My Daily Routine
So, here's my life now. I wake up with an angel who suffers from stinkface. I usually slink out of bed without waking her so that she can get extra sleep. Alex is almost always up very near the time I get up. We banter a bit and he makes some incredibly delicious breakfast that's uber-nutritious and tasty. I do dishes while he cooks. We eat and banter. Then I wake Gaelen, teasing her about her stinkface as well as whatever else I can come up with. The level of teasing depends heavily on the previous night's activities. I'm one of the most difficult dudes I've ever heard of to get off. So if I'm an ounce heavy then I'm a real bastard in the AM. Like a kitten that's all pissy. The best word is "feisty," I think. If I'm an ounce light then I'm way sweeter. Sorry, baby... it's not your fault but you bear an unfair level of the side-effects.
So I often take impish glee in tormenting and pestering the poor girl outta bed. Cold hands are my new favorite implement; she put a quick and stern end to tickling in the morning. Some people have no sense of fun whatsoever. One of these days when I'm confident enough that she won't dump me, I'm going to hold her down and tickle her thoroughly. Any of my kids can tell ya what that means. I think she'll love it on the inside, though she'll surely pretend to disapprove.
When Gaelen leaves her bed she has 2 destinations, always in the same order. The toilet (where she leans forward and looks at me while she pees) and then out to the balcony to smoke at least 1 Camel menthol. Perk! I'm so glad I'm not dating a Marlborough smoker. *shudder* Menthol I can take or leave. But Camel is the cheap-o cigarrette of choice for me. When I splurge money on smokes I get American Spirit 'cause they're even better. But they're more spendy, too... luckily I can smoke on a single pack for a long time so it's not that big of a deal.
If Alex has been brotherly enough to make coffee (he usually is) then she snags a cup on the way to the balcony. She wears her cute fuzzy bathrobe. She looks like a lesbian housewife in it, sucking back java and smoking. Super adorable.
Then we take turns showering and she's no longer a stinkface, which is always a little sad. She's the only stinkface I've ever known who can be cute and rank at the same time. And it's not like she's super-stinkface. She's just a normal stinkface like anyone. I suspect that my breath & skin are less than pristine in the morning, too.
More coffee, more smokes, and then she's ready to start her day. I'm generally on my way out to work by then. We take a predictably long time to smooch and snuggle and say our sappy goodbyes as though I'm setting forth to plunder the ocean's bounty and she doesn't know if the StormGods will wrest me from her forever. I boldly walk out into the Bright (well, usually the Drizzly Grey; Portland) and I feel like a man who's left his little woman behind while he hunts & gathers. It's eerie; she isn't domestic at all but I still feel more like a "hubby" with her than I really ever did when married. Both of the wives I married were adamantly against cooking anything for their husband; in today's world that means that a woman is subjugated and disrespected, you see. So they were both militantly opposed to "serving a man". Alex, on the other hand, has no such hangups and seems to honestly enjoy preparing breakfast for me. So it's not like Gaelen gets to claim any responsibility for my feelings of content as I leave with a bellyfull of hot yum. But she's still part of the whole picture.
If we ever get married maybe we can adopt Alex. Then she'll finally be his real mom and I'll finally really be his Big Daddy.
I drive to work and do the work thang all day. But I'm feeling happy & completed instead of dull and listless. I can't wait for work to end because there are things to look forward to. Two weeks ago work ended with "either practice or seeking some fun, and then another night alone before work". Now work ends with "either practice or Gaelen, and then another wild night of tenderness and bonding before scrumptious breakfast". It wasn't miserable before by any means! But it's way better now.
Oh, speaking of "domestic Gaelen"... this morning as I was taking out the trash I said to Alex, "I don't suppose Gaelen does this very often, either." - referring to her notable lack of dishwashing motivation. Alex snorted and shot me a look of deep expression.
She ain't really into domestic things. :) Kind of like Ghandi wasn't really into slavery. That's okay; Heather wasn't into domestic things at all either, and I've learned how to take care of myself, my kids, and often roommates that I may or may not be married to. My mom was a great teacher there: I've learned to love serving the people I care about. And Gaelen doesn't actively oppose me; Heather did. So it's all good. Plus I get to help diminish her impact on Alex by absorbing some of it: her dishes, her clothing left scattered about, etc.
Poor Gaelen: she's gonna be pissed or wounded when she reads all this. But she's tough and she knows that Alex and I both love her deeply. Plus she's plenty fiesty herself and she'll surely have some things to post in response. Poor kid still thinks she can compete with me in cleverness. It's adorable. But she's naturally handicapped in that she types slowly and I am the SpamMaster. Plus the electroshock therapy impacts her ability to form complete sentences. The drooling is getting way better, though.
