So I’m debating whether or not to throw out the two remaining salmon cakes of the four I made this morning. The salmon was cooked thoroughly a week ago. Then I refrigerated the remainders. I made salmon cakes with an egg and breadcrumbs this morning, cooking them in a 375°F oven for 30 minutes.

Then I ate two of them with a poached egg.

So I might have eaten too much. That “too much” being the source of my dyspepsia. Could be I should not have eaten the fish skin I peeled off the cooked salmon before I formed the salmon cakes.

Could be I am just tired. Tired and sleepy.

Is it possible to have a date with your partner and never leave the house?

I think so, because that is precisely what this evening felt like. I fixed one of J’s favorites, roast chicken. She wore that chsmbray shirt, I basically tossed at her. We talked. She ate almost everything. We hugged afterwards. It felt different from so many meals we have shared.

She is tired. I know she is tired. I allowed her the space to be tired. But I feel close to her, in a way that isn’t like someone who has been in my life for 25 years, 18 married. I have been with her longer than marriages #1 and #2 combined. And I did not pick up an “Old Married Couple” vibe at all tonight.

I could be falling in love again. Sweet.

Start with Potatoes. I use Idaho russet baking potatoes. I washed three medium sized ones, cut and cubed them. I don’t peel them, although you could, if you’re really anal about peeled potatoes.

I parboil them for about ten minutes, then drain and coat with olive oil and dried herbs. I used rosemary and thyme. Then I dump them on a Swiss roll pan, lined with kitchen parchment and roast at 400° F (205°C) for about an hour.

They are crisp on the outside, soft in the middle.

Serve to you family, lovers, partners, guests.

Weight Watchers© (WW) was a successful week for me. I lost four pounds. I found following the eating guidelines to be as easy to follow as they have been in the past.

I fixed the roast chicken I have been meaning to fix since Sunday. I’m glad I waited. I felt slightly more motivated to take the skin off before I ate it. I used up the Pepperidge Farm cornbread dressing mix to stuff the bird. There is one temptation out of the way. I won’t have to buy any more of that til Thanksgiving. I fixed some roasted potatoes. That’s another no-brainer dish, I will post shortly.

J came home. I was going to do a load of her red shirts she wears at Target. She took her red shirt off. I handed her one of my old chambray work shirts, nice and soft from a bazillion washings. She looked sexy wearing the over-sized man’s shirt. I told her that too.When she came down for dinner she was wearing just the shirt, no leggings or jeans. ( underwear however, )

“Ditch the bra and panties, Honey.”

So I’m trying to bring out the courtship style. Let’s see what happens.

I have been reading a lot of lesbian romance fiction and erotica of late. I thought it was because I’m a voyeur and a lurker (guilty,,as charged). Then I realized I like these characters because they do life together, like cook a meal, cuddle when they sleep, share little intimacies, completely unrelated to sex.

What is it about intimacy that so terrifies us?

That isn’t an LGBT thing or a heterosexual thing. We live our lives, hoping not to have our hearts broken. Ex-wife #1 broke my heart and I broke hers about this time forty two years ago. Fast forward another sixteen years and ex-wife #2 and I were dancing our own pas de deux of death.

It is tempting to conclude that I am the party in these dyads who sucks at relationships, but then again “like attracts like” as they say in chemistry. Do we go through life, searching for people who are as equally inept or adroit in relationships as we are?

J has just left for work, with the lunch I packed for her. She will return to the friendly confines of her side of the bed and whatever fiction or television facilitates her escape from the monotony and demands of work and marriage.

Marriage isn’t for dilettantes and dabblers. We have to dip more than just our toes in its water. I write this as someone who has the fear of total commitment thoroughly ingrained in his being.

And now I am sleepy again. Later. I guess I will come back and complete these thoughts.

It is only a Queen size. The sheets need changing. Since my fusion, it is the hardest chore for me to do by myself.

I’m reading a story now whose principal character has sex and then wants to be alone. I think about J and me in the Big Bed; how there is no cuddling, very little physical contact. That’s going to change.

This is almost too painful to think about.

Finally, the pollen, or whatever it is I am allergic to, has worked its magic and I can sleep and otherwise ride out this annoyance. Because now I CAN sleep.

Thank you, allergens.

I went to bed about 830 PM. last night, woke up around 1:00 AM, stayed awake for a couple hours, then back to bed. I awoke again around 7:30, have been awake since, but am now ready for more sleep.

Untying the knot that only automation can tie is never easy. Am I communicating the problem(s) effectively to the Help Desk? It isn’t their fault. They’re trying, I know. This is not a big deal. No children will die if it’s never fixed. The whole thing is like a Church League softball game, where the players become engrossed in a triviality.

I went and bought a bunch of fruit today to replenish the fruit basket. It is key to weight management for me.

I had another attempt with the Company. They are trying. All they have to do is close the new account and reopen the old account.

But I am tired and lonely and sick of all the stuff that separates J and me. She likes her dopey childish The Bachelor. I can’t sit around downstairs hoping intimacy of any kind will return when the wall of TV is up.

Rant over.

Customer Service I just spent the morning on customer service calls. One company, in “updating” my account expunged everything on the old account, do I have no record before 0930 Eastern Time North America.

The other one I a d me on hold with the annoying music for over an hour. When I gave up and decided to leave a message, I was told their office was closed, even though I callefduring “business hours”.

I feel like I have spent the morning in a Green Acres episode, without Eva Gabor or Arnold Ziffel (The pig who watches TV.)

Time for AA.