Friday, December 26, 2014

A Party-free Friday Night Spent Looking Through the Blog


Just for the sake of ease, I'm going to call Terry my "boyfriend". It's kind of true. Tonight he's at some party somewhere with a few of his buds. We've been spending most weekend evenings together lately and so tonight is something of an anomaly. He ask me if he could go to the party. My initial response was that it bothered me; the simple fact that Terry asked me. I feel that he is his own guy and I am my own woman. And I'm all for independence, especially early in a relationship.

Well, I calmly told him that it was okay with me. After a few minutes of thought, I realized that Terry did the right thing to ask. It was the courteous, respectful thing to do. To make a short story long, that's why I am here on the Net on Friday evening causing trouble online, and assessing my blog; I have no party and Terry does.

Anyway, over the past half hour or so I've been sipping a glass of wine (okay, I sort of have a party) while reading through some past blog entries. In one of them I confessed that at times I have written blog entries and have been undecided as to whether to publish them. I published that entry, but there are others I have not. I would say that about one out of five goes unpublished. They remain "Drafts" until such time I decide to delete them.

Some of my unpublished blog entries remain unpublished because they are just to risque. Usually I write those posts because I am wound-up for some reason, and I go into tiny, intimate detail; too much detail. Then what usually happens is that I kind of cool off by the time I'm done writing, regain some sanity, and lose the courage to hit the "Publish" button. To be honest; there are some blog entries from months ago that I doubt I would have published had they been written more recently.

I did not publish a couple of blog entries concerning my recently problems with depression and anxiety. I wrote them entirely for therapeutic reasons and I did not feel much incentive to publish them. I still have them as unpublished "Drafts". I may never delete them because I could always have the desire to once again read them, just to remember where I was emotionally during those times, but they will forever remain unpublished.

I have written still other blog entries that are painfully boring, or just plain dumb. I am a bird-watcher and I wrote one blog entry on how I spent the afternoon trying to locate what I thought was a prothonotary warbler flittering through the trees at Edmands Park not too far from where I live. When I was done writing, I reread it and was shocked at how boring not only the blog entry was, but how boring my life must appear. Sometimes blog entries can be cruel to the author. Needless to say; the post never saw the light of day. By the way, I never did get an irrefutable sighting of that bird.    

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

My Christmas Spirit


I took a few hours off today to get a bit organized for Christmas and make a trip to the fitness center to make room for some extra calories I see in my immediate future. This evening my "friend" Terry is coming by. I am scheduled to work tomorrow so hopefully he won't stay too late. "We'll see how that goes," she said with a note of sarcasm.  

Tomorrow evening I am going to a candlelight church service with my mother. It has become something of a tradition. As a child I was a devout Methodist, but I have long since been an atheist and a self-confessed, pain-in-the-butt on the matter, as too many people on the Net could attest. So it might seem kind of odd that I would go to church on Christmas Eve. Well, for me it is a case of nostalgia. We are going to the church I attended as a youth, and of course my mother being there adds to the sentimental mood. I've always liked a good Christmas carol, too. I'll actually put five or ten dollars in the collection plate. However it is highly unlikely that I will return to the fold and leave the service a Christian once again.  

I'll drop by my parent's on Christmas day, probably some time in the early afternoon. They always ask me what I want for Christmas and I always tell them I do not know. I don't know because I already possess almost everything I could want. I have my health, good friends, and I live in a manner that would be the envy of 95% of the world's population. However, I consider myself to be very fortunate rather than blessed. Yes, I'm a pain-in-the-butt atheist, even during Christmas.  

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

This Goofy Blog and My Parents

I've been thinking a lot of my parents lately. They are not getting any younger. Usually both are upbeat but now and then they talk about such things such as events form long ago, or assorted ailments, or friends who are no longer living.

Neither know of this blog. I sometimes fleetingly wonder what they would think if they read it, particularly reading the places where I discuss intimate stuff. Both of my parents know that I am no longer a virgin, and in fact both have known that for about ten years. A few days after my virginity disappeared, I stated as much to my mom in a thinly veiled, comment made to sound casual. I just wanted her to know. I can't remember exactly what I said, but it was clear enough; my mother knew. Once my mother knew, my father knew too, about six hours later. That's how my parents marriage operates.

Neither of my parents have ever made inquiries concerning my sex life. I think they actually trusted my judgement ten years ago, and I think they trust my judgement even more now. Still, I can almost picture both of them reading my goofy blog, and their respective reactions. I think my mother would cease reading as soon as I would mention a gentleman kissing me. I doubt she would read any of the subsequent paragraphs. She would just turn away and emphatically say to herself, "I've read enough. I don't want to read any more."

Somehow I think my dad would be more open-minded. I have always considered my mother to be the more academic of my two parents, but I consider my father to be the more open-minded when considering me and my personal life. He would probably read some of my provocative blog entries, smile just a little and mutter, "Katie wants to experience life, and that's okay."

I like my dad's attitude but in a lot of ways I would totally understand my mother's thinking. There is just a tiny bit of prude in her, and to her, I'm still her little girl. I don't mind.

Friday, December 12, 2014

Giving To Myself


I give money away. I know why I do it. I've known for a long time even though I don't like to think about it. I give money away because it makes me feel good. If giving money did not make me feel good, I would not do it. I'd keep my $100 a month or so that I give. My motives are purely selfish. Here's something else; I would never give so much money away that it would compromise my lifestyle. I have limits, selfish limits.

I will often give when I see photos or videos of malnourished kids or starving animals. The worse off the child or animal, the better it makes me feel to give. If there were a text-only appeal for money to go to millions of people needing medical supplies in India, I doubt I would give. Add a couple of graphic pictures, and I will get out my credit card. The photos will make me feel better about giving.

A few days ago I gave $50 to my alma mater, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. I did some birding the other day and saw a shore bird that I could not identify. So I went to the internet to try to figure it out. A banner came up on the internet page asking for donations to the Cornell Lab or Ornithology. There were images of birds. It worked; I gave.

Mostly I give to environmental causes. Nothing brightens my day like giving $25 to the Wildlife Conservation Society. It better brighten my day, or I'm keeping the money.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

A Blog Entry For Tuesday

I did not know what to name this blog entry, so I went with the obvious.

Anyway, I think I am going to have to call Terry "my boyfriend". I'm hesitant to do that because; #1, it seems kind of early in our relationship to give him that status, and #2, he is not exactly a boy. On the other hand, he came by yesterday evening, and he left this morning. So he's not exactly a stranger.

