In Case Anybody Wonders

I’m giving myself the weekend I would like to give a lover.

My roommate, Tina, and her boyfriend, Jack, shared dinner with me last night, a wonderful wine mushroom sauce with Portabellas and shrimp and Caesar salad. He had ravioli, but neither she nor I eat wheat much, so we passed on the ravioli. I made a mental note to fix something for them soon, and this morning the opportunity came up right on time.

I wandered into the kitchen about 11 am, still in my forest green terry bathrobe, and said, “I want something, but I don’t know what.” Tina suggested that we collaborate and we simultaneously asked the other if they wanted an omelette. Dissolving in giggles, as always, I said I’d fix them because she was busy packing to go away to a hotel for the night with her boyfriend. I wondered if she had any cheese. All I had was a bit of Parmesan and that’s not quite enough for an omelette, in my opinion.

So, with her Mozarella, my Parmesan, lox and fresh garlic, I set about omelette making. At this point, her boyfriend, Jack, calls and he’s hungry, too, so I add more eggs and continue whipping them with half and half till they are frothy. The minced garlic was sizzling in the butter.

“All of this nurturing energy I have needs a place to go, and today, you two are elected,” I told her.

I fixed spinach salad with mango cilantro dressing as a side and we all munched happily. They are excellent company.

After brunch, I adjourned to hot bathwater with wintergreen bath salts to do heavy  breathing (rebirthing/vivation/breatwork) for about an hour. Just as I’m nearly complete, they call, “Ciao,” leaving me alone till sometime tomorrow.

I load nothing but kirtan into my stereo and crank it. Oh, wait, Sting’s Sacred Love, too.

Still sipping coffee, I lay down to read on the couch in my living room. I’ve been taking my dear sweet time about finishing Deathkiller by the immortal and likely enlightened Spider Robinson. I was never going to read that one because the title made it sound like horror, but it’s not. It’s his usual goldmine of sci fi, puns and telepathy. A combined volume of Mindkiller and Time Pressure, which I have read twice, I was curious to see how he combined the two. Masterfully.

I’ve done absolutely nothing today but write 2 blogs, breathe, read and chant. I haven’t even bothered to wear anything but my nice warm robe. Oh, and there’s Scotch. I decided that since kirtan is jazz, it deserved the honor of the Glenlivet I picked up yesterday.

Around 7 pm I lit a fire in the woodstove and waited for the sun to set.

I had to freeze some water in the bottom of my glass for ice. Neither Tina nor I use ice enough to warrant taking up the freezer space, but it only took an hour to freeze enough on the bottom of the glass to cradle my Scotch correctly.

I wondered, as high as I am on sexual abstinence, breathwork, Qi Gong practice and cleansing, why bother with Scotch? No reason. And, as usual, I had to get past the first taste before I liked it again. At first, it just seems like something smokey and rotten. After a couple of sips, my taste buds slip into gear and I like it. I think the last time I had Scotch was with Eric at Oasis, at least 3 years ago. When he held my hand and I had to ask whether his girlfriend would be okay with that if she walked in. He allowed as how she would not, and released my hand.

Hmm, I have just ascertained that yes, I can safely load another log into the woodstove in the dark and tipsy without burning myself or anyting else except the wood. Hmm.

Another shot of Glenlivet?

Maybe, while I read a bit more and fall asleep within the next 30 minutes, I hope.

Good night,

Stacy

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