Three Girls, Two Boys and One Seinfeld Moment

Three girls go into their favorite neighborhood bar on a Friday night.

Two of the girls are sisters. The sisters are both married. The third girl is not.

The girls sit at the bar and sip cocktails. Eventually, they have dinner.

The bartenders joke about "the great view at the end of the bar," referencing the two (gorgeous) sisters and, perhaps their single friend who the girls have dubbed "our cousin."

The girls are flattered by the attention.

Two guys walk in and sit kitty-corner to the girls. One is wearing a baseball cap (this is a critical piece of the story).

The single girl tells her friends that she has seen one of the guys in the bar before; in fact, she remembers him from last summer because he is tall and cute and he has a great smile. She is referring the guy without the baseball hat.

The married girls encourage the single girl to make eye contact. "Five seconds minimum!" they say.

But the single girl is somewhat shy in these types of scenarios and can't even muster up the courage to look over for one second.

Time passes and two of the girls have children to tuck in, so they settle up their tab and start to make their way toward the door (which is around the corner from the bar).

The girls notice that the guys are finishing their drinks and also paying the check.

The married girlfriends tell the single girl that the tall, cute guy has watched their single friend make her way out of the bar area. "He even turned around in his chair," they add.

The girls pause at the restroom and one goes inside while the other two brainstorm ideas for meeting the mystery guy.

It is decided that the most outgoing of the three girls will go back to the bar and ask the bartender what the story is on the tall, cute guy. The single girl does not volunteer herself for this task.

The two girls wait near the restroom for their courageous friend, and as they are waiting, the two guys emerge from the bar area together and leave the building.

The third girl then returns. "Yes, he's single," she confirms.

But the guys have already left so there's nothing to do except for button up coats, pull out umbrellas and leave.

As the girls are moving toward the exit door, the tall, cute guy runs back in.

The girls smile at him. He pauses for a moment and says, "Ummm, this is kind of awkward but the bartender told me that one of you is interested in my friend."

The girls look at each other in confusion. "The guy with the hat?" they ask.

"Yes," tall, cute guy confirms.

The girls can't contain their laughter.

Tall, cute guy doesn't understand.

The girls look at one another. Who is going to break the news?

The single girl steps up. "Wrong guy," she says.

Tall, cute guy looks around at the girls.

"Well, this is awkward," he says again.

The girls burst into more giggles, as tall, cute guy look begins to look more perplexed.

Finally, one of the girls makes an indication that the single girl is the one who is interested. Something is said about exchanging phone numbers but there isn't a pen or paper available, so single girl blushes eighteen shades of red and fumbles for a business card.

Tall, cute guy says goodnight and leaves the building, with the intent of breaking the news to his buddy that the single girl isn't in fact interested in him at all.

But that doesn't quite happen.

Two of the girls dash to the single girl's car in the pouring rain. Single girl turns on her car.

Both girls notice a guy running quickly to single girl's car. The guy is wearing a baseball hat.

The girls look at each other. What do do?

Being the ever pleasant girl that she is, single girl rolls down her window and says hello.

Baseball cap guy wastes no time. "The bartender said you are interested in me."

The girls look at each other. Married girl falls silent. It's all on the single girl.

Single girl starts with "don't take this the wrong way." She goes on to stammer about a small misunderstanding at the bar. She apologizes fifty-four times and wonders if this story will best be told in the beginning, middle or end of her forthcoming book on dating at 39.

As baseball cap guy walks away, deflated, single girl looks at her married girlfriend who apologizes profusely for not speaking up. She only has to say one word: "awkward" and the girls are regaled with laughter, again. Same story the next day when they exchange text messages with the subject of "awkward."

So what happens next? Single girl goes home with one of the married girls to have cookies and say hello to her children. She then goes home to read to her own child and slip him two cookies in bed. The other married girl picks up single girl for a yoga class in the morning. All the girls finish their weekends, respectively, and vow to go out again soon with their new "cousin." The Friday night story is re-told among their circles of friends and serves as good material for single girl's blog.

THE END.

40 to 40

I will be 40 years old in 40 days.

A few months ago, I had ambitious plans for my "countdown to 40." I thought I would attend a yoga class each day - even on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I planned on meeting a different friend every day for coffee or drinks. I even conjured up ideas of attacking my stack of books, and completing one each week.

That is so not going to happen - none of it.

Instead, I likely have 40 days to figure out where Ben and I will be living after the first of the year since Bank of America refuses to help me keep this house. There are a lot of layers to that problem, including the studio I use for clients, the dog that we love and the simple fact that this house has been home to us for all of Ben's childhood years.

I hate you, B of A. I really, sincerely do.

On a lighter note, I saw that Time magazine printed its "Most Influential 30 under 40" list and I noted - with disappointment - that I wasn't on it. Now it's safe to say that regardless of what amazing invention I come up with or how outstanding my forthcoming literary piece will be, I won't be on it next year. Or any year. Because I'll be in the "over 40" club. Where we wear Uggs and shoot up our faces with Botox and exercise like demons so that we can look like we're still in the "under 40" club.

Dear God, help me. I am not accepting this aging thing well. And I really hope I get a pair of Uggs for my birthday.

As I count off the days to 40, I've also given some considerable thought to my career path, including lots of online research on potential jobs that work with a wacky custody schedule and daily commutes to Fair Oaks for school and sports activities. It's shocking what I've come up, given that none of the professions I've researched actually take into account my degree.

Even more shocking (and depressing) is the fact that the jobs that do require a Marketing degree are gone. At one point a MBA might have been a good idea but opportunities at that level have disappeared, too. At least in Sacramento, that is.

I like what I do. It works for me. And for Ben, too. I don't want to give it up. Not just yet.

So really, there's not much to do except to sit back and let things unfold as they're supposed to.

That means, it's 40 days of being quiet, being contemplative, being thoughtful. Which is what I've been trying to do lately anyway.

I read a great article by Martha Beck, one of my favorite authors. She wrote a recent column about what to do when you have have no idea what to do. Her advice was simple, straightforward: "When nothing's working, do nothing." I am really good at doing everything and in the last couple of months, I've noticed that when I've slowed down to the point of doing nothing - or almost nothing - everything in my being seems to come down a few notches. And that's when things begin to get clear.

I've promised myself that for the next 40 days, I'm going to continue to do nothing more than I really have to - which, during the holiday season, should prove to be a huge challenge - in the hopes that I can start the new decade and the new year with some much-needed clarity.

But don't count me out completely. I'm always up for yoga, a cappuccino or wine!