We did not plan on his staying overnight. Things just happened spontaneously, and when it was about the right time last night for him to leave, we both knew he wasn't going anywhere. This morning, being Tuesday morning, it was a work day for both of us. So at 6:30 in the morning, Terry left to go to his place where he would change for work. I, on the other hand, had made up my mind that today was going to be an unscheduled day off.

At about 10 AM I decided to grab my binoculars and go out bird watching. I haven't mentioned my bird watching in this blog in a long time. In recent months I haven't felt as enthused about it, or at times, enthused about anything, but through that time I have gone out on occasion.

To the average person, and even the average bird watcher, there is nothing quite so boring as bird watching in New England on a late autumn day. The weather is often not very good, and almost all of the colorful birds have long since departed for the season. There are no indigo buntings, no scarlet tanagers, no golden-winged warblers to see. I went out just to, well, get out. Today was fairly mild for this time of the year, and pretty wet. I did not care. I wanted to breath some fresh, cool air and gaze up to something other than a ceiling. There were no walls restricting either my vision, or my walk. It felt very liberating.

With the sky gray and the trees leafless, everything can seem so drab. But not all the birds are gone. The blue jays offer a pretty blue, the cardinals a wonderful red. I did not complain.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Katie the Boozer


I have recently been partaking in hard liquor, bourbon in particular. It has just been on a few occasions and I have never gotten drunk. I have gotten a little bit tipsy. This sudden fondness for spirits, if fondness is what it is, is due entirely to the company I've been keeping the last few weeks. Terry has a favorite bourbon; Knob Creek. A few evenings ago we were out and at his suggestion, I decided to try a glass of bourbon in lieu of my normal glass of wine.

Before I took my first taste, Terry instructed me on how to drink it. He told me to begin by just taking about a thimble full and allow it to wander around inside my mouth for a moment before allowing it to trickle down my throat. He said that is how you appreciate a good bourbon, scotch, rum or most other quality liquors. I did as instructed. It produced a rather nice, warm, oral sensation, not exactly a "taste" but more of an agreeable tingle, along with a pleasant aroma.

Terry said that a person either appreciates a good liquor, or he doesn't. He emphasized that it is not something everyone enjoys and there is certainly nothing wrong with that. It is a matter of preference. I have to say that I appreciated it. Of course at the time I was kind of dressed up, and just sitting in a somewhat dusky tavern holding a glass of bourbon made me feel like one of those sophisticated Bond girls from movies. Okay, I'm not exactly a Bond girl, but that's okay; Terry is not exactly Mr. Bond.

He is coming by in a little while and so I made a side trip after work and bought a bottle of Knob Creek. It was actually kind of pricey but that's okay; I bought it for both him and me.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

A Tiny Proud Moment, Courtesy of My Dad



I own a Toyota Prius. I think it is a 2008 and the only color I can put on it is "red". It is definitely red. Several evenings back I jumped in it to get some milk at the convenient store down the street. I pushed the start button and put it in reverse. I was about a half a block down the street when I noticed that the dashboard was dark. The car was running okay so I decided to continue with my errand and worry about the dashboard lights the next day. I figured I could have my dad look at it, or take it to a service garage. However, when I got to the store, the engine would not shut off. There is an off/on button on the dash and it would not shut off the engine. I went into a panic.

I drove straight to my parents' house and pulled into their driveway. When I came to a stop, I kind of automatically pushed the off/on button. This time it worked and the car shut off. I sat there for a few seconds and then pushed the button again. Just as it should, the engine came on, dash lights included. I pushed the button a third time, and as it is supposed to; the engine shut off. A fourth push of the button and everything came on again. Everything looked okay. I decided I'd go on home and not bother my dad with a problem, at least not right then.

Well, I knew there was a problem so the next day I called Dad and told him what was going on with my car. He suggested that I take it to the dealer and have them run a diagnostic on it. He warned me that since the problem was intermittent, they likely would not find anything.

Later on that day, an hour or so before my car's service appointment, my dad called me to tell me he thought I had a problem with something called the "cluster meter". He said that a failing cluster meter will make everything on the dashboard quit working, including the off/on button. Dad said that the problem is rare but that they do fail often enough that Toyota has offered a warranty on all bad Prius cluster meters. My father is always watching out for me, and he had done a little research into my situation. Good thing since I still do not know exactly what a cluster meter is.

So anyway, I took my Prius to the dealer's service department and described the problem. The guy behind the computer at the service desk told me they would run a diagnostic on it. I agreed that a diagnostic would be the logical step, but that they likely would not find the problem since it is only an occasional occurrence. The service guy looked at me as though I was from outer space, however he did kind of agree with me, saying that a diagnostic won't necessarily find every problem.

A few hours later, the diagnostic being completed, I was informed that everything looked fine and there seemed to be no problem. I then calmly said, "Well, I figured the diagnostic would not find the problem, but I know what the trouble is. The cluster meter is failing."

The guy sort of sarcastic chuckled and replied, "Well, I doubt that."

I let loose a sarcastic chuckle of my own and stated, "No, it's the cluster meter. It's an uncommon problem, but not so uncommon that Toyota does not have a warranty covering Prius cluster meters."

The guy quickly did a search on his computer and guess what; there is a warranty on the cluster meter. I think the discovery put the service guy in a mild state of shock. "Wow, you're right," he muttered.

"Yes, I know," I proudly responded.

They did not charge me for the $115 diagnostic. There is a cluster meter ordered and it will be installed at no charge due to the warranty. I'm telling you; there's no better dad than mine.

Sunday, November 30, 2014

My Overnight Guest



I had an overnight guest last night; Terry. He left this morning about a half hour ago. Last evening was our third time out together. I usually don't become fully intimate with a guy that quickly but to be honest... painfully honest, I have been needy lately, needy in ways only a man can satisfy. I did not know when the evening began that Terry would be staying over. He did not know either, of course. It was just sort of a spur of the moment thing. When I asked him to stay, for a few seconds he thought I was joking. We were standing there with our arms around each other and when I gave a little smile, and squeezed him a little tighter, he knew I was serious. He still gave it a few seconds of thought, but he finally gave a little nod.

Terry did not ask about birth control or condoms. I thought he might, but he didn't. I don't too much concern myself with condom use. I guess I figure that if I'm going to know a guy well enough to ask him to sleep with me, I know him well enough to trust him in other ways. As for birth control, that has not an issue since I was 18 years old.

