A post in which I reach out, but have to shoulder the burden myself for a bit longer

I woke up this morning feeling like I had been through the mental meat grinder. I didn’t get much sleep either. This deficit is starting to add up. I hated to do it, but I obviously can’t deal with this new revelation on my own. I sent out the critter call email to Miss Kat this morning that I need some time to talk to her. I hate doing that. I hate being that guy – “Sigh. Steve’s played again, so now we have to talk him down off a ledge.” But I hate being a walking zombie worse, and I’m not foolish enough to refuse to reach out for help that I obviously need.

Fortunately I had mostly caught up my desk yesterday, so after I did some follow-ups today I could take my nose off the grindstone for a bit. It was a good thing. I was fairly distracted all day.

And of course it was an ointment day. This could be the last one, but you’re really not supposed to discontinue use until the tat starts to peel, and this one still looks pretty fresh. I’m doing a good job taking care of it though – it looks good. I’m not concerned about this one the way I was about the last one.

I got an email from Miss Kat this morning, reminding everyone that it was dana’s birthday today. Yikes. I had completely forgotten. And of course that meant that I wasn’t about to go over there tonight and sort out my mental dirty laundry. Miss Kat offered, but I had to back-pedal and tell her that this problem should not interrupt the festivities, and it most surely would have. She was concerned for me, and I had to do a bit of convincing, but in the end she trusted my judgment about this. I was very glad. Had she insisted, I would have had to dig in and say that only a direct order would make me talk about this today. After reaching out for her help, that would have made me feel like a real tool, so I’m glad it didn’t come to that.

Of course that left me another day and night to carry this around. I think if I can speak it I can lay it down. For now, I’m just gonna have to tough it out. So I compartmentalized and got through the day. By the time I got in from work, I felt like I was walking on my knees. I made some truly nasty shrimp pasta out of the freezer that I had bought on a wild hair, fooled around online for a while, did my tattoo care, and turned in.

A post in which it is an ointment day, and I am disturbed by a Deep Truth

I slept like falling in a hole last night, but after getting hardly any sleep the night before, and all the activity yesterday, it wasn't enough. I woke up to the alarm this morning, which hardly ever happens. I’m usually awake before it goes off.

Ugh. Ointment days. I think I would have a lot more tattoos if it wasn’t for the messy, greasy healing process. You’re not supposed to cover a tattoo – it needs air to heal; but it also needs to be kept from drying out, so you put ointment on it. This lasts for several days. That’s great if you’re some kind of nudist guru, and you can spend a couple days hanging out naked covered in ointment. If you’re a regular working schmoe, that means you have to either a) cover the tattoo in the daytime, cross your fingers, and say a little prayer; or b) sacrifice clothing to the tattoo gods. The ointment stains everything, and you can't wash it out. I tried a) with my last tattoo, which is why I think some of the color pulled off – so this time I decided to go with b). I put on my ointment this morning, tried to decide which underwear I could get rid of, and hoped the greasy stain wouldn’t soak through my work pants.

There was plenty to do at work catching up my desk from my days off, while of course keeping up with ointment applications. Ugh. I got stuck in (and stuck to my undies, for that matter) and got to work. Fortunately the day seemed to be moving quickly.

Unfortunately, I was blindsided by a Deep Truth which suddenly decided to step from behind the mental curtain and go “Ta da!” today. That happens sometimes after a scene. Some other things that were said this weekend brought it on too. After sitting at my desk with tears rolling down my face for a while, I was able to stuff it back down and compartmentalize so I could get back to work.

By the end of the day I was tired, but dealing. I had acted on my decision to reach out and feed my kinky side by sending Lady Beth an email to offer her an evening of service and spend some time at her feet earlier in the day. I was very pleased to get a very sweet email back from her accepting, and starting the process of setting a date. I was very surprised to hear back from her so quickly, because she is very busy. She made a point of responding to me by the end of the day, which I found sensitive and touching.

I had thought that I would discuss this Truth with her when I saw her, but I’m about to decide against it. Lady Beth bears the weight of the world, and the family, already. She has a lot of people she could choose from to do service for her. The fact that she has accepted me is a great boon. I have little to offer that she could not find better elsewhere. But what I can try to offer is uncomplicated pleasure. That would be a rare commodity in her demanding life. I’m going to try to deal with this on my own.

That decided, I emailed back a potential menu to her (part of the service I can offer is cooking, which she hates to do) and went to bed.

A post in which I get new ink!!!*

I was dead to the world when the alarm went off this morning. My first thought was about what I needed to do for work today, and then I remembered I had the day off. I was pissed that I hadn’t turned the alarm off, but since I was awake anyway, I decided not to waste the day. I could have really used some extra sleep, but figured I would just take a nap later.

I lazed around the house for a while, and since the post-scene horny train had pulled in to the station I had a buddy over for a bit.

I was restless though. I was just ready to get this tattoo thing done. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but hadn’t set aside the time to do it until yesterday. Since I knew that Russ would know the best shop around, I called him for his recommendation. I needed to go by the shop anyway to print out the flash I used for my original tattoo, which I wasn’t sure was still in the computer. Thankfully, it was. Russ told me the shop to go to, but didn’t know the name, and his directions were pretty vague. I had looked up some shops on line and written down addresses on them though. At this point, I was pretty Zen about it. If I liked the place and things worked out I could have the work done, and if not, I wasn’t any worse off than I had been before.

On Russ’s instructions, I headed for Spartanburg. After getting lost for a bit, I eventually found the shop he’d heard good things about. The shop is Shanghai Tattoo, and I had seen their website earlier in the day. When I walked in, the guy behind the desk was on the phone, but he was very nice. I showed him my flash and the work I had done already, and he said he’d fix me right up. No problem, no attitude. He needed drawing time of course (my flash was pretty significantly altered for my tattoo), and so I told him I would just grab some lunch and come back. He didn’t even charge me an art deposit.

Well I was a bit skeptical because he seemed to listen in a hurry if you know what I mean, but the guy (Jordi) had been very nice, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute as a bucket o’ puppies. I ran to lunch and got back, and he was done. He is very talented, and the drawing was very close to what I wanted. After another discussion, and a few changes, which he was extremely open to and good-natured about, we were good to go.

The work he did was just beautiful. It is just as good as (if not better than) the work I had done at All or Nothing. He explained to me that since All or Nothing had gotten famous (I later realized from their website that I’ve seen them on TV) that they really don’t need customers any longer. They sell videos and stuff. They’re also running some kind of champagne service for rich people where they fly them in to town, they stay at a resort, eat gourmet food, and get tattooed. Well small wonder they didn’t have time for little ole me. Nice work if you can get it, I suppose.

It had been a while since I’ve been under the needle. It hurts, but after a little bit you get used to it again. We talked the whole time, and Jordi was very nice. We made each other laugh. Too bad he’s 100% hetero. Oh well, you can’t have everything right? I left with a great new tat, pleased as could be.

I ran through the grocery store on the way in, and when I got home I called and talked to my friend Jaimie. He’s Rhonda’s ex, and I haven’t talked to him in a while. He really did Rhonda dirty when they broke up, and pissed off a bunch of people here; but I’ve tried to stay in touch with him and check on him from time to time to make sure he’s OK. Jaimie and Rhonda were really close with Michael and me when we were couples. He seems to be doing well. He’s in service to a woman he seems to be crazy about, and I’m happy for him. They invited me to Vegas again. I think about going every Christmas, and then I don’t.

I realized after we talked that I was in no way prepared to go back to work tomorrow. I put in some laundry and started cooking lunches. As I was doing that, Miss Kat called to check in on me. I was fine, but we talked for a while anyway. It was so thoughtful of her to call and check in on me.

I spent the rest of the evening cooking, cleaning up after that, and doing laundry. I went to CVS twice to get tattoo care supplies. Apparently I was on a clearing out binge at one point and got rid of all my old stuff. I was very, very tired. That second trip to CVS I felt like I was walking on my knees! But eventually I got it all together and climbed gratefully into bed. It’s been a long day, but a good one. I am so tickled with my new ink!!!

A post in which I return home

Well all good things must end right? I woke up at 6:30 this morning, “dropping” from my scene. (“Drop” or “Dom drop” is kind of a backlash from the endorphin overload you get in a really good scene or event. Generally, the better the high, the longer the flight, and the worse the drop later. Some people don’t have it at all, and some suffer terribly. Basically, it just feels like everything is wrong, nothing will ever be right, and you want to cry about all of it. I am told it is a lot like a bad PMS.) So I cried for a half hour or so, quietly because I didn’t want to wake Rhonda. Then I lay there for an hour or so trying to clear my head, and basically having a big ole pity party. But eventually I drifted back off to sleep for a while, and when I woke up I felt much better. As drops go, that one wasn’t really very bad. I’ve certainly had much worse.

We gathered for breakfast at the diner again today. Russ, Billy, Joanne, Lori, Miss Kat, dana, and Rob were here today, but Lady Beth and Lynn were already gone. Lynn had an early flight back to Texas.

Rhonda and I had packed up before we left the hotel. There was a lot of lingering and talking outside the restaurant; then lots of hugs. Then people peeled out their separate ways to go back to the “real world”. Sigh.

I had talked to Rhonda earlier about going by All or Nothing tattoo today. They did the re-work on my arm, and the original tattoo on my thigh, which has needed touching up for some time. While we were down here I wanted to get that seen to. I also want a companion piece for my other thigh. When we got to the place though, we couldn’t find anyone to help us. I finally started towards the back, and a guy met me and said he would get the scheduler. The scheduler was pretty underwhelmed about helping me. He made it plain that they had no interest in doing the work – even the touch up. For a shop to not touch up their own work is pretty shitty, frankly. He just wanted to push me off to Monday, when they would be slower, which would have been fine if I hadn’t been in from out of town. I got the impression that it the work I wanted wasn’t enough expensive enough for him to bother putting me in the schedule. That really pissed me off. But we didn’t have any choice, so we just left.

