The groom’s father held the shotgun on the groom (me).
I won’t say everything has been roses and sunshine, but we have done pretty good as a couple. Could it have been better? At times yes, nothing is perfect, but realistically we did about as well as we could have given the situation we found ourselves in at the time. The bare fact that we are together 39 years later is testimony to doing “well enough”.
The problem I’m having now is finding the words for what I have to say. I have the concepts but not the words. Really I don’t have any experience in emotions, either writing about them or experiencing them, since I started being depressed about 41 years ago. Seriously I would rather be writing about building my hot rod or a bicycle than about emotions, because I know building bikes and cars. Emotions I don’t know. “They” say to write what you know, but this time I have to write about something I don’t know. I might as well be writing about living with Sasquatch or swimming with Nessie as trying to write about emotions.😀🙈
Rather than prolong the torture I’m going to stop right here. Maybe write about the bike pump? Ima write about the bike pump. I managed to get the busted hose off the gauge and chuck ends by peeling away the thin metal swedging that clamped the hose to the chuck and gauge leaving them ready for a new hose. Now I have to find a hose…
And that pretty well sums up how I’m feeling on my wedding anniversary.
Billed @€0.02, Opus the Unkillable
Read that headline in sing-song voice like you were taunting someone because that’s how I typed it. Yesterday was pretty painful but this morning I wasn’t feeling too bad so after dinner tonight I’m going to take a short (just >2 mile) walk. I can get 19 out of the 25 possible check-ins on my phone game, just not any bonus point check-ins, for a maximum of 95 points and a good walk. This particular walk seems to be my best compromise between exercise and damage to my body. I’m still waiting on that new pump to arrive so I can pump up the other tire and get some real exercise on my bike.
In other news there ain’t no other news I can report in this blog, so I covered it in my Twitter account. Twitter is not a good medium for me. I mean I can do it, no problem but I have a tendency to reduce my written communications to sound bites as it is and the 140 character limit per tweet makes this even worse. I mean, have you ever read “Famous Novels Redone As Single Tweets”? That’s what my tweets look like if I’m not careful about stuffing too much information into a single tweet.
I’m still unhappy with Mrs. the Poet over the hot rod thing, but I don’t see any way to compromise with her “no!” stance. My opinion is if I have to give up something I have dreamed about for half a century then there should be something Mrs. the Poet gives up in exchange, but she doesn’t have any such long-held desires. I mean the most I could do would be to tell her she can’t clean up the garage any more since I won’t be building anything in it now that I can’t build my hot rod. I have design sketches for the T-Bucket that are over 20 years old, she has nothing. Well nothing she hasn’t already got. Her big thing was getting the kids raised and grandkids, which she sorta has now. The only place she’s fallen short of her dreams is we only have the one grandkid, where she was hoping for several. Anything else she has wanted has been discarded like a used tissue. I’m still here, so I guess that’s good.
And my walk beckons so this is the last
PSA, Opus the Unkillable
I am having a problem with Clint that is peculiar to feline familiars. I can deal with the sloppy kisses, but he’s a year old and still hasn’t learned how to hug without using his claws, or basically display any kind of affection without using his claws. I look like a cutter who is also a contortionist. Or maybe like I bulled my way through a briar thicket in the nude. Protagonist in a slasher movie? After-battle survivor extra in a gladiator movie? I have lost count of the number of times I had to invoke the “no claws clause”, spank his paws, and toss him out of bed or my office for clawing me. I’m running out of hand sanitizer to disinfect the wounds. Mrs. the Poet is getting upset about the torn sheets and pillowcases and the bloodstains. Usually I can see the blood before it dries and sets in but we have a couple sets of sheets that will never be the same. But you can probably figure out he’s not trying to injure or cause damage, he’s just waving his paws around because he’s so happy to Be With Me.
And when I have the door shut so he can’t get in, the noise he makes! He howls like he lost his last friend on earth if he wants to see me and can’t get in. I tell you it is the most pitiful sound on the earth. I mean I know I’m his “Favorite Person On The Whole Earth™“, but I have to do things without his being there, like use the toilet.
I know this all sounds like I don’t like Clint, but I really do, and I worry about him when he gets in fights and the local squirrels beat him up. As Mrs. the Poet says, he’s a doofus cat. And I can’t really help but love him.
