Putting the TMI in absentminded
You may recall Gary gave me this box to appreciate earlier this week.
Yesterday he came by and complained I had set the box down and now I could not admire the box fully unless I was standing up.
Today he pointed out the man’s navel. “THAT MODEL HAS A BAD NAVEL. MY NAVEL IS WAY BETTER THAN HIS.”
So the comparison is fair I have given Gary’s navel the full Mapplethorpe black and white treatment.
I think Gary is right.
So this is the previous …
This is the progress …
This is where it started:
And this is the goal.
I am done. Still couldn’t capture the light. I am no Thomas Kinkade. You know, maybe I meed to just buy a tube of neon yellow green.
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.