First day of school

It's late and I have a 7:00 am meeting tomorrow so I'll keep this short. But I talked with Son 2 this evening. Classes started today. He had the first meeting of his Chemistry class and his Land Management class; one had 300 students, and the other 200. A bit of a change from Durmstrang, which had 96 students in all 4 years.

He also joined the Fencing Club. When they went around the room introducing themselves he discovered that he actually has the most years of fencing behind him, though he's 4 years out of practice. (He fenced from about 7 or 8 through the end of middle school.) Also there's a guy in his dorm who offered to teach him to box. WHAT??? (Dad panics.) Hey, I don't want you getting a concussion! Yeah, yeah, Dad, don't worry. I promise not to get a concussion. 

And of course there's nothing I can do about it. Who'd a thunk of boxing as a form of college rebellion?

Meanwhile he has lots of plans to exercise regularly, as a reaction to the heavily fried and potato-based cuisine.

His roommate still hasn't shown up, so he's planning to spread into the other half of the room.

And that -- plus his mailing address -- is what I learned in a quarter hour.

Time for bed. Night-night.

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Son 2 goes to college

Son 2 moves into his dorm today. 

His school is a good two days' drive from home. Actually we took a little longer because we drove out to visit Schmidt and his mom en route. Son 2 likes the Schmidts, they like him -- it's a good match all around. But now, here we are.

I should clarify that "we" means me and Son 2. Wife stayed home, partly because I can't stand to be around her for several days any more, and partly because Son 1 was due home from his summer internship the day after Son 2 and I left. So she drove to the airport to pick him up and house him. Also I think she's going to help him get his driver's license. For all her faults, Wife taught both boys how to drive over the last couple of years, and I'm grateful.

But now both of them will be in college. Still costing money, but ever more independent. That's a good thing -- it's what we raise them for. Also, as I suggested in these pages years ago, I think I was reaching the limits of how much I could do as a father. It will be good for me as well as for them that I no longer have to maintain quite the same role. Boarding school achieved something of the same thing (thanks be to God) but it will be ever more so from here on out.

It will be a busy day, but I have great hopes for it to be a good one as well. And then after this I round out the week by going to visit Marie....

On the beach

The last week, I've been vacationing with Marie and her family. The family owns a cottage on Lake Michigan, and Marie has many fond memories of growing up there. So for some time she has wanted to show me the places she so loved growing up, and she has wanted me to meet her family. This seemed to be the perfect time.

Her parents are both dead, and her brothers weren't there this week because of their schedules; but her sister was there -- let me call her Cuñada -- along with Cuñada's husband and teenaged son, one of her son's friends (emphatically not a girlfriend, I was told), and a family friend of Cuñada's that acted for all the world like Boyfriend 4. I'll call this friend Brian, if I need to talk about him.

Actually I found myself wondering about Brian. He acted like an adult authority to Cuñada's son and his friend, much as if he were an auxiliary parent. On the other hand his orders were often not very smart, and half the time Cuñada directly undercut him. He addressed Cuñada with endearments when her husband wasn't there ("dear" or "darling" or something conventional like that) and at least once I saw him pat her knee affectionately. So is he her lover? Is this really a Boyfriend-4 situation? I asked Marie one afternoon as we strolled along the beach. She said she had the same questions but had never asked her sister directly. She sure didn't rule it out, though she did allow for at least one other possibility -- namely that Brian might want a relationship with Cuñada, but not have one. Yet.

Cuñada is a big, loud, friendly, outgoing woman. She was the chief organizer of the week, and clearly the boss. She was also very welcoming. What she told Marie was that she was glad of the chance to tease Marie about having a boyfriend, because I am quite literally the first boyfriend Marie has ever brought home to meet her family in all her 55 years. What she told me, in addition, is that she is delighted Marie is so happy. Up till now Marie had been happy plenty of times, of course -- but all her normal range of emotions were like an overlay on a bedrock of something that was not happiness. Now she still has the normal range of emotions, but they are an overlay on top of profound Joy. Apparently there really is something to the old cliché that getting laid improves your mood. Who knew?

