Anniversaries, Birthdays & Other Musings of A Convalescent

An anniversary is a time to celebrate the joys of today, the memories of yesterday, and the hopes of tomorrow.

~Author Unknown

I’ve recently been thinking about birthdays, anniversaries and other events that commemorate the existence or longevity of relationships, lives, and important activities. This year, as with every year, is filled with several such markers which will recognize the presence of something or someone my life. I will celebrate the birthdays of my children; once again taking time to reflect on how quickly the time has passed since they each decided to depart my womb and enter the world as individuals in their own right. I will celebrate the birthdays of other loved ones as I give thanks for their existence.

In some cases, these anniversaries recognize the time since something ended instead of marking a beginning. This year marks the eleventh year since my first marriage ended and the fifth year since the end of my second one. It will be two years since I gave up dating. I’ll also celebrate one year in my new home, which is also one year since I decided to give up the battle I was fighting trying to keep up an old ranch-style home that I could not maintain nor adequately afford.

Facebook, High School Reunions, Birthdays and Aging

Note or disclaimer or preface or something:  I wrote this article, several months ago, long before the class reunion occurred.  I was going to post it, in advance of the reunion, but I hesitated, intending to go back and edit and re-work it. Call me chicken. Now that I’ve actually attended my class reunion, reacquainted myself with people I’d lost contact with, and heard some of their feelings about our 30-year reunion, I’m posting this, even though it is after the fact.  I looked forward to this reunion with hopeful anticipation, but also with a great deal of dread and anxiety.  I now know I wasn’t entirely alone in that experience.

I do know this for certain, after having attended the reunion:  We are no longer in high school anymore.  I also know my classmates and I have grown and matured into respectful, decent, thoughtful people.  Because of that, I know that my thoughts here will be treated respectfully and sensitively.  It is in celebration of all our successes over the last 30 years that I offer this series of posts as a humble treatise of gratitude for the part each of you have played in making me the person I am today.  Thank you.

My 30-year-high school reunion takes place this summer in a small dusty town in eastern Oregon.  Though there is likely more pavement there now than when I packed my bags and hustled out of there without looking back, the place is still rather small and somewhat dusty in comparison to the lush green venues of Western Oregon and other areas in the Pacific Northwest.  This is not to criticize the place where I spent most of my childhood.  The high desert definitely has a solitary rugged beauty all its own. It is just that I am a mountains, rivers, oceans and trees kind of girl.  I’ll take forest over sagebrush, and beaches over buttes, any day of the week.  Though, admittedly, wild antelope effortlessly bounding across the Oregon outback is certainly a breathtaking sight.  Even so, unable to fully appreciate it at the time that I lived there, I did make haste to get out of that part of Oregon as soon as I could do so and, as I mentioned before, I never looked back.  I subsequently lost all contact with friends and classmates from my high school years.

Civil War 2009: A House Divided

  “If you don’t live in Oregon, you can’t understand what’s going on here.”  Truer words have never been posted on a Facebook status update.  That’s right.  Here in the land of the lost, the heart of The Wild Wild West, where mountain men still ride into town on four legged vehicles rather than motorized ones, in the fashion of Wyatt Earp with guns a blazing and other parts blazin’ too, sides have been chosen, loyalties declared, and bets placed.

Well, I’m guessing about the bets, but let’s get real.

Both teams have a Rose Bowl berth riding on a win tonight.  Everyone, except for maybe one person I know (and he truly is a mountain man living in The Wild and could care less), is watching with bated breath for the outcome to this game. 

For me, today, the game provided a wonderful source of legitimized disruption. All week long, the anticipation was building.  Today students got to wear the colors of their favorite team.  For the first time in years, something like that was actually encouraged.  Funny how people, especially kids can choose sides with absolutely no good reason except the fact that someone they adore in their family is a fan, or because it seems popular to be a fan of this team instead of that team. Needless to say, with all the anticipation (kids pick up on this stuff from the adults in their world) things got a little crazy.  My youngest, Number 4, is an avowed Oregon Duck supporter.  I graduated from OSU back in the day.  We are truly a house divided here and I am outnumbered since my son, Number 3, is also an Oregon fan.  No matter what the outcome of the annual Civil War Game, someone is in tears by the time it’s all over.

My house is a house divided. 

