Stalking Ty (and I don't mean my nephew)

This evening my coworkers and I are planning to celebrate Happy Hour across the street at the Peabody Hotel. The lobby bar is chic, relaxing and open… affording the possibility of catching a glimpse of their current special guests: The Trading Spaces crew. Now, we do not know for certain which crew members are on this leg of the show. We only know that their trucks are parked at the hotel, and that they are scheduled to be in town through the weekend. I am pretty certain that one Ty Pennington is not in town, as there are no hordes of women flocking into the Mallard Bar… but, hey, a girl can dream.

Ty is a dream. A good looking man who can look at a piece of paper with some lines on it and respond coolly, “sure, I can build that”. You get the sense that there is nothing that man could not do to protect you and to provide for you. And he doesn’t have to put on a fancy suit and live at the office to do so. Hard work all day, sweet love all night. (*please take a moment to refer to my earlier post on the fact that I am ok with being single*). My stepfather has worked for the gas company since he was 18, and my brother in-law is an electrician. I’ve watched them both build and repair things, and you would think I would be appreciative of what I have. But deep down I feel that something is missing. I really need a good carpenter in my life.

Unfortunately this perfect male specimen model fails at a very critical point. Rugged good looks? Check. Impressive displays of creativity and craftsmanship? Check Check. Sense of humor? Check Check Check. However, Ty Pennington doesn’t seem to be the type of man you can curl up with on the couch and have an intelligent conversation. I’m not calling him stupid by any stretch of the word – I’m just not sure that he would be much interested in discussions on theology, philosophy, social justice, and the like. I also have a feeling he is a little too Top 40 for my taste.

I realize this is all highly hypocritical, as I have neither the strikingly good looks nor the craftsmanship skills that I so value in a person of Ty’s caliber. My skills on the sewing machine are still stuck on perfecting my straight lines. My organizational skills are improving dramatically, however, and I expect a call to join the Clean Sweep team any day now. So for now I will simply join my friends in the lobby, enjoy a warm autumn drink, and admire the possibility of glimpsing the people who’s skills I admire and strive toward.

Close Enough to Perfect ~Alabama~
Sometimes her morning coffee’s way too strong * And sometimes what she says she says all wrong * Heaven knows she’s not an angel but she’d really like to be * And that’s close enough to perfect for me * Now she’s been known to wear her pants too tight * And drinking puts her out just like a light * Right or wrong she’s there beside me like only a friend Would be * And that’s close enough to perfect for me * Chorus: She kisses me each morning and smiles her sleepy smile * she don’t have to say it, I can see it in her eyes * Don’t you worry about my woman or what you think she ought to be * ’cause she’s close enough to perfect for me * Well sometimes she gets down and starts to cry * But then again a woman has a right * She’s everything I ever wanted and all I’ll ever need * She’s close enough to perfect for me