As much as I wish, it ain�t Spencer Tracy, Hepburn, Poitier, et al.

It is some unknown human� And YerCourageousJournaler almost bailed. Inviting someone over out of guilt at your own idiocy is fairly high on the list of things not to be done. But then being unfair and uninviting them is paramount to being a jerk.

So what the heck does one do with a Heather? It�s not as if your idjit scribbler has a clue what she likes to do. Itsa play it by ear moment. At the very least your needed-to-be-whapped-over-the-head goof had the sense to ask if she was a green stoolie (er, vegan.)

The house got cleaned over the weekend; a fresh vacuuming has been applied to the local carpeting.

Dinner is pretty much organized and ready to roll. You can�t hurt feelings with a couple of not-much-spice organic free-range bird rotated on a Weber Gas Grill, a simple spinach salad (with plenty of dressing choices) and an easy unthreatening Texamati Pilaf. The poultry will go on low under indirect heat the moment DatSauceGuy goes to collect his little guy from swimming.

Sauce�d guess that she�s welcome to participate in the post-dinner tubbing, pajama, and book routine or at least gawk or sit in the living room listening to the noises of her choice. But beyond that? Sheesh. Who knows? Certainly not this guy�as he didn�t even manage to get a last name. Just some digits and a first name and SHE was the one doing the questioning at last night�s shopping d�grocery.

So wish us luck, as the whole thing feels rather foolish, but it does land full on into the prospective restart of relationships ala Sauce�even with the overall nebulous feeling coming from this end of the equation.

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In other news, there was a little guy in my car this morning on his way to school. He�d been awake a few times last night but not for long at a pop and still probably managed a good ten-and a-half hours of sleep. And he was full of his normal bright-faced joy at the arrival of his day (which always brightens the hell out of this boy�s morn.)

We were talking about etiquette at intersections�namely four-way stops, when he remembered to ask what the word INTERSECTION actually meant. Your diarist glibly noted that it was the area in which things crossed. DaKiddo then noted that it was also the �stretchy stuff that holds orange sections together, then dad?� And by golly, DatSauceGuy had to concur that it probably was�but that he had never viewed a piece of citrus in such a manner.

The grins from that continue to reverberate into the afternoon of a goofy human person at a keyboard.