It Gets Longer

So, this guy goes out to a bar one night.

Not his usual thing.

He’s not the type.

But it was a holiday weekend.

He’s standing in the corner, trying his best to blend in.

Even so, he’s getting eye-balled by another guy.

The other guy is not the bar type either.

But for some reason, there they both are.

Although neither for very long.

They leave.

Together.

Which led to a hot tub.

And pancakes.

But nothing more.

Because the one guy isn’t big on one night stands.

Actually neither is the other.

They both prefer a little longer investment.

And now, eight Good Fridays later, The Painter and The Attorney have six-and-a-half years in the bank.

You know if you treat six-and-a-half right it gets longer.

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Hanging On

Hopefully you haven’t forgotten about me or written me off.

Actually, I’m sure that several of you have not, based on all the e-mails, messages, and tweets asking about me and Granny and The Attorney.

I really appreciate the concern.

We’re all doing OK.

Along with the general issues of being 95, Granny has suffered through several weeks of shingles, but it seems to be behind us now.

I got so focused on her care that I pretty much let everything else go.

My blog, my twitter, my friends, my Attorney.

He has been understandably frustrated, but still very understanding.

Hopefully my allowing things to go fallow will only result in the fertility that it should.

On my blog, my twitter, my friends.

And especially my Attorney.

It may take me a bit to get everything up to speed again, but I’m ready to open the throttle.

Stick around for the ride!

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Original Christmas

It was a different kind of Christmas here, west of Mayberry.

Different from my previous 36 Christmases, anyway.

But I think it was more like the original one.

The one over 2000 years ago.

Very simple.

Granny has not been doing well in recent weeks.

And to be honest I think it may be close to the end.

We can’t find anything specifically wrong with her.

At least nothing new.

But she tires a lot more easily. Sleeps much more. And just seems to be emotionally checked out most if the time.

I wish I old chalk it up to some sort of seasonal disorder but for the most part it’s been unseasonably good weather.

There was no big meal or fuss about Christmas this year. No rum cake. Or fretting about presents.

I did put a little tree in Granny’s room and last night read her St. Luke’s chapters on the nativity before she went to bed last night.

She seemed to enjoy that.

Other than that, the holiday was barely on her radar.

And I did not need to go through a big to-do for myself.

The Attorney came up late this evening, after a day at his mother’s, bringing us a couple of plates from their holiday meal.

He’s still here now, sharing the sofa and reading a book on Jefferson I gave him as a present.

This is really enough Christmas for me.

Hope all of you enjoyed yours as well.

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Feel It

I’m just not feeling it.

Christmas.

It dawned on me today that it’s only three weeks away.

And all I feel is sick of it.

Especially since Thanksgiving this year basically became Black Friday Eve.

Now, I’m not a particularly religious person.  But, sweet baby Jesus, why don’t we just stop pretending that Christmas really has much to do with the birth of Christ anymore.

Or better yet, return Christmas to a one-day celebration of his birth, and call the four weeks between it and Thanksgiving something else.

Maybe Capitalmas.  Or Retailfest.

Or how about Cashover?

As in “hand your cash over.”

One of my favorite things about the holiday has always been the tree.

From picking it out to chopping it down to decorating it.

So, on Saturday, The Attorney and I went to a farm to cut one for my house. 1

We left empty-handed.

Because I just felt so aggravated by it all.

I’m not a Scrooge.  I’m not looking at Christmas as just another day.

Actually I see it as a special day.

But, one that has lost all it’s specialness.

Because the day has become a month.

Or more.

So, I’ve decided I not going to even acknowledge it until around the 18th.

No tree.  No rum cakes.  No shopping.

Because the rest of December are just any other day.

At least, that’s how I feel.

 

  1. The one at his house is so tall that he goes artificial.  Plus, live needles send his OCD through the roof. ↩

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Term of Endowment

I love words.

One of the things that bones me about The Attorney is his insane vocabulary.

A simple game of Scrabble with him is like an Honors English class or something.

As I have mentioned before, I also love to look at my blog stats for search words people used to get here.

So, it’s a bonus when I learn a new word from search terms.

Like this one that popped up over the weekend.

cudgel [kuhj-uh l]

noun
1. a short, thick stick used as a weapon; club.

Thick? Yes.

Weapon? Maybe.

Short?

Not so much.

Now that I’ve learned it, I need to use it on The Attorney.

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Tumescently Speaking

I don’t have words…

Because I can’t speak.

Not with my mouth.

My brain has re-routed all signals elsewhere.

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Christmas With A T by Me

Looking for fun and inexpensive gifts and stocking-stuffers for friends, co-workers, and maybe even a relative? 1

Why not think about a selection or two from LT-Shirt Company, my little online shop of funny, flirty, and sometimes dirty graphic tees.

If not for someone else, then treat yourself.

Here’s just a sample of the more than 50 original designs.

See more at ltshirtco.com

If you like what you see, please share this post.

  1. probably not your mom, though. ↩

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Don’t Ask, Don’t Swell

This was apparently shot before the military enacted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Stare”

Not sure whether it’s Envy or Greed, but I figure the enlistee is committing at least one of the Seven Deadly Sins at this moment.

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Team Mates

Although not often, I’ve definitely used the term “boyfriend” in reference to The Attorney before.

In fact, I remember the first time I accidentally said it out loud.

But that was when things were still very new between us.

The reason I don’t use it much now is because “boyfriends” always makes me think of fresh-faced twenty-somethings.

At 37 and 52, we are a far cry from those days.

Even though we have become as routine as an old married couple, I can’t really say “husband.”

I don’t see a ring on my finger.

Nor do we share a home, vehicles, bank accounts, etc.

Plus, this is Tennessee.  Birthplace of the Tea Party.  1

“Sidekick” implies that one is in charge of the other.

We both have alpha tendencies, depending on the time, place, or activity.

So that’s probably why I mostly use the word “partner.”

It’s the best fit for us.

Because good partnerships balance each other’s strengths and weaknesses toward a better whole.

And in that regard, we make a pretty good team.

Which is pretty much what makes any sort of relationship a success:

Teamwork.

Maybe the right word is “teammate.”

I kinda like that image.

  1. Not the tea dance. ↩

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Unintentional Discharge

No doubt that the photographer intends this to be a hot image of an equally hot slab of black man, but every time I look at it, all I can think is “Wow.  That has got to be the most explosive enema discharge ever.”

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