Brett seems convinced that we’ve never before done what we did last night, which was go to bed for the purpose of Doing It, and then not Do It.
It’s not that we didn’t do anything, it’s just that we never got around to Doing It. Am I making myself clear? WE GOT DISTRACTED.
ALONG THE WAY. As it were.
After some cuddling and rearranging of bedding, during which my beloved offered to buy me dinner in any nearby town of my choice, we got dressed. And Brett said, “I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”
“What?” I asked. (I was, of course, fairly certain that all of it had happened before. Unless something spectacular had happened to him that I’d failed to notice, which was unlikely considering where my head had been at the time.)
“That we came up here to have sex and we didn’t.”
“Ah,” I said, finally tracking. “You mean intercourse.” (I even twitched my fingers on either side of the word, like quotemarks, because while it’s a fine word for your doctor you just can’t say “intercourse” seriously in front of someone who just put his–well. Anyway. Slang is just so much earthier.)
“Well, yeah. But I don’t think we’ve ever done just that before. Well, unless we had to.”
“Dude, we’ve been together for six years!” I exclaimed. “There’s simply NO WAY we’ve never done just that before. None.”
He shrugged.
I thought about it. “But, but – really? Do you honestly think we’ve never done just that before?”
He didn’t think we’d ever done just that before. You know, unless we had to.
While driving to town to get drive-thru – since it was well past nine and I was starving – I thought as furiously as I could but had to admit defeat when I realized that I couldn’t remember a single time we’d ever gone to bed and “just,” you know, didn’t manage to at least nod in the general direction of the Main Event, either.
I just don’t see how this is even POSSIBLE! We’ve been getting naked together for Over. Seven. Years! How could it be that we never had such an interlude before? Didn’t we date, back at the beginning? HOW CAN THIS EVEN BE POSSIBLE?!?!
Now I wish I’d blogged more about my sex life, so I could look it up and say, “Look, we spent weeks on this back in 2002!” and feel relieved. I’m totally freaked out. I mean, what if we’re running some kind of oral-only deficit, and it all comes due at once?!??
My God, I’m cheese puff. Weirdly accurate, this Snack Food Chinese Zodiac.
CD Pre-Release:
“Please join Jonas Magram, Greg Wadsworth, Kevin Farley, George Foster, Tim Britton, Givan Tichy, and Michelle Mook for the CD Pre-Release party for Shirdibhai and Seventh Ray’s ‘Dancing in the Light.’
“The show is this Saturday night, April 30, 8:00 p.m. at Cafe Paradiso.
“The party will include a single-set performance of our about-to-be-released CD, including all original songs.
“Proceeds from the requested $7.00 door charge will benefit the Women and Children’s Crisis Center of Ottumwa.”
I managed to underdress rather spectacularly today, don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve got a long-sleeved top on, but Birks with no socks. It’s raining and overcast and cold out. I had to bring a sweater in from the Jeep to wrap my feet up in under my desk.
I went to J’s house today at 12:30 for a band photo. It’ll run in the Fairfield Weekly Reader on Thursday to announce our gig at Cafe Paradiso this Saturday. (Yes, I’m playing a coffee shop. I mean, it’s appropriate for the material – ain’t no loud blues gig, this.) I guess we’re rehearsing Thursday night. The whole band has literally never played together before; I met the violinist for the first time today.
J still wants to re-record one of the songs, and is bordering on miserable that an album recorded for less than a grand has flaws on it. He seems particularly depressed with his own singing, which is More. Than. Perfectly. Adequate. He mentioned something about wishing this project measured up to what it would be if he’d spent four months and twenty-five thousand dollars on it! G told him to revise his standards downward from ‘perfect’ to something more mundane like merely ‘excellent,’ and K told him that even bands who can afford multi-tracking often choose to record live in the studio, sacrificing the ability to punch in for the synergy of actually playing together. I told J he’s totally vata-deranged.
So I’ll be doing my first bona fide roo gig on Saturday: singing Western bhajans in a smoke-free, booze-free coffee shop. My God, I’ve turned into TSR!
I’m actually excited; it’ll be fun. But one must endeavor to engage in a healthy amount of self-mockery, eh?
Local jargon file is here.
Right now, I am not doing the following:
– sweeping the stairs
– making the bed
– putting away that massive pile of clean & folded laundry
– tidying the LR
– vacuuming the LR
– dusting the LR
– tidying the rest of the house
– doing the dishes
– going to the bank
– sweeping the entryway
– washing the throw rugs that are all utterly laden with mud from the recent wet spring weather
– cleaning the toilets
I will get most if not all of this done today, natch, but not until the last goddamn minute. I think I need to re-read that Flylady book or something (too bad Anna’s got my copy and hasn’t spoken to me in a year). I’ve developed all these bad housekeeping habits!
