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Well, not literally.  As water goes, I’ve been swimming fairly consistently.  I have swum for the last four days, 2500 meters each day, a total of a little over six miles.  The opportunity to exercise is the best aspect of retirement for me.  I would have made a marvelous English gentleman of La Belle Epoque .  They made an art of not working, a worthy avocation if there ever was one.

I have a fruit salad to make this morning to bring to my Thomistic Philosophy discussion group at Church.  Bananas, pineapple, strawberries, and maybe a pear or two, should make a tasty treat.  I’m so tempted to say “Eff-it!” and go buy some donuts, but this is the wiser course of action.

Mrs CorC? and I will attend the Easter Vigil Mass.  It has a quiet dignity that is quite compelling.  Maybe, if we are lucky, the choir will chant the Litany of Loretto, in Latin. Tomorrow we will go to brunch at the local Maggiano’s. We have gotten out of the habit of elaborate family get-togethers at Easter and Christmas because my sister, a church musician, has a pretty demanding schedule.

My dream is to have the family here.  That would require that we get the house presentable. Mrs CorC? has given no indication that this is a priority for her.  To be quite frank, I consider her reticence a lack of interest in my family and my needs. And I am hurt.  Communicating my needs is a fruitless activity, I’ve learned.

My needs.  Every damn day, I long for affection, sexual intimacy, a little politically incorrect banter.  However, I have the relationship/marriage that I have.  Any change will have to spring from both her and my own personal transformation.  Dammit.

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