*preen*
At any rate, after work I either bolt to practice, pausing only long enough to stop by my place (if I didn't on the way to work) to change kitty-litter, feed & water critters, swap clothing, and give the critters some power-loving snuggle-petting on a time-budget.
I also usually stop by Jack in the Box where Jenkins meets Cedar Hills Blvd, for my never-altering quick meal: $1 Chicken Sammich and $1 Hamburger Deluxe, plus 2 waters. I'm a thirsty dude. The chicken sammich is my concession to health; fat-saturated chicken is way healthier than fat-saturated beef. (*snort*) Actually, the biggest source of self-disgust I feel for my JitB habit is that I'm consuming factory-farmed animals. I've personally been responsible for at least a dozen chickens and half a cow, raised in a horrible environment and killed cruelly. That actually does keep me up at night. Why do I eat such fare? $2, 2-minutes. I couldn't afford to pay more, and I don't make food preparation any kind of a priority. So, I contribute to factory farming. That sucks and I'm ashamed of it.
Then it's a lovely jaunt to the parking lot known as Highway 26. On the bright side, that highway travels through a forested ravine that is absolutely breathtaking if I take the time to admire it past the gleaming chrome and expensive paint. At the bottom of the drive it passes through a tunnel, and emerges *POW* into a lit-up metropolis that often takes my breath away. I love that tunnel. My kids call it "Daddy's favorite tunnel" quite reliably whenever we pass through it. It's one of the few things that makes me happy I live in Beaverton, 'cause I get to drive through it twice a day on most days. It's just as good the other direction... out of the urban canyons and into the forested crevice that cleaves between the Zoo and the radio towers. It's deeply awesome.
At the bottom of the tunnel is where the crowders shove in front of the people who are obeying the "no lane changes" signs, forcing everyone behind them to wait for 2 or 3 seconds while they cut in front. Multiple that by 100 cars or so, and each crowder is responsible for a surprisingly large portion of the delay that the right lane suffers as it comes down the hill. I hate the crowders, and I occasionally get the opportunity to refuse to let them crowd (aka "merge") at the last minute. I'd happily puncture every one of their tires, key their cars (I've actually done that to the Greedy Parkers in fancy cars *sigh*) and eat their young.
But only if the young were 18+ and consenting and I wasn't in a monogamous relationship, which I am and that's the whole damn subject of this post so why the hell am I going off about the crowders? Because they suck, that's why, and 95% of them are too obtuse to even realize it. Obtuse suckage offends me deeply for some reason. I, of course, never suffer from obtuse suckage. *guilty blush*
Next I creep across the I-5 bridge with all the other shmucks... 5% crowders and 95% crowdees. I get to the Egg (aka the Launchpad gallery) where Kazum practices, and I change (almost always right out in public 'cause honestly nobody but Gaelen is interested in seeing that so they all just keep their eyes averted) and the super-spiffy new mats are all set up and it's time to warm up. Warm-up is pretty cool. Then we stretch for like 45 minutes... Russ and I are cheer dudes who don't dig that. Russ just doesn't participate, but I do 'cause I recognize the benefits of being flexible, and not stretching is a great way to maintain inflexibility. And then we practice! Yay!
At 9:00 people other than me start yearning to leave. I love practice, usually, and I'm happy to stay as long as anyone else is willing. By 9:30 or 9:45 we're outta there; mats put up, people dressed, conditioning finished, and comfortable exhaustion snuggling us along home.
I drive out to Alex's & Gaelen's place. Alex gives Uli a ride home; a privelege that I am jealous of but I grudgingly accord to him. I miss bonding with Uli on the way to her place, and hanging out & talking with her outside her place. A few months ago something happened to put a wedge between her and I. I suspect that her psychic is involved in that but it doesn't really matter. I've been working on healing it and it feels like it often gets better... but lately there have been a few things that seem to have aggravated it. But I love her deeply and she loves me too and I'm really glad she's in my life. Maybe I can alternate with Alex on who gets to take her home... though I get the impression that she'd rather not ride with me, lately. She's way too sweet to ever say that, though.
Anyway, then it's back to House ThurowDial for some bantering, food, movies, video games, music, and all manner of Tomfoolery before retiring to Gaelen's bedroom for snuggling and sweating and groaning and hours & hours of pillow talk.
It's a pretty sweet life. I hope it stays this way for a long time.
So I often take impish glee in tormenting and pestering the poor girl outta bed. Cold hands are my new favorite implement; she put a quick and stern end to tickling in the morning. Some people have no sense of fun whatsoever. One of these days when I'm confident enough that she won't dump me, I'm going to hold her down and tickle her thoroughly. Any of my kids can tell ya what that means. I think she'll love it on the inside, though she'll surely pretend to disapprove.
