One More Thingy

The Movers came, removing my little load of crap…quickly…efficiently…(hey, I paid a dollar and a quarter for it to be so) and at 10:30am, James and I are standing in the kitchen of our home (OUR home!) – the Nook, as we affectionately call the place…our place – looking at each other, saying nearly in tandem, “well, that was quick!”

Gone are…

• The noisy tourists
• The bagel carts
• The homeless ‘family’ living under the eaves of a marble building
• The early morning puke-piss-mold trifecta of odors (as a commuter, it’s only temporary)

AND…languishing in bed ‘til nearly 7am (ugh! I miss that)

Later that evening after I’d done some box shuffling (and unsuccessfully attempted to coax my traumatized cat into at least drinking some water) and although I’d been a part of the Nook since James moved in, in mid-May, the romantic kinda guy he is, he’d planned a ‘welcome home’ private soiree for us which included an excellent bottle of champagne and a delicious strawberry/pear/goat cheese hors d’oeuvre. MMMMM…the man does know how to treat me right! But, NO! It doesn’t stop there! (how’d I get so lucky?)

James had made reservations for later that evening at this little Greek restaurant within walking distance of our place. So, after we finished the bottle of bubbly (and feeling about the same), we strolled over to the bustling eatery. We’d arrived late and waited at the bar, checking out the entrees as the smiling wait-staff passed by us.

Even though we were both stuffed after an evening of way too many treats, the sex we had was for the first time, in OUR bed…as partners…friends…lovers.

And now, I live in Westchester County.

Ovah Heah, Yo!

Inspiration…that tumbling thought process which from time to time seems to evade me. Even though I make mental notes of the standard weird shit I see in Midtown whilst (whilst??? WTF??? Where’d that come from? Ehhhh…whatevah!) glomping (okay, another Glo-ism) along the chaotic streets, olfactory senses working overtime with the combined odors of puke, piss and mold…"ewwwww, yeah, what’s up with that?" or…"Yeah, that’d make a cool commentary"…I don’t write about it. And frankly, although I typically think of some sort of ‘on the spot’ clever theme (which I’ll promptly forget as soon as I hit my office or home), I’ve been other-directed recently. Trust me though, I am part of a daily parade of veritable random people and situations. Some are unexpected but generally, most are tragic. Right now, I have more on my mind.

In a more singular effort to move my load of crap to Westchester County, I’m living in Box Hell! I even have nightmares about boxes…and packing.

I hear a distant rustle…then hushed voices…

“No, I’m first and have got this business all wrapped up.”

“What business? You’re just a wad of recycled god-knows-what, beaten to a pulp then smeared over with some black goo.”

“Yeah, well…whatever…without me, all this shit would be in a jumble and, probably all broken by the time it arrived.”

“Yeah, well, so? You’d just be hangin’ around cuz you know when the moving guys come, they’re not going to shuffle a bunch of paper around. It’s gotta be contained!”

MeoWWW!

It’s my cat…reality…I’m suddenly awake. Boxes surround me in my now cave-like, Spartan bedroom…I fall back to sleep thinking about Uhuru and the transporter…

Beam me up!

Other Avenues

Yikes! ‘been a while since I’ve written…ehhh…life’s like that sometimes as I’ve often mentioned. Tenuous Time and all (hey, can I get a hollah out for alliteration?)…NNN EEE WAYZZZ…yeah, I’ve been in the packing-up-my-shit mode and you’d think since my Pops was a career Military serviceman, I’d be used to throwing my little load of crap in boxes but, I’m finding in this half of my life whenever I actually do get settled into a place, I’m less animated at the thought of packing and moving yet again. It’s either that or I’m allergic to dust. Which would make me feel emotionally ‘better’…okay, whatever…here’s my thingy…

I never think about my 'stuff' that much...I mean, it's just stuff! I see it, it's there, it takes up space, etc, etc. I tend to enjoy my glob of zu-zus and wham-whams but having to pack and really consider whether or not some of this stuff is all that important to me, I'm throwing a lot of crap out and wondering why I held onto it for so long - and for what purpose! It IS a process and just something I need to do if I'm gonna get from point A to point B. Maybe it’s the trauma/stress of going through this exercise or else inhaling dust bunnies while I'm doing this but, it's been fucking tiresome and I find I can only pack a box a day. At this rate, I’ll likely be moved by the beginning of the next millennium. Unfortunately, that’s not November 12th and, I do need to be prepared for the move at that time. Well, I’ll be physically prepared anywayz…the mental part will just have to catch up.

And so this morning, I traced one of the same routes I tend to take on my way to work but, viewed my surroundings differently: watching empty cigarette packages and old newspapers blow around only 10 more trips in this direction until the course changes.

Turning

Life can be truly suck-full and, for a really long time. But, when events suddenly make me smile and forget about the skin-crawling weird shit that happens from time to time in this 'ere gals life, I know I'm at the right place, at the right time. Well, that’s my take…NNNN EEE WAYZZZZ…

Choogling along on my scoot in Western Mass a couple of weekends ago, watching James just ahead of me on his bike, swooping in and out of curves, we were out on the back roads in farm country, returning from a romantic weekend in Northampton. The leaves hadn’t quite realized it’s Fall just yet but still, what a weekend! Apple Cider ice cream (rocks!)…Doves…abandoning myself to dance…the weather was exceptionally beautiful. Earlier, we’d strolled through a small, local park, first playing a round of mini-golf, then lazily meandering, we passed a picture-perfect wedding scene – 6 bridesmaids in scarlet satin – and wandering along, feeding the ducks in a small stream, saw a lone, blue-gray heron startle the fat ducks. Seeing the big, gray bird this far inland was like spotting Paris Hilton at a Kmart.

Okay, yea…this sounds all duckies and bunnies, eh? Well, it is…and speaking of…to top off the day (in more ways than one…heh, heh), James had arranged a couple of nights for us at this cute little Beatrix Potter-like B&B. Surrounded by granny quilts and tied to a four-poster, James teasing my ass with his nice, fat cock, ah yes, a romantic New England weekend.

Yep…right place at the right time!

Solar Return

Hmmm...don't feel older than I was yesterday but, holy shit, here it is another year, another birthday kinda day...

"Selfish is not a bad word -- sometimes in life you have to protect yourself." Or so goes the Quickie version of my horoscope today. Yea, well, I've never been known for my self-sacrificing tendencies. Life's too short to be in a lot of pain, either physically or, mentally.

And speaking of Quickie...looks like James will be there to service my needs before we head out to dinner tonight...Ehhhh...I know I haven't 'gone there' lately with the whole sex thing. Am I getting bored? Hells NO! Is it as intense as it was nearly a year ago? Hells YES! James is a man who considers...everything! This is not a man who likes to do things 'on the fly'. Which is a good thing although sometimes, can be a bit tedious. I mean, how thought provoking is burger making? Trust me...it's been carefully examined and critiqued by the man I love.

Jeezzzz...wonder what he's documented about me in the sack! Ehhh...guess I'll find out what he's been 'considering'.