Being Awake

04 Monday Feb 2019

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So I remained awake. I bought the rose. She was surprised and pleased. Her work day was not too demanding. She was tired. I am not surprised. She was too tired for the 5:00 PM Mass. She took a nap. I went swimming. I swam 2050 meters, same as yesterday.

I felt a bit guilty about swimming and skipping Mass. I watched a Holy Hour on EWTN when I arrived back home. Actually it was quite spiritually uplifting. I will go to Mass during the week.

I am NOT watching the Super Bowl. Zero (0) interest. I am just burned out on Corporate Big Budget Professional Sports. I am quite enthusiastic about people being physically active. We need to be.

I’m feeling tired. Could be bed time.

On Awakening

03 Sunday Feb 2019

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Here in Richmond, it is almost 1:20 PM . And, yes, I just woke up. Let’s be more accurate. I woke up at 3:00 AM, was up for a couple of hours, then back to bed. I was up at 8:00 AM was up for about an hour, then back to bed. Now it is afternoon. I shall push the envelope of wakefulness to the rest of the day.

I do need to meet J for brunch at Maggiano’s around 2:15. It is a nice Italian restaurant, as fake corporate-owned Italian restaurants go. Even I get tired of Frank Sinatra singing Gershwin, Cole Porter, Rogers & Hart in the background. That is better than the sports on the omnipresent TV monitors that infest so many restaurants these days.

So why have I been sleeping? I’m tired for one. Also, I suppose I didn’t really want to go to Mass today. This happens among the best of us. Or even the worst of us. I will admit this at my next Confession.

I like this feeling in my body, tired, muscles hurting, slightly euphoric. I only wish I had someone to share it with. I will do something special for J today. Buy her a single rose to give her at Maggiano’s . She has been at work since 6:30 AM. I would be lying if I said I expected nothing in return.

I want a lover. Not a roomate. Or a financial partner.

Saturday.

02 Saturday Feb 2019

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After the 3400 meter swim of Thursday, I rested yesterday. I got back in the pool today and swam 2050 meters, a mile and a quarter. The longer swim somehow catalyzed weight loss. I had about a two pound drop on Thursday, post swim, that is staying with me.

I had planned to attend the Feast of The Presentation Mass (Candlemas) tonight, but, heck, I’m tired, although it is a lovely Mass.

We’re wading through the Governor Northam public relations storm surge here in Virginia. He has lost almost all of his credibility, between appearing to endorse infanticide and having racist pictures surface from his past. The Governor of Virginia cannot run for re-election. The Senate seats are held by popular established Democrats. So his career is for all intents and purposes, over. The Democratic gubernatorial nomination for 2021 appears to be a showdown between the Lieutenant Governor, Justin Fairfax, a young African-American, and Attorney General Mark Herring, a two term Liberal stalwart. If Northam resigns, Fairfax moves to the Governorship, He would be limited in running for the office in his own, which opens the door for Herring. No showdown, unified party. The Virginia Republicans are currently a train wreck looking for a place to derail.

Gotta go. Hugs Loves.

Natation Postscript

01 Friday Feb 2019

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Yesterday’s swim was epic. I am still feeling it, less in my body, but in my head. I feel that euphoric, lethargic, day dream-y feeling I remember from when I used to smoke cannabis. Very, very nice and I didn’t lose my sobriety to get here.

We are getting a light snow. That adds to the quiet of the day. If there is winter at its best this is it. The closest thing modern, technologically enslaved humans have to hibernation. The best part of retirement is that one can just sit.

I fixed my wife her tuna (albacore) salad this morning, her strawberries, all sliced and sugared. I packed her rice crackers and her cheese and nut snack. The irony of gesture, the many levels of devotion. It isn’t just sweet love that has me pack that lunch. That I am hers, devoted, even as she ignores all passion, to prosaically slog through the drudgery of surviving.

Let’s make magic, then make love.

Epic Natation

01 Friday Feb 2019

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NSFW Some Sexual Fantasy

The National Oversight Committee For Use Of Archaic Synonyms has authorized my use of the word natation, a synonym for swimming. 31 January was the last day of January, my birthday month. I turned 68 on 21 January. So I thought 68 laps, 3400 meters, over 2 miles would be apropos.

I hadn’t really planned on the swim. As a matter of fact, I came within a few minutes of just blowing the workout off. But I put on Crocs over my warm merino ragg socks,donned my warm wool sweater and down jacket and off I went.

The polar vortex has discouraged the timid among the swimmers. So I had a lane to myself, a real treat when the Middle School-age swim team is practicing. I began the swim, just expecting to crank out a mile or so. When I finished the mile, I said to myself, “Do the 3400 meter swim you have been planning on completing.” I kept going. 2500 meters marked my usual finish. “I’ve got this,” I thought and pressed on. It took me 85 min: 29 sec. I have swum 3250 meters at a faster pace before. But that was over a year ago . I had not done a two mile swim since January, 2018.

My fantasy world opens up as I swim. I imagine myself as a submissive to a Mistress who appreciates my ardor in the pool, who views my sport as training to better pleasure her. She knows the endorphins serve to give me the natural high that sexual play only intensifies. As I swim, I can almost taste her cunt juices. I long to bury my tongue in her cleft, to probe the dusky realm of her anus.

When I finished tonight, and dressed again, I wore my heavy wool sweater with no tee shirt beneath it. I felt the scratchy wool on my skin, especially my nipples. Alas, there is no Mistress, no partner in the amatory arts.

I did fix a dinner. And fancied a partner eager to play.

Night

30 Wednesday Jan 2019

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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.

Rain In Winter

29 Tuesday Jan 2019

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NSFW. For Adults.

With winter comes rain. It is not cold enough to snow, most days. But it is cold enough for the dampness to play havoc with the joints, to value hot soup, and to welcome naked cuddling with my lover.

From behind, I “spoon” behind her as my erection nestles in the crease of her buttocks. I could reach around and fondle her breasts, her clitoris, or just draw her closer by pulling her in. The absolute smoothness of her skin excites me as I stroke her belly.

We listen to the rain, grateful for warmth. But the rain in its methodical dripping interrupts our arousal and intimacy.

We are the lucky ones, in our reverie beneath the down and duvet. We have our warmth and skin and lust, rejoicing in our passion and our power, the surging of nature in the quiet drama of our lust.