Tiny steps are being taken in the domestic peace talks. For example, I watched his tiresome movie last night.
In response, this morning he gave me this empty underwear box.

Putting the TMI in absentminded
Tiny steps are being taken in the domestic peace talks. For example, I watched his tiresome movie last night.
In response, this morning he gave me this empty underwear box.

Sometimes Gary wants to watch a movie so much that he becomes unreasonably attached to it and feels personally insulted if you do not embrace it as well.
The most recent example is a heist/chase/relationship movie called Crime 101. It is so long we had to watch it in stages. There’s an hour left and we are watching that hour now. I am writing this blog post right now so I don’t have to focus all my attention on this movie.
I am not the demographic for this movie, even though it stars Chris Hemsworth as a very calm, unemotional man, and given that Gary has been so emotional as of late, that should drive me wild, right? Nope. Even though Chris has been given the direction to be stoic even as he ignores shots fired while attractive women try to date him, and yet he leaves me cold.
Here is a gallery of the range of emotions he shows in this movie, courtesy of IMDB.



[An hour passes. The movie concludes.]
Gary, on the other hand, loved it. He spent the last hour of this movie exclaiming “I LOVE THIS MOVIE” at all the tensest moments.
Gary is determined to stay put in his current misery. Not interested in an appointment with the dermatologist because it’s the same dermatologist he spoke with last year.
I spent some time last weekend wondering how he’d react if I moved out. Not forever. Just like a month. Or until he consents to see the dermatologist again.
Then I reconsidered that. I’m catastrophizing. If he was going to die he would have already. The issues now are simply that:
a) His undiagnosed illness is expensive to treat. He’s treating it with special clothing and unguents that at best would eat into our Health Savings account (which I doubt) as opposed to prescribed medications that would be free because we’ve hit our out-of-pocket maximum.
b) He is a very poor and ill-tempered patient.
c) It’s hard to respect someone who actively chooses illness.
So, for the last two I am going to accept the situation and change what I can: myself. Back to counseling for me then. Actually I need advanced counselling. The skills I learned in counseling before have not helped. Or perhaps I need a Community College course called, “So Your Husband is a Grumpy Old Man Now.” Maybe I need to join the caregivers’ support group at work. And I’ll investigate if the Health Savings Account might pay for the clothes and the ointments.
And I need to have my second appointment with the therapist recommended at my physical. The first, the assessment, was today. That’s the only step forward I’ve taken so far.
Well, sad news from Saint Louis. The Tivoli theater on the Delmar Loop has not only closed its doors but has been bought by a church.
This would be sad news on its own, but the Tivoli is where generations of kids participated in the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
If the Riverfront Times still existed I am sure they would have already recommended a list of Audience Participation props and activities for that church.
When someone says or sings “Hallelujah”: shout “It’s raining men.”
Sign of Peace: thrust your pelvis into your fellow congregants’ pelvises.
Offering: throw wadded-up dollar bills at the ushers.
Doxology: sing “In just seven days I can make you a ma-a-a-a–an” instead.
If anyone brings up “Transmogrifi…cation” yell “say it!”
First, the Christian radio station bought KDHX, now a church buys the Tivoli. Next they’ll be having prayer meetings at the Ethical Society.
The kidney stones may be coming for me.
Recently my right kidney area hurt before bed and I woke up to some pink in my panties (she said, daintily).
The physical urine sample showed no blood but did show some microscopic red blood cells. I went in for a retest three days later and the red blood cells bumped up one range. Was it on the cusp of 3-5 and then went up one cell to 5-10, or did it start at 5 and double to 10, or did it start at 3 and triple to 9? Who can tell with ranges?
It does make me remember every time I’ve felt like I had an unearned bladder infection last year. Typical pain, yet no cause. Maybe I just can’t tell if I have a UTI or if I am passing wee little bladder pebbles.
I do know that I have been hyper-aware of every inch of my urinary tract this week. And it’s entirely possible there is nothing wrong at all — but frankly, it’s more likely that my kidneys are showing their age.
Look at this nonsense from my yearly physical!
My physical report still says I have Class I Obesity! I mean, sure, my obesity is First Class (ONLY THE BEST OBESITY FOR MOI) but still.
According to their own page it says the lowest BMI for First Class Obesity is 32. I’ve read other things that say the low is 30.
I am 29.79 BMI IN MY SHOES and evidently they have rounded up so I hit 30.

This is an outrage.
Also look at all those other numbers. Especially the oxygen. I am full of oxygen. Perhaps that’s why they looked at me and said “Still fat.”
So this is the previous …

This is the progress …

And this is the goal.

More contrast on the flowers and I am done.
Martin Scorcese said that Casino was “all story, no plot.”
I liked Casino a lot, though, I think because I didn’t need to hear the “why” behind any of the narrative. I just assumed that life in the Mafia is violent and chaotic and random.
Life in table tennis is violent and chaotic too, who knew, and exhausting to watch. Just exhausting. And so long. Was the plot meant to mimic table tennis itself, just a relentless back-and-forth effort?
Of course, props to Timothee for becoming a really good table tennis player. And the orange ball visual was lovely. But it all comes down to the ending, which was baffling. Baffling to me, anyway.
Summary: did not like , no thank you, I rooted for the dog more than the human.
8:00 pm Monday night: I am watching the credits to the 2025 recorded version of Merrily We Roll Along and I am astonished to see it was based on a 1934 play by Kaufman and Hart. And then I am gobsmacked to read that K&H’s 1934 version was told with the same backward narration.
6:00 pm Monday night: I pick up the musical where I left off, about thirty minutes in.
3:30 Sunday afternoon: I think, “I’ve got to stop watching this and finish it tomorrow if I’m going to get the gardening done. But I liked that ‘Franklin Shepard Inc.’ song because it had a tune.”
2:55 Sunday afternoon: I decide to watch the Merrily We Roll Along movie on Netflix because I vaguely remembered it was the rare Sondheim failure that inspired the documentary The Best Worst Thing to Ever Could Have Happened. One of the difficulties was that the musical was told in reverse chronological order.
June 17, 2024: I watch the opera Galileo Galilei.
1957: Stephen Sondheim debuts on Broadway with West Side Story, including the song “Something’s Coming,” which could just as well be the last (yet chronologically first) song of Merrily We Roll Along, “Our Time.”
How is it that a mystery play can essentially reveal events in reverse, and it doesn’t trouble me, and an opera can do the same and I think it’s fine, but not this? I suppose part of it is that you get invested in a character, and if the character is revealed to be originally different from what you were told then you feel cheated? Galileo doesn’t change from end to beginning. Good guys are revealed to be evil killers, and that’s delightful, because they were evil all along. But this musical gives you someone damaged who was better before, so you have to watch as they get more appealing but then you know that’s the beginning, not the ending.
So I suppose ultimately I didn’t like it. I didn’t like a Kaufman and Hart play, surprising, I know.
Well, tonight is the last night my teeth will spend in the aligners. It was just a four-month process and they feel like all-new teeth.
I mean, cosmetically they’re still too close to the ivory edge of the paint sample card. And my front teeth are still shorter than my canines (just like Mom’s).
But on the other hand, I can actually floss now without blood and violence. And before, the force exerted between the teeth caused every tooth to chip, like tiny tectonic plates rubbing against each other.
I started out comforted to have little snug life vests around every tooth, but in the last few weeks it has felt like I had a too-tight bra around every tooth, and taking it off felt like a little mouth vacation.
But in about 12 hours, I will take them off and then … start eating and flossing nonstop, I guess.