If I had to call it, and I did, before the game…I’d call Oregon with a very narrow margin.  Not even with the ten point spread predicted.  I call it this way because so often over the last many years, OSU simply gets to this place and chokes when the pressure’s on. They can win.  They just don’t.  So, I picked Oregon. 

In spite of that, I let out a loud “Whooop!” when Number 4 and I arrived home tonight, just 15 minutes into the game to find the Beavers ahead by 7.  And, just that quickly Oregon made a touchdown, bringing the score to 30-27 Oregon State.  It’s such a close game and even though I’ll be pleased as punch regardless of the outcome, I’m secretly (or maybe not so secretly hoping that this time, this time Oregon State will stay focused, stay strong, and not choke.

I’ll be eating a lot of crow tomorrow if the Beavers win, but secretly, I’ll be pleased.

Number 4 has already collapsed on the couch ottoman, worn out from the excitement of the week.  Oregon State is slowly and I think surely pulling further out into the lead.  They are certainly desiring a payback for being robbed of the Rose Bowl berth last year by these very Ducks.  Even as I type this, that quickly, Oregon just grabbed the lead again.

So, my dear friends, I leave you tonight, to go finish watching a football game that is as exciting as any good espionage flick.  I don’t want to miss a moment more of this sports history in the making. 

But I leave you with this toast!  To games, to teams, to loyalties, to spirited rivalries,  to “divided” houses but unified hearts and homes. To little girls, worn out with excitement and enthusiasm caught by those adults in her world that she loves who have very strong leanings in this game.  To sitting in the living room, just me and Number 4, eating our grocery store rotisserie chicken and watching the game together, both rooting for opposite teams with the Christmas tree lights on and a fire in the fireplace.  To thinking of Number 3 as he’s watching the game with his dad and hanging on every play.  To wondering how Number 2’s opening night at her debut as a director went and to thinking about how Number 1’s birthday is tomorrow and I can’t believe that 19 years ago tomorrow, I met her for the first time.  To love. To forever having our hearts walking around outside our bodies as our children.  To parents and parenting.  To hope and harmony and joy.  

To the season, enjoy it, cherish it, celebrate it. 

Cheers!

P.S.  I am going to be a bit disappointed if the Beavers lose, but with two guys out due to injuries, a minute left in the game and Oregon in the lead, I’m not holding my breath.  Even so, it was an amazing game, played incredibly by both teams.

P.S.S.  Oregon’s going to the Rose Bowl.

 

Rethinking The Holidays

Around Halloween, I announced to my kids that the 2 Christmases (one in each of their two homes) that they’ve known the last three years wasn’t going to happen this year.  I can’t afford it and they don’t need a massive haul or even a minor one at both houses. I told them I am rethinking how I do Christmas in the “off years”; those years where they are at their other parent’s house for the holiday and I get them for New Year’s.  In the same breath I also mentioned I wasn’t even going to decorate this year for the holidays.  “After all, I explained, you will all be at your dad’s and it is just going to be me.” 

Number 2 piped up sarcastically with, “Yeah, because Christmas can’t happen if there are no presents!”

Out of the mouths of babes, I guess.  Her comment stopped me cold.  She wasn’t saying she was unhappy about the no presents deal at our house this year. That surprised me.  She was basically expressing distaste at my perspective that if we can’t do “presents” then let’s just scrap Christmas altogether. She nailed me, and rightly so.

I could have hugged her on the spot.  Even now, the thought that a sixteen-year-old young lady (who really loves getting presents as much as the next person) can have the insight to see that the holidays are about so much more than the stuff brings tears to my eyes.  The fact that she was also more disappointed about not decorating than not getting presents also impressed me.

I’ve worked hard the last three years and I’ve plowed through a mountain of debt, that by all rights wasn’t mine, in order to avoid bankruptcy and have a more financially secure and debt-free life.  The journey in many ways completely sucks, but the lessons, are valuable.  I’ve come a long way.  I’ve learned how much of my former existence was based on appearances and image instead of what really matters.  While living my former existence, I knew this was true and I hated it at the time.  What I didn’t realize was how deeply ingrained the obsession with image for image’s sake was in my life and how deeply stuck I was in it all.  From my views on money to what’s important in parenting and in relationships, I’ve had to scrutinize my thinking and real beliefs about it all.  I’ve experienced so many occasions where I’ve been knocked flat on my figurative seat in the last three years: emotionally, financially, relationally. I’ve found myself in places I NEVER thought I’d ever be.  Places where in my former life I looked down my nose at people in the very situations I now found myself.  It was more than humbling.  At each of these times, I’ve had to do some serious soul searching and remind myself of what was really important.  I’ve been shocked and horrified on many occasions to learn how really shallow my thinking has been. This recent episode with my daughter was another such moment of truth.

