Still not getting how this blogger things works, but here is a story:

     Sophie sat quietly as she waited for her interview to get started.  She was carefully dressed in casual pants and a crisp shirt.  Nothing extraordinary, yet she looked professional.  The interviewer, whose name was Hank, had told her he'd be with her in a moment; he had to finish up with a phone call.  She looked around his office.  Plaques on the wall, service awards and an award for a year without injuries in the workplace.  There was a photo of Hank holding up a swordfish, probably taken in Florida.  Of Hank with his wife and small kids.  It looked old.  Finally, Hank finished up his call and reached across the desk to shake her petite hand with a sturdy grip.  "Hi!  Nice to meet you, Sophie!  Can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
     She cleared her throat.  "I moved here three years ago from up north, so I am still getting to know this area.  I currently work with adults with mental handicaps, but I saw your advertisement for the job opening and thought I'd apply."
     Hank smiled.  "Sure, sure.  First, do you know who we are and what we do?"  A question meant to weed out job applicants who didn't do their homework.
     Sophie, who was already sitting up straight, relaxed.  "From my understanding, this company manufactures parts for the automotive industry.  Telcon is a satellite supplier of materials used in the manufacture of the vehicles at the local Stellix plant.  But," here she chuckled uncomfortably, "I couldn't tell you exactly what kinds of parts they are.  I believe car seats are upholstered here."
     "Right you are.  Exactly right.  But the job you applied for-," here he paused, "are you familiar with the job duties?"
     Sophie smiled, feeling confident now.  "Yes.  To manage the Auto team, keep them up and running.  Diagnostics.  Send them in for repairs if need be."
     "I'm not certain I see any experience here with those kinds of things.  Tell me, why do you think you can do this job?"  He looked at her inquisitively.
     She nodded.  "Yes, I realize I don't have any official work experience with Autos.  However, I grew up with them.  I worked on a farm, used to fix them myself."  She paused, then said with certainty:  "I'm good with machines."
     Hank nodded.  "Okay, let me show you around.  Let you get a feel for the place.  Mind you, we have a mix of Autos and regular personnel."  He gave her a hard hat to wear, then led her though two sets of double doors.  The noise in the plant was almost deafening.  "Stay within the yellow lines.  Those are the rules!"  He shouted.  The fork lifts drove back and forth outside the yellow lines, so she carefully followed him.  He showed her lines where both people and Autos worked together to upholster vehicle seats, and other lines that were just run by people.  "That's because Autos don't make free choices quickly enough, and it makes it unsafe for their co-workers.  So those lines are all people.  For example, imagine a person and an Auto are carrying a very heavy object together.  If it slips from the human's grip, the Auto may try to catch it instead of letting it fall.  By trying to catch it, the Auto may unwittingly tilt it toward the human, and crush the human."  They passed by a line run by all Autos.  "That's the line you'd be managing if you got the job.  Say hello to Bernie!"  He tapped an Auto on the shoulder, and the Auto paused, then stood up straight, swiveling his gaze to meet hers. 
     "Hi Bernie."  She smiled quietly at him.  "Hello, Miss."  Bernie stood still.  She looked at Hank.  "May I touch him?"  Hank nodded toward Bernie.  She addressed him.  "Bernie, extend your arms outward, palms up."  Bernie did as she asked.  "Diagnostics on phalanges and metacarpals, both hands."
     Bernie's eyes stared off into space.  "Metacarpal on 4, left hand, in need of replacement.  Peripheral metacarpals, right hand, worn with hairline fractures."
     Sophie thanked him.  "Thank you Bernie, it was nice to meet you."  Bernie turned toward Hank, who excused him.  She smiled fondly as she walked down the line of Autos.  Such simple creatures, they did what they were asked.  They acted like they liked you.  They were like having pets, except without the mess.
     Back in the office, Hank looked at her appraisingly.  "So, what do you think about working here?  I think you would be able to handle working with the Autos.  But what about the people?  Some of them hate the Autos, try to dismantle them."  He shook his head.  "We try to catch those guys and fire them.  But you know how it is.  People accuse them of stealing their jobs.  You would be working around a lot of guys.  How would you feel about that?"
     "Frankly, I get along with most guys.  I find it harder to work with women because there's a lot of gossip and back biting.  Now, that's just my personal take on things.  But I really enjoy working with Autos, and I really want this job."  Hank thanked her and she left, feeling worried but also hopeful.