As for the evening, I will say only that Terry was sweet, sometimes funny, and a provider of what I needed. What I needed was intimacy in all its forms; sexual fulfillment, contentment, and the simple warmth of an affectionate male companion through the night. Hopefully Terry enjoyed the evening too.

I do worry that the suddenness of the evening might negatively change Terry's opinion of me in some way, after all, I really like him. If I didn't like him he would not have been an overnight guest last night. I hope he understands that. I think he does. Neither of us is 19 years old.

As I often do, I will now sit here and try to decide if I really want to publish this blog entry. If you are reading this, then I must have decided to click the "Publish" button.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Complete Relaxation

Today I'm off to my parents for Thanksgiving. I'll help my mom with the bird, yams, salad and various other fixings. Dinner will be at its traditional Thanksgiving time; 3 PM. I think my Uncle Wayne is going to have dinner with us. I'll find out for sure when I get there.

Last night I did something I have not done before in my life, god only knows why I've neglected this practice. Last night I took a warm bubble bath with a glass of red wine alongside. In fact, sitting on the bathroom floor a few inches from the tub was the bottle of merlot. Truth is, I had two glasses and a splash; just about half a bottle. Wow, was it relaxing. I put on headphones, listened to some meditation music, and laid back. Utter serenity. It's a wonder I did not drown. I thought about having a couple of scented candles flickering along the edge of the tub, but I didn't want to go overboard with the notion.

Of course there is a price to be paid for such tranquility. Today I have dry, itchy skin, courtesy of a combination of spending time in the cold weather, contrasted with the warm, sudsy water. When my skin gets a little dry it just itches annoyingly. When it gets very dry a red rash appears that itches incessantly. Today I have a couple of patches of redness. Lotions have little effect on my dry skin. I just have to suffer for a few days. Still, I think it was worth it. It was forty-five minutes of peaceful, wine-aided bliss. I'll have to go back to that place again sometime. It'll be sometime after my skin recovers.  

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Early Onset Nostalgia

I was about to go home for the day when I stop and reminisced about a few things from long ago. That led me to the notion that I am pretty nostalgic. I've known for a while that I'm something of a sentimentalist. So much so that I thought I might as well stop and spend a minute or two to write about it in my blog while it was on my mind.

So, yes, I'm not yet 30 years old and I have these odd bouts of nostalgia or sentimentality. Sometimes I wonder if this condition might be linked to my various difficulties with depression I've mentioned in this goofball blog. They aren't too terribly different, when it comes right down to it. It's as if the two conditions kind of overlap.

Unlike depression, I actually like being nostalgic. I sometimes think back to when I was about six or eight years old. I can recall riding up and down the street on my bicycle with hardly a care in the world. I recently visited my parents and I happened to half jokingly mention to my mother the birthday party I had when I turned six years old. My mom immediately disappeared only to return ten minutes later with a handful of photos from that afternoon. I still remember the names of every one of those eight kids seen in the pictures.

My mother is painfully nostalgic. She still occasionally meets with friends she first knew almost fifty years ago. She always goes to class reunions. She would not miss one. I have asked her why exactly she enjoys such things. Without missing a beat, she stated that she likes to think about the days when she was younger. If class reunions consisted of nothing but former classmates discussing their ailments, or passing around photos of their grandchildren, I'm sure that my mother would never attend. For my mom, it's about revisiting the past. I kind of know what she means.

My father likes to stay as youthful as possible, but he doesn't really harken back to his bygone days. Now and then he will mention someone from his past, but that's about as far as it goes. I guess in at least one respect, I take after my mom.

I think it is true that a person views their memories through rose-colored glasses. I distinctly remember having a wonderful time at age seven speeding down the sidewalk on my bicycle. Oddly, I do not remember crashing once. Given that I am something of a klutz, I know there had to have been some disastrous wrecks complete with tears. I don't remember one of them.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Saturday Morning Thoughts Concerning Friday Evening


Sometimes I wonder how much I should say in my stupid blog. It usually ends up that I say pretty much what I want. After all, what's a blog for? Well, here I go again...

Yesterday, Friday evening, I went out for a drink with a guy named Terry, our first time out together. As I think I said in a previous entry, I was looking forward to it with excitement and nervousness. Both of those emotions seemed to intensify throughout Friday and into the early evening. I actually felt a bit of relief when Terry finally showed up.

We went to a nearby pub and took a small booth. Terry ordered a beer and for no good reason, I decided on a white wine. We had a very nice conversation. Most of it was light and breezy. I did my fair share of idiotic giggling. The evening did include my telling him in detail of my cognitive disorders. It is very difficult to explain things that don't seem to make sense, but I did the best I could. If Terry did not quite "get it", he at least seemed to be understanding. That's all I could ask. Terry in turn talked briefly about his marriages, and the mistakes he made in them. He seemed very honest.

Somewhere along the way I realized that I was once again enjoying the company of a man in a potentially romantic manner. It's funny what comes into someone's head, especially my head.

We chatted for about two hours and then Terry said that he had to work the following day so we had better call it a night. I would have gladly allowed the evening to go on for another hour or more, but the approximately two hours was good enough. We planned to go out for only a drink, after all.

Terry took me home and walked me to the door. I asked him if he wanted to step inside, and he did. I remember that I took off my coat while Terry stood by the door with his coat on. I gingerly, but deliberately, stepped close enough to him to where he could take me by the hand or step closer and put his arm around me. He seemed a little bit undecided so I gathered some courage and moved a half step closer. When he placed a hand gently on my shoulder, I moved even closer yet. That seem to do it and he put both of his arms around me, which was my goal. Though it was not exactly what I would call a heated embrace, it was nice.

Terry told me he had a great time. He then casually, almost unconsciously ran his fingertips soothingly up and down my back. That felt wonderful, which I'm sure Terry did not realize. He followed it with a short kiss. That did not feel too bad, either. It was a tiny romantic moment at the end of a pleasant little evening. It has definitely been a while for me; too long.

I'm not going to sit here and declare that Terry is some amazing guy, or our brief time together was something that is going to go down in the annals of great romantic escapades, but it was all I could have asked for and more. I was not disappointed by Terry or the evening. I hope we see each other again. I hope he feels the same.

And those are my thoughts concerning Friday evening.



Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Recharging With Terry

Well, come Friday I am going out for a drink with Terry, a guy I just met at my fitness center. I mentioned him in a previous blog entry. I am experiencing the standard stuff; excitement mixed with nervousness. I think I am a little less nervous than usual because Terry seems to have a sizable sense of humor. I think I need that from a guy at this point in my life. Still, he is not overbearing with it. His voice is not loud, nor does he continually chatter. I think another factor is that I now meditate daily at the behest of my therapist. Meditation takes a little practice, but I think it is helpful, if not a cure-all, for mild emotional disorders.

Terry is a little older. He is 38. That would not come as a surprise to anyone who has ever read this nitwit blog. I seem to gravitate to older guys. I met him at a fitness center, so of course he is relatively physically fit. That is not to say that he is going to enter a Mr. Universe contest (or whatever those bodybuilding contests are called). He has been married twice, which doesn't bother me much at all, for some reason. Besides, it's not like I've stayed with the same guy for the last ten years. And heck, it's just a first date.  

I'm glad I'm getting going again, socially, and emotionally. That's really the point of this blog entry and why I decided to write it; I'm returning to my life. It's not as if I'm totally recharged. It's more like I am in the recharging process and going out with Terry is a part of that. It's actually good to once again feel the excitement and yes, the nervousness too. They are part of life and that's what I plan to be doing; living.  

Monday, November 17, 2014

A Fool For a Sense of Humor

I have not had much of a love life lately. Let me be more succinct; I have not had a love life lately. This has been largely due to a bout with depression/anxiety. I simply have not felt like being sociable. I have spent time working, visiting the fitness center, wandering the internet, and watching TV, specifically Boston Bruin games, classic movies, and the news.  My libdo has been largely intact but when a person does not feel sociable, that libido doesn't go very far.

I have been feeling better lately. I started out several months ago going to a therapist a few times a week. As the months have gone by I have slowly felt better and have visited my therapist less and less frequently. Following a visit today, my next visit with a therapist is tenatively scheduled for the middle of December. That can be cancelled, depending on how I feel.

A few days ago I briefly spoke with a guy at my fitness center. He was standing at the exit looking out through the glass door, contemplating his trek to his car through a cold rain. As I stood a few feet away, I began searching for my car keys in various pockets. Out of nowhere he mumbled, "This wild weather is supposedly a result of a vortex. A vortex? I thought that my athletic gear was made of vortex."

Apprently I have been out of circulation longer than I realized because I instantly dissovled into hysterics. To be fair, his comedic timing was spot-on; at least I thought so.

The fates must be on my side because yesterday the same guy was on an ellyptical, and as it turned out, he was on the ellyptical right next to the one I decided to use (okay, my using that particular ellyptical may not have been a coincidence). I said hello to him and he gave a brief glance my way, then realizing who I was, returned the glance, allowing it to remain. An instant later came the smile I hoped would follow. I jokingly told him that I was wearing fitness gear made of vortex. His smile became a grin as we continued to pedal our ellypticals. He then told me, off-handedly, that he is a fan of Groucho Marx. Without missing a beat I replied, "one moring I shot an elephant in my pajamas... how he got in my pajamas I'll never know."

Obviously I have watched a lot of classic movies these months.Too many, considering I know Groucho Marx dialogue. But this Friday evening might be different. I just finished a two hour telephone conversation with a funny, nice guy. It seems that Friday I will be socializing.        
   

Thursday, November 6, 2014

A Quick End To Frustration

I decided to buy a new sofa. I actually put a little bit of money into it. It is yet to be delivered but yesterday I got the bright idea that I might need an end table; a resting place for my tub of popcorn, glass of wine, and TV remote as I reclined on my sofa. I saw some decent looking end tables on the internet at Affordable Furniture... well, at least the photos were decent looking. I went to the store and it was then I found out that the end table I liked was made by Sauder and needed home assembly. I asked a woman salesperson if the furniture was difficult to put together. She informed me she has assembled some furniture and she was confident that I could put together a simple end table. I already had the required screwdriver and pliers.

I bought the unassembled end table, drove home and slid everything out of the box onto my living room floor. The first thing I did was locate the directions. Step #1 was the attaching of one mechanical part to another. I think the parts were for the table's sliding drawer, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure because I could not get one of the pieces to connect into the other. I stared at the illustrated directions closely. I definitely had the correct two pieces, but it was no good, I simply could not figure how the one piece could possibly attach to the other piece. After about ten minutes of trying to figure out the puzzle, I gave up. Annoyed and frustrated, I dropped all of the panels, table legs, etc., into the box, tossed in the screws, bolts and sundry hardware, and quickly tapped the box closed with about fifteen feet of Scotch tape. About a half hour after making the purchase, I was back at Affordable Furniture returning my unmade end table.

It would have been nice, or at least a bit consoling if I had at least gotten beyond step #1. On the other hand, it is nice that I did not waste two hours putting things together only to get stymied on Step #6, or worse; step #14. It looks like if I'm going to have a decent, new end table at the end of my new sofa, I'm going to have to spend more than $59.95. That's okay, I'll pay it if nothing else; to avoid the agony.  

  

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Why Robin Williams Departed

I have not felt like writing in my goofball blog for a while, but I feel like I need to write this entry.

A few days ago Robin Williams died. He committed suicide. Essentially, he died from various psychological afflictions, specifically clinical depression and its cousin; clinical anxiety. These illnesses are not fatal on their own. They kill the afflicted via suicide.

A lot of people suffer from these disorders. I know one personally. In fact, she is typing this sentence. I first experienced clinical anxiety about eight years ago. It was a panic attack that lasted about forty-five minutes; forty-five minutes of living in a nightmare. I have suffered from these attacks many times since. The good part is; I now know what they are and I know that in less than an hour they will pass. 

The anxiety has taken other forms too. I hate to talk about such things because they sound so bizarre, but I will talk of them anyway. For about a month I had problems with any kind of heights. If I stood on a second floor balcony, the anxiety would kick-in and my heart would start to race. Even after I got away from the physical cause, the anxiety would stay with me for sometimes hours. Another time, a year or so later, I had trouble driving over about 25 MPH. I would go 30 and I would start to panic. Freeway driving was impossible. Cognitive therapy, specifically something called "exposure therapy", was monumentally helpful.   

