Tell Us About Your Pain

Not much has been happening in my world...  well, there is the part where I ended up in the ER on Sunday night, after several hours of intense pain at my sternum, & throwing up blood. After an ultrasound, endoscope & 36 hours of morphine... I gave birth to a little gallstone. I am so proud. I named it- Jonbenet.

After being admitted & brought into a small examining room, a nurse asked me:
"What do you want out of this visit?"
Me: "What do you mean?  Peace & prosperity for our world? Fame & success? Lunch?
Nurse (chortling): "Where would like to be at the end of this visit?"
Me: "Of course, sorry. I guess, I want my own sitcom, & when not filming, starring on Broadway in a musical or some classic...  how about being snowed at a mountian cabin with James Franco... Oh, do I get one more wish?"
The nurse wrote my final comments on a blackboard &the Husband took over the answering of questions.

I had a procedure called an Endoscopy. The technician called it a UGI, which I misunderstood to mean some sort of high school equivalency test, or possibly a labor union. The Morphine had me a bit beclouded & befuddled. The physician explained that I would be conscious for the event, but the drugs he gave me would cause a form of amnesia: "sort of like really strong Valuim". I believe that I ordered a shot of vodka; I didn't remember a single thing when I did come to. I am in favor of a drug the can erase the memory from a section of your life.

While tethered to the Morphine IV drip, all I had to do was ride out the diminishing pain, watch the ceiling tiles move around & study the signs on my hospital room walls. These were my favorite signs:

Pain Management Is A Patients Right (possible idea for sign at the next Tea Party Rally?)

Tell Us About Your Pain (do they really want my life story?)

The 4 "P"s: Pain, Privacy, Position, Potty (possible chapter title for my memoirs?)

Do Not Leave Alone On Toilet (possible Words To Live By?)

I received excellent care, although I was spooked that all the nurses were named Staci. I also had a visit from the chaplain who asked "If anything should happen, do you wish me to summon a priest?"  Me: No priest, but please do call the press!"

I had my own room, I got to have vegetable broth while watching The View, I had professionals fussing over me. I decided to pretend that I was at a spa. "Oh, Nurse Staci, would you please get me one of those amnesia inducing drugs & a shot of vodka before my colonic & pedicure?"



I am now resting at home, warm, cozy & loved by my little family.The Husband claims that the entire episode was my cry for attention.

The Autumn Of My Years... A Ramble On The Day Before Winter Solstice

"I'm In The Autumn Of My Years" but swingin' like Della

Today is the last day of autumn 2010. In 2 weeks, I will be ending my own autumn, as I officially will be in my late 50s. 2 weeks from today I will be in the winter of my life. I have lived longer than I ever intended to live. But, as Woody Allen stated- “It’s better than the alternative”.


The last 6 weeks have not felt like autumn, but rather like real winter. Living in the Pacific Northwest in December is not for the faint hearted. But, we are all steamed up at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. because tomorrow is not just the darkest day of the year, but for the 1st time since 1554, we will have a full moon experiencing a full lunar eclipse on the Winter Solstice tomorrow night. Portland is forecast to have clear skies, & I plant to witness this event, possibly with a whiskey in my hot tub.


In the beautifully written new volume in his- Tales of The City series: Mary Ann In Autumn, Armistead Maupin says- “The past doesn’t catch up with us, It escapes from us.” I have spent the last few days playing a- “if I just hadn’t done _______, then ______ never would have happened". More on the current situation in a post later this week, but I can say that I am at my lowest in the month of December. My depression deepens & a fog of melancholia creeps into my every wrinkle.

My feelings about Christmas are not simple. I had a happy childhood with more than 18 Christmases that were lovely, loving & lavish. As an only child of upper-middle class working parents & one of only 2 grandchildren of 3 sets of grandparents, I received plenty of presents, & because I was such a little adult, the gifts consisted of mostly books, record albums & clothing. I didn’t care much for toys until I became an adult.

Baby Butch as Baby Jesus 2010 edition

The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian Christmas Tree 2010

Now in the autumn of my years, I like to keep it a simple, as I consider all the people that go without at Christmas . The Husband & I stopped giving each other gifts over 2 decades ago. That is our special gift to each other. Our traditions include the presenting of Baby Butch as the Baby Jesus & our annual tree, cut down in the woods in bitter cold by the husband, brought home on top of the station wagon, covered in blue lights, & placed just outside of the backroom floor to ceiling window. The Christmas tree is close to the major bird feeder & often has 7 or 8 songbirds perched on the branches like glass ornaments. Our birds are well fed & on the plump side, but I can't deny them food & clean water.