I got over it. It’s been such a great weekend that I really can’t complain, but I was disappointed to not be able to get everything done that I wanted. But there are good shops around Greenville now, I just haven’t wanted to have to do the research and trust another shop. I had such a disappointing first experience that I’ve been very loyal to All or Nothing since they fixed that first tat, and did such good work on the second. After today though, that’s over – I have no time set to ever go back in there again. They’ve won a bunch of awards since I was last there, and apparently they don’t need regular customers any more. Well screw that.

Rhonda and I talked all the way back home. We stopped in Commerce for a rummage through the antique store there, and to have some lunch, but mostly we just drove, smoked, and talked. I spoke truths to her, and she spoke some to me. We both cried, and got closer. I love Rhonda so much. One of the things she told me today was that I am too hard on myself, and don't give myself enough credit. She's probably right. It's crazy for me not to reach out to the talented Dommes I know, several of whom have given me open invitations to come see them and play. I've held back because I'm afraid I'll disappoint, but I'm more sure of myself now. I should reach out for play and feed more often. It's just crazy for me to be able to do something I enjoy so much and not do more of it.

By the time I got her home, we were both wrung out, but I went in and spoke to Sabrina before I left. I like Sabrina, and I think she’s been very good to Rhonda. She loves her very much I know.

Russ and Billy were out to eat with Ben, but Rhonda and I were late getting in, and late getting lunch, so I missed dinner. I went home to unpack and decompress a bit, and Billy called me when they left the restaurant. I met them at their place, just in time for a summer hail storm. I called and talked to Myz Shay on the way over, sharing some preliminary insights from the weekend, and talking to her about setting up a play/visit date.

Russ, Billy, Ben and I sat in the garage, listened to it rain, smoked, and visited. One of my favorite things is the dissection of the trip afterwards, sharing impressions and memories. It’s like living it again through someone else’s eyes. It reinforces the bond.

But after having about four hours of sleep last night, the drive, and the emotional events of the day I was just all in. I went home and collapsed gratefully into my own bed, dead to the world in minutes.

A post in which the Kindred have gathered!

Wow. What a great and amazing day.

We met in the lobby at 9:30 and went to breakfast. There was a little diner near the hotel that was family owned, and the food was actually really good. Lady Beth, Lynn, Geoff, Tori, Rhonda, and I were there. We had a nice meal and started the day together.

After breakfast there was a bit of a lull. Lady Beth had given me the task of getting reservations for everyone for dinner and finding out everyone’s ETA. But first, Geoff and Tori were going to Brushstrokes. Since no trip to Atlanta is complete for me without wasting a ton o money there, I was all about going too. I picked out Donnie’s Christmas present, and got myself a new bear shirt (which yeah, I really needed – not), a nekkid man magnet (which is pretty much something I can’t leave Atlanta without), another magnet with a cool quote from Oscar Wilde on it, and a couple o' lesbian romance novels. I just usually don’t like gay novels – all the people do is have sex in them, and I prefer more of a story.

When we got back to the hotel we went to Geoff and Tori’s room. Tori taught me a little about boot blacking, and helped me to black my boots for tonight. They were in pretty sorry shape, but when we got done they looked good.

Getting reservations for 12 on a Saturday night in Atlanta in someplace decent, with the constrictions we were under as to what everyone would eat, was quite an undertaking. Thank goodness Geoff had his super laptop with him. After I found out we couldn’t get in at the place Billy had suggested (and just as well, actually, I hadn’t realized it was like $50 a head), Geoff just pretty much took over the process. He made a list of acceptable places and called most of them. No dice. Eventually he was able to reach a deal with the local Longhorn steak house that if we called before we left the hotel, they would put us on the list.

By the time all this was in place it was lunch time. We just went back over to the diner and had lunch which Geoff and Tori. I love a good tuna melt, and this one was quite up to par.

After lunch, Rhonda and I ran to the CVS for emergency supplies (I had packed in a hurry, and had forgotten stuff I needed). We had planned on a bit of down time for a nap that afternoon, but when we came back, Miss Kat and dana were checking in, and then while we were talking to them Russ and Billy pulled up.

We ended up in Russ and Billy’s room for a while, just having a general rap session and visit with them and with Rob and Joanne. I really enjoyed it, but that meant no nap time. After a quick brush-up and a change of clothes, we went on to dinner. My food was OK. I had a good salad and some shrimp that I thought were going to be buffaloed, but were actually just cooked with a lot of jalapenos and other peppers. I picked the shrimp out, but they were pretty spicy. But I didn’t come for the food anyway. I was in an ideal position at the end of the table. The restaurant had to split us, so there was a 4-top across the aisle where Lady Beth, Lori, Lynn, and Rhonda sat. I was in a great position to pop over and talk to them, so I actually got to talk to everyone a lot more than I would have otherwise.

After supper, we went back to the hotel to get ready for the big event – we went to 1763. It’s a BDSM club, and of course I had never been there. It was a pretty cool place. Lady Beth and the members of the Kindred are well known and respected, so we were greeted personally by one of the staff there, who saw us through the signing in process (it cost $70 freakin dollars for Rhonda and I to get in!!) and gave us a brief tour of the changes since the last time the group had visited. That done, the staffer found Lady Beth and Lynn a place to play – no small feat, since Bound was in this weekend. It’s an event specifically for bondage and rope-work enthusiasts, so the place was packed.

I helped get Lady Beth’s things into the area, and then faded out as she and Lynn entered their own little world.

I had asked Miss Kat and dana if I could flag purple for Miss Kat tonight. Miss Kat said yes, and I have to say it was a very proud moment for me to walk in with the family, flagging Miss Kat’s color. Since I was officially her property tonight, I went to find her to see what I could do to help. Unfortunately there wasn’t a play space available immediately, but they found a place that would be open soon. We sat down to just kind of get into headspace and absorb some of the atmosphere. I have to say that there were an exceptional number of good-looking people there.

But we were in Atlanta, and it was an event weekend. I didn’t really feel tons of energy though, as I would have expected. It didn’t matter. Miss Kat was ON tonight. She was shooting sparks the way she does sometimes. Sitting near her was like feeling a big storm coming on - it was enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In a really good way. Lori, Rhonda, and I were all her people tonight. She sat down with Lori in front of her, head in her lap. I sat down to her left and just leaned my head against her. Within minutes, the rest of the place had faded to insignificance. She had just pulled us all into her headspace, and that was pretty much all there was. Miss Kat said she was feeling predatory. She put her hand on my head, and ran it down my neck. I just leaned my head back and exposed my throat to her. Sitting there with her hand on my throat was all I needed.

After a bit, the play space they had reserved for her opened, and we all went over there. She was setting Lori up for a needle scene. She and dana were planning on playing tonight, but dana had gotten hurt at work on Friday, and was too hurt to play. I know she was very disappointed about it, but as typical unselfish dana, she sent us out to play without her. The fact that she would trust me to go out, flagging her Lady’s colors, to a play space yet, just floors me. The level of trust and love dana shows me makes me feel humble. She knew Miss Kat needed this, and wanted her to have what she needed.

Miss Kat was ready to get going, but of course there were things that needed to be done. We couldn’t get the light right, but Billy suggested I pull a rolling light up from the corner. When I turned it on, Miss Kat looked at me and just glowed “PERFECT!” she said with a predatory grin. I was fuzzy all over for a while.

She and Lori got into the scene, and after Lady Beth and Lynn finished, Lady Beth joined in for a bit as well. Lori really likes needle play. I’ve never done it, but watching it makes me hurt. But then of course lots of stuff made me hurt to look at it before I had done it. Rhonda and I ended up being needle expeditors, unwrapping and handing them to Miss Kat and minding the sharps container as they came out. It was a very intense scene, and although I wasn’t as involved in the energy as with some scenes I’ve witnessed, Miss Kat had plenty of energy to make the space, and I was glad to be involved and helping.

When that was over and all cleaned up, we went to smoke, and I got permission from Miss Kat to play. Rob was there and had played with Joanne earlier, but he still wanted to play with me. Rob is a very sweet guy, and completely straight. It took me a bit to understand what it was that I could give him, but with a little help from Billy I understand now. Joanne has health issues, and he really can’t play with her very roughly. With me, he knows he can give what he wants to and that I can take it. Joanne also doesn’t have a submissive bone in her body. When I go into play space, I go in to lay it down, and I do. I can give that true submissive energy back. That’s a powerful gift to someone who doesn’t experience it that often, and one it makes me proud to give.

I didn’t go as far or as high as I might have wished tonight, but I get to fly, and it was great! Rob was really there with me, and giving really good energy. We both had a great time, and it was really good to be able to play. I was so hungry! I went into headspace almost immediately (I had already been pumped full of energy from being around Miss Kat, so I was primed and ready to roll). Rob finished the scene by kissing me right on the mouth, which was quite a surprise to me; and he rode back to the hotel with his arm around my shoulders, which I thought was very sweet.

So all told it was a great evening. I got to spend it with my peeps. We got to commune and to indulge in this thing that makes us different, and draws us together. We got to spend family time together, which is what it’s all about right? Life is good.

A post in which there is triumphant shopping, and much talk

I was up in the night again hurting. Once I made it to an upright position I went and took some Ibuprofen. When I got back up I actually felt pretty decent.