Wine Pork Chops

Okay, so I decided to fry pork chops in wine tonight.  Used Yellowtail.  The pork chops are very tender, but no fragrant taste as is usual with the way other wines cook the chops.  So, no more Yellowtail!

Today's insult

My co-worker made a Mexican joke the last week when I said my daughter was a good swimmer, and he said something about the Rio Grande and how she'd be fast at getting across it. Since I get along with him, and it was meant light-heartedly (he insults everyone, he isn't racist against any one group), I laughed along with it. He went home, and told his wife, and he said she laughed about it but said, "Stoney, that ISN'T right! You could get into trouble doing that!!" I got sick, and was off the rest of the week with a respiratory infection. I come back Monday, and he said, "I didn't offend you with that joke about the river and your daughter, did I?" I honestly didn't remember. But then I told him I wasn't bothered, I can tell the difference between a joke for laughs and a mean joke. So it dropped.

Today, we were discussing another guy we work with (let's call him Al), and how he has a tendency to tell big lies. This guy once bragged he has a time share in Florida and he only has to pay a hundred dollars a month, and he can stay there for as long as he wants, if he wanted to stay there a year he could. I asked him, "Well, why are you paying 400 for rent up here when you cold live right on the beach and get a job down there?" The guy had to do a verbal backpedal and try to make an excuse why he couldn't, but you get the picture.

And then the topic moved onto coyotes actually coming into Carmel, IL, eating up the stray dogs and cats. And I said, "My sister says coyotes run in Detroit too!" And then Stoney said, "Okay, Al". They laughed. And then Stoney said, "Please hand me a paper clip so I don't have to walk around the desk for it." I said, "I dunno, you called me Al. Them's fightin' words." He replied, "I gotta tell my wife this. You don't get mad at a Mexican joke, but don't liked being called Al! Wow!"

And Now To Jon

Josie had a boyfriend named Jon. I think about him a lot. It seems like God's Hand was in Jon. I bet Jon never thought about it.

His first words to her were, "Hi. I'm Jon", as a way of introduction. He hung around with Ricky and a whole bunch of other pot-heads. That was their biggest vice, drinking and smoking pot. They're pretty nice, I thought at the time, except I didn't approve of their extra-curricular activities. They were sort of like modern-day Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer types. On their big list of no's was education, jobs, and conforming to society. On their yes list was smoking pot, drinking, and listening to rap. All of these were a remedy for their crappy home lives.

Those were the hardest times I ever had as a parent. Send Josie's friends away, and risk her being even more attracted to them and their lifestyles. Or let her figure things out for herself and watch her very closely. As it turns out, that's not a very good option either. When you live in town, it's hard to limit any kind of activity. Just go out your front door and there's everybody, good and bad alike.

Josie took to Jon just like that girl took to James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause. A good girl from a good family with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Jon's dad was a former meth-cooker who was run out of town and resides in North Carolina; his mother is hooked on drugs of all kinds, including meth, living with a boyfriend twenty years her senior. Jon lived with his grandparents, who are clean but were raising their great-grandchildren, Jon's sibling and uncle. Four generations under one roof. Jon had anger issues to boot.

So many times I wanted Josie to break clean of him. So many times I suggested to her that she needed to get clear of him because he would take out his anger verbally on her. She would cry, and that was heartbreaking. Josie did try to break up with him at least a couple of times, but somehow he would end up grabbing her heart again. Young love is stupid and inexplicable.

