I Survived Physical Therapy.

I have done physical therapy before. Chances are I will again. This session is pursuant to the pinched nerve in my neck. It wasn’t the greatest session I have ever experienced; I go back tomorrow morning Almost three hours post-session now, I think it’s better.

J wants to take me for $1 tacos tonight at one of our local restaurants, a family-owned place, that has a largely family clientele. But I want to pass.

What I would like to post about is some sort of erotic fantasy, but nothing is coming to mind.

Sometimes the sheer cussedness of the world just chokes off desire and imagination like a hungry anaconda. If your erotic fantasies are many, and your sexual realities are rich with intimacy, pleasure and Love, enjoy!

Huevos Rancheros. Oh, And Love Too


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My wife says I just like to say “huevos rancheros“. While it is true I love to pronounce that beautiful phrase, I do like huevos rancheros, as a meal. I will go to brunch at a nice restaurant and pay top dollar for dirt cheap food. Eggs, corn tortillas, frijoles negros, and salsa for somewhere between $12 and $15, a dish a short order cook can and, probably does, prepare.

Anyway, I bought corn tortillas and salsa at BJ’s the other day. Everything else I had on hand. I fixed my own huevos rancheros for my luxurious at home brunch.

It was yummy. Sadly, my wife could not join me. Or my favorite Word Press girl/woman crushes (I hope you know who you are) weren’t here, either, except vicariously, for me.

Food and Love. Food, we know what that is, except Jesus gave food a deeper meaning, when he stated, “I am the Bread of Life.” We live on another plane, as Christians, because Jesus changed our understanding of the world and the components that support us.

Love, on the other hand, has many definitions, love between friends and neighbors, parent and child, the love we have for our country, erotic love, sexual love. I make a distinction between the erotic and sexual, because the passion of attraction we have for others, need not express itself sexually, in a sexual act. In other words, we don’t have to have sex with someone with whom we are “in love”.

The sexual act can be devoid of love. People have sex in order to assure their own survival, either immediately or long term. Desperate women have exchanged sex for food or the means to acquire food. We have sex to have children, expecting (hoping?) these children will care for us in old age. Romantic (erotic) love is secondary to the demands of survival.

It is very common in all cultures that food is shared with the people we love. Many of us will have that experience over the next few days, some of us at Passover seders, others at Easter dinners. And that these feasts involve a transcendent love, where we thank God and celebrate, sometimes, with the people we brought into the world ourselves, or who brought us into the world.

Shoulder + Allergies = YUCK


That’s right Folks. Allergies are back in Richmond. Truth be told, the pollen stays only until the mold spores can replace them.

In my impressionable youth, there was a commercial for a product called Dristan. It was a decongestant and antihistamine and their slogan was, “It’s like sending your sinuses to Arizona.” At that declaration, a giant suitcase would swoop in, encase (get it?) the allergy sufferer inside of it and presto the sufferer would miraculously turn up in Scottsdale or Tucson or Yuma. Bizarre ,as only pre-hippie America could be.

The shoulder is settling down a bit. I welcome that. I feel actual hope about recovering and feel no remorse about buying all those green bananas at BJ’s the other day. I might actually live to see them ripen.

I’m not quite in the mood for baseball, although NCAA Women’s Softball has my attention.

Life is good. How do I know? It is still a good eight months before we start hearing Frosty The Snowman on the radio again.


I went to the doctor, described my symptoms, and he is confident I don’t have lung cancer. He thinks I have a pinched nerve in my neck and referred me to my physical therapist. He said that lower back issues often bring on neck issues. That makes sense. So there. Acting up on this nugget of information, I applied heat to my lower back. I’m feeling much better already.

Looks like the Notre Dame damage is not as bad as first was feared. Huge relief here.

I have to admit it’s getting better, getting better all the time.”- Paul McCartney



I always thought that one day I would go to Paris, see the Eiffel Tower, visit The Louvre, the Arc de Triumphe, and Notre Dame du Paris. And now… Who caused it to happen, how and why this happened won’t be answered for a long time. Suddenly, the Yellow Vest Movement fades away, Macron must face a profound catastrophe. This Cathedral is at the very heart of France. Chartres seems vulnerable, Rheims, Mont St Michel, also.

It is a thrust at the Spirit of France. The Catholic Faith that defined France since before Charlemagne is being tested as never before.

Pray for the restoration of The Faith, St Joan of Arc, pray for us. St Thérèse of Lisieux, pray for us.