Mom and I went out to breakfast. She loves it, and it’s a pampering thing I try to indulge. We went to Stax Omega, a big Greek diner where they make excellent omelets. After a leisurely breakfast we headed out shopping.

I am Mom’s design consultant. In the past, she has gotten herself into some precarious predicaments as far as colors go, so she was under strict instructions to not start painting until we had picked out fabric and gotten the color scheme in mind. She’s bad to pick out a color and then try to find fabric that goes with it. We had a list of fabric places to go, but couldn’t find the first one – it may be out of business. We went by the old tried and true, Tony’s Fabric. I have found so many pretty things there. We were going through the remnant tables, when Mom picked up a swatch and then put it aside. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I like this, and it’s close to the colors we talked about.” I held it up, and asked her to picture it against a melon-colored wall. That was it. Once she saw it in her mind, she was ready to roll. When we checked out, the remnants were on sale for half price, so she got her fabric for like $25. Sweet.

Because we’d gotten the fabric so quickly, we went on over to Home Depot and did color swatches to pick out the paint color. That gave me a chance to pick some up also, since after Justin’s last visit I had decided on another color scheme. I’m thinking a traditional French provincial palate at this point, with Robin’s egg blue walls and a deep mossy/pea-green ceiling. I found some colors I really liked when I got them home and looked at them. I want a complete change, and this will be.

We had done so well on time that we had time to see about some new sofa cushions for my house. The ones I have had just been wallowed to death, and I was embarrassed for people to see them. I have been limited to navy only pretty much with this sofa, but I picked out some pretty ultra-suede ones in rust today. I had thought that I might have to return them, but when I got them home they looked great.

I was leaving for Atlanta today, but we took the time to run by the Brick Street Café for lunch. I just love their food, and it was the perfect place to take Mom. Its basic southern food, with just a tiny twist, and done very well. We ate among the ladies who lunch and the other gay boys in there with their moms.

I bid Mom farewell, threw the stuff into the car, and went to pick up Rhonda. It was very good to see her. It had been a while. We headed out together and started talking. We used to be very close, and I have missed her. It was really good to get her in the car to myself and catch up. The drive to Atlanta just flew by. By the time I thought about setting the GPS, we weren’t in time and missed the exit for the hotel – we thought. We had made really good time until we got to Atlanta proper just in time for rush hour traffic. We sat in traffic for about 45 minutes to go the last ten miles or so.

We turned around and went back to that exit, only to find we were at the wrong hotel. They gave us very vague directions to the correct hotel, and we got lost. Eventually we just got a number for the correct hotel, got a street address, and let the GPS take us over there. When we got there, we found that they had booked me into a single bed room rather than a double bed room as I had requested. There were no more two bed rooms available, but they did upgrade us to a king. Rhonda and I have known each other for a long time. It wasn’t a real problem for us to bunk together. I just wanted her to be comfortable.

Everyone wasn’t coming down Friday. Lady Beth and Lynn had come down that night, but it was to spend some quality time together, since Lynn lives in Texas. We texted them to let them know we had arrived, and said if they wanted to have dinner to let us know. We hung out in the room for a bit and just relaxed.

Eventually, we decided we were on our own, which was actually just fine. At loose ends for the evening, I told Rhonda we would go to the movies. Rhonda hadn’t seen a movie in the new 3D yet, and we both wanted to see Alice in Wonderland. I had hoped for an IMAX showing since we were so close to the Mall of Georgia, but they were only showing Alice in IMAX at midnight. After all the talking and the long drive, neither of us was up for staying up that late – plus we knew there would be a lot going on tomorrow.

When we got there, they had a 3D showing at 10:30, which was actually fine. We had to eat dinner anyway. I was hoping for something a bit exotic tonight, because I knew we’d be eating more plain fare this weekend with the group, but we were in suburban chain restaurant hell around the mall. The wait at PF Chang’s (at 9:00pm for cryin out loud) was an hour to an hour and a half. So we ended up at Ruby Tuesdays. Which was fine. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I wasn’t as tempted to cheat there, and they have a great salad bar.

So we had a salad, and went to see the movie, which we both enjoyed. The mood and look was spectacular, of course, since it was a Tim Burton vehicle, but as many of the critics had said, the plot kind of went wonky towards the end, and I thought the end was pretty stupid. Still, it was a beautifully done film, and I was entertained. Rhonda was quite astonished at the new 3D. Apparently she rarely makes it to the movies.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we were both pretty done in. She had some muscle relaxers with her, so I took a half one and we hit the hay. I was so tired I fell asleep as if I had fallen down a rabbit hole myself.

A post in which I am very upset

I woke up this morning about 5:30, basically unable to move. The TV was stuck on an infomercial, the remote was in the floor, I had to pee, and I couldn’t stand up. Eventually I rolled to the edge of the bed and got the remote to turn the TV off. I then slowly straightened out on the bed. I was able to stand in a bit, and then straighten up. I peed and then went to the kitchen to get some Ibuprofen. I was up for a while, but eased off to sleep after a bit.

When I woke back up, Mom was getting ready. She had to be at the seminar early.

I was really angry. The last two vacations I have planned were absolute disasters. Atlanta was a bust last fall, and then I was sick during most of my Christmas break. I really, really need this trip to Atlanta. And I really need to be able to play when I go. So I was doubly pissed. One, this might ruin the trip, and two; I might not be able to get a whoopin that I really need.

I got ready for work and went on in. Moving around helped some. I made an emergency appointment with the chiropractor, but the adjustment didn’t give me the usual immediate feeling of relief. Because I wasn’t able to get in for a massage before, and because I was still hurting, the doc put me on the roller table for a while. When I left, I felt OK. He told me he would see me tomorrow if I needed it.

I came out to my chiropractor as kinky today. This came at the poor guy out of left field, I could tell. After I was done, I just said “Doc, close the door. We need to talk.” When he did, I continued. “I’m going to Atlanta for a BDSM weekend with my friends. I’m into the leather lifestyle, and people will be hitting me with things. I need to know if that’s OK.” You could kind of see the ‘re-boot’ icon turning on his forehead for a minute, but then he just told me that it should be OK as long as I wasn’t restrained in one position for too long.

I finished out the day, and went on to get my hair cut. Always good to see Russ, and good to spiff up a bit for the trip. Because I’m determined to go. I’m mobile, and I can handle this.

When I got home Mom was waiting for me. They had let her out of her seminar early. We went over to El Matador for dinner and had a very nice meal.

While we were at dinner, Lady Beth called. I’m not out to my Mom as kinky. She just has enough to deal with already. She knows there’s something going on, but she hasn’t asked. Our food had just been delivered, but you just don’t let it go to voice mail when the Alpha of your leather family calls. I answered “Yes Ma’am.” And the call got dropped. So here is my dilemma. Do I call back, and possibly talk about things that I probably oughtn’t in front of my mother? Or do I risk a serious breach of protocol during my pledge year by leaving the major Domme waiting? EEEK! Eventually, I just decided that had it been urgent, Lady Beth would have called me back. We finished eating, and I returned the call as soon as we left the restaurant.

We got home and talked and visited for a while. I didn’t come out to my mom as kinky, but I did tell her that I shared everything with her, and that anything I didn’t talk about was something I didn’t feel she should have to deal with. I did explain though, that anything she wanted to know about or ask about, I would tell her the truth. That was where we left it. I was beat and we turned in fairly early for us. It’s going to be a long day, but a good day tomorrow.

A post in which I take Mother to dinner

Today went so smoothly that it made me suspicious. Work went very well, despite a customer complaint call, and I was able to clear things off my desk that had been on it for a very long time. Good thing, it will be piled high next Tuesday after I take Friday and Monday off.

I was able to reach Rhonda (lesbians always have phone problems for some reason, and she hadn’t gotten my message from earlier in the week) and we worked out things for the trip. Things went my way enough that I wondered half-seriously if I might wreck the car or something on the way home. I drove extra carefully.

I had plenty of time to get the last fluffing things I wanted done to the house before Mom got there, and indeed had time to change and put a load of laundry in. The house looks great. I did feel a small twinge in my back, but just took a couple of Ibuprofen. There was a small snafu about her being a bit late because of the dildonic SCDOT plan to re-do the northern part of 385, but even that didn’t de-rail anything. The restaurant held our table with no problem. Mom was very impressed with my new windows. They are pretty great.

We had a great meal. Mom usually fusses when I try to spoil her, but she was unusually agreeable to letting me treat her to a nice meal in a nice place tonight. She had the beef (which made me raise an eyebrow), but I wasn’t really worried about the food at the Peppermill, where I have been eating for years. As always, the food was divine, and our service was great except that our salads were a bit late. I tried to get Mom to get some of the orzo pasta they do as a side because I think it’s just wonderful, but she opted for a twice-baked potato. When they brought our food out, I had her try mine. She said, in complete deadpan “Yeah, that tastes like your kind of dish.” Which I thought was very funny. Apparently she was underwhelmed.

After supper we went back to my house and looked up the location for the class she’s going to take tomorrow. Then we just chatted and caught up until bedtime. It was a lovely evening. I really enjoy spending time with Mom.

A post in which 'twas the night before Mother comes

I woke up this morning feeling like it was Friday. One more night of cleaning and then I’m off tomorrow night!!

I kind of floated through work today. My desk is coming together, as I need it to do before I can take some time off. I am REALLY looking forward to this weekend. I so need that time off. I made dinner reservations for tomorrow, and tried to reach Rhonda about Friday with no success.

I went by the store to get the Bounty paper towels (Mom’s preferred brand), and some new knobs for the bathroom vanity. One keeps coming off, and I could just see Mom going under there for something and coming out of the bathroom with a knob in her hand.

