Dear blog, it appears that life lately has been taking a turn for the dramatic
of late.  I intended to talk about the previous weekend before this one, but
work has been killer.  So, this Sunday evening, I decided to get the past two
weekends out of my mind and into the blog so I can move on.  Silly enough,
after dramatic (ok, slightly dramatic, out of the norm moments) events, I try
and reflect on what happened, and then figure out how to blog it as part of my
reflection.  It seems to help out with the process.  

Anyways, the previous weekend, I found out that Dad is proceeding with plans
to give up farming.  What this will entail, next year will be the last year he
will plant crops.  The following year he will sell the farm equipment due to
income tax reasons.  So this is an end of an era in my life, as one of the
constants in my life has always been the farm and the farming.  Unfortunately,
with the current state of agricultural business, I can't even come close to
justify financially taking over the business side of the farm.  I can come out
nearly even with the farm payments if I rent out the land to another versus
paying for the payment of the farm and the costs to put a crop into the ground
and harvest costs.  It is a shame, and I'm pretty blue that economics will end
a tradition.  I always intended to take over farming when I retired as an
engineer.  However, it would appear that when that time comes, I'll have to
buy different equipment and try to learn everything over.  It seems eerie that
this is the year we lose the 630 Johnny to a fire, and now this decision to
sell-off most of the rest of the biz. and equipment.  As King would say, the
world is moving on.

Then this past weekend, I'm still expecting further fall-out (and probably
another blog entry).  Friday night, I went out with my friends and their girl
friends/wife to a local live concert in a park.  It was a warm night, low 90's
plus humidity.  So, one of my friend's girl friend decided she was going to
"help me".  I can't even remember how the conversation got started, but she
started doing a "female eye for the straight guy" thing.  With no surprise, I
was completely out of style with just about everything I wore.  The only thing
that passed was my sun glasses and sideburns.  Shirt, watch, belt, pants, and
shoes were all "wrong".  Heck, even my little chain and Catholic medals caught
some criticism (needed cleaning) as she caught sight of them under my t-shirt
and pulled them out for examination.  Damn, I'm just glad I didn't have to
strip down for an underwear inspection.  Naturally, I took it all in stride. 
I know I'm about 20 years out of fashion, I'm just waiting for what I wear to
come back into style again is all. 8)  Anyways, she tried to work on me to go
shopping with her to pick up a pair of boot cut jeans rather than my old
tapered blue jeans.  After I kept deflecting her requests, she then found a
gal standing nearby with a pair of friends, with whom she inquired if I'd look
better in boot cut.  Of course, the other female agreed, (it is a conspiracy!)
and her friends jumped into the conversation.  I quickly earned a new
nickname, boot cut.  Fortunately, the concert was ending, and we headed to a
local bar.

Along the way to the bar, the local gay bar was handing out free admission and
free beer coupons, which my friends eagerly grabbed up.  Unfortunately, for
me, by this time, my right contact decided it was time for it to tear.  So
keep in mind the rest of the evening, my right eye was watering and in pain. 
And since I was the designated driver, I had to keep the contact in so I could
drive everyone home.  So, after a short stop at our intended bar, everyone but
me wanted to check out the gay bar.  Since I was out-voted and got
half-dragged by the girlfriends, the gay bar was our next destination.  It was
pretty empty, as it was still early in the evening.  What was interesting, the
bar was a converted Chinese restaurant, aptly named the Dragon.  The back half
of the restaurant was a dance club room with a DJ and a balcony with tables. 
Well, two of my friends naturally ditch their girlfriends and head upstairs,
leaving me and one other guy with 4 women.  Well, naturally I became their
favorite target and they decided they just HAD to get me out on the dance
floor.  I tried to reason with them that I'm an old white guy, I don't dance,
and especially not to dance music.  Apparently, using logic doesn't work when
women want something (this is the theme for my night evidently).  So, two of
them try to pull me out, and this time I tried to put my foot down, literally.
 Since I work out, I'm pretty strong, and they couldn't move me out there. 
Unfortunately, one of them figured out that I'm ticklish, and well, I ended up
on the dance floor.  Fortune smiled, as no one but our group was in the dance
section at the time, so I was only embarassed publicly with our group. 
According to my new dance instructor, dancing is only about moving your butt
and hips to a beat.  What she didn't realize, was that when someone is
self-conscious, they tend to stiffen up, ie, my knees and ankles weren't going
to unlock.  So after 10 minutes of her having fun trying to teach me to move,
I managed to convince her I wanted to sit back down.   

Fast forward an hour later, by this time, the smoke in the room was now
driving the pain in my right eye to new levels of pain by the minute.  This
was the time a gal sitting behind me at the next table decided to ask me to
dance.  Unfortunately for her, I wasn't in any mood to dance.  So, I tried to
explain my contact was killing me and that I didn't want to dance.  After
denying a half-dozen requests of "c'mon, let's go dance", suddenly she gets
pissed at me.  I am now getting hit with "what, I'm not good enough for you?" 
"are you gay?"inquiries.  Ever the gentlemen, I don't take the loaded
questions and just respond that I don't want to dance.  Well, that doesn't
work, she then begins to rub my thigh with her hand and demands that I prove
to her that I'm not gay.  Alright, by this time, I'm getting freaked out. 
Just at this moment, my friends and their girlfriends decide to come off the
dance floor and intervene.  Only, they don't help me out, they decide they
need to help out this chick.  Suddenly, the gals are explaining that I'm very,
very shy.  The guys are just eating this up, and jump in to badger me on the
other side of the table.  The gals decide that they need to force-drag me out
on the floor, and that was the point I got pissed.  Luckily, one of the gals
saw my expression change and called off everyone.  Well, that was enough for
the chick, who headed out to the floor with a friend.  I managed to quickly
remind everyone that they are hungry, and we took off before the chick could
return.   So, I drove everyone through a drive-thru and then home.  Already,
I've had to play phone machine tag with one of the gals, who was apologizing
for her behavior.  Hopefully, I managed to reassure her that I'm not mad, just
forget about it.  We'll see how this turns out.  *sigh*

The inner reflection, has me gaining a new appreciation for women.  I can only
imagine their suffering dealing with aggressive men with whom they don't want
to deal   with.  Meanwhile, I'm still learning that I don't handle this whole
male-female interaction thing very well.  I have a feeling it is going to take
a very patient woman to get me capable of dating.   It seems over-the-top
aggression isn't going to work, not without some level of trust on my part
first.  Of course, challenging my ego by inquiring if I'm gay really doesn't
help either.  It is nights like those that make me wonder if I'm really better
off staying single.  I just can't justify putting my heart on a sleeve and
blindly putting trust in another.  My question is, dear blog, how is it that
others can and are able to do so?  I'll ponder this one on the drive home.