When Gaelen leaves her bed she has 2 destinations, always in the same order. The toilet (where she leans forward and looks at me while she pees) and then out to the balcony to smoke at least 1 Camel menthol. Perk! I'm so glad I'm not dating a Marlborough smoker. *shudder* Menthol I can take or leave. But Camel is the cheap-o cigarrette of choice for me. When I splurge money on smokes I get American Spirit 'cause they're even better. But they're more spendy, too... luckily I can smoke on a single pack for a long time so it's not that big of a deal.
If Alex has been brotherly enough to make coffee (he usually is) then she snags a cup on the way to the balcony. She wears her cute fuzzy bathrobe. She looks like a lesbian housewife in it, sucking back java and smoking. Super adorable.
Then we take turns showering and she's no longer a stinkface, which is always a little sad. She's the only stinkface I've ever known who can be cute and rank at the same time. And it's not like she's super-stinkface. She's just a normal stinkface like anyone. I suspect that my breath & skin are less than pristine in the morning, too.
More coffee, more smokes, and then she's ready to start her day. I'm generally on my way out to work by then. We take a predictably long time to smooch and snuggle and say our sappy goodbyes as though I'm setting forth to plunder the ocean's bounty and she doesn't know if the StormGods will wrest me from her forever. I boldly walk out into the Bright (well, usually the Drizzly Grey; Portland) and I feel like a man who's left his little woman behind while he hunts & gathers. It's eerie; she isn't domestic at all but I still feel more like a "hubby" with her than I really ever did when married. Both of the wives I married were adamantly against cooking anything for their husband; in today's world that means that a woman is subjugated and disrespected, you see. So they were both militantly opposed to "serving a man". Alex, on the other hand, has no such hangups and seems to honestly enjoy preparing breakfast for me. So it's not like Gaelen gets to claim any responsibility for my feelings of content as I leave with a bellyfull of hot yum. But she's still part of the whole picture.
If we ever get married maybe we can adopt Alex. Then she'll finally be his real mom and I'll finally really be his Big Daddy.
I drive to work and do the work thang all day. But I'm feeling happy & completed instead of dull and listless. I can't wait for work to end because there are things to look forward to. Two weeks ago work ended with "either practice or seeking some fun, and then another night alone before work". Now work ends with "either practice or Gaelen, and then another wild night of tenderness and bonding before scrumptious breakfast". It wasn't miserable before by any means! But it's way better now.
Oh, speaking of "domestic Gaelen"... this morning as I was taking out the trash I said to Alex, "I don't suppose Gaelen does this very often, either." - referring to her notable lack of dishwashing motivation. Alex snorted and shot me a look of deep expression.
She ain't really into domestic things. :) Kind of like Ghandi wasn't really into slavery. That's okay; Heather wasn't into domestic things at all either, and I've learned how to take care of myself, my kids, and often roommates that I may or may not be married to. My mom was a great teacher there: I've learned to love serving the people I care about. And Gaelen doesn't actively oppose me; Heather did. So it's all good. Plus I get to help diminish her impact on Alex by absorbing some of it: her dishes, her clothing left scattered about, etc.
Poor Gaelen: she's gonna be pissed or wounded when she reads all this. But she's tough and she knows that Alex and I both love her deeply. Plus she's plenty fiesty herself and she'll surely have some things to post in response. Poor kid still thinks she can compete with me in cleverness. It's adorable. But she's naturally handicapped in that she types slowly and I am the SpamMaster. Plus the electroshock therapy impacts her ability to form complete sentences. The drooling is getting way better, though.
*preen*
At any rate, after work I either bolt to practice, pausing only long enough to stop by my place (if I didn't on the way to work) to change kitty-litter, feed & water critters, swap clothing, and give the critters some power-loving snuggle-petting on a time-budget.
I also usually stop by Jack in the Box where Jenkins meets Cedar Hills Blvd, for my never-altering quick meal: $1 Chicken Sammich and $1 Hamburger Deluxe, plus 2 waters. I'm a thirsty dude. The chicken sammich is my concession to health; fat-saturated chicken is way healthier than fat-saturated beef. (*snort*) Actually, the biggest source of self-disgust I feel for my JitB habit is that I'm consuming factory-farmed animals. I've personally been responsible for at least a dozen chickens and half a cow, raised in a horrible environment and killed cruelly. That actually does keep me up at night. Why do I eat such fare? $2, 2-minutes. I couldn't afford to pay more, and I don't make food preparation any kind of a priority. So, I contribute to factory farming. That sucks and I'm ashamed of it.
