A new week begins

And I feel a little bit lost.  But only a little, mind.

Amy and the boys left the house yesterday about 10:30 in the morning, after which I felt a small sense of release I never would have known had been pent up.  It burst forth from my breast and flew around the living room in care-free abandon, careened off the head of the Boxer, jostled the wedding photo on the wall, and knocked the TV remote to the floor.  The sense stopped, suddenly, realised what foreign territory it had encountered, started quaking a bit, and emitted a barely audible pitiful little whimper.

It fled right back from whence it came, locked and barred the door, and I could hear it panting into a brown paper bag as it tried to stop hyperventilating.  It's still cowering there this morning as I type this.  Freedom after a long confinement can be hard... and cruel.

Similarly, I wandered about the quiet house, not quite sure what to do with myself.  I unloaded and then reloaded the dishwasher.  Checked my email.  Decided to head out to buy a bookshelf for Amy's scrapbooking area.  I texted her to let her know I'd have it assembled by the time she got back.

After I returned from my brief trip to the store, I was seriously amazed to find the house in the exact same state as that in which I left it.  That hasn't happened in four years.  FOUR YEARS!

The dogs and I have yet to establish what sort of uneasy truce will govern the week.  I retreated to the basement briefly at one point to change the load in the laundry and returned to find that the Boxer had puked up twice on the living room carpet.  Compensating for the littlest human, perhaps?  I maintained my equanimity as I dispensed paper towel to sop it up.  Silly, I thought, that the dogs will devour *whatever* the boys eject, but get picky with their own expectorations.

I had a late lunch of macaroni, and an even later supper of leftover Sex In A Pan, the cheesecake my wife cooked up for the 'Home Pleasures Party' she hosted the night before.  (Yes she bought a couple things, no I won't say what.)  It really is very good cheesecake.

I do have to admit that I re-installed that video game and indulging a couple (few... er, several) hours yesterday.  The last couple comments in the previous post force me to make this admission.  But I'll be good, I promise.

**********

I want to give a good accounting of the Burns Supper I attended on Friday.  I took several pictures and even a few choice video snippets.  I will do my best to make the homage reflective of at least part of the evening's sentiment.  Impossible to capture it all.  The keynote speaker this year - always flown in from Scotland, and normally a minister-type person - was a retired governor of the Scottish corrections system and, as always, an excellent public speaker.  His unorthodox career contributed in no small way to the occasional hilarity with which his keynote was imbued.  I'll leave with my favourite line from the night.  A healthy dose of irreverence is a key ingredient in any Burns Supper.

"Having been to Saudi Arabia, I learned that a young, unmarried couple caught in the act of fornication was like to be stoned.  This took me aback a wee bit, because in Glasgow, Scotland it's quite the other way 'round."

Comments

[Mark]

I had to re-read the first sentence in the second full paragraph. What are "heaving pants," and do they make heaving any more comfortable? I don't heave often, but I certainly would want the right trousers (we all know from Wallace and Gromit what can happen when we wear "The Wrong Trousers.")

I could almost see your "small sense of relief" flitting about the house. I saw the sunlight glinting off its tiny wings. Wait, I forgot the sun never shines in winter where you are. Sorry.

Couldn't resist Diablo's siren song, eh?

Doing laundry already, though. Nice work.

Now, just don't go set up a secondlife account. Oh, I shouldn't have said that.

Can't wait for Burns Night!

[Moksha Gren]

I'll admit...I'm nervous. Happy for the laundry, happy that you're planning to write about Burns Night. But the looming spectre of Diablo has folded its sinister bat-wings over the Fraser home in Amy's absence. Now the question is...does the Simian have the will power to use his drug of choice responsibly? The time and effort you put into your descriptions above give me hope...but, I'm nervous.

"TRUE! - nervous - very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?"

Mark - Now that you mention it, I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with Simon discussing his heaving pants.

[Simon]

Mark, that did sound awkward, so I changed the sentence. Now it's your comment that makes no sense! Ha-HA!!

The sun doesn't shine during the winter up here in much the same way that every single Texan own at least one gun. (Waitaminnit... that's probably not a good analogy.)

I've never touched Second Life, nor do I intend to. In fact:
http://www.getafirstlife.com/

Moksha, your description of Diablo's effect on me reminded me of those cool winged beasts from that high quality '80s movie, Beastmaster. They wrap their wings about their prey and POOF!, five seconds later they're naught but a pile of bones. Will a pixellated demon have its way with my psyche in much the same way, or will I evade the temptation? Tune in next week...

PANTS!!

[Simon]

PS -- I finally 'get' what you were talking about with the coffee pot thing. Funny boys. Good song; can't get it outta my head.

[Moksha Gren]

As a wee lad those winged critters from Beastmaster were some of my favorite fantasy creations. Horrifying and mesmerizing in the same instant. Sadly, I now try to avoid that film at all costs. Sometimes half-remembered nostalgia is better than fully relived cheese.

Welcome to the Proper Coffe Club

[Linda]

Geezus, I read this like six times looking for heaving pants. Don't do that to me again.

[Mark]

Simon - I'm not in Secondlife, either, and I just laughed out loud at the link you provided.

But, you're a complete ass for changing the wording in your post. ;)

I agree, Moksha's imagery was vivid.

Linda, admit it, you've never pushed away a pair of heaving pants.

[TerriTorial]

I looked at the SecondLife because a friend was bragging it up. FREAKY!

[marian]

me too, looking for the heaving pants.

anyway - can totally relate to the foreign territory thing. takes me 24 hours to get used to it every time I'm alone for a few days.

[Linda]

Uh, Mark. I'd like to have just a little word with you, Dude. Here, step around the corner here. It'll just take a second. The rest of you, carry on. Mark will be back... yeah, in uh, uh... a little while.
*scuffle, thwap, scuffle*
(overheard- "When you gonna learn to respect your elders? Huh? huh? When?!)
*thwap*

[Mark]

Linda - (voice of the little bully in A Christmas Story after Scut Farkus punches his arm) Ow, man.

[Linda]

Mark, ok, just so's you know where I'm coming from... I'm over it. You ok?