Stuff, Mostly

01 Saturday Dec 2018

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I’m sitting in Kuba Kuba Dos in the West End. I just ordered the same lunch I ordered last week at the original Kuba Kuba down in the Fan. I eat fish on Friday as a penance, but there is nothing penitential about the codfish cake they serve here. And the black bean soup is delightful.

Near me are three young girls roughly between 6 and 10. They are happy, enjoying themseves. They wear their Catholic School uniforms I have come to derive much happiness simply watching children involved in the activities of childhood.

I just addressed a birthday card to a friend of mine who has from time to time treated me rather shabbily. She will be 72 tomorrow. She lives alone with her dog. I figure that could be me in a few years, so I better risk being used and hurt.

The food looks like this. I also took a slice tres leches cake home for wife on her birthday.

I went swimming, finishing 2050 meters. I came home, then went out to dinner to celebrate my wife’s birthday.

Yes. Stuff. Mostly. I have that happiness and satisfaction that comes with doing the things you’re supposed to be doing in the first place.

3:16 AM

30 Friday Nov 2018

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What am I doing awake? I got up to urinate and I went back to bed, but it seemed hot, so I changed shirts, from a flannel pyjama top to a tee shirt.

Then my mind got all ALERT on me. I read some Word Press posts, fix a cup of decaf, watch the Virtual Railfan camera in Ashland.

It is almost Winter. Already my skin feels dry. It is cracking as little nicks appear on my hands. Yuck. It may be almost Winter, but a freakin’ wasp is crawling across the carpet on the floor. I crush it.

Maybe I am sleepy now. A warm bed would feel nice.

Later.

Of No Particular Importance

27 Tuesday Nov 2018

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It is 8:45 here in Western Henrico County, a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. Virginia was first settled in 1607. The County of Henrico was formed as a “shire” in 1611. This makes it a very old political subdivision by American standards. As a reference, Shakespeare was still living at the time. The King James Version of The Bible was published in the same year.

Virginia, until very recently, has been strongly Anglophile. We have two manor houses, one from the 16th century, Agecroft Hall. and one from the 13th Century, Virginia House, that were disassembled in England and reassembled in Richmond in the early Twentieth Century. Quite lovely.

It is nigh on impossible to understand Virginia unless you consider this profound Anglophilia. The great legacy is our respect for English law. John Marshall, the Chief Justice, who established the strong role of The Supreme Court in our system of governing was a Virginian.

As I warned you, this is of no particular importance.

Collar Of Freedom 4 Personal Trainer

26 Monday Nov 2018

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NSFW. Adult themed.

I showed up upon time, figuring that was the least I could do. She was waiting for me, in the breeze way between the back door and the garage. I was wearing my sweats, cross trainer sneakers. I had no idea what to expect.

“Come in the garage. I’ve made part of it a gym and studio.”

“OK.”

“OK? How about Yes Ma’am?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“You are on time. That much can be said. Let’s start this ….evaluation.”

Marta unlocked the door. I saw that half of the garage had been converted to a combination examination room and gym, with weight machines, two aerobic pieces. a NordicTrack© Skier, and an advanced stationary bicycle. There were the usual anatomical musculature charts on the wall, and a fancy electronic scale.

“We begin by determining what your status is today. When was your last physical with blood work for hyperlipidemia, blood sugar and liver function? Blood pressure of course, too.

“Uh, two years ago.”

I saw her entering data on her tablet.

“Our staff physician will see you soon. I will set the appointment. You will be there. It is at the availability of the busy staff members to accommodate our candidates.”

Suddenly the tone and direction of this meeting was shifting. I was being evaluated. Examined. For what?

“Let’s start with the basics. Body Mass Index and percentage body fat.Why are your clothes still on,boy?”

Suddenly, as if a button had been pushed, she was assuming the role that had characterized our earlier relationship. She was in charge. Again.

And my sweat pants, sweatshirt, shorts, tee shirt were soon in a pile at my now bare feet.

“Lose the jock strap too. Now.”

I was before here naked. She walked around me. The took measurements with skinfold calipers, the ones near my waist and on my thigh, the most embarrassing.

“On the scale there, Tarzan.”

The weight registered in kilograms. She took my height in centimeters.

Finally, she brought out her digital camera and took pictures.

“This is the start of your portfolio. In a few months time. your fitness and appearance will change, improve. Your value to our organization should correspondingly appreciate. At that time, you will have an opportunity to consider.”

End Part 4

Breakfast, YouTube, Sloth

24 Saturday Nov 2018

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NSFW Adult topics

Typical night. In bed before midnight, did not sleep nude, as I intimated in my last post. I woke up around Four AM. I was awake long enough to fix a cup of decaf, watch YouTube, and then wonder what I was doing awake. Back to sleep I went for four more hours.

I awoke again, made a big pot of regular 100% Colombian, and went online. I checked out Crashpad Series. I like Crashpad, because the actor/participants appear to be enjoying themselves and the camera work is good. The trans performers always jar my sense of reality and normal, but that’s OK, I suppose.

