Tag: Señora

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5783.298

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”

Señora and I were sitting at the kitchen table partaking of our evening repast.  She mentioned the upcoming birthday of a mutual acquaintance revealing that they were turning 70.  This somewhat surprised me as I did not realize that they were about to achieve this “milestone”.  Señora found this a little humorous.

I went on to say, “I don’t know how the f*** I got to be 70 years old.”

“You’ve managed not to croak this long,” she informed me, causing me to spew pasta upon the autumnal decorations anchoring the center of the table.

Words of wisdom from my own personal  rhabdomancer.

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Pity Laugh

We just got back from a week long road trip.  Our first stop was in Owensboro, KY to visit my Aunt Betty.  We got there about mid afternoon and spent most of the afternoon and evening visiting with her after checking into our motel.  The next morning we were going to meet her and some of my cousins for the traditional breakfast at Dee’s Diner.  Needing coffee I went to the breakfast area to get a cup for Señora and I.   As I was doctoring our coffees a young lady came in, pumped herself some coffee, added some cream, then begin looking around.

I asked her, “Are you looking for something?”

“Sugar,” she responded.

To which I replied, “Normally I am accommodating, but we just met!”

That is when I got the pity laugh.

Probably I am lucky I did not get my face slapped, but being elderly these sweet young things grant me some latitude… such as holding doors for me and allowing me to go in first.  They seem to think there is no bark left in this old hound dog.  Gotta love this getting old gig.

And so it is going.

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Not tonight…

I took a trip down to Mississippi for a few days to visit my buddy down there, and to get in a few rounds of golf with my old  – now really old – group of Mississippian golfing companions.

As is our wont each night Señora and I touched base  to hear each others’ voice and see how our respective days had gone.

My last night there towards the end of the phone call I suggested phone sex to Señora, more to pick at her than anything else.

She replied with little hesitation, “Not tonight Dear, I have a headache.”

Oh the thrill is gone.

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Four Possible Exit Predictions

I have four possible predictions on my final exit from the travails of this cruel world.

My first possibility is very pedestrian.  I go out the normal way, succumbing to one of the many infirmities that can affect us viejos. I am sure y’all can list them by heart.

A second possible way is  that I will be walking down the stairs.  My progressive bifocals are not on properly, I step down where I think the step is, but it is not.  I tumble down the stairs and break my neck.  I have come close to doing this more times than I can count .

The third way involves neighbors up the street from us who run Continue reading “Four Possible Exit Predictions”

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Paraphernalia

As these things come and go, I have no idea if it is still  in vogue, but the slang, at least for a while, was to refer to the male specific anatomy as “junk”.  At least I heard a lot of comedians on the telly doing so.  Recently Señora referred to my personal masculine anatomical configuration as paraphernalia.

Paraphernalia… hmm, I didn’t know about that.  One dictionary definition of this word is: trappings associated with a particular institution or activity that are regarded as superfluous. What is superfluous, the trappings, the institution or activity? There appears to be a little ambiguity in that definition. Another source gives the definition as: the separate real or personal property of a married woman that she can dispose of by will and sometimes according to common law during her life.

To the second definition…OUCH. To the first, I certainly do not consider my apparatus superfluous – at least yet, and I am hoping  Señora does not either.

But then again I did wonder what Señora had been smoking that she had paraphernalia on her mind.

And soooooo it goes.

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5782.238

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”

Caution the following is NSFW – Not Safe for Work – and more than a little randy… You have been appraised, proceed at your own risk.

It has been a great summer for watermelons.  On the way to the golf course is a vegetable stand, and I have been stopping there about once a week to buy us a specimen of this most wonderful of summer delectables.

Tonight as Señora partook of this treat  she moaned around  the red, luscious, juicy fruit,  “I hope I die eating watermelon.”

To which I replied, “I hope I die eating pussy.”

Not missing a beat Señora shot back, “At least I will know where to find the body.”

And yes Señora approved.

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Choice is Good

I have two frequent muses for my silly, little blog.  One is Señora. Most of the time she is okay with being my muse, sometimes she is tickled, and on occasion, she will arch one eyebrow and give me that look. After two bouts of the the brain fever known as matrimonitis I have gained enough “wisdom” to seek Señora‘s approval before releasing stories involving her into the wilds of cyberspace.

My other muse is The Wee Dog, aka Princess Lily, our 7 kilogram rescue dog. A year or so after we adopted her, on a whim – and on sale – we had her DNA tested.  She is 3/8 Bichon Frisé, 1/4 Dachshund, 1/8 Pomeranian, 1/8 Pekingese, 1/8 Shih Tzu and 100% adorable except to squirrels, rabbits, moles and especially chipmunks.

Señora and Princess Lily are essentially surgically/psychically/telepathically connected. Neither one of them can stand not knowing where the other is, generally they are in the same room together.  As revealed in True Confessions, I, by spells, have my roles to play in this ménage à chienne. For reasons known Continue reading “Choice is Good”

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5782.227

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”

Today Señora was going to meet a friend for lunch. Normally when I see Señora around the hacienda she has on her I-have-five-loads-of-laundry-to-do-and-10-rows-of-corn-to-hoe outfit. When she came down to our little gym area to say goodbye to me she had put on a nice dress, fixed her hair and put on some makeup.

“You be sure to tell Roberts I am more than a  jealous of her, you getting all duded up like that for her,” I declared.

Before I could completely finish my thought, Señora ejaculated, “Bullshit…I brush my tooth every day for you!”

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Open or Closed?

Señora and I are having an ongoing “debate”.  After visiting the bathroom for a “meditation session”, do you leave the bathroom door shut or do you open it?  My opinion is that you leave it shut to trap the “aromas” therein, allowing them dissipated in due time.   Señora repeatedly opines that it is better to leave the door open to allow the “aromas” to dissipated quicker.

We keep a candle in there, but the problem with those is that I forget I have lit it.   I suppose that is a minor fire hazard, but mainly they are burning up very quickly.

On a semi-related note, did you know that there are soaps that are solely for decoration, that they are not there for the washing of your hands?

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5782.202

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.”

Just to put this in context, Señora and I are fast approaching our 9th wedding anniversary.

So… I am sitting on the porcelain throne in the downstairs bathroom this morning reading a few pages from Rabbi Joseph Telushkin‘s delightful book, Words That Hurt, Words that Heal.

Interrupting my meditations and reading, there is a banging on the bathroom door followed by,  “Are you in there?”

In reply I said, “Of course I am, it is 0932 and I have had two cups of coffee.”

Señora goes on, “Do you want to get married again?”

To which I answered, “Will I have more privacy in the morning if we do?”

Apparently that was not the correct response.