Thursday, October 31, 2013

Okay, Pass the Bourbon



My beau, Marty, came by last night to watch the World Series game. He promised that he would bring some refreshments, and I promised I would supply the popcorn and microwave pizza rolls. What he brought in the way of refreshments was a bottle of bourbon he had won by betting on the Red Sox in the American League championship series over the Tigers. When he arrived, the bottle had never been opened. Neither of us partakes in bourbon, or for that matter, hard liquor in general, though I do like my wine.

Anyway, Marty stated that should the Red Sox win the night’s game and thereby win the pennant, the two of us should toast them with a splash of bourbon. That sounded like a nice idea, the only trouble was; I did not believe they were going to win the game. I thought that the Cardinals had the better starting pitcher, and the Cards would be playing with more desperation than the Sox. That was my thinking. Marty felt pretty sure that the Sox were going to clinch that night. He needed no reasons; he is simply a positive thinker. Well, after a moment of conversation we made a bet; every time the Red Sox scored a run, I would take a modest swallow of bourbon, and for every run the Cardinals scored, Marty would do the same.

Later that night I witnessed the 9th inning, but it was with a hazy mind, and through bourbon-blurred eyes. Yesterday evening I learned that the Red Sox are the 2013 World Champions and also; I’d better stick to wine.   

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

A Heavenly Hike



I'm an outdoors person and I was asked by someone today where I most enjoy hiking. That’s kind of an ambiguous question because my favorite single hike was not in a very convenient location.

Several years ago my then-boyfriend and I took a trip to eastern California. We visited Yosemite National Park. I was anxious to see all the birds that conjure around nearby Mono Lake. We stayed a couple of days in Lee Vining, a tiny town on the eastern edge of California, not far from Yosemite. One afternoon we decided to hike the Tioga Pass Trail, which is next to the east entrance station to Yosemite. We parked the car a short distance from the station and started up the trail. I think we began in late morning. 

The first quarter mile or so of the trail is uphill, which seemed particularly cruel since it is at about 10,000 feet elevation. Once we got to the crest of the hill, we were looking down on a beautiful, crystal lake a few hundred feet below. We meandered down the trail until we were at the edge of the water. Except for the sound of the tiny waves splashing upon the stony lake shore, everything was quiet. No one was around and there was virtually no wind. At that elevation, there are few trees in the Sierras, which is the mountain range in eastern California. In one direction was the lake, in one direction was the hillside we had just descended, and in the other two directions were placid, grassy, boulder-strewn meadows.

The temperature was probably around 60 that day, and the sky was a deep blue, save a few odd-looking circular clouds. I was neither hungry nor thirsty. I had slept well the night before so I did not feel tired or listless. With the sun on our backs, we slowly continued along the trail as it meandered through the alpine meadow.

Unlike most of my wilderness hikes, I did not feel compelled to examine the fauna. I did not have the urge to turn over stones in search of tiny animal life. Somehow I knew that this hike was about something else. 

Now and then we would pause, sit on a bolder and gaze about at the glowing green of the sun-lit grass and experience the quiet and solitude. On that hike I found something I had never experienced before in the outdoors, or really, almost anywhere. It was this state of euphoria; a sense that right then, for those few moments, everything was right in the world.

I have never had that experienced again but I have thought about what went into it. It required that I be in perfect comfort. If I had been hungry or if the weather had been too hot, the hike would not have been unusual aside from the very non-Massachusetts scenery. If there had been other people out there, someone perhaps causing some mild commotion, I would not be writing this blog entry. But everything was perfect, literally heaven-like.

I’d bet that someday I’ll enjoy a similar outdoor jaunt. The weather will be beautiful and I’ll be full of energy. Someday; but probably not this winter.  

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

A Bit of Motherly Wisdom



Marty, the guy I’ve been seeing socially, stopped by my workplace at noon today. We decided we’d meet and go out for a couple of subs for lunch. While he was there, I introduced him to a couple of my coworkers. A few hours later, somewhere around the middle of the afternoon, Beth, a friend and coworker, asked very discreetly why I would choose Marty over this other guy I had been dating, Jack. It was Beth who introduced me to Jack.

Jack was (and probably still is) a really nice guy. He was good-looking and had an interesting, well-paying job. To the romantic observer, he could have been my proverbial knight in shiny armor. But I knew from early on it was going to be Marty, that he was the guy. The only question I had was; would Marty want me? Anyway, I have thought about Beth’s question. I think I have at least part of the answer. It goes back in time a ways.

Eight years ago, when I was home from college in the summer following my freshman year, I ran into a guy from my high school at a mall. I did not know him very well, but I felt compelled to chat with him for a minute or two. A few days later he called and asked if I would like to go to a movie or something. I actually do not remember much about the conversation, but I recall that I declined; apparently tactlessly. My mother overheard the conversation and she did not like my demeanor.

My mother told me about this young guy who worked as a maintenance worker at Boston College back in the early 70s. While working on the Boston College campus, he met a coed who had a summer job. According to Mom, the girl and the guy worked in the same general area and over the course of several weeks this guy talked and joked with the girl. He apparently thought they were getting along pretty well, and they maybe even had a little spark between them. One evening he called the girl and asked her if she would like to go out on a real date. According to my mother, she let out a short chuckle and then said a very crass, “I don’t think so.”