The Goldfinch is the State Bird of Washington, so she may be a little lost. But who can blame her? & we are only a few miles from the border here in North Portland.

We will go to a movie on the Holiday; we are thinking about the 1st showing of The King’s Speech. Christmas evening will bring a fire in the fireplace & a prayer for peace & goodwill between all people. I would like to know your traditions. Would you share?

An Ode To Onanism

The Husband: “I didn’t want you to have to worry.” That was the explanation for why he didn’t tell me that he was leaving his job until the evening before his last day. Swell, & worry I did, but then I am a worrier. This was at the end of April, & I have become quite adjusted to the change, & I accommodated the his new life as a househusband & a freelancer. But, I have rarely been alone.

Anyone in my circle accepts that I require & yearn for time to myself. I am an only child of 2 working parents, & at 6 years old, I would walk home, let myself in to our home with my own key, & would then have 3 splendid hours with the house to myself. I still seek the solitude 50+ years later. For me there nothing so perfect as a rainy late autumn day with no agenda, no obligations & no company.

The Husband has been working a day here & there as a design associate with a lovely designer friend. They are doing 16 condos at Government Camp, on Mt. Hood. I arrived home at noon to find myself with the place to myself, with notice from the Husband that he was “at the mountain” & would be back in time to go to happy hour at the neighborhood watering hole.

An afternoon alone! Just me & my shadow. Me, myself & I’ll go my way by myself. I was unaccompanied, unaided, unassisted, unattached, unattended, unescorted, & unhinged. I immediately set out to behave in the manner that pleases me most & the Husband not so much.

The Husband likes the TV on, not just to view his favorite shows, but just on from waking to bedtime: old movies, HGTV, Ellen, Oprah, Joy Behar. He will be working on a house project or in his studio, but he finds comfort in the world of TV sounds. I am often around for the ride. When I am on my own it is no TV; I listen to music. I listen to “my music” & I play it loud. On my solo afternoon I behaved just as I wished. I turned off lights & lit candles. I cranked up the stereo, I danced around in my underwear. I sang along to the music. I ate half of a pot brownie & got seriously turned on, up & around. I spent time at the computer blogging, reading blogs, doing research, & because I was alone, I took a peek at some porn from that internet thingy. 

 I am really not a big porn guy. We have maybe 3 DVDs, & no magazines. In the1st 5 minutes of porn viewing & become powerfully aroused & supremely stimulated. At minute 6, I become soundly tired of the tease, blasé & disinterested. For me, porn is just pink, pink, pink, in, out &, in & out. Yet being alone, I felt I should fit in another activity that I have neglected since a certain someone is almost always on the premises. I made the decision to make love to that special one. Yes, an afternoon of self abuse! I would catch up on some long neglected whacking, knocking out the one-eyed champ, wrapping the presents, feeding the chickens, answering my bone-a-phone, blessing the alter boy, cranking the shank, Eberting my Siskel, doing the hand jive, holding the sausage hostage, making the bald guy puke, clapping with one hand, shooting without scoring, slapping the chubby, tossing one off, waxing willy, whitewater wristing, playing yahtzee, or my favorite- Uncorking the Champagne.

I checked out just a few more moments of some German Prison Porn, undressed & slipped under the duvet. It was considerably cold in the bedroom & I began by hugging & rubbing myself to warm up.

I placed the most depraved image in my brain & let the libido take over. I awoke to the gentle sound of the Husband’s greeting 4 hours later.

As if I am so boring & undesirable in bed, that I fell asleep at the 1st moment of foreplay. Even I don’t want to have sex with me! I indubitably feel rejected by myself. I patently promise myself to give me more attention & affection & try to recreate that voodoo that I do so well. I will start the titillation by sexting myself this afternoon. I never know when I will have an hour to myself again.






Great songs about masturbation:
My Ding-a-Ling- Chuck Berry
Darling Nikki- Prince
Orgasm Addict- The Buzzcocks
Dancing With Myself- Billy Idol
Blister In The Sun- The Violent Femmes
Praying Hands- Devo
Turning Japanese- The Vapors
She Bop- Cyndi Lauper
Pump It Up- Elvis Costello
Beat It- Michael Jackson
Thinking About You - Radiohead
Touch Of My Hand - Britney Spears
With My Little Ukulele In My Hand - George Formby
Ramrod- Bruce Springsteen
Miss Me Blind- Culture Club
Hit It- English Beat
Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton
Let’s Hear It For The Boy- Deniece Williams
Jack & Jill- Classic Nursery Rhyme
Oh, Come All Ye Faithfull- Tradition Carol