Coincidentally, a few days before Robin Williams death, I called a psychologist and requested an appointment. I have been suffering from ever-increasing symptoms of hypochondria. I wake up in the morning and whatever negative physical sensation I happen to feel, I relate it to a serious illness, which in turn sparks anxiety. I might wake up with a mild headache and deduce that it is a brain tumor. As the day goes along I become hyper aware of other virtually non-existent symptoms of illness which in turn continues to fuel the anxiety. I might be sitting for an hour and when I stand up, a leg is asleep. I will speculate that the brief numbness is the first symptom of multiple sclerosis. I go into a panic and though I never have, and perhaps never would, I once considered calling 911. If all of this sounds just plain weird, well, it sounds just plain weird to me too. And I know something is psychologically wrong with such thinking, which is why I made the call for help. 

To put a positive spin on it; through personal experience and education, I know what anxiety is all about and the disorder itself does not have me worried. I have continued to do my regular daily activities and for the most part I have kept my sense of humor. My guess is that Robin Williams suffered from far more serious symptoms compared to what I go through, symptoms he felt he just could not defeat. A melancholy goodbye to Robin Williams.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

It's Been a Year

Almost exactly one year ago I went with my father out into the country on his traditional 4th of July celebration with several of his friends. They shoot-off skyrockets and blow up various items with fireworks, some of them rather large, homemade fireworks. I met a guy there; Dan. He was a really nice guy and we carried on a relatively brief but enjoyable, and at times highly energetic relationship. There are times when I sometimes think of him. I find it hard to believe that it was a year ago.

Yesterday evening my father called me and asked me if I wanted to go with him again this year. He quickly assured me that Dan would not be there. When I still hesitated a bit, he barked, "Katie, we really want you to be in attendance", I kind of giggled and agreed. It's nice to be wanted, such as it is.

So tomorrow morning I will set my alarm to 7AM when I will rise, consume some breakfast, and then drive over to my parents' where my father and I will travel together out to a farm for the annual event. I will likely see the demise of some toy cars and/or boats, a Barbie Doll or two, and some functional but expendable electronic devices. There's nothing quite so oddly entertaining as the sound of Glen Beck's voice being abruptly silenced by a small explosion.   

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Sparkly Evenings

If anyone cares anything concerning wildlife, this is a banner year for at least one species of firefly, and their flashing activity is just peaking this week. I do not know much about fireflies other than there are thousands of species worldwide, many of them in the United States. I also know that depending on the species, there are different flashing patterns, different times of the evening when they flash, and even different heights off the ground when they most often flash. In fact, some species actually do not flash and are technically not fireflies, although they are biologically classieifed as such.

Anyway, the firefly species that have been putting on a show lately seem to peak about an hour or so after sunset. They seem to be at their most abundant over seldom-mowed grassy, weedy fields. They have a twinkling type of flash rather than a longer, blinking flash. If you find the right location where they are abundant, and just stare at their show, it really is pretty incredible. It might be worth a trip outside some evening soon, and maybe even a short trip in a car, especially if you had an urge to go out for ice cream anyway.  

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Relationship Advice, and Subsequent Thoughts

Enough time as passed since the end of my relationship with Marty, people are starting to give me some relationship advice. My friend at work seems to be under the opinion that I've been getting pretty much what I am asking for over the last year or so, given I live in a somewhat affluent part of American society. In short; I can’t expect to get into a committed relationship without being expected for it to end in a traditional marriage. That is not to say that having a lifetime spent with one “male adult playmate”, as I have been accused of wanting, is completely impossible, it just isn't something that I should anticipate. It isn't realistic. Guys, and for that matter women too, eventually need to hear an official, legally binding vow, probably followed by family life.   

I am actually willing to do that… well, some of it. I am willing to commit to someone in a legal ceremony but it would probably have to be understood that the life after the ceremony would be on my terms. It’s not as selfish as it sounds. I would want that life to be under our terms, given that the poor, unfortunate guy would be of the same mindset long before the ceremony ever took place.

Those terms would be that children are at this point not part of the bargain. In the future; maybe, but for the foreseeable future; no. Also, I like the idea of having plenty of myspace with the understanding that it is a committed, monogamous relationship. I also am willing to give plenty of myspace (or is that "theirspace"?). In fact, I think that my giving guys plenty of space may bother some of them a little. I think many prefer some rather restrictive parameters. I am reminded of a dog that escapes out the backyard gate and gets a bit worried when its owner does not immediate pursue him.

Anyway, if I do not spend my life with one guy who fits my criteria, that’s okay. I would prefer a lifetime partner but if it comes to having a thoughtful, caring guy for something less than a lifetime, even just several months, I can live with that. My relationship with Marty ended a few months ago and though the ending was painful, I have never regretted my getting into it.    

I have actually gone to Okcupid a few times in the last week or so, checking in at my account page after completely forgetting about it for many months. I have received some recent messages but I have not responded to any. To be honest, I seem content at least for now to look at the photos of guys and read the few words they have to say. Apparently my romantic instincts, and my libido, though a bit traumatized, remain whole.  

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Out On the Course

I had a relationship end not too long ago and I have been kind of down in the dumps lately. I think everyone who knows me can see it, my parents being no exception. I think it was last Sunday my father called me and asked me if I wanted to take a day off work and be his caddie as he and some of his buddies were going to go golfing. I figured; why not?

So off we went to the course, my father and me to meet up with his friends and play a round of golf. On the drive out, my dad gave me a few brief instructions. He told me that I probably should try to keep up with the group rather than go off bird watching, and that I should try to see where the golf balls land. Dad told me that he isn't much of a player and all he would try to do is hit the ball straight, and hopefully lose as few balls as possible.

It turned out that I was the only female in the group, and the only caddie -if that's what you want to call me. About 10:30 this group totaling about eight guys gather on the first hole to tee off. Plus there were a number of other golfers waiting their turn who were looking on, so there was a crowd of perhaps 25 onlookers.

The first two men hit the ball pretty good. Then came the third guy in our group to tee off, I think his name was Ed. He stood over the ball preparing to hit it and everyone fell silent. You could see the concentration in his eyes as he stared down at the ball. Finally he started the club into his back swing and took a might swat at the ball. He must have hit only the very tiptop of the golf ball because the ball just trickled off the little wooden tee and rolled forward no more than about two feet.

It was as though Ed had hit the ball a mile. Though the ball was still right at his feet, he humorously stayed in this follow-through position. Everyone stayed silent. Finally I felt compelled to state the obvious, "It's not hit far, but you hit it straight." Everyone cracked up laughing, including, and perhaps especially Ed.

My father just called me to tell me that my comment was one of the high points of the day, and the next time this group goes out golfing, I have an open invitation to come along.

So apparently I'm quite a caddie, and oh and by the way; I saw an indigo bunting.  