I got home and started fluffing. Then it happened. I was folding up laundry on the bed when I saw that Jinx had made a massive puke today right in the middle of the bed!! If ever I was going to wring her fluffy little neck, it would have been tonight. I’ve cleaned for three days, and then she goes and does this. There’s no way I have time to wash the comforter and get it dry and back on the bed before tomorrow night. At that moment, the phone rang.

Justin had called me earlier in the day about coming over, and I figured it would be really good for me if he did – I’ve gotten to the obsessive stage about how the house looks even though it looks fine, and I thought that a break and some perspective would be really good for me. But when the phone rang, I was trying to keep myself from stomping the cat into a small area rug. Then Justin said “Can you tell me how to get to your house from the mall?” It was kind of the last straw. One, I’ve known Justin for three years. Two, he does know a way to get there, just not the shortcut, which is fairly complicated and would involve me basically talking him through downtown. Three, this was one of Lisa’s little passive-aggressive things she would do as an excuse not to come to Greenville – pretend she couldn’t get anywhere on her own. So that particular little caprice really flies up my butt. It was pretty much the last straw, and I went through a brief but intense psychic break. I recovered, and managed to stop from saying what my mind was shouting, thank goodness. I suggested, in strained tones, that perhaps Justin should just come to the house the way he knows.

I persevered with my list of tasks for the evening, but rather half-heartedly. I had wanted things to be perfect, and (as usual) had to resign myself to the fact that they just weren’t going to be. I had just finished wiping the table on the porch and wiping down the rockers (in case we went out there for coffee while Mom was here) when Justin pulled in.

At that point, I resigned myself. I had a few little jobs left, and I was going to vacuum tonight, but I would have had to do it again tomorrow anyway, so I might as well just wait. I guess it really doesn’t matter since the bedroom is decked with boughs of cat vomit anyway.

I poured us something to drink, and we sat on the porch and talked. Then we moved into the house and talked some more. I gave Justin some stained pieces of Wedgwood I bought for cheap to see if he could save them. I had also picked up color swatches for the bedroom, and we went over those. I’m really not thrilled with any of them. I’m having a very hard time making up my mind about what I want, which is very unlike me. I wonder if this is some kind of unconscious clinging to the past. Could re-painting the bedroom have become a symbolic last link with the past for some reason? I know that’s stupid, but I’ve learned never to underestimate the irrationality of my subconscious. It works without my direction, so I don’t trust it.

Justin left, and I cleaned up the kitchen from supper, and did a few of the little jobs I had left on the list. Since I was hungry again, I ate a snack so hopefully I will sleep through the night tonight. I woke up last night, partially because I was starving, and partially because Crooner was having a snort-fest right beside my head.

So I’m not done cleaning, but I’m resigned to things being what they are.

A post in which I clean some more, and get an invitation

Today it was back to work. I was feeling my age. I felt good, just achy from all I had done this weekend. Too much time in my knees, even for me.

After work, there was much to do. I went by the store to pick up some stuff, and got a disposable duster. I’ve always been skeptical of new-fangled cleaning gadgets, and disposables seem wasteful to me. But my house is a dust disaster. I can dust one day, and two days later you can write your name on all the furniture. Plus if you dust with a cloth, you rub a lot of the dust right back on to the furniture you’re trying to dust. So I succumbed. Billy had told me what kind to get. They had the refill pack, but not the dusters themselves, at the BiLo near my house, of course. That store can be relied upon to NOT have at least one thing I need every trip – one of the reasons I try not to go there. So I went to Kmart, where they have two lines open whether they need them or not. Of course according to the rules I got stuck in line behind some woman who was buying all the Easter basket stuff for her dozen children or something.

I took the opportunity to call Justin. I was hoping he was having an egg-dying party this year. Jeff and James are having it, but they’re having it at their house, with an egg hunt the morning after. I won’t be able to be there Monday since I have to work, but I’m invited to the egg dying party anyway. Last year’s party at Justin’s house was a hoot and a holler. Plus that gives me something to look forward to next weekend.

By the time I got home the last thing I felt like doing was cleaning house. Monday night is usually my night off. But I persevered. I cleaned the light fixture in the bathroom, changed the batteries in the smoke alarms and the furnace filter, and then started in on my main chores tonight. I had to clean the toaster oven. Once again something I rarely do because it’s a pain in the ass, and because the toast is suspended on a rack over the filth and really isn’t affected by it one way or the other (except for that toaster oven that caught on fire – but that’s another story). But it did look bad, and Mom was coming, so I got stuck in and did it. Then I cleaned the microwave. It wasn’t that bad, but Mom’s is always spotless. So that’s done. I took a moment to admire the shining surfaces in my impressively clean kitchen before I turned off the light. It really does look good in there. Now if I can just keep it that way for about 48 hours!

I’m falling off the diet thing. I had half a frozen pizza for dinner tonight. I just couldn’t face salad, and there was nothing fixed at the house. I looked at the grocery store, but didn’t see anything I wanted that didn’t have to be cooked. So right now I’m too busy. Then when Mom’s here I’ll be eating out with her. Then this weekend I’ll be eating in restaurants in Atlanta. So that’s pretty much a week of cheating. I’ll just have to do the best I can, but I am so thinking that 20lbs is not coming off this way.

A post in which I clean the kitchen, and take a break

Well it wasn’t as pretty today, which was actually fine. I didn’t need the temptation. But I did need to go to the flea market for fruit. Because it was overcast, that motivated me to go on over there. I loaded all the recycling and Goodwill stuff before I left and hauled it off first.

I got some beautiful apples at the flea market. I walked around just to see what was there. I didn’t see any glass, but I did get a GREAT new backpack for only $5. It has a big padded pocket in the main compartment (for a laptop, I guess) that will be a perfect plate holder for when I buy glass. I was pretty stoked about that.

I ran by the grocery store, then got home and took the garbage out before it got too wet outside. Then I put in a movie, ate some breakfast, and moved in to my new backpack. I took a nap (I had been up early) for about an hour or so.

When I got up, though, I knew it was time to get stuck in and do something. I cleared out the kitchen and scrubbed the floor in there, doing the baseboards, washing the cabinet doors, and moving all the appliances out. I had the house boy move them out when he did the kitchen in December, but I suspected he hadn’t done much once he moved them. I was wrong. He’d done a good job.

The floor dried and I moved everything back in. I was congratulating myself and deciding what to do next when the phone rang. Miss Kat invited me over. I was really hoping to do something this evening, which was why I was trying to get my chores done. There is plenty more to be done, but the big stuff is done, and I met my goals for what I wanted to finish this weekend – with the exception of cleaning the toaster oven, and that can easily be done tomorrow.

I gratefully accepted the invitation, did a load of laundry, got cleaned up, and ate a light supper before heading over to MK&’ds house.

It was great to see them, as always, and we had a very nice evening chatting and smoking. I’ve been pretty good about my diet this weekend, but when dana made some cookies I just couldn’t resist. Sigh. They were really good though.

Unfortunately, it was a slippery slope. When I left their house I was just ravenous. I went through the impossible to access Taco Bell on White Horse Road (nearly having a wreck in the attempt) and got some of the new shrimp tacos they’re advertising at the mo. They were nasty. So not only did I cheat, I cheated by eating something that wasn’t even good. That just pisses me off. But I was hungry, so I ate them and went to bed, fairly disgusted with myself and with them.

A post in which I have a clean bathroom!

OK, today was the day. It was time to roll my sleeves up and get to work. I got up early and made coffee with the best of intentions. Only I really, really didn’t feel like it. It was gorgeous today. It was warm and sunny outside. The proverbial (and literal) birds were singing. But I had work to do.

I would head for the green room to do some work, but then would get distracted. I went through the basket of mystery on the end of the kitchen bar where everything I don’t feel like dealing with right at the moment ends up getting piled. There were things that went back three years. Then I cleaned off the kitchen bar and the table. Good, but not exactly getting any floors wet.

I had thought I was going to have to give the yard a miss this weekend, despite it’s being in need of a spring trim, but serendipitous fate stepped in and the yard guy knocked at the door. So I set him to work, and then tried to do the same for myself. Even watching How Clean is Your House? wasn’t working, and usually that’s guaranteed.

Well it didn’t work right away. But I did get a bit inspired, and decided to work on the various dried deposits of Crooner-snot on the woodwork. They will come off, but they take a special product and patience. I usually skip them when I’m doing the other cleaning because they break my rhythm. But I got them today. In one case part of the paint went with it, but onward and upward.

It seemed to be a day for small jobs that I had been putting off. I got distracted sorting through checking account statements I’d been needing to go through. Then I installed the floor mat holders in the car, and put on a bumper sticker I’d been meaning to get to. I filled out some surveys that needed to be returned. When I came back in, the house smelled sour. Since it was such a beautiful day I threw all of the new windows open to give the house a good airing. All little needling things that needed doing, but I had big jobs I needed to get cracking on.

Finally, I put a plan in my mind and started. First things first, I needed to get the rest of the old everyday dishes packed up so I could put stuff in the attic. I did so. I put them in the attic, and finally put Christmas away! Just getting all that junk up out of the floor made the house look so much tidier. The curse of having a small house with no storage space is that you are forced to have a clear out – pretty often – or it just junks up on you. I sorted through all the boxes I had left and put them with the recycling. I hate to throw away a good box. I just know I’m going to have a use for it. But I don’t have the storage space.