I am now once again  rethinking The Holidays and my approach toward them.

For a number of years now, it has bothered me that my children can spend Christmas Day at one parent’s house and get a big haul of presents then go to the other parent’s house after Christmas for a second Christmas Day that year.  I’ve hated the temptation to give in to that desire to “compete” with the other parent in the gift giving arena, even though I’ve been completely unable to.  This inability, instead of creating angst for me, ended up providing freedom and relief.  Because I don’t have it to spend and everyone knows it (meaning the kids), the expectation for my participation in these areas is lowered.  That’s okay by me. I have debt to pay off and I am doing it.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and so far it hasn’t been an oncoming train.  I need to maintain my resolve and stay focused. I just can’t continue doing what I’ve always done at The Holidays where gifts are concerned.  If can’t pay cash, it can’t be purchased. Simple as that.

My daughter’s words struck a chord in me.  In the end, she’s totally spot on.  Christmas is about celebrating love and the people we invest our love in.  It is about hope, joy, peace and all good things.  It’s about being with the people you love not out giving the the people you no longer live with. Kids understand about what is real and what is genuine. None of this has anything to do with getting and there are gifts that can be given that don’t come done up in ribbons and bows with a bill attached. I needed to be reminded of this.

This weekend, two days after Thanksgiving and a good three weeks before I usually can muster the energy or the spirit, we decorated our entire house for Christmas.  In fact, I was in the back room typing a blog post while Number 2,  was out in the garage, climbing ladders and pulling down the infamous plastic red Rubbermaid boxes.  She pulled out the Christmas tree with the help of her brother (Number 3) and together she and Number 3 and Number 4 began putting the tree together.  I came in just in time to help shape the fake tree.  I really didn’t do much except instruct and that, only occasionally. They got out the decorations and put them on the tree, set up the stocking hangers with stockings, and arranged all our other decorations.  They had a blast doing it and by dinnertime we had a house that in spite of it’s diminutive size looked festive and cheerful.  Number 1 even had a couple of her friends over and the lot of us listened to Christmas music, played board games and ate pizza by the fire.  It was a cozy, warm and happy time and it cost me nothing but a few minutes of my time and a few dollars for pizza delivery (something I never ever do). It created a wonderful happy and positive memory for my children and I.  I could be wrong, but I think it kind of says something when a college child chooses to bring her boyfriend to our little home instead of going out somewhere for the evening. I couldn’t have done that at her age.  I’m pleased that this is the kind of home we’ve built.  I’m pleased that my daughter got on my case and called me out this time.  I’m glad the decorations are up and we have over a month to enjoy them.  

So in an effort to reinvent a more sane lifestyle, where competition with the ex’s and buckling to human greed isn’t the driving force and resisting the feeling that I am what I can purchase, I am rethinking things. I want to work on creating more memories like this Thanksgiving weekend.  I wonder if it wouldn’t be a better idea on the years that the kids are with me for Christmas to have the traditional (though modest) celebration with gifts and on the off years, get one gift for all the kids to share…like a computer or a Wii, or whatever we come up with together? During the off times, those times when the children aren’t residing with me, I’m playing with an idea, a dream really of hosting a party for single parents who are without their children for the holidays. Maybe we could meet together at my place, go caroling, donate money or canned goods to a local charity and then afterward come back to my place for eggnog, wassail and games.  I don’t know. It’s a dream. But I’m wondering about it. This just might be the year to make that happen since I will, after all, be alone for The Holidays.  

I’m thinking, especially after this Thanksgiving Weekend, where my kids had their friends over for games and food and had a great time, that maybe that’s the kind of memory I should work on creating more and more rather than stressing about gifts.  It will cost me in terms of energy and time, but not in terms of money.  It’s something I want to do.

After all, The Holidays are what we make them not what our budget makes them or what the presents under the tree make them. 

What great ideas do you have for celebrating on a shoestring and making the season less about the stuff and more about the people you love? 