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

A Painful Month

Marty and I ended our relationship about a month ago. Until now I have not been willing to write that in this blog. In fact, I have not felt about writing anything in over a month. In March Marty became briefly ill and one of the possible diagnoses was a fatal disease. The actual affliction turned out to be something rather benign, but any time there is talk about fatal diseases, things get a little scary. I know that it effected me, and I was to soon find out that it effected Marty too.

Before the encounter with the illness, Marty and mentioned marriage. Almost immediately after the illness he began talking about marriage much more often. I probably knew months ago that it was inevitable that Marty would insist that we get married. I guess it was about four weeks ago that he stated that he had a desire to get married and start another family (he already has a daughter from a previous marriage). To put it simply; Marty formally proposed.

I thought about it long and hard for several days but I finally said that marriage was just something I did not want right now, and the idea of having children worked to solidify that decision. It was the most difficult decision I've ever had to make. Marty took it fairly well. I was, and still am crazy for him, but we wanted different things from life. He kind of half-jokingly said that what I really want from a guy is a permanent playmate. Marty was just being facetious, but I think there is some truth to what he said. I take a fairly lighthearted approach to life and at least for now I do not want a lot of responsibilities to weigh me down.

Anyway, we knew we could not continue our relationship. It makes things somewhat less painful that neither Marty, or I, unceremoniously dumped the other. There were no other men for me, or other women for Marty. We had tender feelings for each other all the way through, and to be honest, I still feel them. I am honored that Marty would want to have me as his wife and spend his life with me. It is a wonderful thing to be wanted like that, especially when the man is someone like Marty. I do not know if we can remain close friends. At this point, I am thinking that we probably cannot, which is unfortunate but to be expected. I do know that years from now Marty and I will think fondly of each other, and the months we spent together.

Being a nature-lover, I have been fortunate that it is spring and I can enjoy the outdoors during my favorite season of the year. It helps occupy my mind and it makes the departure of Marty a little less hurtful.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

A Memorable Recovery

A few days ago Marty was given what was basically a clean bill-of-health from his doctor following a scare on his life via Lou Gehrig ’s disease. It turned out his illness was actually a poison now believed to be in some fertilizer or something used near where Marty was working.

Anyway, the next day, which was Thursday, I had all kinds of emotions rushing through me. My life suddenly felt very valuable, but yet frail. Marty was still not feeling exactly like Superman, but that evening I almost insisted that we do the deed. We had not been intimate for about a week, and with my mental state being a little wacky, I was unusually hungry for it. Marty, on the other hand, was not entirely up for it physically, so as a selling point I told him that I would do all of the work. He laughed and agreed. The encounter did not take long. I felt this unbelievable passion. It gave me a wild, uninhibited but yet warm emotional feeling. Afterwards I told Marty what I had felt. I told him that I knew I was literally making love. I then sort of snickered and added that the sex was pretty good too.

Last night Marty was feeling much better, much stronger. We did it on my sofa this time with Marty on top. After his orgasm, he laid there atop me for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes with his elbows supporting most of his weight, all the while remaining inside of me. Marty knows that I like for him to stay inside of me even when he has finished and he is losing his erection. Last night he added to that pleasure with gentle kisses laced with some very affectionate, very tender words whispered to me.

Two days and two of the most powerful, most sensual lovemaking encounters I have ever known. Don’t get me wrong; I would have preferred to not have had the scare that comes from the prospect of a fatal disease, but on the plus side; the emotional recovery has been marvelous.   

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The Power of Relief


Well, we had quite a scare, Marty and I. About ten days ago he started getting a tingling in his fingers. Within a few days there was an appreciable weakness in his hands. He went to his doctor and was referred to a neurologist. There was a preliminary test and a number of possibilities diagnoses were offered, one being amyotoophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease.  Marty described for me the neurologist visit, but he did not tell me at first of the ALS possibility. But I knew by his manner that there was something he was hiding. After a short cross-examination, he finally spilled the beans and admitted that there was some chance that it was ALS. Naturally I instantly became a babbling mess; after all, there was good reason why Marty would conceal such a thing.

After a number of various tests, it was discovered that there was some poison (they called it an “agent”) in Marty’s environment that was causing his problems. I think they came to this conclusion based on the simple fact that when Marty was away from work for four days his condition improved. I don’t know how they can tell what exactly is causing the condition, maybe they can’t. All I know is that Marty and I feel amazingly relieved, perhaps me especially. In fact, when it was officially determined that the cause of Marty’s problem was something relatively benign and not ALS, I once again became a babbling mess. At least this time it was a good babbling mess.    

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Idiocy Begins Again


I wish I knew why I like bird-watching. When I step back and think about it, it has to be the most boring activity imaginable. Looking at birds… how idiotic. And what’s worse; I've seen almost all the species I’m going to ever see, at least as far as my home turf is concerned. I guess about once a year I’ll see someone new. He’ll likely be some feathered guy intending to migrate through Pennsylvania or Ohio but thrown off course by a storm or something. Last year I saw a summer tanager. They usually do not make it this far north, but there one was; sitting on a tree branch in a woodlot. It isn’t entirely impossible that global warming is at least part of the reason for his being in the area. Climate change has done some peculiar things to nature, after all.

Anyway, the bird-watching season has officially begun, at least for me. I decided to forsake the Bruins game and instead go out with my binoculars hoping to see at least one migrated new arrival. I saw nothing spectacular but I could have sworn I heard the call of the bobwhite. I just can’t believe one would be around this early in the spring, let alone calling. But they do have a distinctive call. I chalked it up as a “maybe”.

I did see a possum rooting around in the underbrush. It is one of the uglier animals found in the wild in this area. For my money there is one animal that is more unsightly; the star-nosed mole. Yikes. Fortunately I've seen only one or two of them. 

I noticed that the Bruins won without my help. It's almost enough to make me think that my occasional shouts at the TV during games are non-factors.     

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

My Scar of Egotism


I sit here slightly annoyed. I am going to have to buy a new swimsuit. I recently had an appendectomy and the not-so-pretty pink scar is not hidden under my relatively small two-piece swimsuit. I know it is not hidden because I just checked. In time, perhaps a year or so, the scar will shrink, and although it will never completely disappear, it will become less fresh-looking. But for right now, it reminds me of a small, unsmiling upper lip attached to the right side of my abdomen. 

