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Hot and Sour Soup With a Fish Based Broth
Jan. 28th, 2011 08:36 amHad high speed Internet installed yesterday. No, I really can’t afford another fixed operational expense of $50 a month, but I did it anyway because… well. I’m sure we can all figure that one out.
The guy who came to install it was a nice old curmudgeonly coot who answered the questions I peppered him with about Freeville in the old days – “Yep, I reckon I remember when Tom used to work down to the Chicktee’s, little ways down 13 on your way into Ithaca –” I flirted a little to improve the service.
Just as he was leaving, the guy said something about retirement that made me realize he was right around my age. I was flummoxed – if you stood us side by side, honestly you’d think I was 25 years younger that he is, and no, I’m not flattering myself: if I look 50, he looks 75. The reality for most of the people who live in this country is not Botox, Pilates and dental veneers but rheumatoid arthritis at 40, a slow shuffling decline and death in their early 60s.
In other news, had dinner with Michael last night at a Thai restaurant. Amazingly enough, this was the very first time I’d eaten in a restaurant since I’ve been in Ithaca!!!! Michael’s a vegetarian so we had a sweet and sour soup with tofu, and a yellow curry with tofu. I could taste the fish broth in the soup and mentioned it to Michael – a test really, because if he turned out to be one of those incredibly doctrinaire and uptight vegetarians, I don’t think I could hang out with him. But he laughed and said it was no big deal.
We had a lively conversation and seemed to enjoy each other’s company but again, I couldn’t tell if there was any kind of attraction there or not. Of course, on my part, I’m just out of the habit of being attracted to anyone but Ben. Even so… while I was married to Ben, I entertained notions of running off with Abe and might have if Abe hadn’t been so obviously ape-shit crazy.
The thought of Michael’s fingers, tongue or genitals on my pink girly nethers though doesn't move me in the slightest. Were I to submit to same, it would be in the nature of a science experiment. Of course, many science experiments actually work… And yet, and yet, and yet…
I don’t want sex to be work. I want sex to have the easy inevitability of falling.
The guy who came to install it was a nice old curmudgeonly coot who answered the questions I peppered him with about Freeville in the old days – “Yep, I reckon I remember when Tom used to work down to the Chicktee’s, little ways down 13 on your way into Ithaca –” I flirted a little to improve the service.
Just as he was leaving, the guy said something about retirement that made me realize he was right around my age. I was flummoxed – if you stood us side by side, honestly you’d think I was 25 years younger that he is, and no, I’m not flattering myself: if I look 50, he looks 75. The reality for most of the people who live in this country is not Botox, Pilates and dental veneers but rheumatoid arthritis at 40, a slow shuffling decline and death in their early 60s.
In other news, had dinner with Michael last night at a Thai restaurant. Amazingly enough, this was the very first time I’d eaten in a restaurant since I’ve been in Ithaca!!!! Michael’s a vegetarian so we had a sweet and sour soup with tofu, and a yellow curry with tofu. I could taste the fish broth in the soup and mentioned it to Michael – a test really, because if he turned out to be one of those incredibly doctrinaire and uptight vegetarians, I don’t think I could hang out with him. But he laughed and said it was no big deal.
We had a lively conversation and seemed to enjoy each other’s company but again, I couldn’t tell if there was any kind of attraction there or not. Of course, on my part, I’m just out of the habit of being attracted to anyone but Ben. Even so… while I was married to Ben, I entertained notions of running off with Abe and might have if Abe hadn’t been so obviously ape-shit crazy.
The thought of Michael’s fingers, tongue or genitals on my pink girly nethers though doesn't move me in the slightest. Were I to submit to same, it would be in the nature of a science experiment. Of course, many science experiments actually work… And yet, and yet, and yet…
I don’t want sex to be work. I want sex to have the easy inevitability of falling.
