Back in the saddle again

All I want is a warm bed, a kind word and unlimited power. Ashleigh Brilliant

Almost exactly three weeks after my back surgery I am up and running… Well not quite… let’s say up and strolling… with a cane. Like Lazarus (but without the help of The Carpenter) I have risen from my sickbed and started walking again. Alleluia!

I can now climb up fairly easily the once daunting fourteen steps leading to the upper floor and annoy my ever-slumbering cat again. I have reclaimed my command post in front of my wide screen Mac and I am ready to churn out the hot stuff that you expect (?).

Tonight I will also move back to the conjugal bed that I had to abandon after being slit open by a mad medic. It is way more comfortable than the practical (but cramped) hospital bed that I had to use up to now.

My becoming mobile again might prove a mixed blessing for my wife. Faced with my newly regained independence, she will have to relinquish her almost absolute power (women hate that) over me, and incidentally half of the bed. I will also reclaim authority over the bedroom TV remote control. There are no small victories.

Any relationship you need to understand has always been a covert struggle for dominance. I am Napoleon and she is Ekaterina the Great, two people not to be trifled with, especially man-eating Ekaterina. So, we both keep our powder dry, just in case.

My consort by the way always dreamed to be a nurse and emulate Florence Nightingale but I doubt that Florence had much shut-eye and my wife values sleep too much to ever have pursued that path.
So it is a fair trade: she will (hopefully) relinquish power in exchange for uninterrupted nights of sleep.

See you soon on the field compañeros!

Alain

Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed. Geoffrey Chaucer

Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated…

Despite my initial reluctance, my head nurse Tamara managed to drag me yesterday to Peet’s Coffee for a little coffee klatch in the sun.

Photo by Tamara

It was my first public appearance since my surgery, and leaning on a cane I hauled myself to the terrace and carefully lowered my backside into a chair. I have always been fond of sitting outdoors, sizing up passersby and assessing the charms of the girls floating by.

Next to Peet’s, there is a fitness center patronized mainly by women and there is a continual procession of yoga panted girls prancing around. Since Adam and Eve, every girl has been taught that “if you have got it babe, you must flaunt it” and they dutifully abide by this dictum, more or less openly.

They pass you by seemingly unaware of you gaze, but a quick sideway glance always betray them. They furtively make sure that you look at them. I always oblige because if you don’t, you might hurt their self-esteem.

Contrarily to common belief you don’t die when you stop breathing. You cross the Great Divide when you lose interest in the opposite sex. And this is very reassuring to me because in spite of my temporary setback, I still like to watch girls.

The art of girl watching should be taught in school, because there is a right way and a wrong way to do it. To do this properly, your glance should operate like a radar beam. It should rotate slowly and steadily in order to cover a wide area. It should be an easy and natural scan, a little bit like a slow motion golf swing or a tennis backhand. It should be smooth and effortless.

But not everybody is blessed with this talent though. In spite of years of practice, some guys still fail to swing properly. Instead of a low intensity radar scan, they use a high pulse repetition frequency device that scares and drives off the lassies.

In an ideal world, everything should be done with flair and finesse. But to do so takes a lot of rehearsing and there is no better practice than to keep doing what comes naturally to a true blue metrosexual gentleman.

Why not show off if you’ve got something to show? January Jones

Alain

The delight of opening a new pursuit…

Consciously or not, every person longs for novelty; for something fresh and unfamiliar that will bring excitement into a monotonous existence. If that longing is not satisfied, dormant Boredom will awake and nag you.
It is a common ailment that can affect humans and animals alike. It silently creeps up on you and insidiously morphs people and animals into unhappy individuals.

Happiness is a dedicated leg warmer

Regardless how contented you are, some day soon you will feel bored, hankering for some novelty. It could be a new phone, a new car, a new job… a new surgery (ha ha ha) even a new relationship…
It does not mean that you don’t like your mate anymore. It simply means that you want to experience something different, something new to spice up an uneventful routine. This is the so-called mid-life crisis affecting mainly quadragenarians and described by the French as “le démon de midi” (middle-aged lust).

Novelty serves us for a kind of refreshment, and takes off from that satiety we are apt to complain of in our usual and ordinary entertainments. Joseph Addison

Just like children getting tired of their toys, grownups get bored with theirs. They need a steady stream of adrenaline shots to feel content. Some vacations can fill that void, but temporarily.

“Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.” ― Anthony Doerr

Novelty is the antidote to boredom. One must acquire new toys on a regular basis to feel gratified and Amazon shrewdly tapped into that vein; it provides the perfect channel for that craving. You just have to click a button and kindly Uncle Amazon will oblige. No questions asked and it is much more efficient than Santa’s old routine. No letter to write and no anxious waiting period. You can satisfy your longing and play with your new toy within days.

The key to fend off Demon Boredom is planning ahead. One should always have something to look forward to. When I was skiing in France, I remember hearing French people already talking about their upcoming summer vacation.
That’s the way to do it. Plan your future like a D-Day operation. Every month storm a new beach… or a new restaurant.

If you are not careful, “le démon de midi” might creep into your home and wreck havoc with your quiet, happily boring life.

Alain