March 14,  2002

        Himself has established the new ritual.  Each work day when i arrive home i am to bring Him the day cuffs, to be attached in whatever configuration He desires.  Last night for example, because my son and his friend were coming for dinner, the cuff was wound around my left wrist only.  Tonight however, He's put it (them) around each wrist, which restricts my movements.  It makes me very conscious of every move i make and in a strange way makes me feel like i'm being a bit more graceful.  i like that.

     i missed our Tuesday ritual though! And i was sooo not happy with that.  He'd written me a note of instructions which included the cushion in the kitchen and the cuffs, but i had worked late and the transit system was late.  He got home before i did.  i'm still feeling disappointed over the whole thing, and looking even more forward to next week.

     Ever try to feed two 21 year old male children?  Himself cooked a large chicken, with stuffing, potatoes and a large salad for dinner last night.  They inhaled it all.  They scooped whatever scraps were left over into a bag to take home with them.  i knew we were doomed when the first words out of their mouths when they arrived were; "Wow! It smells like REAL food in here!"  then borrowed the car and my banking card to go buy some beer.  Sheesh.  

     i love when my kids come over though.  i include Himself's daughter when i say 'my kids'.  They come over, wreak havoc in the house (eat all the food, hog the computers) and bring an uplifting energy that's as therapeutic as a ray of sunshine on a gray winter's day.  And they treat us really nicely.  How'd we get so lucky to have such good kids?

     i've got new glasses now.  Yuck.  Turns out i need 'reading' glasses - but so far the adjustment is not going well.  First of all they are designed to be able to be pushed down to the edge of my nose (if i push them up where they belong, when i look through them they mess up my distance sight and everything is blurry).  However, birds eye view (looking in the mirror) reflects ... my mother.  Crap.

     It probably doesn't help that the last week or so, with all the worry about cysts and the like, i've been feeling particularly worn out, used up and just plain old.  i seem to be fluctuating between feeling good about myself to then adding ''... for a 45 year old.''    Which successfully makes me feel wistful for my early 30's again.  i don't know if i'd want the 20's again and definitely not my teens - but i'm sure that stems a lot from the fact that i didn't finally shed the oppression of my childhood until i was in my 30's.  i wish i could have those few years to do all over again though.  i think there'd be more than a few changes this time around.

     i think i would have found whatever money i could to finish school.  i think i would have started writing sooner, and maybe pursued more sketching.  This is assuming of course that i worked out my insecurities right away.  That was always my biggest hold back - never believing that i really had an talent or worth.  

     Problem is, now that i'm finally working out the self-worth thing, i'm feeling like i'm running out of time.  Which goes right back to the new glasses and looking like my mother.  (Besides the fact that i haven't worked out all my issues about her yet - but at least i'm willing to acknowledge them.)

     So now i'm sitting here - writing flighty things - and wearing a skirt with a slit up each side, a slightly see-through lacey sweater (which Himself has yet to notice) and glasses perched on the end of my nose.  He did say earlier though, that i could develop the librarian look - that hair pinned up ready to be torn down glasses thrown off and get naked - type thing.  Heh.  Sounds fun to me!

                

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