As I Remember

I was with her for a very long time, many years, in fact. We were so different she would often remark how odd it was that we were together. But we fit. We were like a comfortable pair of thick fluffly slippers. I can't explain it any better than that, we just fit. We never married but I'd be lying if the thought never crossed my mind. As I say...we fit.

Then a few years ago, she got sick. Very, very sick. Oh, at the beginning she tried. Tried to keep on doing the things she liked but soon things just became a litany of "Why me's", time took its toll and she passed out of my life. A blink, you're here then gone, there then simply not there.

I remember her. How she would curse like a drunken sailor on shore leave and I would always say, "Such a lady!" until she would let loose with some depraved profanity and say "Such a lady" before I could. Or how she would get this look on her face and I would know that, momentarily, some part of my anatomy would meet with the otherworldly cold of her hands or feet. Or how she would ask some inane question just to see if I would answer. Of course I would, launching off into some detailed explanation and look over to find her shaking with laughter.

She was not a picture person, never wanting to have her photo taken and that is one regret I have (among many I've collected.) The only picture I have of her is on an old inactive cellphone. She was sitting with her little dog on her lap, scratching it behind the ears. The dog had a little doggy smile, the light was behind them and she looked so beautiful. I remember taking it. It exists only in my minds eye now.

As I remember her. No matter the time that passes she will always be beautiful. Always have long wild curly dark hair, always be straight and tall, never age and never go.

I don't really know what I'm trying to say to whoever is reading this. I suppose it could be when you see that someone you have in your life to tell them what they mean, to fix them in your memory, to hug them just a little more.

I suppose I could be telling you women who run from the camera to stop. Take the picture, no matter how good or bad you think you look. Truthfully, its not for you but for us.

I suppose I could just be saying I'm a little bit lonely, especially around this time of year. Or maybe I'm hearing a voice with a Staten Island accent in my head and feeling an otherworldly cold hand on my back, giving me a little push.

I've almost deleted this about five times now, its a little raw for me to see. But maybe it'll have some value to others and maybe it was just a bit cathartic for me.

The Bravest Person In History - Revealed!

Through painstaking research which required spanning the globe, flying in coach class, and hours of combing through musty parchment, records, and paintings, I have at last determined the bravest person in history.

It is, of course, the first person to ever drink milk.

Come with me now to those days of yesteryear and imagine, if you will, two cavemen gazing across the velt, or tundra, or whatever it was cavemen gazed across. Listen, as one says to the other:

"Hey! You see that weird looking animal over there?"
"Yeah?"
"No,no...the other one."
"Right?"
"You see that freaky looking thing underneath it?"
"Uh huh, yeah?"
"Well...whatever comes outta there, I'm gonna drink it!"

I rest my case. You're welcome.

The Sweat That Makes The Sexy

I like to sweat. I'm not talking about the Florida "go outside and have your shirt stick to your body humidity" sweat. Nor am I speaking of the Las Vegas "standing at the pool and fearing that your calves may burst into flame" sweat.

I'm talking about the sweat you get when you push yourself to do that last rep. When you run 5 miles when you thought you could only run 3. When you're doing some new workout and you reach that "quit" point and say, "Oh, hell no!" and keep going. And then you're out of breath, maybe you're shaking a little, and the sweat is just rolling off you. Dripping from your nose, dripping from your fingers cause it's picked up speed as it rolled from your elbows, down your forearms, and now its pooling on the floor beneath you. That's the sweat that makes the sexy. When you've given it everything and then just a bit more.

I know I'll write this and people will think its odd. Perhaps it is. But I'm betting there's a few of you who read this and are nodding your heads. We're the same people who get excited over buying a new pair of workout shoes...and post pictures of them! We get excited over a new workout program coming out. We post pictures of ourselves in varying levels of sweaty pain.

And think it's fun. We never used to think that way, at least I didn't. Now I'll watch a video of a Spartan Race and see the finishers getting pummeled by guys dressed up as spartan soldiers and think, "That looks like fun!" Or see people getting muddy and climbing over logs or jumping over fire and say, "That looks like fun!" It didn't happen overnight.

But I just suppose it's another by-product of the sweat. That...and the sexy.