Anyway, I am partly annoyed because I bought the swimsuit last August, so it is really almost new, but mostly I am annoyed because it bothers me that I am so vain as to need a new swimsuit just because the old one does not hide a scar. I am 28 years-old. Maybe it is time I dismiss some of this adolescent self-absorption. If nothing else, it would save me some money.

What’s more, Marty, my boyfriend, swears he actually likes the scar. He thinks it is kind of sexy. Heck, sometimes before intimacy he will lightly, sensually stroke the pinkish raised area with his fingertips. So he is probably being truthful, at least truthful in so far as that is what he thinks about the scar. Still, I do not like the looks of it, and it is my body. 

I have not worn a one-piece bathing suit in a long time. In fact, I do not know when that time was. I must have been about 13 or 14 years-old. It might seem almost nostalgic to put one on again. Maybe the feelings of nostalgia will help hide the guilt for having misplaced feelings of vanity. Who am I kidding? No, putting on a one-piece swimsuit might seem kind of quaint, and it will definitely cover a scar, but it will not hide the totally idiotic egotism. Unfortunately, nothing can do that. 

Sunday, March 30, 2014

One Less Secret


I visited my parents earlier this week and I started talking about marriage. In the process I learned that my grandfather was once married to someone other than my grandmother. This revelation came as a mild shock. Both of those grandparents are now gone, but I knew and loved both of them, especially my grandfather who died about eight years ago, out living my grandmother by about five years.

Yesterday afternoon I stopped by my parents' house yet again and in a moment of casual conversation I confessed that the previous marriage of my grandfather came as a surprised to me. My mother calmly stated that such a thing should not come as a surprise; after all, she had once been married to someone other than my father.

For a moment I paused to evaluate what I had just heard, I then asked my mother to repeat what she had just said. As instructed, she did, the second pronouncement coming with a tiny, slightly contrite smile on her face. Then while I was still reeling from the shocking, never-before-heard news, my mom went into some detail concerning the marriage.

She was married at 19 against the wishes of just about everyone on the planet who had anything to say about it. She knew the guy for about a month and as my mom will freely admit, she had a wild crush on him. The marriage itself did not last longer. It did not make it through the third month. Apparently the marriage was annulled and in due time the whole thing was all but forgotten. My mother went back to college and within a few years she lost track of the guy. When asked why she never told me any of this, Mom kind of shrugged and said that she hardly ever thinks about it and when it comes right down to it, she really did not think it was worth mentioning. My guess is that a third factor may be that my mom finds the ordeal just a little bit embarrassing.

Now 24 hours later I have had time to make sense of it all. The two primary ingredients are; my mother is somewhat religious, and; she has a pretty healthy libido. Consequently, to scratch the itch caused by the libido (and exacerbated by this guy who was probably cute and charming), my mother felt it necessary to follow her religious beliefs and marry the fellow. Of course once the infatuation wore off, there wasn't much remaining. 

Now I am left to wonder what other secrets my mother hasn't told me. I want to ask, but then again, I'm not sure I'd have the courage.        

Thursday, March 27, 2014

The M-word



A few days ago Marty, my boyfriend, spoke the M-word. He spoke it to me. I knew it was coming, I knew it was just a matter of time. That's okay, I was ready for it so it did not shock me.

I do not think the human species was ever meant to be monogamous. Mother Nature did not make us that way. I actually want to be faithful to one partner, but then again, I don't. It's not like I am promiscuous. Every healthy human adult feels the same way. All of us have the same instinct. I want to be sexually active with other guys, but I want the warmth and reassurance of one loving, devoted man. The latter of the two options wins out, and it always will.

Still, I do not like the thought of marriage. Perhaps it isn't so much marriage, per se, but the image it conjures in my mind. I see the suburbs, the kids, and all that goes with them, which is a lot; more than I currently want, and quite possibly, more than I will ever want.

Marty just kind of mentioned it, marriage. He did not propose. It came into the conversation in this manner; "Someday we might want to think about it." I told him very gently that I've thought about marriage many times.

It's funny, a few minutes later he smiled and said something like, "There's this phrase guys use, 'why buy the cow if you are getting the milk for free'." Marty said that he does not want me to ever think that he is just getting the milk for free.

Marty can be so cute. I mean, I thought I was the one getting the milk for free.

Friday, March 21, 2014

A Not-So-Divine Website Glitch


The other day I was at Huffintonpost.com. There was a blog article about the death of Westboro Baptist Church leader Fred Phelps. If you don’t know; Westboro Baptist Church has protested other churches, funerals, etc. Most of the protesting is anti-gay in spirit. Anyway, the blog article’s author stated that people should not celebrate the death of the hateful Fred Phelps but rather use their energy to speak-out against other religious leaders who display open hatred towards gays. She named Scott Lively (http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/03/scott-lively-anti-gay-law-uganda) as just such a person.

I wrote in the comment section that directing wrath at Scott Lively and his ilk for their hatred of gays is like prosecuting the murderer but allowing the many hostile bullies to go on without confrontation. I then named the bullies; the Catholic, Mormon, and Methodist church, as well as perhaps the biggest offender; Islam.

For some reason my comment did not get posted the first time so I tried again, rewording my comment just slightly. Again it was not posted. Meanwhile other comments, poster after mine, appeared. I have posted comments at Huffingtonpost.com a few times before and never had a problem. In other words; I know the procedure. I never use foul language or sound at all threatening. So, I am left to believe that there was some sort of divine intervention preventing my comment from seeing the light of day. God did not want my comment to appear. 

When I was a little girl there was a Catholic kid, Thomas, who lived down the street. He insisted that Catholicism was the only “true religion” and that before I die I ought to join his religion if I wanted to see heaven. Maybe I should have left the Catholic Church off my list of offenders. It might have saved me fifteen minutes of pointless work, and who knows; when my life is over I might have been bestowed heaven. On the other hand, the other religions I named make pretty much the same guarantee. True to my beliefs, I'm thinking the problem was not God but rather a website glitch. Sorry about that Thomas.                 

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Upward Financial Indicators


I think my number one financial objective is to buy my own condo. Right now it is a condo rather than a house because I do not like the idea of worrying about the condition of a roof, or the siding on a house, things like that. I’m not too keen on shoveling snow either, come to think of it. I would not need a fancy condo, but I would like something half decent. My second financial objective would be to buy a new car. That is; a car with no previous owner. First, however, would be that condo.

