Flirting with Flirting

Lo! and behold, there appears to be a new Silver Fox on the horizon. I know that when Heaven closes a door, frequently a window opens. However, I was in the middle of cleaning that window, and I nearly fell off the ladder.

He has suggested meeting at the temple one night and having dinner afterward. I countered with bookstore + takeout from Central Market, because I frequently weep when touched by the Spirit [which happens often when I am in the House of the Lord], and I prefer that it happen only when I’m surrounded by people I already know well; i.e., crying in sacrament meeting is fine, but crying on a first date is not, and what if I fell asleep during the ordinance session?

He likes to fish. I like to eat fish. We both like John Wayne. He is age-appropriate. And a widower (we remember how the last widower worked out, but I’m trying not to presume they are all cut from the same cloth). He can spell. And proofread. My inner grammarian is ecstatic! He has a job. And a garden.

He is a friend of a friend of a friend. (That sounds familiar to me; have I already mentioned him? ...↓scroll↓...↓scroll↓...apparently not...) And probably in the same ward as my silver-haired acquired brother, whose nickname here, escapes me at the moment. Which, if so, would make him also a friend of a friend: one less degree of separation.

And I should know in a week or two if he merits coming up with a nickname; I am currently leaning toward Brother Pilgrim, for his admiration of The Duke, but it might not suit his personality, LOL.

I am home and full of leftovers and just about carbed-out. I think I will grab my knitting and a glass of water and head to the back of the house for some reading and an early bedtime. Let the weekend begin!