My mom said that the guy realized at that moment that to the girl he was invisible, irrelevant, that he was merely the talkative maintenance man in the dirty clothes. This guy told my mother that he never forgot how that made him feel.

My mother then instructed me to not just see, but to be sensitive to the nice, friendly people who come into my life. Mom told me that if I did that, I would be better off for it, and in a small way, so would the world.

I can’t be sure, but without that talk that day eight years ago, I may never have put in the effort to get to know Marty.

By the way, the young guy was my father who for a time worked on the Boston College campus after returning from Vietnam.         

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Balancing Acts



Yesterday at work I was walking down a corridor with a cup of coffee in my hand when an overhead light flickered while making a buzzing noise. I glanced almost straight up to the neon light up as I walked under it. As soon as I again looked forward and brought my head back to level, the corridor began wobbling and floating up and down. The dizzy sensation made me stagger forward. I then hurried my feet in an attempt to retain my balance. I failed and went sprawling across the tile floor. Not only did I lose a perfectly good cup of coffee, but I broke my mug that had written on it “Not Now, I’m Drinking Coffee”. I guess I should be grateful that I was not injured.

About six weeks ago I had an unexpected and somewhat scary episode of vertigo in the middle of the night; my first such episode. At my father’s insistence, I ended up in a hospital emergency room. I was diagnosed with benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. Apparently my inner ear, specifically the area that is responsible for balance, has become littered with tiny bits of unwanted debris that can raise havoc, especially when my head is moved quickly and in the wrong position. The condition does not bother me often, but now and then it will get me. So I think it is now time to undergo therapy to address the problem.

There is something called the Brandt-Daroff exercise. There are how-to videos on Youtube featuring the exercise, but the emergency room doctor advised against doing them on my own, and there are trained therapists familiar with the exercises. I was also told that the Brandt-Daroff exercises can cause dizziness to the point of nausea and vomiting. Great. I haven’t vomited since getting food poisoning while in Lone Pine, California about five years ago. Vomiting is an experience I could do without. Maybe it won’t come to that.

Tonight is Game 3 of the World Series. Marty, my guy, has been invited to watch the game with some of his buddies. Beer and yelling will be on the menu, I’m sure. That’s what guys do, right? He actually asked me if I would mind if he attended instead of watching the game with me. I think it is nice that he would ask, but of course I do not mind. We have a relatively new relationship, but I want him to have other things going on in his life. If we happen to stay together long-term, I do not think that will change. He will always be free to have his own friends and do his own things.

I have thought about going over to my parents’ this evening and watching the game with my dad, but he might have some friends over too. I’ll have to call and find out later. I could ask one of my girlfriends over this evening, but I’m not sure if any of them would want to really watch the game. I want to watch the game.

I have sat alone in my apartment and viewed many the sporting event. It isn’t so bad. I have found that no one argues with me, and I get all of the pinot noir and popcorn for myself. Actually, that doesn't sound half bad.               

Thursday, October 24, 2013

A Home Run In the 5th



Although Marty, my beau, will not actually read this (at least as far as I know) he has given me permission to write it, so here it goes…

Last night I was lying on my sofa with Marty. We were watching the Red Sox clobber the Cardinals. The two of us were in a kind of modified spooning position; Marty was on his side while I was lying in front of him, and lying more on my back. Along about the 5th inning we were getting a little bored. The Cardinals looked like they were dead in the water, as the expression goes, and so Marty started getting other thoughts; amorous thoughts. Truth is; if the game had been a close one, he still might have gotten amorous thoughts. Our relationship is new and I think I can safely say that we are pretty hot for each other. Like; red hot.

Anyway, during a commercial he casually started unbuttoning my blouse using nothing but his free right hand. I gazed down to Marty’s hand as it worked on my buttons, kind of giggle and said something like, “What is going on here?”

He responded with, “It’s the 5th inning stretch.” I turned off the TV.

After about twenty minutes of some very steamy foreplay, we became connected, so to speak. I think Marty is a very good lover. He has two eyes and two ears so my sentiment would not come as a surprise to him. He knows. But it is more than just some kind of sexual technique. Marty is thoughtful and completely unselfish. And unlike any guy I have known in several years, I feel very relaxed with him.

Anyway, there we were, on my sofa in the missionary position, my arms half around him. Every few seconds Marty would kiss me or whisper something sweet to me. I enjoy intimacy but on this occasion things seemed different; better, more physically stimulating. I could actually feel my heart starting to race and my breathing going a little haywire.

A short time later I knew that Marty was nearing climax, so in an odd babble I asked him if he could give me a little more time. He gave me a little kiss and then a nod. About two or three minutes later it happened, I climaxed. As I was starting into it I squealed out a bizarre sounding “Oh my god!”. I then closed my eyes and just allowed it to rush over me. I’m not sure but I think I let out some strange gurgling sounds somewhere along the line.

It was the first time I had reached the “end of the rainbow” with a guy in several years. In fact, Marty is only the second guy I have climaxed with. I had no idea it was going to happen. But unlike other sexual endeavors in recent years, this time the intensity did not plateau, it just kept building.

A few minutes later, when we came back down to earth, I giddily told Marty what had happened. But of course he already knew. After all, he has two eyes and two ears.    

Supposedly there were two home runs hit during yesterday’s World Series game. It’s not true. I can assure you; there were three. In fact, I think one of them was a grand slam.