I was out running this morning, about 20 minutes or so in, was rounding one of the three corners around Hains Point, running on the grass, when I passed under some of the many cherry trees there. It was misting lightly, and some last few hardy blossoms were coming down in the rain, falling nicely across the path. Very pretty, very zen, very cool. And then one of the petals found its way into my mouth.
Nothing like spitting out cherry blossom to ruin a mood.
The good run (an hour, no calf pain!) was had despite sleeping in late, having been out late last night tricking. Tried water sports successfully for the first time (had an abortive attempt once before) and I have to say it did absolutely nothing for me. One set of initials checked off the list and in the ‘nah, don’t need to do that any more’ column. Along with that I also fisted the guy, and again I don’t think it does much for me. Is interesting in an itellectual sense (anatomy, displacement, etc.), and a sensual sense (control, texture, etc.), but it’s just not a very sexual act to me, in the sense of turning me on, because it just doesn’t. I won’t rule it out if a partner’s really into it, but I just need to realize that it’s silly to seek it out because it’s just ‘blah’ on the continuum of turn-ons for me.
Other than that I shopped, a lot (Homo Depot, Target, Pearson’s liquors), got a lot of things for the house, and generally got my money’s worth out of the rental car I had for the weekend. Have a fresh case of wine, replenished the liquor cabinet, got the aforementioned kitchen sink aerator, and got rid of 99% of the stuff that was left at the old place. Still have to haul off the old Kirby vacuum cleaner, and get my flour and stuff, but the big stuff that was being donated is now gone, which I’m sure Richard is glad of.
