I’m still in recovery phase from the last two days… hence why as I now look at the clock it is so late but this post hasn’t made it up yet. So before you read the rest… this week’s renter, Stephanie Davies' Mystickal Incense and More Blog is in the last few hours of renting. During this time they have been a great renter, even giving us exclusivity to see the blog change designs. So… please give her a farewell click… and if you really like me, click on her link above in this post and tell her why I deserve to be the winner of her new blog redesign contest. You’ll need to leave the reason in the comments section of the post the above link goes to. So thanks for staying and playing here @ A Pile of Dog Bones Stephanie… and keep on bloggin'.

*
Here’s a big bone for all of you… my date last night with Izzy. Yes… that’s right… it is official… I went out on a date with the latest online chatty. We went to a local Queens restaurant called Donovan’s in Woodside. It’s a nice Irish place with a lot of charm. I had been in and out of their previously with one of my old partner’s for their Shepard’s Pie… which is exactly what I went for last night. However, allow me to start at the beginning.

So I did leave work later than I expected. She apparently was already prepared for that, and when I called her wasn’t even dressed yet. So I bounced home for a quick change and a spray of Axe before heading over. To be honest… I made really good time there and ended up outside in the cold for 25 minutes before we were supposed to meet. Then, she was another 10 minutes late… which to be honest is good timing considering she walked.

So we go inside and get shoved into a little corner alcolve surrounded by lead lined stained glass and white stucco. The fireplace is blazing, and so we start talking. About what? Well… anything that came to mind. Internet sites we like, common work issues, what we watch on TV (she’s a TiVo girl… my favorite kind), and all sorts of other stuff.

She did get to see first hand how my drama affects me. My phone rang, and I thought it was The Nick (who, by the way is not speaking to me because I left work early and did not tell her where I was going) and the first thing I thought was something had gone horribly wrong at work… so I answered. It turns out it was Mel, who called to tell me she was upset over something and she wanted to quit. Once I discerned this fact, I told her very simply, “Mel, remember I love you, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Essentially I shut her down. This is important to remember for later.

So we ate dinner by candlelight, I had the aforementioned Shepard’s Pie and she had the baked clams. I drank a black and tan, she drank amaretto and coke. We were a match made in heaven… and although the waitress was grumpy… dinner went off without a hitch. Our after dinner discussion continued to revolve around items out of random… all the while she played with a straw wrapper giggling, and I continued looking around nervously with weak knees. So… finally a cook came out and basically chased us out.

So we got outside, and I said I could drive her home. “No. You can walk me home,” was her reply with a smile. Now, remember, she walked there and had dressed in layers. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, a short sleeve button down shirt, and a vintage 1993 VYZ black flight jacket (it’s vintage because that was the jacket I wore when I saw Pearl Jam back in 1993). Yet, walked her home I did. During the walk I got a little tour of the neighborhood… and I got to hear about friends and how they were considered traitors for living on the wrong block, bars that had been open but now were gone, and the walk from a closing bar past White Castles on the way to the after hours place.

Finally, with the wind whipping around us in a frenzy, we reach her block. So we stand outside of her house. There we talk more… about her family, and what they’re like, and her Christmas lights that stay up all year round (which oddly looked really familiar… kind of like my own Christmas lights at my house in Pennsylvannia… hmmm…). It was cold, and we looked at each other, and there… under the light of the street lamp… Godzilla and Mothra started duking it out in my stomach. I was doing everything not to choke on the moment… and at the same time not to upchuck from my case of Nerves Gone Wild… but in the end, I chose the safe path… and I kissed her hand.

Yes… that’s right… after an hour in the cold… I only kissed her hand. Who’s the fool? Well… obviously I am. After she went upstairs I walked back to my truck… and she called my phone to make sure I got there alive. Once in the truck with the heat pumping, she came out and asked me how long it had been since I dated. A real date… mmmm… like a real one on one date… double mmmm… 1999??? Right… and that’s when she told me… when a girl stands in the cold for an hour… she WANTS to be kissed… on the lips!!! Duh! Thank you Godzilla. Thank you Mothra. The travesty.

We continued to talk until about 2:00am this morning… and have a tentative date for Monday at the movies. I’m going to put Godzilla and Mothra on a time out for that occasion, get ahold of plenty of chapstick, some of that mouth spray, and do puckering exercises over the weekend to strengthen myself for the experience that I know will be knee wobbling and butterfly shattering.

*
On a final note… while I normally leave this space for the trivial, minute, and entertaining, I can't ignore this. Here is a picture I found on Yahoo! From a press conference today. The paramedic on the right is Marvin Bethea, also known as “Marvelous Marvin the Bee”. Marvin has been a paramedic since before I was even an EMT, working the old 44 William with Eddie McCormack. On September 11, 2001 Marvin was working 46 William with The Viking when he was sent to the WTC Site. He did a number of overtime tours on the site during the cleanup and a number of volunteer tours on the pile as well. His health has been in deterioration ever since, including suffering a stroke while working in November of 2001.

The fact remains that the City of New York continues NOT to recognize the disasterous effects on emergency responders who responded that day. While it is too late to help guys like Timmy Keller, it isn't too late to help the rest of them. I say them... but hell... I was there for 48 straight too. Them is really us. This is a wrong that must be righted… because if it’s not… well New York… who’s coming to rescue you next time?

Yeah I know... we are... that's why EMS is known as "New York's Dumbest". So be it... and all that cal my little droogie... all that cal.