Then it's a lovely jaunt to the parking lot known as Highway 26. On the bright side, that highway travels through a forested ravine that is absolutely breathtaking if I take the time to admire it past the gleaming chrome and expensive paint. At the bottom of the drive it passes through a tunnel, and emerges *POW* into a lit-up metropolis that often takes my breath away. I love that tunnel. My kids call it "Daddy's favorite tunnel" quite reliably whenever we pass through it. It's one of the few things that makes me happy I live in Beaverton, 'cause I get to drive through it twice a day on most days. It's just as good the other direction... out of the urban canyons and into the forested crevice that cleaves between the Zoo and the radio towers. It's deeply awesome.
At the bottom of the tunnel is where the crowders shove in front of the people who are obeying the "no lane changes" signs, forcing everyone behind them to wait for 2 or 3 seconds while they cut in front. Multiple that by 100 cars or so, and each crowder is responsible for a surprisingly large portion of the delay that the right lane suffers as it comes down the hill. I hate the crowders, and I occasionally get the opportunity to refuse to let them crowd (aka "merge") at the last minute. I'd happily puncture every one of their tires, key their cars (I've actually done that to the Greedy Parkers in fancy cars *sigh*) and eat their young.
But only if the young were 18+ and consenting and I wasn't in a monogamous relationship, which I am and that's the whole damn subject of this post so why the hell am I going off about the crowders? Because they suck, that's why, and 95% of them are too obtuse to even realize it. Obtuse suckage offends me deeply for some reason. I, of course, never suffer from obtuse suckage. *guilty blush*
Next I creep across the I-5 bridge with all the other shmucks... 5% crowders and 95% crowdees. I get to the Egg (aka the Launchpad gallery) where Kazum practices, and I change (almost always right out in public 'cause honestly nobody but Gaelen is interested in seeing that so they all just keep their eyes averted) and the super-spiffy new mats are all set up and it's time to warm up. Warm-up is pretty cool. Then we stretch for like 45 minutes... Russ and I are cheer dudes who don't dig that. Russ just doesn't participate, but I do 'cause I recognize the benefits of being flexible, and not stretching is a great way to maintain inflexibility. And then we practice! Yay!
At 9:00 people other than me start yearning to leave. I love practice, usually, and I'm happy to stay as long as anyone else is willing. By 9:30 or 9:45 we're outta there; mats put up, people dressed, conditioning finished, and comfortable exhaustion snuggling us along home.
I drive out to Alex's & Gaelen's place. Alex gives Uli a ride home; a privelege that I am jealous of but I grudgingly accord to him. I miss bonding with Uli on the way to her place, and hanging out & talking with her outside her place. A few months ago something happened to put a wedge between her and I. I suspect that her psychic is involved in that but it doesn't really matter. I've been working on healing it and it feels like it often gets better... but lately there have been a few things that seem to have aggravated it. But I love her deeply and she loves me too and I'm really glad she's in my life. Maybe I can alternate with Alex on who gets to take her home... though I get the impression that she'd rather not ride with me, lately. She's way too sweet to ever say that, though.
Anyway, then it's back to House ThurowDial for some bantering, food, movies, video games, music, and all manner of Tomfoolery before retiring to Gaelen's bedroom for snuggling and sweating and groaning and hours & hours of pillow talk.
It's a pretty sweet life. I hope it stays this way for a long time.
Labels: 26, daily routine, JitB
posted by Scott | 6:17 PM
4 Comments:
Excuse me, but I do plenty around the house. I'll admit that I have a bad habit of leaving shoes and jackets in the living room, but thats about it. I wash alexs laundry most of the time and I take full responsibility for the kitties. I actually LIKE doing dishes, but AL gets to them before me in the morning. Its true, though. I dont take out the trash. Youre a butthead.
It's like fishing a well-stocked pond... toss out the bait and wait for a bite. :)
You are right and you did take way too much flak for stuff in my post above. Good job in standing up for yourself. And the trash can be a dude thing. Not a problem. :)
I enjoy that you two are squabbling over the house duties. It makes me laugh inside.
And we lov ehaving you around. We need someone here to enhance the awesomeness that is our domicile and create a triumvirate of powerful apathy, thinly veiled crudeness, wanton cruelty and sadistic glee that is, what I call the Gaelen/Alex/Scott experience.
You should certainly volunteer to take Uli home. She loves you and I think you'd benefit from time spent alone with her outside of practice.
And FUCK that fuckin' psychic.
I've never heard of stinkface... and I am now a fan of Alexander. I think he needs his own blog!
:)
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