My animals, suspicious to most, loved him. That told me a lot. He was just angry. And because he didn't have a good familial support system, the only way he could keep his feelings down were to smoke pot.

Josie helped him with his homework. She jokingly called him a fresh-more, because he was supposed to be a sophomore but failed and was taking the ninth grade over again. Josie was only in eighth grade. She told me, "I feel sorry for him, Mom. He doesn't even have his own room to study in. There's no place for him to sit with his homework. His room is a hallway. Jenna's baby and Jenna have to have the other bedroom." So I guess that made the both of us who felt for Jon, and wished to help him be a better person.

I felt a tad of affection for him, because even though he smoked pot and drank, he never wanted Josie to do it. He would call and make sure she was at home. He didn't let certain people around her. He punched a kid who offered her a cigarette. He told her he didn't want her to have a bad life like himself. And he said he'd never do meth, not ever. And he meant it. That was because meth stole his childhood away from him. When he was eight years old, all Jon wanted to do was play baseball, but his dad wouldn't play with him because Jon senior was too busy cooking meth.

I didn't know how to help him, that was the trouble. I was frightened for him. I saw him not doing right towards himself, and I could see the path of his life. Like the trajectory of a ball, you can see the arc of it and where it's going to land. Jon was going to crash. He had no respect for the law. Josie, even though she loved him, would tell him he was stupid when he admitted his shoplifting sprees from the electronics department in Walmart and Best-Buy. To this day, I don't know where his friends got the money for gas to get to these places. They hadn't a dollar between them.

The last time I saw him, I tried to talk him into going to church with us. Josie had almost talked him into it. We'd been working on him for a few months. He didn't want to go because he felt like people would be judgmental towards him. His family was poor. He didn't think he believed in God. I knew he needed a support system to change his path.

The last time I talked to him it was via phone; he was angry at Josie. She was crying, he was accusing her of being unfaithful. I knew this was Angry Jon, the Jon who needed help. I told him, "Why do you say that? Don't you know if she was, she wouldn't cry? She wouldn't care what you think at all, don't you understand? She's your best friend, you are breaking her heart." He thought about it and then conceded the point. It was stuff like this that caused me the most stress, that made me wish the two would break up friendship and be done with it. But things have to play out to the end, too, no matter what anyone wants.

I told him to go to bed, the next day was a big day. He had a court date where he'd gotten into trouble months previous, and they were expecting he'd be sent to boys school (again). He said, "Naw, I ain't worried about tomorrow." That's all I remember. He talked to Josie some more, and everybody was calm until the next morning at 7:15 am, and Josie was screaming and crying. "Jon's DEAD!" she cried. I told her no, we just talked to him last night. It wasn't possible. But it was. He'd gone drunk driving with Ricky in the passenger seat. Neither of them wore seat belts, but for Jon, it proved detrimental as he flew out of the car when it flipped and was under the hood when the vehicle came down. Ricky lived although he was shaken around in the car like beans in a can.

The next moments, the next days, were very odd for me. The observer in me saw and commented, but the rest of me, the mother, was mortified. A child died. It could have been my child. The phone was quiet; no more Jon drawling, "Is Josie there?" Perfect silence.

Jenna, Jon's sister, was the one who told Josie that Jon died. Josie: "Where is Jon?" Jenna: "He's at the coroner in Princeton." Josie: "The corner? What's he doing down there? Why doesn't someone go get him?" Jenna: "[pause]The coroner, Josie. You can't just go get someone's body from the coroner." Josie: "Why did they leave him on the corner? We need to go get him! Let's go now!" Jenna:"[pause]No, Josie. Coroner. Cor-o-ner. Not corner." Josie: "Oh."

More on Jon later, because his is a long story.

