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Archive for October, 2010

Have you ever found yourself in a rut? I feel like I’m in one of those right now. My life seems as predictable as a place setting, knife and spoon on the right, two forks and a napkin on the left. Yesterday I actually watched paint dry.

Maybe it’s the diminishing light of the season, or maybe my little fellas just aren’t swimming with the same attitude these days, who knows. I took a test on the AARP website the other day; well I didn’t actually take the test, men never take these tests, they review the questions. I hate these things, I never know if I’m really having that particular symptom, or it was just an isolated incident and I’m reading more into it. Anyway according to the quiz it was determined that it could be one of three things, and since I don’t appear to be suffering from vaginal dryness, low estrogen does not seem to be my problem. Whew… thank G-D for that.

That reduces the list to two possibilities; let’s see it’s mid October, daylight savings time is two weeks away; my first inclination, fueled by an ego the size of a double door freezer, is to blame it on the sun or lack of it. The mere thought of it being the ‘other’ thing is just too…. well you know. But it got me to thinking, if what women say is true; that men let their dicks do their thinking for them, I thought I would ask my guy what he thought, but the lazy bastard was sleeping!

I think the real problem is the CPAP machine. It just takes the spontaneity out of the bedroom. I feel like I need to have an appointment to make love to my wife. With hoses running here, and fans blowing cold air there, I’ve found my romantic intentions are best received if they’re intimated before the head gear is donned. They didn’t put that in the instructional video. I always thought I was a pretty good lover, name me one man who doesn’t… okay maybe Woody Allen. But given the choice between breathing through the night and making love, I would have thought… Great!… now that sleepy bastard has an opinion.

 

Do as we say.

 

Never mind I’ll get through this; come November 7 with the arrival of daylights savings, things will have a bit more light shed on them, maybe a little note on her pillow, if all else fails I’ll hide her frickin head gear, or better yet maybe I’ll offer it in trade.

Talk to you later.

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I woke up to a new sound in the house this morning. It started out as a faint whine from the hall, slowly developing into something a bit louder. It took my brain a minute to catalog and identify it. It reminded me of when I was working at DIA and they would fire up the turbines on a 747 before backing out. For a minute there I thought maybe the Jet Propulsion Labs and Morton Thiokol had opted to set up a covert rocket test facility next door. After a brief moment of farcical supposition, that idea was jettison as reality came calling.

Furnace… yeah… it’s the new furnace; with cobwebs still clinging to my cerebral cortex, I fought to make sense of the unfamiliar sound. There’s the problem, set to revive the house from it’s night time coma to a tepid 68 degrees, our New ComfortSense™ 7000 Series Thermosat is fucking with my head. As pathetic as our old furnace was it never sounded like that, with it’s state of the art 1950’s technology, Ike Eisenhower probably had one of these babies in his house. This very furnace witnessed Richard Nixon swear that he was never a crook, and Clinton pondering the meaning of the word is. Like saying good bye to an old friend, I’ll miss the old guy and the way the burner lit off, the quaint little click as the gas valve opened, and the momentary delayed ignition as you waited for enough fuel to fill the combustion chamber. It wasn’t really what I would call a light off, more of a poof off. I have a difficult time letting the familiar things in my life go.

 

Our new look out to the world.

 

With a clean set of ducts, a new furnace, a new bay window in the living room, and triple pane windows throughout, we’re ready for winter. I’ll miss the gentle wafting of the curtains in the bedroom, and the 1/2 inch of ice that would build up on the single pane window in the kitchen. Where am I going to make those little elf foot prints now? Over the last couple of months my wife has been spending cash on the house, as if she was printing it in the basement… unfortunately we have no basement. I’ve been reading the local newspaper, scanning the police blotter to see if there’s be a rash of bank heists. Nothing… well nothing matching her general description; 50 something woman, wearing bifocals, a purple spandex bike unitard,  gray crew neck tee with pit stains, cleated bike shoes, and head phones plugged into an I-Pod. She would be demanding cash with a canvas Whole Foods shopping bag in one hand, and threating the cashier with a water bottle in the other.

Let me know if…. never mind…. I’d rather not know how she did it.

Talk to you later.

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There’s been an Alabaster Elephant lurking in my home lately. It’s probably been here for years, hiding behind three kids, two dogs, and a wish list of domestic trimmings. Now that the kids have moved out, the windows have been replaced, and a new furnace is due to be installed next week, it’s getting harder to mask it’s presence. I’ve seen him peeking out from behind our worn out couch from time to time, at night it’s been known to nestle down in between us, I hear it sigh, as if it has something on it’s mind. I’ve tried pretending that it’s not there, hoping it will go away, but it remains, that’s the nature of an Alabaster Elephant in your living room.

 

The Alabaster Elephant.

 

Evidence. Green smoothies on the shelf in the refrigerator, flax seed powder in my coffee grinder, books covering topics that range from; dental health, to mental health, and how to live like your fifty when your eighty, have been showing up on the hearth for a while now.  They all appeared about the same time I started noticing the vestiges of my ten ton pachyderm. Yesterday or the day before I received notice in the car, “things are going to change”, at first it sounded like a threat. Twenty five years ago I would have taken it as such, ego bruised, chest puffed up, I would have stopped the car, got out and walked home. Times have changed, I wasn’t driving, it was in a crappy part of town, and it would have been a long walk home, she must have been right. No threat. No discussion. With a face of determination at the wheel it was a long silent ride to our final destination, and I wasn’t driving.

Change. I’ve always had a problem with change, unpredictable things always happen whenever you screw around with the status quo. I’m worried that this is going to be more than a couple of tweaks here and a turn of the knob there. Who knows what we could end up with? A crisp mind, better teeth, the libido of a fifty year old in the body of an eighty year old man, some of it sounds criminal, who wants to wake up next to Jack Lalanne or Benny Hill in the morning, Sean Connery maybe. I think we, my wife and I, have gotten out of practice of being together, alone together. I don’t mean rumpy-pumpy, or Geographic Twister; with my right hand placed gently on the tip of Venezuela, and my left cupping Barbados, stuff. That stuff still seems good, I think… I… I better check.

It’s the sitting in the living room, the clock tick tocking on the wall, while we read, the quietness of it screams out. I think we’ve forgotten the art of conversation and listening. We used to do it, while walking through the park, or roller skating through the cemetery, talking about plans for a family, dream homes, and a life together. Some of those came true, okay the dream home still needs some work, it’s those things looming in the shadows that neither of us can make out, that are unsettling. I think it’s the life together part that has my wife concerned, witnessing the steady decline of her parents has put her life in perspective, and placed me in the gun sites.

So things do need to change, I can see that. It’ll be good. Jack Lalanne eat your heart out. Let’s  see, it’s my spin… Where the heck is her Netherlands!

Talk to you later.

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