So J says to me today, “Shoulder pain can be a sign of lung cancer.” Casual-like. Her father had shoulder pain when his lung cancer was diagnosed at age 92. Great.

So my mind has been nuts for the last 12 hours or so. The pain has changed, moved to other parts of my back and arm. I don’t know what it means. It is crazy. I’m calling the Doctor in the morning. I would go to bed but J decided to work on the taxes in bed.i could just scream.

We did go to the 5:00 PM Mass. I’m glad we did. I did feel the love of Christ tonight. The Passion story is so intense. It is a short course in human behavior and depravity. And I needed to hear it.

Cold Shoulder


Here I am, in the comfy chair. I just watched my Ukrainian guys with the metal detectors. They’ve branched out into trespassing in abandoned factories, which appears to be a pointlessly dangerous activity.

That video concluded I am now watching Nuggetnoggin “mudlarking” in the tidal flats of the Thames at London. Now Nuggetnoggin is magnet fishing with my #1 Youtube Girl crush, Nicola White, of Tideline Art.

Earlier this morning, I watched videos of these open trams going about Blackpool, England. The town looks totally whimsical and charming, unlike any seaside town in The States. We seem to be obsessed with bigger and better, with this relentless urge to be entertained, i.e. stimulated and titillated. The need to be at the seaside has been superseded by this need for entertainment, hence Las Vegas, or Disney World.

I titled this “Cold Shoulder” because I have a cold pack on my shoulder, I can’t figure this shoulder pain out. And I seem to be ratcheting up the drama and significance of every odd ache, pain, and discomfort that I experience.

I’m not going to Mass, because I’m hurting. Even with the cold pack on and after taking two Naproxen capsules, I’m still hurting. I’m hoping a swim will help.

I also read Julie’s posts at Master’s Pleasing Bitch. She is quite sexually unihibited, expresses herself well, and doesn’t let cancer rob her of the joy of living,

This has been my morning so far. Oh, I did have a lovely orange bought in Florida last week and a cup of coffee. I’m currently in love with world, Some fattening pastry would be nice. And a go at the old “slap and tickle”.

Der Tag/My Day

I have this shoulder pain going on, like I slept on it funny, or sat too long, or something like that. I did ride in a car more or less nonstop for 16 hours a day for a week. Hmmm, a clue?

So for the past two days I have been making an effort to work the kink out. Kink, not that kind. I have been swimming, a mile yesterday 1100 meters today. Today I swam in the family pool, the warmer pool, which explains the shortened distance. It was quite a test. I move my shoulder with little problems swimming. I’m done. I come home.

Earlier, we had dinner (lunch) with friends at our favorite restaurant. I had salmon, steamed vegetables,fresh fruit.

We decide to skip the Vigil Mass tonight for the Palm Sunday Mass on Sunday.

I’m tired, lonely, sexually unfulfilled. And I have no solution to this dilemma. Except talking, communicating, and trusting that Love will find a way,

Servant Body. Servant Mind. Slave Dreams


NSFW. Erotic Fantasy, y’all.

Long slow morning. The lazies take over. And the dreaming begins.

I am naked, wearing only my collar. I begin my chores, I am on my knees as I scour the tub, my ass on display. You pinch it hard. The distraction takes my innermost thoughts to your body. I can almost smell your cunt.

I scrub on, then clean the toilet, the sink and scrub the bathroom floor, again on my hands and knees.

These weekends are special. My clothes stay in the hall closet. My purpose is service. I am vulnerable. I put my focus on you, my trust in you. You could embarrass, humiliate, or degrade me, should it be your wish or whim. Yet your fancies have not led you there. Yet.

Last winter, in the snow you sent me to pick up the pizza you ordered wearing only my shearling coat and leather boots. I felt the fleece against my nakedness. The clerk at the counter must have wondered when I exchanged the money for the brown cardboard box containing the pie , redolent of oregano and pepperoni.

It is all about knowing my place. Not conniving to get the chance to lick your cunt, or asshole, or have your dildo fill my ass.

I choose this way. I know the itch of deprivation, as the yearning drags on.


This is a familiar time and a familiar reason for being awake. Pain. This time I have a sore shoulder that feels “tight” and sore. Ice seems to help. J will be up in a short while. I shall go back to sleep after she awakens and showers.

I tried reading, but can’t get engaged with the story. Odd. The author is Anais Nin, usually not a problem getting involved in her fiction. Later, I guess.

There are Looney Tunes cartoons on YouTube. Some animated mayhem usually perks me up. Daffy Duck is fighting Nazis. It is war Everybody did their part.

OK , Back to bed.