For instance, it’s noon and while I am dressed I haven’t brushed my hair. I have dishes soaking in the sink because I started them and then just wandered off. I’ve got piles of clean laundry all over the laundry room, and it would take all of five minutes to put it all away, but I just keep walking past it.
Weird life discovery: it’s so much harder to do routine, boring, mindless work with a good attitude than it is to do actual rocket science! Seriously. Making yourself do the endless routine crap of life with an attitude of service and gratitude is the hardest thing there is to do; the monkey mind provides all these distractions and excuses… It really is easier just to do what needs to be done, but getting to THAT reality is a never-ending lesson! I learn it and then forget it, learn it and forget it, learn it and forget it… I’m beginning to suspect I’m really not all that damned intelligent.
Except I have managed to talk myself out of resisting my chores! (Maybe I’m not so ignorant after all.) I’m off to breeze through my to-do list; then I’ll get back on the goblinbox again later, GUILT FREE.
This is my favorite chai recipe. I adapted it from my one of my favorite cookbooks ever, Extending The Table.
Spiced Tea (Nepal)
3 T. black tea leaves or 3 tea bags
3 c. water
2 c. milk
4-5 whole cloves
5-6 cardamom pods, cracked open, or 1/2 t. ground cardamom
1 cinnamon stick, or 1/4 t. ground cinnamon
sugar to taste (1/4 c., more or less)
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I get the impression my dad’s bored to death. He’s already fixed a pair of Apple headphones, the Xbox, and the old (non-slim) PS2. He even took a look at Bucket’s unressurectable digital camera.
Friday night he wanted to do something and offered to take us out to dinner. We took him to Mt. Hamill. He wondered why anyone would drive forty minutes for fried chicken… until he had some. He loved the chicken – even bought a whole one to go after we finished eating! It was a total riot. He wants to go back. (Having a trendy eating disorder myself, I eschewed the chicken and had several cocktails with my salad bar. It’s my opinion that chickens are too fucking stupid to eat anyway.)
Saturday I took dear ol’ bored dad into town with me when I went to buy some yarn. We went to the At Home Store and Wal-mart. (I bought yarn to make another pair of Fuzzyfeet and was looking for some Bernat Softee Baby for some volunteer ICU knitting I’m going to be doing, but they only had one skein.) (Look, I even posted this on Iowa Chicks Knitting so it’s legit – I’m knitting stuff, goddamnit!!!)
We visited Revelations so dad could get some used books – naturally he bitched about the prices, as if I could do anything about it, but that’s just how he is. Snort!
I took a nice nap Saturday afternoon, then got up and went to my satsang’s Tsunami fundraiser/auction dinner, where I gorged on yummy Indian food and hugged lots of people. I sat with Greg to eat, since he’d gotten up and lost his chair where his kids were and Christina was in seva mode so he had no date. He told me about his recent Mexico City trip and was a wonderful dinner companion. After eating I did some late-comer serving in the kitchen and a little cleaning up; then I sat and chatted with Puffer and Rosie for quite awhile. (Puffer was in a fabulous lime green jacket of wide cord, with matching jeans. Kids love him because he’s so brightly dressed all the time; it’s a riot.) The was so much food left over that Vaju made me take a plate home “for my husband,” but I ate it for lunch today because Brett doesn’t actually like Indian food.
Tahmi was supposed to be my auction dinner date, but she’s been felled by the flu or something. She sounded like hell when she called me yesteday, the poor dear.
I stopped by The Dew Drop on my way home to collect my dad’s reading glasses – he’d left them there the night before. When I got home, my beloved was miraculously still awake. So. Well. *giggle* Suffice it to say I didn’t get to sleep for awhile!
…actually, I didn’t make it to sleep at all. After an hour of listening to his deep and restful breathing I gave in and got up. I read for awhile, got on the computer, and in general futzed around until I was finally sleepy. (I’d had two cups of chai at the dinner – my first caffeine in over a week – so it was my own damn fault I didn’t get to sleep until three. Hurumph.)
Today I slept way the hell in, then woke up and got preemie booties and Fuzzyfeet on some knitting needles, and then rode with my dad and Brett to town on Brett’s errands.
Now I’m just avoiding folding laundry and finishing the dishes by blogging. I remember telling someone yesterday, “I’m so blogging about this!” but now I don’t remember what “this” was. Snort!
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4 random books from my Library!
