Ever had a song just pop in your head when your heart feels a twinge?
I think I feel in music instead of words.
I posted earlier today that some doctor’s appointments had me concerned.
Today the first of some relatively positive news, nothing untoward came up on the lab work…per se.
Because of some abdominal surgery, I now have to be even more careful about what I eat; extremely healthy and smaller spaced out meals. No problem really. It’s still nerve wracking to know some organs are expressing mild discontent over their new configuration…but it’s manageable.
The MRI, still required. Dang. I thought I was getting off lucky.
This is my hand stealing a cherry off this cake my wife made. Dee-lish-uss!
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the doctor and yesterday I got the letter containing the date of my MRI appointment.
Back to reality.
My general practitioner is a great woman – excellent bedside manner, efficient and takes my concerns seriously. I still worry about what the labwork says that she wants to talk about.
I still worry the bone in my foot is not healing properly/quickly enough. I’m reconciling that one of the meds is getting a dose increase.
There is still pain, lots of pain, my feet, knees and back.
My upper body strength has increased exponentially in 3 months, I can get myself up using my arms and hands no problem, and I’m not a waif by any stretch at 5’10 with a tummy.
All these restrictions and painful reminders…down goes my mood, the ever-present depression swoops in like a bird of prey, taking the opportunity of my moment of emotional weakness.
Ah well…we’ll see tomorrow I guess.
My wife loves mutant planet on Discovery science channel.
I love it too. But not to the same extent. I also hate our PVR now, or Tivo or whatever you call it where you are. Why do I hate it?
Because every time I”m doing something in the livingroom, B says, Ciaran! Ciaran! Wait, you have to look at this. She pauses mutant planet, too far back, too far ahead then too far back again. Lookit that, the snake! the snail! How that monkey has crazy feet or this frog attacked a fish.
I love my wife, very much. Though sometimes, I just want to sit in the same room and play video games or write or check my social networking pages.
Damn you mutant planet!
She cries when cute animals get hurt and then I feel bad for saying ‘hey, leave me alone.’
Given, I only do that after the 9th time in an hour when she’s taped 3 or 4 episodes and watches them back to back in an evening.
I’m soft hearted that way.
So I say again, damn you technology for never letting me get a moment’s peace when mutant planet is on.
p.s we can’t watch mutant planet Australia anymore because *spoiler alert* a kangaroo died.
see what you did mutant planet? see what you did?
I took B out for dinner this evening. It had been a while since we had some time just to ourselves and some money that wasn’t going for prescriptions or what have you.
Alone in the sunroom section of the restaurant as the warm afternoon light changed to evening, we laughed and smiled and enjoyed our time alone…then somehow got to talking about the nature of her femme-ness and my butch-ness if you will.
Of the B/F couples we know, we thought of who we knew where butch spouses were in any way more dominant or “in charge” or assertive than the femme in the relationship and the femme was more submissive.
This included our own relationship.
“I have a hard time to even think of one,” she said with a giggle.
It’s true, I’m pretty quiet for the most part, spare with my spoken words, kinda shy. But not only that, I don’t seem to feel the need to be aggressive. Like most of us, if I’m disrespected, sure, I’ll call you on your shit, but for the most part, I’m easygoing.
A lot of my friends/acquaintances are the same, their partners were often the pursuers.
“I think it’s because we’re more shy maybe…”
“Or angry,” replied B with a laugh.
“Or shy and angry,” I said., “Why do you think that is?”
Her hypothesis: butch scarcity requiring femmes to work.
“I think it’s because butch women are pretty scarce. And a single butch is even more rare. You have to jump on one in the 5 minutes they’re single or else…it’s like a black Friday sale at Wal-mart.”
This comment made me almost choke on my drink from laughter.
Apparently because femmes have to fight for the scarce number of butches that exist. So if you’re gonna bag yourslf a butch, it’s survival of the fittest baby.
What do you think?
Do femmes secretly run the show? Do butches? What’s your experience?