“OMG! Your hair, what happened to it?”
He rubbed his gleaming cranium and said, “I decided to take it all off for the summer. You like?”
“No. I don’t like. You look like a buttered bean. What did you do, polish it?”
“Most women think bald-headed men are sexy and, and I thought it would go over well at work.” Now he was looking for sympathy.
Obviously he hadn’t heard the women in Human Resources referring to him as if he were a god incarnate, but if truth be told, their admiration was based on how he managed to maintain that wavy head of brown hair at sixty-four. It certainly was not based on his knobby nose, and you know what they say about noses…No, it was definitely his do, which she thought, at this moment, definitely did not.
Her first thought, he being next in line for the supervisor’s job, was how to retract the bean remark. She always spoke before thinking, but she was good at diplomacy and felt maybe now she herself had a better chance at the position.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
action, husband, warn, row, and toe
He was doing it again, using his tongue for what he called his Scandinavian Move. How to warn him that were he to continue she would be turned off so much she would rather stop and turn on the TV?
Her husband, after his five-week sex therapy-cum-education course, had brought home new moves and actions guaranteed to revive their dormant sex life; as if that were all it took.
He had dutifully learned the Soft Toe Pull, the Venice Row, and this Norwegian thing with his overactive tongue. If she had wanted her nipples massaged to the point of rawness, she could get Mauro to do that, and the dog had more personality than Edgar did, anyway.
That was the one thing her husband could never learn at sex school—how to engage a partner through a winning personality.
“Are you finished yet?” she asked, and found that did the trick. He glanced up from his current activity with the crestfallen look that put the blame where it always seemed to fall these days.
She tried to remember where they had left the remote, but only took note of eager Mauro chewing on his toy.
Her husband, after his five-week sex therapy-cum-education course, had brought home new moves and actions guaranteed to revive their dormant sex life; as if that were all it took.
He had dutifully learned the Soft Toe Pull, the Venice Row, and this Norwegian thing with his overactive tongue. If she had wanted her nipples massaged to the point of rawness, she could get Mauro to do that, and the dog had more personality than Edgar did, anyway.
That was the one thing her husband could never learn at sex school—how to engage a partner through a winning personality.
“Are you finished yet?” she asked, and found that did the trick. He glanced up from his current activity with the crestfallen look that put the blame where it always seemed to fall these days.
She tried to remember where they had left the remote, but only took note of eager Mauro chewing on his toy.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
reason, compare, nice, permanent, and companion
-- There is no reason to compare this moment with anything we’ve done before, unless like your mother, you’re so tradition bound you can’t let the good times go.
-- So you admit those were good and these are…
-- I’m not admitting anything. I’m asking you.
-- Why can’t you be nice?
-- Like…?
-- Like what?
-- Like your dad for one.
-- My dad was my mother’s companion and not like a father to me. I can’t see there’s anything I might have inherited from him which would put me in good standing, nor do I feel living in the past is, as you say…
-- There you go again. You’re on a permanent roll, aren’t you? I’m going to take a nap. I’ll see you later.
-- So you admit those were good and these are…
-- I’m not admitting anything. I’m asking you.
-- Why can’t you be nice?
-- Like…?
-- Like what?
-- Like your dad for one.
-- My dad was my mother’s companion and not like a father to me. I can’t see there’s anything I might have inherited from him which would put me in good standing, nor do I feel living in the past is, as you say…
-- There you go again. You’re on a permanent roll, aren’t you? I’m going to take a nap. I’ll see you later.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
HoW 03
HoW 3: Spirit Lake 2012
We did go swimming one afternoon, but I couldn’t keep up with the others, and so hung off the back of the boat just paddling my legs in the water. Most of the time we spent chatting on the porch.
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