Grown-ups And Desperation

Josie has a job, and she brings in the spare cash that will buy her clothes and pay back everybody she owes (except her parents). She even gave some to church and ten dollars to a neighbor lady down on her luck. So all in all, I'm quite proud of my fourteen year old.

There are some days she brings home only twenty dollars for working five hours. She depends on tips, and the head waitress takes the "good" tables and gives the two teenagers the bad (or non-inhabited) tables. The head waitress brings home over a hundred dollars on those days, and Josie and her friend bring home their scant twenty-something. I said to Josie, "You are friends with the owner, why not say something? This makes me mad!!" She said, "Well, they like her because she's the only one who can work all through the week in the mornings. We have to go to school." I said, "But this isn't right! I was in there this morning, you guys were busting your butts and taking all the food out and getting refills. Where was this other girl? Why is she getting all the money you worked for? Let me talk to the owner for you!"

Josie said, "Never mind, Mom. I made good money the rest of the weekend. Anyhow, I feel sorry for that lady. She has to support her family on tips. Can you imagine, being her age and that's the only kind of job you can get?" I saw her point.

In the end, Josie sees it for what it is. She walks less than a quarter of a mile to work, so no gas or transportation fees. She isn't doing anything else with her time, and she's making mall money. She's saving up for a nice car. She works only weekends, and it's cash. It's profit, and she's not slaving at it like some people have to. And she sees how grown-ups act when they are scratching for a living.

You Just Can't Tell

Today a nice young man helped Josie and I out with the groceries. He was muscular, had a nice clean haircut, and had been joking all along with her about school stuff. Driving out of the parking lot, I commented, "What a nice young man. Maybe you could date him." I only half meant it; I was just drawing attention to his cordial manners.

Josie smiled wanly and shook her head. "He isn't. He's really big into drugs." I was incredulous. "Wow. And you can't even tell it." She replied, "Ya. It's some kind of legal drug, like Loritabs. He has a prescription, and he lies to his mom about taking them. He saves them up and takes them all at once. He offered me one once, I told him no."

"That's horrible," I replied after much thought. "And he looks so nice. He's ruining himself and he doesn't even know it." It really made me think about drugs, and how often my kids might have been offered them.

What It's All About

Well, I chose the Naked Dating Club as a blog title before I knew there really was one. However, it is all about the spirit of the thing. Wouldn't it be nice to go somewhere where the people are genuine and they say what they mean? A lot of a person's day is spent sorting out the truth.

People speak like Shakespeare wrote; there is about three layers. Take, for example, the answer to Susie Somebody's question. Her question is, "Bobby Bonehead, my new boyfriend, wouldn't answer my phone calls last night. And then I heard that Brenda Brrrittzsky, known for her big boobs, was talking to him at the football game last night. Did you see her talking to him??!?!"

And the person she asks is thinking, Gosh. Look at all those question marks and exclamation points. Yeah, I saw Brenda Brrrritzsky talking to Bonehead, but Suzie is a real pain and even though we are in tenth grade I am still hurting from that time she embarrassed me in eighth grade band camp during lunch in front of those hot guys. I don't want to get involved really because this is stupid. So I'll answer like this: "Um. I saw her talk to him for like, two minutes or so. I think she was asking him for directions to Darin's party. But then Bobby hung out with his friends and threw popcorn at the little kids. So, did you get your biology done?"

So now we put the reply through the Shakespeare filter, and this is what we get: "I saw her talk to him for, like, two minutes" really means I only saw two minutes of it, but rumor says he was talking to her for at least half the game. "I think she was asking him for directions to Darin's party" - True Dat. She did ask him directions. But Brenda Brrrittzsky lives on Darin's street. "Bobby hung out with his friends and threw popcorn at the little kids" - well, one little kid, really. It was Bobby's ten-year-old cousin who was annoying Bobby and his friends as they got ready to leave, so he dumped a bag of popcorn over his head.

Okay, so that said, back to the point. The Naked Dating Club is all about being as real as we can get. With our clothes on.