For cat lovers everywhere, Opus the Unkillable (but it still hurts)
I did something to my foot and now it hurts all the time. Well almost all the time, if I keep the foot warm and elevated, i.e. stay in bed, it only hurts a tiny bit. But when I sit up and try to get some work done on the computer it starts to throb. Walking on it is instant pain. I seriously can’t figure out what the cause might be unless this is old damage from when I was a kid coming back to haunt me. This is the foot that got minor frostbite when I was a teenager delivering newspapers in Utah (noodle incident), but I don’t know how much of that is related to now.
What I got is a throbbing pain across the bottom of my foot at the ball of the foot radiating into the second toe that gets worse in the toe when I walk. Again, no clue about why. Enough about my foot, I have more to write about.
Yesterday we had the opening run of the wake for the guy in our RPG group who died recently. We did a flaming shot in his honor, then set up the run. My character used to be the bouncer at the bar we meet at. Her skills are hand-to-hand combat, pistols, and astral combat. And lethal levels of snark and intimidation, seriously high levels of intimidation. Her seduction rolls require her to fail intimidation at half strength she is so intimidating. Seriously, her best bet at seduction would be to roll a critical glitch during the intimidation check. I’m RPing her as bi, because her original player was a bi female and I like to keep her consistent through adventures. The fun part is because she has so much trouble with accidentally intimidating instead of seducing her love life is “one of quiet desperation” except when it’s Not So Quiet Desperation. Think Darth Maul with boobs but over 7 feet tall and with a prehensile tail. Great as a bouncer or a domme, not so great at Looking for Love.
Anyway, the Run. The things we know about the run at the moment are we have been set up with some first-rate fake SINs connected to real bank accounts, and we communicate with the client through a burner phone that will be connected to the mark’s internal network at a specific point in their internal infrastructure. Technically we are going to bridge an air gap so the client can hack the mark, then retrieve the phone so the hack can’t be traced back to the client. The dangerous parts include getting inside the mark’s compound with the burner phone to the connection point, making the connection for the client (for which our Technomancer will be Doing His Thing, because connecting to the internal network is a high-level hack in and of itself that the client can’t do without being there when the whole idea is for him to Not Be There), and getting back out with whatever is loaded on the burner phone for the client. The promised payment is roughly a year’s pay for a middle-class salaryman each. At our lifestyle levels they would be enough to live on for years if not the rest of our lives. Right now we are in the planning stages of the run, getting supplies and equipment together and mapping getting in and out of the mark’s compound without getting caught. That’s where the session ended when we all had to go home.
And now I have to get ready for evening services, so bye. Before I go look up Unipiper Shovels Snow on weather.com to see a guy riding a unicycle playing flaming bagpipes pushing a snow shovel.
Billed @€0.02, Opus the Unkillable
Happy New Year.
Here are my 2016 end of year walking stats
Opus the Unkillable Badass
Remembering Pearl Harbor Day is mixed for this Navy brat. I used to live on Oahu, and used to go to dirt track races just down the road from the bay, used to go to school at Schofield Barracks. I was there in the mid-’60s when it was easy to find people who were there as adults or kids, so I heard many first-hand accounts of the attack as a young child.
But I’m also a student of history, and know it wasn’t supposed to be a sneak attack, that the Japanese Embassy in DC had fired their American typist in anticipation of the war and the Ambassador himself hunted and pecked the declaration of war to be delivered to FDR an hour before the attack that ended up not getting completed until after the attack was finished. So, many mixed feelings
In Remembrance, Opus the Unkillable Badass
It’s beginning to look like I will need to relocate to Canada. That means I will need to sell Casa de El Poeta here in the Beautiful Suburbs of Hell. If there are any real estate agents reading this I need to buy a house in Canada after I sell mine in TX.
SOS, Opus the Unkillable Badass
I hope everyone got an adequate amount of candy this evening, and had a pleasant communion with those who have passed before.
I had another trip to the Lab Rat Keeper today. No candy but I did get 2 bandaids to cover the three holes in my arm from when they tried to raw some blood for testing. Apparently my vitamin K levels are just fine as my blood was clotting in the needle while they were trying to get enough for the various tests I have to take. At least I had time to study for my blood test (ba-dunk-KISH).
Well I spent what felt like most of the month on the DART bus again today. They had to take a fasting blood draw, so after just 2 hours of sleep I began to wend my way to the LRK lair without access to the life-giving elixir from Caffiena. I never actually fell asleep, but I did stop moving a couple of times, so I missed the bus that would have gotten me there way early, and almost missed the next bus that got me there way late. I almost passed my stop because I was zoning out. And I’m still zoning out. so let’s end this one now before I face-plant into my keyboard and try again tomorrow after I go eat unhealthy fried foods at the State Fair of Texas.
PSA, Opus the Zombie…