And there was plenty of sex this week. Marie and I were in the same bedroom (of course) and spent every night holding each other, fondling each other .... The night I arrived we were both exhausted from travel and I wasn't about to get hard, but I fondled Marie to a long string of rolling orgasms that she had been sure she was too tired for. Then we woke about 3:30 in the morning and fucked properly before finally falling back asleep till the morning coffee. Cuñada teased both of us because she had the bedroom next to ours and the cottage wasn't built to be soundproof. Marie insisted, "But I was biting my hand hard to stifle myself so I'd be quiet!" Cuñada answered, "Mi hermana, if that's what you call quiet ... well, let me just say you've never tried to have sex when you've got small children in the house." Marie and I heard a lot on this theme over the week.

A week or two before this trip I saw my doctor and got my first-ever prescription for viagra. After years of progressively rarer and softer erections, I figured it was time. And so Tuesday afternoon, when we had some time and could plan half an hour ahead, we decided to try it. The results were remarkable. I never actually came, but I stayed hard for longer than I have in many, many years -- probably the better part of an hour. Marie, who has usually made do (very happily) with my fingers and tongue, was beside herself. Since I had plenty of time, I varied angle, depth, and tempo; she said afterwards she had had no idea how different each different angle inside her was going to feel. She was exhausted and giddy. I've often said that women are at their most beautiful lying back sweaty and flushed, with their hair a tousled mess. By that measure, Marie was very beautiful that afternoon.

Later that evening, after dinner, she and I decided to walk down to the beach. It was dark but warm, and we took a blanket to sit on. So we sat in the warm night and looked at the stars. After a while we lay back. Then we started kissing. I began to stroke her hair, ... her ears, ... her neck, ... her throat, ... her breasts. My hands slid down her sides and pulled up her loose sun dress. She had no panties for me to pull aside, and she was very wet. We were completely alone, so I massaged, and prodded, and opened, and rubbed until Marie was gasping and jerking and trying not to yell. And then ....

I checked again. We were completely alone. So I slipped off my own pants and slid inside her. It was the afternoon all over again. But we were on the beach, in the open air. Isn't this what teenagers do, fuck on the beach? It was warm and close and exciting. Maybe tonight I could come? I got closer ....

Completely alone? Well no, in fact. There were voices, and a light. Were they coming our way? Yes! Had they seen us? No way to tell. I slid out of Marie and lay on top of her, as still as I could manage. The voices and the light got closer to us, and closer still. We lay quietly, almost holding our breaths. And then we saw them, two teenaged girls walking along nonchalantly, talking casually about their own concerns, reading their cell phones while also using them as flashlights to find the way. They passed ten, maybe five yards to one side of us, giving not the slightest indication that they ever saw us. We waited till they were well out of sight and out of earshot before we carefully pulled ourselves together and found our way giggling back to the cottage. 

Hey, another first. Fifty-four years old and I've finally had sex on the beach!

What else did we do this week? We watched fireworks, we cooked, we barbecued. Teenaged son had a birthday so we all got cake. We swam in the lake, strolled through the woods, visited the local tourist attractions. I read to Marie and she showed me old family photos. We talked and hung out. It was relaxing and a lot of fun. Life on the beach.

I also found out a few days later that she wrote a poem there about some of our discussions, but somehow I never got around to posting it until 2022. You can find it here: Hosea's Blog: Roads not taken (hoseasblog.blogspot.com). 

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Art of the everyday

Fantasia on a white board

Still life with computer

Collage with Post-It Notes

Threnody for a bid proposal, with paper shredder.

Outside the birds in the trees chirp in classic dactylic hexameter

Homer once heard these same birds, twitt'ring on the Ionian shore.

Aves longae, officium breve.

Home alone

A week ago yesterday (Thursday) Son 1 flew home for the weekend. He's got an internship for the summer back where he is going to school (a day's drive from here, or a couple hours by air) so that's probably the only time we'll see him all summer. But his brother was graduating high school.

A week ago today (Friday) I took the day off work. I spent some time with Son 1, and then my mother drove into town. We had lunch and then drove on out to Durmstrang, for the student awards ceremony. There we met Wife, who was unsteady on her feet and progressively worse as the night wore on. (She looked drunk, and Son 1 said he smelled alcohol on her.) Son 2 won four awards; so did his best friend; nobody else in the school won more than two. So we had plenty of opportunity to play proud parents.

