CRAP!

I don't think I told you about Park Ranger, the guy I met at the faire on Sunday. Park Ranger (PR) came along and sat for a long time watching me as I learned to weave on my Inkle Loom. We talked about this and that, and about my family's property which is in his desert jurisdiction.

He expressed interest in joining our guild at faires. So I gave him our card. (my info is not on the card, I am an apprentice) Then he wanted my number. Now, judging from my attitude towards him, I can say that although he is a nice fellow, I am not interested. Judging from the fact that I'm thinking (based on the amount of grey in his beard and the lack of hair on his head) that he is at least 10 years older than me. Out of my preferred range.

So I was thinking by yesterday that I wouldn't be hearng from him. Then he called last night. After a legnthy conversation, he asked what I was doing this weekend. I told him I was busy. Then he asked the question all women dead when they are making excuses. "Really, what are you doing?" uh, uh, (crap!) I have a lot of pick up work around the house that needs to be done (if I tell him I need to aerate my lawn, is that too obvious? I do need to, and I will be doing it this weekend) you know the stuff I would have done last weekend but I was at faire. (uh, um, panic, panic!CRAP!)
So I stuttered out a few mindless activities, feeling like a big idiot bitch, and finally said, "Why don't you call me this weekend and if I'm not knee deep in mud, I'll try to come out".

When will I ever learn? Oy.