessed that our second date would be no less than three weeks later.

Well, miraculously, our schedules aligned once again last night. The place, a wine bar that was perfectly empty on a Monday night. We sat at the bar tasted the wine, sampled the fare, and all in all had a fantastic time. When the house lights were turned up, we didn't go home. Instead, we strolled through my favorite little park, which was dimly lit by the city lights and moon. It was an amazing evening, and after a mere six hours, we decided to say goodnight. But really, there was one particular moment in the evening that inspired me to sit down and write this.

I am reminded of Sleepless in Seattle, a scene where Tom Hanks' character is talking about taking his late wife's hand for the first time and describes it as being "magic." Yes, I'm a sucker for a good chick-flick. Well, there was a moment last night where I couldn't think of anything else. "Magic." We were sitting at the bar, and he took my hand in his. This was a first. Instantly, I could think of nothing other than the warmth of his hand on mine. I felt flush, my mind turned to mush. I could barely focus or form a coherent sentence. It was magnetic. It was chemistry. It was utterly fascinating. Magic.