I am tired. The water main in the neighborhood burst. We had no water for about 12 hours. Got it back around Three PM.

So I did so cleaning, cooking, laundry. My wife worked about 4 hours, came home, went upstairs, ignored me, except to eat the dinner I fixed for her, chicken/mushroom crêpes in white sauce. Then she ate the strawberry dessert crêpes I fixed.

I figure 1) she really is tired and 2), her love language involves a cerebral sentimentality with no concept of physical affection.

I soldier on. Tomorrow will involve swimming and other activities that get me out of the house.

Onward, Loves.

A Blurb, Perhaps A Story

Sometimes the hunger he felt wasn’t for food. He knew that. Ten years, was it, since he had been with a woman? He had forgotten so much. The moisture, the smells, the moaning, the conversation, the touches all were in the realm of memory. And his yearnings could now be construed as unnatural, predatory, unhealthy, even criminal.

“Do I secure a written release, a hold harmless before I so much as even talk to a woman in whom I am interested?”

Of course, there were no women in his life, so the question was moot.

I woke up again from a dream that centered around two (of many) failures in my life. Upon awakening, I realized all the failures don’t matter. They just don’t.

The other dream was about an execution that somehow I was involved in. Now I have never had any experience watching or assisting in an execution, this was just more bizarre stuff..

I thought I wanted to wake up and start my day. But I don’t. Back to bed for me.

I am up. I am watching a Russian language war movie on YouTube. Occasionally a word of dialogue stands out that I understand. I follow the story through the action. The characters appear to be partisans on some endless odyssey.

My feet are cold. It is Dry Skin Season, where the skin dries and cracks, even bleeds for apparently no reason, except that it is cold and dry.

I went to Mellow Mushroom and had a pizza yesterday. We drove to Hanover courthouse, the next county north of Henrico to renew a vehicle license tag, because the wait is shorter up there. It was actually a pleasant ride. On the way back, we stopped at an antique shop to chat with the owner, a 92 year old woman, whom I have known for fifty years, most of my life. Her specialties are postcards and pottery.

Later that evening I helped a friend retrieve his cell phone which he left at a store where he worked that day. He is an intrepid and resourceful man who does not use an automobile. He gets around by walking, bicycle, bus or even train. It has become something of a sport for him.

This wakefulness is typical. I think I will go back to bed. And warm my feet.

Good night Loves.

I once studied Russian. And German. I have taken to watching Russian language films and programs on YouTube. There are usually no subtitles, which is fine with me. My interest in Russia and the Russian language is being rekindled. So for 2019, I will reopen this long-blocked channel.

What needs to be said is the profound admiration and respect I have for Russian culture and the Russian people. I also resent making Russia the scapegoat for all that is wrong with the world today. Believe me, the world could do a lot worse than having to deal with Vladimir Putin. Can you say “Stalin”?

I got caught up in stuff, found myself tired and with back pain. The lonely feeling crept back in. Rather than swim, I ended up watching a documentary on Napoleon. It was interesting. In the world post-Hitler, we rarely show interest in any other megalomaniacal war monger. Then again, next to Hitler, he wasn’t so bad.

I wish I could perpetually be a shining beacon of good nutrition, exercise, wellness in general. Life doesn’t work that way.

I hear the TV on upstairs. Upstairs, I shall go.

Good night Loves.

As if remorseful for the dingy gray drabness of the day, it is snowing again. We shall see what happens.

My wife has spent the day in bed, what she calls a “Relax-A-Fest”, what I call ignoring, possibly avoiding, me. I succumbed to the Temptress of Industry and vacuumed the carpet. There are black eye peas and tomatoes with onion simmering away, a sweet potato baking and soon a nice piece of sockeye salmon will be grilling in the oven. All wintry delights I guess, filling the house with heat and kitchen smells.

A day at home makes my disjointed world more painful. But what I write keeps the door to sanity open.

Later, loves.