Most Wonderful

Yes boys and girls, it’s that time of year again! Better than the witching hour, it’s the sex days, I mean six days, between Christmas and New Years Day. The Naughty time of the year when you can misbehave! Because we all know that after the 31st, you have to be nice or Santa will not bring you any presents! So when someone asks you, ‘Have you been a good boy this year?’. You can truthfully answer ‘Yes’.
Maybe you were deliciously wicked during the ‘tween time’ last year, but nobody has to know that.
Least of all, your parents.

So you slide out of bed, careful so as not to wake the delicious, warm sylphid lying next to you.
You don’t remember her name, just that she was standing on the balcony having a cigarette when you stepped out to have one yourself. A tall, slim redhead, she had a warm smile.
She shared common likes, including a taste for gin. That you were as far underage as she was above never seemed to matter.
What mattered was that she lived just down the hall from where the party was going on.

But it is now time to go, you tell yourself as you hunt down your clothes. There is no need to complicate her life, so you should slip out as easily as you slipped in. She has a boyfriend far away. Your recollection is fuzzy. Something about being on mission, or on a mission. The Gin garbles things.
You step outside the apartment complex and try to get your bearings. Your friends just said they knew of a New Years Eve party, not where. Then you recognize the skyline and the top of the Grand Lake Theater sign.
Home is a bit of a walk, but you should be home in time for breakfast. You start to hum a Christmas song, then chuckle as you alter the words. “It’s the moist wonderful time, of the year.”
You will try to be good, this year.

A Little White Lie

I am constantly amused by the things we don’t say, the truth we dance around. Even when we are mostly sure we can say things, we still try and be nice. (for it is, as I have stated, that a Gentleman is at minimum, complimentary)

I was exchanging emails with a chat-buddy the other day and was trying to figure out how to describe someone. ‘Mousy’ came to mind, as did attractive.

“Wait a minute GW.” I can hear you say, you can’t have it both ways.
Maybe I can. After all, I do not control my instincts, they just are. At best, I can just report on them. So I am confident in saying that I am repulsed by some pretty women and attracted to some plain ones.

If you listen to women, (which you should not do since they are the worst judges of feminine pulchritude); you will hear things said that contradict how you feel.
Why, some of the most attractive women I know have been referred to (by other women) as-
‘she isn’t very cute’
‘she is kinda plain.’
‘she is kinda homely’
‘she is not much to look at.’
‘she wasn’t very pretty.’
Can I prove it? Yes and no.
Which one of you women wants me to tell you to your face, that you are mousy but very attractive? Can you handle it? Can you understand that perhaps your smile is the cheapest and best makeup you could ever wear?

I remember talking with MT (Megatits) last year, about the Big Rumor/Scandal. She was telling me about it and the pictures that had been emailed to her. She had erased them but was shocked that people would take pictures like that and allow others to see them. Especially given the guys marital status.
‘Naked pictures?’ I asked.
She nodded, then said, “I just don’t know what anyone sees in Them! They look like little girls!”

Now I have to pause and think. If I ask to see some of the naked pictures, does that make me a pedophile, since you think they all look like little girls?
And really, what does it matter to you what they look like? They are no threat to you, being thousands of miles away. Is it that important for you to put them down? I guess it is since we know you erroneously think that the bust is the primary gauge of beauty. Is that why you think they look like little girls because they have tiny tits? Of course, you do, since you never learned that tits don’t make the women. (it’s the women who makes the…nevermind, you get the picture)

But I think I knew that when I met her, which explains why I disliked her from the first moment we met. I know, that is terrible, but true. So while all the other guys were admiring her figure, I was trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

Yes, I eventually figured it out and I was right in my first impression. Just as I was right in liking that little freckle-faced redhead the moment I met her. I have learned to trust my instincts.

So when you ask me to describe someone I remember from decades ago, I hesitate, then dance around the truth (as I remember it)

But she did have a very attractive smile.

Looking in the Past

One of the things I have taken on is the disposition of my dads toy collection. Unfortunately, not a lot of the information was written down. What I do have are some old spreadsheets, a big box of toy collection books and Google.

Easy stuff like Tootsie Toys are found and I can figure out what they are worth. The same for Paya wind-up cars.
But the hard stuff is the really old toys;
like a cast iron, Horse Drawn Hook & Ladder.
I am sure it is from about 1909-20,
but I have found no pictures.



Then there is a Green,
Pressed Steel Delivery Truck.
It’s probably from 1920-30s and some one
repainted/refurbished it. But there were
dozens of toy makers and not enough pictures.








At other times I have incredible luck.
I have an unmarked
Pressed Steel Airplane in a Presses Steel Hanger.
I type in three words into Google and the second
link has a picture of the exact toy!
Scheibel Toy Airplane with Hanger






One down, twelve boxes of toys, or more, to catalog.

(Sigh)

Pricks and Prods

The MRI showed wear and tear on my shoulder, mostly normal for a guy my age, but nothing that screamed fix me.
My Ortho-Doc looked the scans over and pointed out where there were bad spots. (It is really cool to see the image slices of my shoulder.) He wants to send me to a specialist, just to make sure, since there were no big problems.
(Yes, no little demons with pitchforks showed in the scans :-)
Oh, and since the last cortisone shot didn’t help, he wanted to give me another, but from the front.
He goes and gets the stuff and my mind wanders. I’m thinking that there could be something to a shot of cortisone and a shot at a courtesan? Hmmm, I’ll have to play with that.
The doc comes back and mixed up the cocktail. No, I don’t look at the long needle, but I sure felt it when it went in! Boy, there was some tough stuff he had to push the needle through!
The effect was immediate and good. I could move my arm and the pain in the extremes of my range had lessened. (sure, a lot might be sure to the Lidocaine.)

Now, weeks later I have a much greater range of motion, without pain. I can really start exercising and stretching my left arm. This is important since it helps break loose the scar tissue that has formed. Over the next three months, I need to see progress.
Because if I don’t have good progress, then the Orthopedic surgeon will present the other option. Put me out and then forcibly move the arm where it should go; ripping through the scar tissue. And maybe some Arthroscopic help with little knives.
None of us want that option, so I exercise, stretch.
And hope that in three months, all they will give me is a shot of cortisone.

I’d rather have a shot of cortisone, then be shot by a courtesan.
Still needs work.