P.S.  After reading this post to Number 2, she has asked me if she can have a Christmas party here.  In her words, “I’m so excited to have a Christmas party!”  Yeah!  Stay tuned!

The Wild Mind’s Latest Up “Dates”?

The Wild Mind Meets the Aztec Dancers - April 2009

Look at my most recent date(s)!  LOL!  Just kidding!  These really are not people I dated. They are also not contacts I met from online.  These are two of the Aztec Dancers I met when I attended the All Nations Tribal Pow Wow this weekend in a city nearby. 

These men were amazing!  (Oh, I could go so many places with that, but no, I’m going to play this one straight.)  There were 5 of them in the group; one drummer, four dancers. These two ictured were dancers.  They were in incredible shape and they danced constantly for thirty minutes.  If you’ve ever seen anything like this you know that this kind of dancing is very physically active and strenuous (again, the places I could go…but…I’m containing myself here). 

The headdresses were easily three feet across and just as tall.  Every one of the men had different regalia on (don’t call them costumes…they are not costumes!).    Anyway, I’m including a video, which is not the video of the group I saw, but it is the most similar to the dancing I saw including the lighting of the fire at the beginning and the positions (Hee!hee! Okay, I won’t go there) of the dancers.  The dancers I saw were much more precise in their movements and much more energetic as well. 😉  Enjoy! 

Glorious! Glorious!

There are days that just go so gloriously well it can’t even be imagined.  There are other days that become so gloriously comical it can’t even be believed.  Then there are other days that just so beautifully and gloriously shine indications of summer upon you that you can’t despair.

Today was all of those for me.

It went gloriously well in spite of many opportunities for potential disaster.  No disasters.  All success.

It was gloriously comical in that after I completed the wonderful parenting presentation to parents…I went home and had immediate cause to implement everything I’d talked about in order to keep child 3 from destroying child 4.  Well, maybe destroying is quite and extreme term but if you are a parent, you know exactly what I mean.

And, as I traveled home for a brief break between school and evening presentation the sun hit my rear view mirror at just the right angle as to be blinding.  The entire late afternoon was swathed in gold reminiscent of a summer sunset. Had the temps outside been something other than the 50 degrees they were, even I might have mistaken this afternoon for a midsummer’s afternoon dream.  Sigh. 

I hate the months of January, February and March.  I’m such a summer and fall type person.  Today had every indication of being a beautiful summer day, except for the dismal number on thermometer. 

I am enjoying the longer days, the later sunsets and the increasingly warmer temps.  I long for summer. 

Summer is simply glorious!

Starting 2009 Peacefully With A Cuppa Joe In The H.T.

Alright, everybody’s already been up and at ’em and posted their good-byes to 2008 and their hopeful wishes for 2009 on their blogs already.  In spite of my lack of originality on the topic, I’m still going to chime in with my perspectives on the transition from the last to the current year. It will, at very least, help me sort out all the varying and wayward thoughts streaming through my gray matter this morning…which this morning especially…feels particularly gray, like it is socked in under a deep cloak of tangible fog.

I am getting a late start so far on this first day of 2009 due in part to way too much celebratory cheer last night…and not getting to bed till nearly four this morning.  Gads, that’s about the time my friends on the East Coast (should those be capitalized?) were getting up for the day.  I do hope this slow beginning is not indicative of how the year will go.  Unless, of course, slow is to be interpreted as peaceful, which is indeed how my day, particularly my morning progressed.

In spite of the slow, or maybe relaxing is a better word, start to my day, once I awoke at something like 9:30 this morning, I was wide awake, and thanks to lots of water, some ibuprofen and valerian root last night, no headache this morning.  Well, okay, a minor headache due to too much vodka and not enough water or sleep last night.  I should and have felt much worse in the past after drinking such quantities.  I’m glad I feel fine this morning.  What’s a temporary minor “heckake” as my dad used to call them?

I decided that, in spite of feeling particularly regretful about how the family celebrations last night transpired, I would not berate myself for the  choices I made and instead choose differently in the future.  In the spirit of this commitment, I got up and opened up the hot tub, fished out a mismatched two piece swim suit, made some coffee and enjoyed a steamy morning cuppa joe in my HT, completely alone, with the rain falling down around me.  Ahhh, cool mist on my face, embryonically warm water enfolding me  and warm brew inside me.  As I enjoyed these physical sensations,  I contemplated the past year and pondered as much as I could see down the road of the days ahead.