Then it was on to the main event today – the bathroom. I hate to clean the bathroom. It is my most hated chore. Not because of the grossness or anything, I don’t mind that. It’s the fact that my bathroom is white and both cats have black hair. I just despise trying to get wet cat hair off of white porcelain. It takes forever. You wipe and wipe, and there’s just always another hair stuck on there. But I got the floor of the shower cleaned and the floor scrubbed. As much as I hate cleaning it, that’s how much I love it when it’s clean. I felt much better getting that done.

I stopped and had some supper. I had gotten so much done today I gave myself the rest of the evening off. I called Miss Kat and dana, but they were having couple time tonight. Russ and Billy were out of town. I settled in with the computer to watch Lawrence of Arabia on TCM. I love Peter O’Toole, but I just couldn’t get in to the movie. I hate political intrigue, and I can only take Omar Sharif in small doses. Plus it was making me so thirsty. They're in the desert dying of thirst half the time. I wandered into the kitchen for something to drink, and then noticed the stove.

Mom has a thing about the burner pan/liners being clean. I never pay the slightest bit of attention to them. They’re under the burner, so it’s way too hot for there to be any germs or bugs in them, plus the food is never going to be down there (if it’s going to be eaten anyway). I wipe down the range top regularly, but I could just care less about what’s under the eyes. In fact, the only time I clean the burner pans is when Mom’s coming. And they needed some attention. When Mom came for my surgery I just threw them out and got new ones, and really hadn’t looked at them since. So I took them off to soak overnight. Then I noticed under them, etc. In short I ended up getting out the Bon Ami and polishing the entire range top and stove hood, then raised the range top and cleaned all under there too. The stove looks great. I decided to go to bed. Everywhere I look all I can see is stuff that needs to be cleaned.

The life on an internet stud, I’m tellin ya.

A post in which I fulfill a promise to myself, and lay back a bit

Work was quiet today, which was nice. Little Boots was off, which was a pleasant surprise.

When I got home, I felt like giving myself a treat. But of course I’m not supposed to eat anything. I found some good popcorn in the cabinet, made some, and settled in to finish my book. I had promised myself that I would tonight no matter what. It didn’t take nearly as long as I figured.

I have a weekend of cleaning ahead, and a very busy week next week.

Mama’s coming in to town on Wednesday night, and the house has to be up for that. Then on Friday I leave for a glorious weekend in Atlanta with the Kindred, which I am really, really looking forward to. Plus I’m feeling good so I know I’ll be able to play an enjoy it. Plus Rhonda’s going to be staying with me, and I am SO looking forward to spending some time with her!! So lots of good stuff coming up. But, as usual, lots of work to do first. So tonight was a chance to relax for a bit.

I finished Obsidian Butterfly, which was an excellent read, but flagged just a bit on the finale. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I started on the next also, called Narcissus in Chains, but was kind of distracted by the fact that they introduced a new character in the front of the book that I can’t help picturing as Tim Curry in drag (a la Rocky Horror) in my head. Plus they’re all tangled up in the pack politics of various were-animals again. I really like the ‘hunt-the-monster’ books better than the ‘what-were-animal-is-going-to-further-complicate-the-story-line-so-I-can-sleep-with-them’ books. But still, even a poorer Laurell K Hamilton book is better than about 90% of what’s out there.

A post in which there are a couple o things that are up my butt about a MILE right now

iCarly

I don't know what idiot thought this show up. Before I watched some of it, I thought Drake and Josh was bad (I still think so, but that awfulness has been eclipsed). I understand I'm not the demographic they're trying to attract. But if we are growing a generations of mush-brained goofy idiots, this show would be an excellent example of why. I catch the opening of this show by accident at times when I'm watching Spongebob. I can feel my IQ start to drop just seconds in. As much as I would ordinarily applaud a show for young people with a female protagonist (consistent research shows that girls will watch shows where a boy is the main character, but boys will not watch shows where a girl is the main character - I understand the gamble), is this the best we have to offer the young women who will be growing up to lead this nation? The inane bibble-babble of two dunderheads? I know that every entertainment doesn't have to be cerebrally stimulating, but it shouldn't be brain-rotting either. I can't help but think that this show both illustrates and contributes to the new sexism - that it's 'cute' for girls to be (tee-hee!) stupid. Not to mention joining the growing and frightening wave of anti-intellectualism that says it isn't 'cool' to be smart - for either sex. Scary to think that the doctor who will someday be treating me grew up not studying because they didn't want to be a 'nerd' (not to mention cultivating a generation with a larger portion which lacks the intellectual tools to deconstruct 'birther' arguments and the like). I am ashamed that such a show ties up valuable air time that could be used for informercials. An infomercial would contribute more to society than this mind-numbing idiotic pablum. At least someone might get their closet organized or their plumbing leak stopped.

The continuing obsession with a germ-free toilet

Who in the world needs a germ-free toilet? Can anyone answer this question for me?? I have written about this before but there is yet another ridiculous commercial pandering to this phobia right now. It starts off explaining to us that bleach doesn't really remove stains, it just whitens them. What? I thought removing stains was whitening them! The commercial then goes on to show a special dye being sprayed onto a toilet to reveal "hidden stains". What the hell is a hidden stain? Who thought this up? I have never introduced dye to my toilet looking for hidden stains. Nor has any guest I've ever had. My friends just have better things to do (or indeed more important and pressing matters to tend to in that room anyway), and it is indeed one of my fondest wishes that an obsessed toilet-dye sprayer is not numbered even among my acquaintances. If however such a person and their vial of dye did get into my home, I would hope that they would find hidden stains to satisfy their obvious obsession. I would then, of course, never invite them over again. I will close by saying that honey, if you got stuff in your toilet that straight bleach won't kill - you got much bigger problems than "hidden stains".

The Activia "challenge"

You can hardly have telly on for five minutes these days without Jaimie Lee Curtis coming on to tell you all about the "Actvia Challenge". I have problems with this on several levels. First of all, eating some yogurt so you can take a dump is not a challenge! If you are so constipated from an indulgent diet of Western processed foods that you can't even shit on your own, that's pitiful. It's a symptom that some major life changes are needed. If you are so coddled in vanilla suburbia that you actually find it a challenge to eat some yogurt and take a dump, that is even sadder. And how dildonic is the language!! The grateful recipient of Activia's myriad gifts (i.e. shitting) reports that she had become 'sluggish'. Are we so insulated and isolated from our bodies that the word 'constipated' is too indelicate to say? Is the same society that applauded Beavis and Butt-head going to be frightened by so banal a term? I find that very hard to believe. I'm also kind of saddened to see such an empowered and independent woman as Jaimie Lee reduced to selling laxative yogurt for a living. I mean, if she wants to take the money, that's her business, but can't we find something better for such a cool and talented actress to do? Climbing a mountain is a challenge people. Having to eat yogurt so you can take a shit is a symptom of a greater problem. Personally and societally. And another thing. The "challenge" is that you eat yogurt every day for two weeks, and if you "aren't satisfied" they'll give you your money back. OK, if you don't shit for two weeks, you will be dead. You will have much bigger problems than getting the money back on some dubious yogurt claim. Of course, they know you'll poop in two weeks. What is the risk to them? Plus, that damn girl that tries to sing "Activia" to the tune of their jingle can't fucking sing. It's not homey. It's not charming. It's nails on a chalkboard to anyone with an iota of musical appreciation in their body. If shit-inducing yogurt is important enough that we need an actress with Jaimie Lee Curtis's talent to tell us about it, the we need at least Carly Simon to sing the jingle, OK?

Dildonic corporate-speak

This one has been on my nerves for a while, but I'm overloaded with it this week. Our company forces us to complete an entire banquet of bullshit as part of our performance appraisals. (Of course they aren't called that any more, those words still have some meaning attached to them.) The theory is that if you have a 'voice' in the process then you feel more empowered. In actuality, it just means one more aggravation, one more hoop to jump through, and more work to do before you get the raise your supervisor has already decided on anyway. So it's a completely useless and pleasureless masturbatory exercise. The woman in charge of our corporate training programs apparently has very fancy degree. She loves corporate-speak. In fact, we don't have a training department any longer. We have a "Knowledge Transfer Center". Yeah - they seriously call it that. By the end of the class I was so confused that I was ready to run amok, because none of the headings mean anything. They have been so washed of meaning that you can't figure out what you're even supposed to be doing. Performance is now "talent". (What am I supposed to tap-dance or something? I could sing...) The evaluation has been dropped completely. I don't have a problem with my boss evaluating my work - that's what they pay me for. Why is this so traumatic that it has be couched in meaningless drivel? I go to eat my lunch in our cafeteria, where many impromptu meetings are held. If I hear one more word about "engaging in dialogue"!! Why not just fucking talk to someone? And using 'impact' for 'affect'. This doesn't make you sound more dynamic, it just makes you sound more dildonic - as if you are some soulless corporate drone who can't think for yourself at all any more, only sporadically regurgitate meaningless drivel you have imbibed at some great corporate teat. I will issue a plea now - please stop burying me in meaningless words! Say what you mean, in clear language!!

Whew - it feels good to get that off my chest.

A post in which I spend a quiet evening at home

Knitting a flag... no of course not.

I made it through the day today with no Ibuprofen! That's been a long time coming. I was pretty damn beat when I got home though.

