Hookahs, Lasagna, Flying Cats and Words

In my on line word games – I’m mega weary of playing inelegant words just because they’ll net me more points. Dammit! (insert petulant foot stomp here)

Zit instead of virus or bris

Tonic instead of ninon.

Pad instead of baize.

Refine instead of fern.

Really, the indignity of it all may be too much to bear this morning.

Consolation prize – I got to play trollop instead of stroll and motet instead of emit.

OK, fine.
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Randomly, Jen thinks of seagulls as cats with wings. I'm inclined to agree.

The Amazing Bob woke with a horrible back ache – he has crushed discs in his lower spine which, more often than he tells, give him hellacious amounts of pain. This morning it was so bad that he woke me up with a wistful, snarky request for opium.

I allowed that I'd go ask Alice.

I cook him all his fave foods (luckily his tastes fall within my profoundly limited kitchen abilities) or pick up take out from his preferred diners. Chores and errands? We used to split these. I took them over so's his always in the wings pain wouldn't bloom. Cleaning? I give it my best effort but I'm no domestic wizard. In short, I’m workin’ my sweet, fat tas-tas off because, goddamnit, I want him to feel better…NOW!

And I wanna know, why is it that I can’t make him all fucking better! Last night’s meat lasagna from Fratelli’s really should’ve done the trick, ya know.

Food? Food will make him better. Gee Donna, Italian Catholic much?
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Rocco would be content, would be in total heaven, if I stayed in bed reading all day whilst cosseting the hell outta him. Occasionally he’d make it clear that it was time for snacks or lunchy which I’d, naturally, run and fetch for our retired warrior king.

I’d love to oblige – really I would. Unfortunately (for him) work, exercise and those pesky errands, call to me. Oh, the guilt trips he inflicts when I leave the room! That look – you’re not leaving me, are you?

(have I mentioned that Italian Catholic, molto susceptible to guilt trip thingie before?)

He’s now to the point where he allows TAB and Jen to pat him…a bit. Let’s not get over-familiar and crazy here!

Was my boy ever feral? Hard to imagine.
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Coco keeping an eye on Ghost Cat

 Jen’s still struggling with nasty ass, run prohibiting knee pain. This has been going on since last year when she did that half marathon. She’s gone through rehab twice only to reinjure when she starts up again with her beloved morning routine.

Third times a charm and THIS time, she’s gonna ease back into her cherished, much missed morning run so slowly, her knees won’t suspect a thing. Before ya know it, she’ll be back up and at ‘em, happily zipping down Wollaston Beach each morning.

Meantime – I’ve got new sneaks which seem to be making a difference for me. No more post ex pain – yippee! I’m also working up to my epic rides gradually-ish. Yesterday, I triked out to Wollaston Beach. I was still full of energy when I got there and thought, hey, let’s keep going! And then I remembered that I still had to ride home AND that I can ride again today.

Slow and steady wins the race and shit.
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Finally, I do believe that the fragrance of early summer morning air  is the most brilliantly intoxicating scent there is. The bedewed grass and sand, low tide, blooming lilacs – hells bells, even the tree bark's giving off an alluring smell. The freshness of it all is FABULOUS! And now I have this tune in my head.

Before the sun came out. Puts Jonas Vidar in mind, don't it?