It feels like a different year, same ole stuff to me. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. 

I’ve gone on and on about the challenges 2008 posed for me. I don’t want to do that anymore.  You can read more about my personal trials in previous posts here or at my other blog at Welcome to CABsPlace! 2008 actually began with the end of 2007 and if that pattern holds true, then 2009 is beginning with the end of 2008.  This is not such a bad thing. 

The end of 2008 is an improvement over 2008’s beginning.  Life after divorce has stabilized.  While the financial picture is still somewhat bleak, there is great improvement each and every month.  My family is settling into the routine of our new life post-divorce.  We are not in danger of foreclosure, bankruptcy, job loss or health issues that plague many, many others.  We are indeed very fortunate and I am very grateful.  We have each other, and we actually enjoy being with each other…most of the time.  So, I guess, when I sort through all the things I’m feeling and thinking at this juncture of my life, I’m thinking I hope that none of these things change for the worse.  Improved circumstances are always welcome but I’d be completely okay with the status quo remaining simply that.  

I’m content to declare, “Out With The Old, In With the Same Ole, Same Ole”.

Yes, I’m going to put my list of hopes, dreams, goals, resolutions up eventually because I’m a believer that a written and spoken goal is far more likely to be achieved than an unspoken or unwritten one.  But, I’ll not do that at this moment.  I’m just pretty glad to enjoy this peaceful day that started with a cup of coffee in a hot tub. I do hope that this is some indication of how my year will be.

Hopes Of A Celebratory Fledgling Annum

It’s been more than one diurnal course (not to be confused with di-urinal course) after Christmas and I’ve not posted the answers to the “Can You Name This Christmas Carol” Quiz I posted a week or so ago.  The answers appear below in purple. 

Can You Name This Christmas Carol?

1.  Nocturnal noislessness  Silent Night

2.  Quadruped with the crimson proboscis Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer

3.  Monarchial triad We Three Kings

4. Yonder in a feeder  Away In A Manger

5. Righteous darkness  O Holy Night (but I kinda liked Righteous Darkness)

6. Youthful male percussionist  Little Drummer Boy

7. Father Christmas en route to muicipality Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

8. The Primary Christmas  The First Noel

9. Query regarding the identity of descendent  What Child Is This?

10. Diminutive Judean village  O Little Town Of Bethlehem

11. Ancient benevolent despot  Good King Wenceslas

12. Adorn the corridors Deck The Halls

13. Exuberance for the planet  Joy To The World

14. Give attention to the melodious celestial beings  Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

15. Tin tintinnabulums  Jingle Bells

16. A dozen 24-hour Yule periods  The Twelve Days of Christmas

17. Befell during the transparent bewitching hour It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

18. Homo sapien of crystallized vapor  Frosty the Snowman

19. Singular yearning for twin anterior incisors  All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth

20. To espy matriarchal osculation of fat man in red  I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Clause

21. Perambulating through a December solstice fantasy  Walking In A Winter Wonderland

22. Aloft on the acme of the abode  Up On The Rooftop

23. Frozen preciptiation commence  Let It Snow

24. Hence arriveth Kris Kringle  Here Comes Santa Claus

25. Jehovah dulcify blithe chevaliers  God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

26. Endocarp desiccated in a conflagration  Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire

Did you get them all?  Now you can take this one to your Christmas parties next year.  See how many of them people can figure out after a few hot buttered rums! 

I extend to you hopes of a celebratory fledgling annum!

The Trouble With Going Postal

Look.  I’m probably going to get myself in trouble with the bigs for saying this, but the truth is I’d like to go postal.  I can’t though.  I mean, I try, but I just can’t.

I just can’t post anything these days.  At least, not much that I’m pleased with.  And forget posting anything quality during the week.  (Okay, no potshots about the quality the rest of the time, wise guys!)

I have about six posts started.  None completed.  Just when I get to the place where I really need to concentrate either because I’m reworking a part or trying to figure out which direction I’d like the piece to head, someone or something interrupts me. Today, it was my 15-year-old telling me at the last minute that she needed cupcakes for a class party tomorrow. Of course, she waits till I’ve taken off my shoes and socks, changed into my cozy jammies and am nearly two steps from curling up in my oversized and very cozy king sized bed befre she ever so sweetly says, “Hey, Mom….”.  You know the rest of the story.