It was a most stimulating afternoon, if not particularly good for my blood pressure. I had a fraud guy try to get one past me today. Now that hasn't happened in a long time. Apparently he had acquired a defunct company to use the credit history as a front, but hadn't done his homework very well. The company he acquired had lousy credit. So he spent a good portion of the afternoon alternately yelling at me and trying to sell me the snake oil to get shipments going out. That in itself isn't particularly unusual on my desk, but he was just so URGENT about the whole thing. When I got off the phone, I thought to myself hmmmm, he was acting like a fraudulent account... I did some checking, and sure enough, the 800#'s they gave me rang to nowhere, his cell phone was un-traceable, and the website was a dummy with no content. It was so unbelievably ironic that he had chosen me of all people to try to get past that I was very amused. (I am the resident fraud buster and go-to guy on our staff. I also have kind of a rep within the industry. Trying to defraud me with that pitiful setup is kind of like attacking the US Navy with a paper boat.) When I told one of my co-workers about the incident, his comment was "That would have looked really bad on your performance review if he had gotten past you." Which of course it would have. Hilarious.

I stopped by CVS on the way home to get some stuff I forgot yesterday and pick up my allergy prescriptions. Usually there are five people working there, milling around and doing whatever the hell it is they do, but no one will actually give you your stuff. Today there was one on the counter, one on the drive-through, and the sexy pharmacist. He never condescends to speak to the public. I noticed as I was waiting today that he graduated from the University of Florida. He looks the part. I'm sure he was a stud on campus. I had plenty of time to think about such things because of the woman in front of me.

I had thought when I came in that I was in luck. There was only one person in line at the counter, which is just unheard of. Apparently, however, this woman had the sickest child in the world. She had a pile of prescriptions in front of her on the counter, and was on the phone for ten minutes trying to figure out what they were missing, and if the kid could make it through the night with only the foothill of drugs she had, rather than the mountain they apparently had on order. (The kid didn't have cancer or anything, he has bad allergies and an upper respiratory infection. He's prone to whooping cough.) OK, now I have sympathy that the child is sick and all, but Lordamercy wouldn't you bring a list if you had that much to keep track of? Of course since there was only one person working the counter, I just had to wait. Never mind that both of my prescriptions were on auto-refill (Wouldn't this be another option you would look in to with a kid with that much wrong with him? I mean it wasn't like it was a surprise that he needed this stuff..), and that it would have taken me about 45 second to check out if I could just have gotten up there. Of course when they finally worked it all out that they had enough to get by on, she wrote a calligraphy check, etc. And she had the nice counter lady. And of course having the nice counter lady she wanted to tell the whole story of this kid's medical history, life from the incubator, and conception. Actually, had she actually discussed the conception I would have at least been entertained during the eternal wait.

When I finally got out of there, the combination of the stimulating, yet tiring day at work, and the extra energy required to keep from just yelling "OH, COME ON, ALREADY!!" in the pharmacy had me completely sapped. Then I remembered I had to go to the grocery store. I didn't have fruit for tomorrow.

I fed the yowling cat and resignedly put my pants back on. I was feeling very put-upon that I couldn't even get myself a treat for being a good boy and going to the store (since I'm supposed to be on this diet.) But I knew if the sofa got me at this point there would be no escaping it. So I did the errand. Fortunately all the slow people thought I was in for the night and didn't come out to get in my way.

When I got home I poured something to drink, put on my jammies, and opened my book. And that's what I did. I did finish a load of towels and put them in the dryer. But I didn't turn on telly or the computer. I had to force myself to go to bed. This book is so good it's like ripping out my own placenta (if I had one) to close it. I promised myself I could stay up and read as long as I want tomorrow night, and turned in.

A post in which I navigate a sticky social situation

I woke up feeling great this morning. I slept like a rock. I wonder if going to bed with a book last night instead of a movie made that much difference? If so I’m going to have to wean myself off the DVD player. I mean I really felt like myself. That was a refreshing change. I had forgotten how good it feels just to be healthy. I had a little talk with God on the way to work. I explained that if the last six months were an object lesson to make me appreciate my good health, then the message had been received.

Mom emailed me today about next week, again telling me not to start cleaning house. Yeah right. She always says that, but if she saw my bathroom right now, she’d take me over her knee. All unspecified pounds of me. And the toaster oven would send her screaming for the hills. But she’s nice to say that. It’s become like a ritual we go through before she visits now. She wants to go someplace special for dinner Wednesday night. I always try to take her to a new place when she comes to Greenville since she doesn’t come that often, and try to spoil her a little because her visits are a special occasion. So I’m taking her to The Peppermill. I’ve already told her I’m paying and I’ll hear no static about it. She’ll be upset that it’s expensive, but you only go around once, ya know?

They had free corned beef and cabbage at lunch today, but of course that didn’t do me much good. But one of the sales groups had fancy Chinese brought in, so I snagged some vegetable noodles and had a free lunch anyway. The noodles, of course, weren’t whole wheat, so by the time I got off work I was starving. I really, really wanted to stop and get some Mexican food on the way home. I was just drooling for some enchiladas. But I’m not supposed to eat them of course. Since Sunday (I know, big woo, two days ago) I have tried to be good. This is the first time in I can’t remember when that my fridge contains not a crumb of cheese. Plus I really didn’t feel like going home to eat salad that was going to go to the bad if I don’t eat it. But that was the virtuous thing. So I turned Gracine homeward.

On the way home though, I had decided to finally stop by CVS and buy a new beard trimmer. My ancient one finally bit the dust a couple of months ago, and since then I’ve been kind of doing the Grizzly Adams thing in between visits to Russ. To the point that he noticed and commented on it. Also, since spring is coming (I can feel the air warming, and George seems to be coming out of hibernation right on schedule) I need a beard trimmer to go down to and maintain the little chin beard that I typically wear in hot weather.

While I was at the CVS, getting the new trimmer and trying to ascertain from its taciturn packaging what manner of power it took to make the damn thing work, Miss Kat called me. They had just had their floor installed, and would I like to come see it? Well of course I would. They’ve worked so hard on that kitchen, and come out of the far side of a long tunnel. I know how that feels, and how excited you are when you get done. Plus they offered to feed me. And I knew they were going to have something better than ‘bout-to-turn salad.

I got there to view the floor. I had forgotten about what they had picked out. Miss Kat had showed me the sample a couple of weeks before, and before I even thought about it, I started laughing. They had picked out 12”square gray industrial tiles - The Official Flooring of lesbians everywhere, for some reason. Hey I don’t make the rules. But I was stupid enough to share this with Miss Kat, who was most nonplussed to hear it.

So I unexpectedly came face to face with a beautifully laid gray 12” square tile floor. Again. I didn’t laugh this time. The episode where I had shared the knowledge of the particular predilection lesbians have for this flooring had blessedly slipped my mind as well. But it had not slipped Miss Kat’s mind. “See, this doesn’t look like a lesbian floor!” she said. Uh-oh. So I’m standing there in the midst of this social dilemma. Miss Kat is my friend, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings or make her unhappy with her new floor, which as I say was very nice and quite serviceable. On the other hand, I didn’t feel right outright lying to her either. It’s just not in my nature. So I just said “OK.” And let it go. I thought.

One of the reasons this was so funny was that Miss Kat, although involved in a relationship with dana, doesn’t identify as a lesbian. She’s a Domme whose submissive just happens to be a woman. She really doesn’t put off lesbian vibes to me either. Other than being a pretty picky eater (another marked lesbian trait for some reason) (and no, I’m not going there), putting down this floor was the first really lesbian-like thing I’ve ever seen she and dana do. But she did not have any sense of humor about it at all when I mentioned this earlier.

They did come back to the floor later, and asked me if I really liked it, and wasn’t just being polite. It was a perfectly fine floor, just not what I would have chosen. But I knew that answer would make them unhappy. I love Miss Kat and dana. I managed to demur, but it was most uncomfortable. Would that I were a better liar. My life would be so much easier.

That little social black hole successfully circumnavigated (word of the week this week), we got on to supper. I had roasted potatoes and - salad, LOL. But at least their salad was really fresh, had lovely Catalina French dressing on it (which I won’t buy for my house because of the HFCS, but nonetheless LOVE), and CHEESE!! Lovely. I gotta get this cheese addiction under control. Apparently it really is going to be the death of me!

We had a very nice evening chatting and visiting before I toddled off home to bed.

A post in which I have a visit*

It was another lovely afternoon. I was kind of meandering my way home when I got a call from a buddy. He’s moving to Arizona soon. It had completely slipped my mind that he was coming over this evening, and was waiting on me near the house. So I headed on home.

It was a nice visit, but things got a bit – messy. Over all, it was worth it. I spent the evening changing sheets, doing laundry, etc.

I started a new Anita Kelly book today, and it a cracking good read already. I read for a while in my fresh-sheeted bed before I turned out the light.

A post in which it is a gorgeous Monday

Well the weather was anyway. It was so beautiful when I got off work today it was almost worth getting up an hour early just to be able to enjoy a bit of the afternoon.

When I got home I didn’t feel all used up like I usually do. I wanted to get out in the yard, but I wasn’t feeling quite that productive, and Monday evening is usually my evening off. So instead I put another load of laundry in, organized bills, and balanced my checkbook. Yeah, I know, relaxing, but I did find $300 so that was pretty nice.

I finished reading Show Boat, the book by Edna Ferber today. I have seen the movie many times (I was lucky enough to see the best version, made in 1936 and starring Irene Dunn, years ago). I came about this in a roundabout way. Edna Ferber, aside from being a formidable woman in her own right, was also a member of the Algonquin Round Table. I had been doing a bit of reading about that out of curiosity, and looked up her name in the course of that reading.