I’m still a ways away from amassing enough money for a good down payment. In terms of time, it is still a few years away. But I have recently looked at my current finances and I’m getting closer. I’m feeling more comfortable with my money situation. In fact, I found evidence of that comfort earlier today. This morning I was standing in front of a vending machine looking at its granola bar, when a dime dropped out of my hand and onto the floor. It slid under the machine, just out of sight. I bent down looking for it and I finally saw it in the dusky shadow about eight or ten inches under the machine. I had every intention of retrieving it but then I realized that I could not get my fingers on it by just kneeling down, extending my arm and reaching for it. Going down on all-fours was required. Well, I would not do it. I was wearing clean, light-blue slacks and I decided that I did not want either the slacks, or my bare hands to touch the tile floor. Ergo I sacrificed the dime. Somebody either more desperate, more agile, or with dirty pants could claim it, I was releasing it from my possession. Believe it or not; the ten cent sacrifice did not bother me.

To be honest, forfeiting coins in such a manner is not new to me. I have not picked up a penny off the ground since high school. I was once told that, on average, the time and energy required for a human being to pick up a penny cost more than one cent. Therefore retrieving a penny from the ground was an ill-advised venture. About a year ago for the first time in my life I intentionally failed to reacquire a dropped nickel. To be honest, the situation had a lot to do with it. The nickel fell out of a pocket in a women’s restroom stall and came to rest alongside the toilet. I decided I did not really need that specific nickel. However that decision seemed to initiate something of a habit. Since that first deserted nickel, there have been perhaps four or five that I have sacrificed to either a floor, the earth’s soil, or some form of outdoor pavement. The common factor in the later lost nickels is that I was both walking, or in one case jogging, and in a hurry.

Three years ago my financial situation pretty much demanded that I repossess all of my wayward coins except for pennies. But that is not so true anymore simply because things have improved on the economic front. The reality is; I can almost see that condo… well, at least the front door.          

Friday, March 14, 2014

Not Quite All Is Lost



Yesterday I saw a movie from last year; All Is Lost. To sum it up as simply as possible; it’s about a guy who sails his small boat out into the ocean and finds trouble. The only actor in the movie is Robert Redford. Robert Redford is something like 75 years old. About forty years ago my mother had a crush on him. She has freely admitted this enamoration a couple of times over the years. Forty years ago my mother was 20 and Redford was in his mid-30s. It makes me think that there could be something hereditary about my appreciation of older guys.

Anyway, in the movie All Is Lost, Redford says nary a word of dialogue. I think his one brief line is when he speaks over the microphone of a malfunctioning radio. Through all the things that go wrong on his voyage, and the few things that go right, he doesn’t utter a syllable. I found this strangely unrealistic. When I am alone I am constantly talking to myself. In fact, come summer time, I either have to forgo the self-chatter, or make sure the windows are closed because anyone hearing me would think I was crazy.

When something goes wrong I will often insult myself or call myself some name. Many times the name comes from my childhood. I could use “birdbrain” or “dumbbell”. Sometimes some long-forgotten derisive label will pop out of my mouth and I’ll get a chuckle just hearing it again.

When things go right I will sometimes compliment myself, give myself positive reinforcement. If it’s a day when I am really into talking to myself, I’ll compliment myself for almost anything. About an hour ago I gave myself a manicure. I did a nice job on my nails and I cheerfully told myself as much, right out loud. I could have given some lessons to the Redford character. Not only could it have helped him psychologically, but who knows, it might have made for a better movie.           

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Remembered Fondly, If Not Quite Accurately


I got excited and wanted to write about this at noon today but I just could not find the time, so I’m going to quickly write about it now…

There was a visitor at my workplace this morning who recognized me. He asked me if my name was Katie and with surprise on my face, I told him it was. For the next few seconds I was left to guess who he was. I thought the guy looked familiar, but I could not come close to coming up with a name. He finally told me his name is Eddie. It turned out he was a fellow schoolmate of mine when we were kids, though technically I don’t know if we ever had a class together.

He told me that he remembered me for one specific reason. It seemed that when we were about 13 years old we both went to the same dance that was being held in a church auditorium or reception hall. While at the dance Eddie asked some girl to dance and she rejected him, in Eddie’s words, “emphatically”. I can’t remember now the exact phrase Eddie said the girl used to refuse his offer to dance but it went something like, “Wooo you’re gross, get away! Get away!” Eddie was smiling and shaking his head as he recalled. I found the recollection, given the way Eddie told it, mostly funny, but in a painful sort of way.

Eddie told me that he was just a kid and was crushed by the girl’s harsh rejection. He sort of chuckled and said that he was almost in tears. But according to Eddie, a few minutes later I asked him to dance and instantly he felt better. Eddie said that he had always believed that I overheard what had happened between him and the other girl, and my asking him to dance was an act of amazing kindness.

I told Eddie that I remember going to a dance or two in a church back in those days but I could not remember asking him, or anyone, to dance. I kind of smiled as I said that in all likelihood I had not overheard the rejection he remembers so well, and when I asked him to dance it was probably for selfish reasons such as; I wanted to dance.  

Eddie grinned and said that he would have to give it some thought, but that he was probably going to continue to believe that 15 years ago the 13 year-old Katie was so humane and sympathetic that she felt compelled to ask a forlorn 13 year-old boy to dance. I have given this whole thing a few hours of thought and I have decided that if he wants to remember it that way, I have no objections.          

Friday, March 7, 2014

Home Alone



This is a rare Friday night in that I will be home alone. Marty is going to a guy-only party. He says the festivities will go late and he’ll just head to his apartment when it is over and that he’ll see me tomorrow. I am full grown (pretty much, anyhow), and I spend a few days a week by myself anyway, but it has been several months since I have been alone the entire Friday evening.

It’s just after 6PM as I write this and hopefully I will be leaving to go to the fitness center by 6:30. I haven’t gone to the fitness center on a Friday in a long while. I’ll get in a good aerobic exercise and then I won’t feel guilty when I have some less than healthy food while I watch TV. I might watch the Celtic game, but I’m kind of leaning to taking in the movie Eat Drink Man Woman on TCM at 8 o’clock.

Later I’m going to have to get back on the Net and visit a few sites such as Massbird.org to see if there have been any bird sightings of significance in the immediate area. I won’t go clear across the state, but I’ll travel a couple of miles for the chance of seeing some unusual bird. So that could be on the agenda for tomorrow.

Marty has an opened bottle of scotch liquor over here at my apartment. I might partake in a sip this evening, if the mood strikes me. In about a forty-five minutes I’ll be earning that sip; I’ll be puffing away on an elliptical, my face flush and shiny with perspiration.