My head started spinning around with green stuff flying everywhere.

Okay, according to her, I did go postal so, also according to her, my first statement was a misrepresentation. 

Well, it was nothing compared to how I felt after I got dressed again, went down to the store with her, picked up the three dozen cupcakes (after going two different places to find them), drove all the way home and then realized we’d left them at the checkout counter.

Wow. Someone around here needs to go to bed earlier.

How To Ask A Woman Out

A friend of mine told me of an experience she recently had at a Christmas party. 

She’d been invited by a colleague from work.  The party was held at her friends house in a rather upscale neighborhood of a nearby town.  My friend knew that some people from work would probably be there. Since this party was an invitation only kind of deal and she didn’t know who’d been invited she didn’t ask around at work to see who else was going to attend.  She also knew there would be other people from the city and neighborhood there.  She was apprehensive about going to a party by herself, at Christmas.  You guessed it.  She’s in her 40’s and single and feeling a bit lost about it all. She was dreading going.  In fact, she told me, she wanted so badly to stay home, curl up in her pj’s by the fire and veg out in front of the TV with her dogs.  As she was contemplating whether she should attend or not, the thought occurred to her that she’d have plenty of time to sit alone by the fire and veg out in front of the TV in later years, but she might not always be invited to Christmas parties like this one.  It was after all a fairly prestigious annual thing and a fundraiser to boot.  None of that impressed her so much but the idea of having plenty of time to sit around later was the tipping point for her.  She decided to go.

She drove in the rain and snow without directions, to an address she didn’t know and a house she only vaguely remembered from the year before.  As she parked her vehicle she thought, “What if I’ve got the wrong place?  What will I say?”  Well, fortunately, my friend is incredibly good with directions and she got the right place.  Her colleague’s husband answered the door, recognized her instantly and welcomed her in. 

Then the most interesting thing happened.  She met someone.  Well, it was someone that was a colleague of her friend’s husband.  The two began chatting, it seemed things were clicking between the two of them and just as their conversation was really getting going another person came along and took over the conversation.  You know.  You’ve been there, so have I.  Someone joins the conversational circle and completely takes over.  Well, the first guy’s drink went dry, my friend’s drink was still full.  He left to go refill his drink and she was left talking to the one who took the conversation hostage.   The man she was originally talking to ended up meeting up with some of his other work colleagues and she ultimately left the conversation with the hostage-taker and found conversations with colleagues and friends she knew.   She was enjoying herself, wished she could figure out a way to resume the conversation with the man she was originally talking to because he seemed interesting.  After “working the room” a bit, stopping off to grab tidbits to eat, she realized it was going to be rather intimidating breaking into a crowd of complete strangers mid-converstation.  And he was surrounded by men she didn’t know and had never met.  His crowd from work apparently.

She decided eventually to call it an evening.  It was early really, only about 9:30, but with a 30 minute drive and snow on the roads it was probably late enough she figured. She said her good-byes to the people she was talking to, to the host and hostess and headed for the door.  She collected her purse and as she was getting her keys he appeared and said, “Where are you parked? If you don’t mind, I’d be glad to walk you to your car.  It is awfully slippery out.”  Surprised and pleased, she smiled and indicated her appreciation of his thoughtful gesture.  As they walked to her car the gentleman expressed his regret that they didn’t get a chance to finish their conversation.  He asked her for the opportunity to continue the conversation at a later time to which she agreed.  He asked if it would be okay to request her number from the hostess of the party (I mean who does this anymore?) and well, because the hostess didn’t have her current phone number she gave him her cell number.  He said he’d call her.  As she drove off, he turned as he walked up the steps to the house and waved at her.  It was all very sweet.

She told me how he sort of fumbled through it just ever so slightly, but he still put himself out there. He’d noticed she was leaving and made a point to be at the door when she left.  He offered to walk her down a very, very steep icy hill to her car in the dark and in the snow. He was courteous, kind and clear about his intent. He wanted to get together again. He asked for her number.  He didn’t just give her his number and expect her to do the work.  It was, according to my friend, refreshingly nice.  

All I can say to all of that is, “And that, my dear friends, is how you ask a woman out”.