Monday, October 08, 2007


Quite a weekend in the Big Woods.

The big news is how natural and easy and comfortable it all seems, for all the problems of our two not-un-tender egos and our asymmetrical sensitivities:

the Goat has a thing about not admitting his age is a factor in his life;

I have a thing about half of what I have taken on in this new life I've entered...

I am now introduced to many people as his "boy-friend." Part of me wonders whether that means I am just a "boy-toy" or that he has a girlfriend stashed somewhere else, and part of me is just grateful to be acknowledged as more than "friend."

The little news is that he had a terrible case of poison ivy last week, which neither of us recognized, and which I seem to have acquired by, well, close body contact of various kinds. This week his was healing, and mine is just breaking out. I itch in places I didn't know had that kind of nerve ending...

In the Goat's immortal words, as he looked at the one leaking pustule which seems to have been what coated me from head to toe: "How long does this last?"

My question exactly.

No progress on the Little House in the Big Woods. My real estate agent says I am mad to have the house inspection done before getting my offer accepted, but I think it is too late to cancel...


More later, including more sonnets.
There really is no end to them.

I even managed to get some work done while the Goat was off buttering up prospective parents and well-upholstered alumni. He was in something of a state, between having to work all weekend and having mid-term grades due more or less at the same time. I tried all my little soothing moves, and things just remained slightly bumpy. Not bad, just bumpy. Perhaps I was not as much at ease as I could have been, either. Large social events are not My Thing. At least I got a good turkey dinner out of it, including seconds of dark meat...

Hang in there, all.

There is life after death, even if it fails to resemble anything we recognize as life from our previous experience; I think that is the secret of resurrection -- it's not life as we know it.



  1. "the one leaking pustule which seems to have been what coated me from head to toe..."

    Dead sexy.

    Seriously, though, good for you. Try not to let it worry you too much - just hang on and enjoy the ride.

  2. Biggo:

    I am not sure how "dead sexy" terminal itchiness is. The irony is that his few little bumps look pretty insignificant next to the great welts I have raised in flaming red all over my torso.

    I am, of course, the over-reacting one, emotionally, physically, you name it... he has a degree of what the ancients called "phlegm" which once again reminds me so much of my ex-wife that I feel God is showing a little too MUCH of a sense of humor here.

    If I can just get over the "poison" in the ivy, and get on with the madness I'm used to, I'll be fine. I will in fact be able to "hang on and enjoy the ride." I've been getting pretty good at it, actually.

    I wish you much the same.
    Good luck with your boy-toy...

    and otherwise.
    Hang in there.