When I found that she was the author of the book upon which one of my favorite movies is based, I decided it was high time I read it. It was a good read. Interesting word play, use of adjectives, and descriptions. Of course it was also interesting to read the un-hollywoodized story. Ms. Ferber was a good bit more fond of descriptive passages than the modern reader will put up with, but her writing is a product of her time, and I will admit that description is where the “real writing” gets done more often than not. My dialogue is pitiful anyway, but there are things you just can’t have characters say directly without sounding ridiculous, or worse, inconsistent. In dialogue, the character has to speak with their own voice, whereas in description the writer can speak with his. Probably it was just fancy on my part, but I seemed to hear, just beyond the page, hints of the author wisecracking in a lush dining room. I seemed to pick up ghosts of witticisms floating around the prose.

How I would have loved to visit the Algonquin Round Table, even as an object of derision, which I would have undoubtedly been. Hell, just to meet Dorothy Parker would have been the thrill of a lifetime. She died just three months before I was born.

Sometimes I feel as if I was born in the wrong era. But then I think about how lucky I am not to have been gay back then, which quickly dispels that notion. Even weighing the threat of AIDS on one hand, the freedom we enjoy today (limited though it is) seems to be worth it. And since I can’t go back in time anyway I may as well be happy with now.

A post in which we get together at Miss Kat and dana's

I woke up to another pretty day, but I had a headache. I had some breakfast and lay around for a bit. I realized that the time had changed, so I decided that if I went I would go by old time, since I figured no one had wanted to be up an hour early on a Sunday (well, not among us flea market slackers, anyway). I finally decided to get out for a while and drove over to the White Horse Road flea market. I didn’t really need anything from there today, but sometimes it’s nice just to go walk around.

It was. It was pretty, and there were a lot of people out. I had the luxury of not having to look for anything in particular or carry anything to the car, having bought my fruit and veggies yesterday. I did run into a friend of mine named David out there, and we strolled around for about an hour or so, catching up on what’s going on with each other and casually gossiping about mutual acquaintances.

I did have a good time, but I stayed too long. By the time I got home I had a headache so sharp it set my teeth on edge. I took some Ibu and dropped onto the sofa to wait for it to pass.

I slept for about an hour, but my head was still hurting when I woke up. I finally decided that I might feel better if I got up and moved around a bit, so I did.

I changed the sheets and changed out a load of laundry, then started some overdue house fluffing. I dusted the bedroom and living room, swept the wood floors and vacuumed the carpets, getting under the sofa and the corners of the rugs. I was watching The Inbetweeners as I cleaned. Russ had said something about it the other day, and it just so happened they were having a marathon today. It is a funny show. I’m hooked now.

About the time I started thinking about the bathroom, Russ called to ask if I wanted to go over to Miss Kat and dana’s for a visit. Well of course I did. I did the cat chores, got cleaned up, ran to the store for cigs, and did my nails while I waited.

I rode with R&B over to MK & d’s for some much needed relaxation. We had a great time chatting, smoking, and talking while watching things on the nature channel kill and eat each other in the background, and while I decimated the cheese and cracker plates they had put out. They had all had a late large lunch, and I had eaten lightly, both because of the diet and because I was hoping for an invite this evening. With the time change and all, no one was really thinking about food but me.

It was 9pm before I even realized it. It didn’t seem like it could possibly be that late (of course it wasn’t, really, but I still had to be up an hour earlier in the morning). We said our farewells and left. Fortunately, we did stop for something on the way back to my house. I had pizza buffet, which of course is not the best weight-loss idea. “How are you going to approach your diet?” Billy asked me after I had just eaten a gross of cinnamon buns. “Apparently poorly.” I sighed ruefully. But it was too late to worry about this meal. I’ll just have to pick it up tomorrow.

I got home, crawled gratefully into my clean-sheeted bed with the kitties, and passed into blissful slumber.

A post in which I let my dad hold it*

I woke up to t a beautiful day, but decided I didn’t feel like going to the flea market this morning. I needed to go, but I just didn’t feel like it. I had some breakfast, and then realized I had been taking my medicine almost completely incorrectly.

I wandered around online, and had a buddy come by (so much for being Off Men). After he left I took a nap. When I woke up it was afternoon. I really did need to do something productive. I hadn’t cleaned any last weekend because I felt so badly, and the place was looking distinctly shabby. I drifted towards the couch, where I looked for a FarmVille update.

I then gave myself a firm talking to, and arose from the couch to get something done.

I ate lunch, then started on some overdue cleaning out. I had to go out to do some shopping, but before I went I was going to load the car and get some stuff out of the house – a perpetual need.

I unpacked the new china I had ordered last week and put it away in the cabinet hole left from sending the Blue Willow to Lisa two weeks ago. That was quite a process. I thought packaging was bad when people send glass through the mail, but that is nothing to when they send china. One box that had four cups and saucers in it had to be 18 inches square, with two boxes, two layers of styrofoam popcorn and newspaper, and then a wrapping of paper and bubble wrap just to make sure. I mean, I’m glad everything got here OK, but it was quite a production freeing my new purchases from their wrappings.

That done, I took the styrofoam peanuts out along with the garbage. I smoothed and folded the packing paper I was keeping (a glass collector can always find a use for un-printed newspaper), and gathered up the rest to be recycled. I got together the Goodwill load (of course there was another one).

Then I loaded the car, hauled off all the (considerable) recycling, dropped the Goodwill load off, and headed for the flea market. By this time it was about four, but in pretty weather I know the vegetable sellers stay late. I was in luck, and they were still there. I got what vegetables I could at a discount, and then went on to the grocery store for a few other odds and ends.

While I was checking out at the store, the phone rang. It was Dad. He said he was calling to ask if I had spoken to Cindy last week as I had told him I would. I indicated that I had, and that I thought Cindy was mulling over calling. He then started to do the typical “I hate Cindy and Paul” routine I have been listening to for the last three years, laced liberally with a victory lap for him because he had known they wouldn’t call, etc. There was a generous dollop of the typical distain, disgust, and general calling down of the heavens upon them. During the flow of this seemingly endless invective, he told me the reason for the worry about Eve. Of course I was sworn to secrecy because “If Cindy didn’t care enough to call about her mother without needing a reason, she wasn’t fit to live.” He said something about how he “hated to put me in the middle of this”.

That was too much - the last straw. I felt as if he had set up an unfair test for Cindy, and was crowing because she had failed again. When he paused to draw breath, I started in. We pretty much went at it hammer and tongs. I told him that they had paid back the money he asked for when he send the demand letter from the attorney, and he needed to lay that down. I said a lot of things I’ve been swallowing for three years. I told him that their word didn’t hold much weight with Cindy and Paul because of the constant dramatization and tricks he and Eve had employed the last couple of years; that we were in a bit of a “little boy who cried wolf” situation because of it. I told him that I didn’t think he was in a position to sit in judgment of anyone, and asked him if that is what he has been learning at church. I told him I was sick to death of them all acting like twelve year olds and using me as the go-between. He had told me that he was worried about Eve, and that he loved her. He gave the usual “I would do anything but” speech, with the but this time being he would never “kiss Paul’s ass”. I said “Great Dad. So you’ll do anything to help her but lay down your pride. Good call.” I then hung up the phone. I was DONE.

Sadly, this is not the first time that something far more important has taken a back seat to my father's pride. We've all had our experiences at doing it through the years. My father nurses a grudge like a napless baby with a sweet. He's just always been that way. Eve is the same way. It's an area of common ground for them.

And of course I felt terrible. Unlike Dad, who seems to thrive and come alive in his rage, ceaselessly banking a fire that only seems to get more boundless and bountiful, mine burns out and leaves me feeling like shit. There is no win with him. If you try the gentle approach he runs right over you. He has consistently done everything I have tried to intimate was a really bad idea from the beginning of this. If you get angry, he just gets angry back. He was born right and has been going uphill ever since. My dad would no sooner cede a point in battle than he would beat himself in the head with a hammer. And I had acted just like him.

I called Mom for a pep talk, but she didn’t answer her phone. I decided that was a selfish reason to call her anyway.

I decided to plow my frustration into cooking, and started chopping vegetables. Mom called me back while I was doing that. I apologized, and asked her if I was as big an asshole as my father. She assured me that I was not. But of course she’s my Mom, and she thinks I’m wonderful whatever I do, so I didn’t choose the most objective person to ask. After we got that out of the way, we just talked about normal stuff for a while.

I got my sauce on to simmer, but still felt bad. I sat down and tried to figure out the least Dad-like thing I could do, so I called Dad to apologize for losing my temper. I didn’t back down from the things I said, but I apologized for the way I said them. Dad, surprisingly, was magnanimous in triumph. He actually apologized back. Now I know he would have eaten nails before he picked up the phone to call me to do that, but for him it was a big change to even inkle a bit of wrong-doing on his part. Will miracles never cease. I did feel better after talking to him.

I finished up my spaghetti and packed lunches for next week, and changed out a load of laundry.

I called Billy to find out what they were up to tonight, but they were on their way back from Asheville. They had spent the day going to Asheville to take the hot springs and then were going to stop for supper on the way back.

By this time, I was pretty wiped anyway. I would have liked to spend some time with them to decompress after the dad stuff. I thought about calling Miss Kat and dana, but decided not to bother them - it was getting a bit too late to call. I started feeling cold and realized I was running a low-grade fever yet again. I ate some supper and took my pills, and just fooled around online for a while. Eventually, I fixed the bed, took a shower, and turned in. I sleep better clean, and felt like I needed a bit of pampering after a long, long day.

A post in which I have my follow up with the doc

So I went to the doc this morning. I was feeling much better. She told me that my CAT scan was 100% normal, rather than finding a tumor. Or rocks. Or a mysterious void. (I’m thinking about getting a second opinion on the scan). She also said that I was fat (which wasn’t exactly a surprise), and that my blood pressure was border line for high (which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, but which was anyway). She’s given me three months to lose 20 pounds or she’s putting me on blood pressure medication. Heavy sigh. And so begins the slippery slope.