I needed to eat. Since I am doing Weight Watchers (now called WW) fairly rigorously, I had a low “point” breakfast trimmed pork loin, poached eggs. A sprinkling of Italian Cheese blend 6 Smart Points©. I topped breakfast off with a banana and a Bosc pear.

I am watching YouTube again. A train arrived in Ashland, a rather large contingent of Thanksgiving travelers boarded, then departed.

Next I watched adult film personality Nina Hartley give some advice on sex with postmenopausal women. (2 word summary: use lubrication!).

I plan to swim today, maybe clean, maybe fix dinner.

Did I tell you it’s raining. It’s a late autumn rain that makes indoors so inviting.

I am alone. Again. And longing.

How Serenity Feels Right Now

24 Saturday Nov 2018

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It is 10:25 PM here, November 23. Even though I suspect I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) I find these early dark nights as we approach the Winter Solstice to be quite cozy. I am reflecting on my very pleasant day and what I accomplished and I am quite satisfied.

I had lunch with my old friend John. We enjoyed some Cuban food in the friendly confines of the original Kuba Kuba, down in the Fan District. The Fan is a fully gentrified neighborhood completely rehabilitated, updated, and priced out of reach for the student, bohemian, art student types who once flocked there. But that’s America for you. If I sit tight and not go anywhere, I could be living in the cool hipster neighborhood before too long.

I had the black bean soup, eggs and a codfish cake. Satisfying. John and I talked, old friends just catching up, reconnecting.

After lunch I swam at the Y, 2050 meters, the longest I have swum in quite a while. I finished, showered, shaved, came home. I dreaded starting dinner, but by the time J came home, I was ready. I am now a huge fan of riced vegetables, cauliflower especially. I added sauteed mushrooms and a shallot some thyme and caraway seeds. I used it as a bed for a poached salmon filet.

Then The Wizard Of Oz came on TV. Perfect. Now I am enjoying a Popeye cartoon.

I am serene because I did what I wanted to do and needed to do today. I have taken a sabbatical from attempting to solve any big problems, like the Border, tax policy, or The School Lunch Program. I have been ignored by countless Administrations, from Nixon to Trump, about my peculiar insights. If they want to be that way, I’m not crawling to them for recognition.

J is sleeping. She usually sleeps, with the television on. I will go up, fold laundry, get ready for bed, and fall asleep. The bed feels especially cozy on a wintry night. Maybe I will sleep nude.

Coach Reverts To Pumpkin

23 Friday Nov 2018

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After every holiday comes the feeling, both welcome and unwelcome of normalcy returning. The magic has gone away, kind of like a snow man melting.  Magic will return. We just don’t know when. That is what what makes magic special. It has no schedule and is as capricious as a faltering libido.   There is stuff I need to do around here. The self-care, like exercise and food preparation, I need to do is critical. Part of that self-care is writing the blog. Blogging has moved beyond hobby to a part of my full participation in the community of life.

Through this blog, I have let my anger about the world’s injustice and mendacity ameliorate.  That anger is just another expression of my narcissism.  “I’m not getting what I want and it’s somebody else’s fault!”  I have learned to accept the rants of others as I hope they accept mine.  My opinions are not a full reflection of who I am. That means your opinions don’t fully or accurately reflect who you are. They are like images in a fun-house mirror.

 I have been able to express my feelings and frustrations around my sexuality, no small feat.  Where do I fit in? When do I assert myself? When is expressing my desires to a somewhat indifferent, resistant, prudish mate like “casting pearls before swine”?  When am I forced to accept my own advice about the complexity and subtleties of love?

And always I return to read the other bloggers’ stories  and learn of their lives. 

Butch Voice On Thanksgiving

22 Thursday Nov 2018

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J woke me up early.  She had to be at work at 6:00 AM, getting the store ready to open at 5:00 PM. You know, Black Friday, that latest example of the validity of Pavlovian Psychology.  We’ve come a long way from bells ringing and salivating dogs.  Those dogs are probably laughing at us now in Dog Heaven.  

I suppose I could have gone back to sleep, but I didn’t. I will. I promise soon. What caught my ear this morning was a butch lesbian talking about the books she’s recently read on a YouTube video.  Her voice was a memory, an association with my late cousin Annette. It was that Butch Voice.  And it brought up a flood of memory and loss.  Like most of the people I know, Annette was comfortable living outside of the box, the culture assigned to her.  She no more fit her stereotype than I do mine and you do yours.

Butch Voice. Matter of Fact.  Friendly, in its way. Or maybe just familiar.  Annette’s enthusiasm for little things, like Pixie Sticks, was very inviting. She evoked that childhood memory of a penny candy when her nephew got them for Christmas.  Humour and irony would fill her voice when she spoke of her brother’s ability to find, bed, impregnate, marry, and , ultimately, divorce White Trash Women. 

This is the perfect memory for Thanksgiving, as I remind myself that the families that gather aren’t the ones that are depicted in TV commercials for Walmart, or Coca Cola, or Budweiser Beer. Thank God for that.