I’m really bummed about this. I had thought that if I tried to eat better and not gain so much weight that I could avoid the long list of health problems Dad has. But apparently the pull of genetics is just too strong. I am skeptical about this proposed weight loss lowering my bp. For one thing, the shape isn’t all that is genetic. The temperament is also. As much as I try to fight it, I have a good portion of my dad’s bad temper. For another thing, Little Boots and the Canadian Witch seem to be having a contest lately to see who can introduce more creative hell to my life. I think trying to hold my temper in may even be making things worse. But despite some notable exceptions of late, I am for the most part non-ballistic. But that isn't something that's going to change. I also think if I could just “drop 20 pounds” I would have done it by now.

Which brings me to the next thing. It seems that whatever compromise I make, it leads to another. I have been off men lately, and actually that hasn’t sounded so bad. I’ve been thinking that if I am off for good (and this isn’t just the aforementioned hibernation), then I can accept that. The re-channeled energy I spend chasing tail alone should generate a novel or two. Yet I find the thoughts of going on blood pressure medication and thereby indirectly ending my sex life for good inescapably depressing. I realize that I certainly can’t complain about not having had a good run. I wouldn’t mind a little peace and quiet from the insistent refrain of desire for a while (indeed, I was looking at that as a fringe benefit of getting older), but I find that I’m not ready to say “never again” just yet.

I feel that I’ve just finally made (a however grudging) peace with my body, only to find that said size is gonna kill me if I don’t do something about it. That hardly seems fair. And I just found FOUR pairs of jeans that fit me too. I suppose I should have known that was one of the seals of my personal apocalypse without being told.

But I didn’t have brooding time really. I had to get to work. So I did. Work was blessedly quiet today. Thank God.

About quitting time, Russ called to tell me that Joanne and Rob had come in tonight (not tomorrow as I had been thinking) and that they wanted to get together. Of course I said yes.

Rob said he wanted seafood, and for some reason Russ headed towards Greer. We ended up going to The Tadpole, of all places. Joanne, being a typical Yankee in many ways, was underwhelmed. Going to the fish camp is kind of a southern thing.

But everyone ate and listened to Joanne as we did it. They didn’t have any vegetables except potatoes and cole slaw (being extremely hard core, The Tadpole doesn't boast a salad bar see below), but I didn’t do too badly. I had the ‘small’ plate, which consisted of: two broiled possibly flounder fillets, an enormous baked potato (of which I ate half), hush puppies, and cole slaw. The only thing I could figure was that it was, indeed, piled up onto a smaller plate. Meh. It’s better than what I would have eaten usually. My mouth was just watering for somethin’ fried, I can tell you. Being at the fish camp and not getting something fried is kind of like jumping in the water and refusing to get wet. But I didn’t do it.

(OK, I've looked it up, and wikipedia doesn't have a definition for fish camp. For non-southerners, allow me to interpret. A fish camp is kind of the redneck equivalent of a sugar shack {an traditionally unlicensed bar usually run out of someone's house}, except they don't serve alcohol. It's a typically backwoods country restaurant that primarily serves seafood. The prices are usually cheap, and the food is typically fried. They usually started because the owner became the one always called upon to do the "fish fry" for the churches and stuff and finally decided to charge for it. Many were originally based out of private homes. There is usually a salad bar which will always have the following ingredients:

- pepperoni {It is just not a redneck Night Out with no pepperoni on the salad, for some reason. I don't make the rules, I just live here}
- cottage cheese {for Mamer's diet}
- shredded cheese {sometimes American, but usually cheddar, for those not on a diet}
- a couple of pale pitiful grocery store tomatoes for show {Only those in the throes of the most stringent diet will actually eat these. The appearance of these on some portly woman's plate gives her the officially sanctioned right to say "I try - you can see." [and point to salad bowl, mournfully] "My weight problem is just glandular. There doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it." This of course before demolishing a pile of fried shrimp that would stuff an average high school football team.}
- nasty chemically produced 'bacon' bits {Actually, the only remaining market for this food-like substance is the salad bar. If you know anything about food, you would never buy these; but if you're a redneck, these are too fancy to actually have in your home, but again denote a Night Out.}
- pickled hot peppers of some kind {To prove manliness. These can be anything from pepperoncini rings to homemade little round ones that look like deadly nightshade and may well precipitate the replacement of the singed drop flap on your long johns. Allows you to say "Hey ya'll, watch this." In a social setting that includes women with 'wash n' sets' without censure.)
- dill pickle chips {I don't know either}
-Pepperidge farm tiny croutons {There isn't any white bread in the restaurant to make croutons out of, if it indeed crossed anyone's mind to do so. Which it doesn't.}
- pineapple {for weird exotic eaters like me}
- a large plastic bowl of basic iceberg lettuce salad mix with red cabbage and carrots and nothing else {or in a hard core fish camp, iceberg lettuce only - don't worry, if you don't know what a fish camp is, you'd never find one of those}
- and always, always Thousand Island dressing {now being replaced by the ubiquitous Ranch in more typical restaurants, some redneck will start a riot of there is no Thousand Island on the salad bar at the fish camp.}

Apparently I need to do a wikipedia entry on this.)

I also told them the latest chapter in the family drama saga. While I was updating, the little voice in my head was saying 'If Dad heard you telling this, he would blow a gasket' loudly enough to make me look around. I thought I was safe. As we were walking up to pay, here came Dick and Eve - from the other side of the restaurant, fortunately. But I just know that couldn’t be good for my blood pressure.

After supper we went back to R&B’s for a little R&R. We ended up watching The Secretary. It's a great movie, and I hadn't seen it in long enough that I could watch it again almost as if it was the first time. Of course no one could forget the riveting scene near the end where she proves her devotion. Joanne had no patience with it though. She confessed later to not being a 'movie person' - hmm, not a huge shock. It was a nice evening though.

A post in which there is very exciting news about health care!

Despite former misgivings, I read the most exciting thing I have read about the health care bill today. I'm really stoked about it now!!

A post in which I deal with family drama

I woke up feeling better than I have in about a month. Tired, but not hurting. By the time I finished the morning routine I was tired, but I figured I could handle that. Alan was back today. I had intended to talk to him and explain that I wasn’t sure I could stay all day, but he was so busy I decided to wait and see how things went.

As I was getting in to the groove of the day, Dad called. After the general trashing of Cindy and Paul, he told me he wanted me to call Cindy and tell her to call Eve. “If ever she has needed a friend in her life,” he said with dramatic portent, “she needs one now. She needs for Cindy to be her friend.” Of course I asked him what was going on, but he would reveal no detail. He told me mysteriously that what I didn’t know I couldn’t discuss, and that he would sit down with me at some point in the future when he would talk to me face-to-face about the situation, which would “have to stay strictly between the two… but then I can tell you all this later.”

OK, my dad is more than a bit of a drama queen. He is prone to sweeping portents of doom, and brilliant dramatizations of the mundane or trivial. All the men in our family are larger than life in one way or another, and I get my flair for the dramatic from him. It’s a blessing and a curse.

So while it could be a complete tempest in a teapot, there could also be something serious going on. The problem is that you just never know. But the fact that it was important enough for him to make contact with Cindy (through an intermediary or not) – and to confess he was asking me to act on his behalf because he felt I could be more diplomatic – tipped the balance to credibility.

Since I had told him I would call, and since I had intended to call Cindy anyway (her birthday was yesterday), I called her.

Cindy and I don’t talk that often any more. We had some bad blood when she took BB’s dishes, which had been promised to me, and haven’t spoken that often since. But I have laid down any anger about that, and I’ve tried to be good to my nephew Brenden. I talk to Paul, my brother-in-law, pretty regularly, and we get along pretty well. I’ve been kind of acting as buffer/diplomat between them and my parents for the last couple of years with limited success. It’s a job that I would really love to be able to quit, but they keep casting me in the role whether I want it or not. But I digress.

At any rate, Cindy seemed pleasantly surprised to hear from me. I talked to her about her birthday, which was apparently nice. She had a quite celebration this year without a party or friends. We agreed that at this stage of life, getting through the day with quiet dignity is the way if you can manage it. We compared rueful notes on getting older, and I gave her the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of my recent health contretemps. She and Paul are doing quite well. They’ve started running, have apparently lost a lot of weight, and are feeling great, I was glad to hear.

Eventually, of course, I had to deliver my message. She was pretty diplomatic about it, all things considered. I hadn’t been sure what to expect. She was much less blunt than she reportedly was when Lisa called her about BB’s death.

We talked about them; of course Dick and Eve are a fascinating case study if nothing else, and she actually seemed to be mulling over calling. Either way, I had done what I said I would do by calling her, and I did my best to get her to call Eve.

Work went fine, but it was a long day.

I ran by the grocery store, and then home.

I re-did my whole farm tonight on FarmVille. I got to the level I could by a farm house this week. Yep folks, it’s life in the big city.

When I went to bed tonight the phone buzzed. It was Chip from Columbia. His grandfather is dying of cancer. He’s coming to spend the weekend in Union and had thought about me. I know it’s hard. I told him some anecdotes about Granny and Grandma Shumate from my last visit to try to cheer him up, but tried not to talk so much that it was all about me. We talked about the challenges of caring for the elderly, and of course that led to talking about when we get old. Of course I won’t have any family to take care of me. He’s a sweet guy, and I hope I helped.

Reflecting ruefully that if things keep going the way they are I won’t have to worry about elder-care for myself, I turned off the light and went to sleep, Jinx under my left hand, and Crooner having some kind of sneeze-fest in the other room.