Son 1 drove Wife home and spent the night at her place.

Saturday was Durmstrang graduation. Wife was sober and in much better shape than the night before. Son 2 had a lot of people to say goodbye to. So did I, for that matter, because I had been on campus a fair number of times, talked to the teachers, and knew many of the parents at least by sight. Many goodbyes, many hugs. Then we unpacked Son 2 out of his room and drove home. Both boys came with me.

Saturday night we went to see the latest X-Men movie. 

Sunday morning we saw the latest Avengers movie ("Captain America: Civil War"). 

Sunday afternoon Son 1 flew back to the city where he's working and spending the summer. 

Monday was a holiday so I paid bills and did laundry. Son 2 read.

Tuesday Son 2 had a doctor's appointment. Other than that I went to work and he looked for a summer job.

Ditto (minus the doctor's appointment) Wednesday, Thursday, and today (Friday).

And then tonight I drove him to Wife's place, an hour each way. He's 18 now, so there are no longer custody rules about where he has to be; still, he wants to see Wife this summer ... and she'll be upset if he doesn't visit her ... and she has offered to teach him to drive. So fine, I took him there.

And I am so relieved.

Don't get me wrong. I love both my sons. I like them and think well of them. I enjoy spending time with them

But I am so glad to have my apartment to myself again. After only a week of company, solitude is delicious.

A couple months ago, Marie speculated about whether we would ever live together in a quasi-married state, except that of course legally I would still be married to Wife. But this evening may have answered that question.

It is such a relief to be alone.

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Petulant

I'm feeling grumpy today. Marie was here for a few days midweek, and everything was rosy. Then suddenly -- after her third visit, mind -- she asks me what STIs I've been tested for. Well I've donated blood, which means I've been checked for HIV. But nothing else that I remember. On the other hand ... shit, I haven't had that much sex over the years lately, and I've never, ever had any symptoms. So how worried do I have to be?

She replied with an email that ran in part: 

I'm calling my doctor tomorrow and telling her that the new lover who I thought was low-risk for STIs is instead extremely high risk; that two of his four partners, including his wife of 30-odd years, were promiscuous, never used protection, and he never used protection with them.  Nor did he or his wife EVER get tested for ANYTHING.  

Is that an accurate assessment of the situation, Hosea?

Well no, it bloody well ISN'T accurate. I replied explaining why not, and telling her I'm willing to ask my doctor for a round of tests the next time I see him (next month). That calmed her a bit, but not completely.

On the other hand it also pissed me off. I have these visions of sending her the results of the damned report along with all the books she brought me on this trip, and then canceling our next visit(s). I mean -- shit! It's not like we've even actually fucked in any serious way, because I can't stay hard long enough. A couple thrusts and I go soft again. I never come when we're together. All our love-making depends on my fingers and my tongue. So who exactly is being exposed to bodily fluids here? And you don't see me losing my shit over needing medical reports!

After Debbie broke up with me for not moving faster to separate from Wife (and of course she would have preferred divorce), I decided that when the separation was complete I wouldn't tell her. I didn't want her to think that now we could be all fine again: I figured that if I wasn't good enough before the separation, I'm not willing to be good enough after. And I'm starting to think the same way about Marie and this damned testing.

Why? Why am I willing to be so sulky and petulant? I don't know for sure. Maybe it's because I'm embarrassed at being called out, because I feel ashamed for having somehow appeared wrong. And shame is a very nasty feeling, so it's the easiest thing in the world to replace it with anger. I'm pretty sure that with food and sleep I'll get over it. But I've spent the day grumpy and irritable, and I don't like it.

Good thing I live alone, huh?

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Radio silence

What ever became of Hosea?

I got busy. It's been a busy time. I've been traveling for work -- enough that for March and April I've been away more than I've been at home. I think I wax in the office three weeks out of two months; it would have been two weeks, but at the last minute one trip was postponed till July.

Son 1 won't be coming home this summer. He's got an internship in another city. It's unpaid, so I'm underwriting the venture. But it's work experience.

Son 2 graduates high school at the end of this month, and is going to college in the fall in a city that's a solid two days' drive from here. He's excited. Just yesterday he asked if he can volunteer for a program whereby he volunteers on a farm in France for some weeks this summer in exchange for room and board. This means, will I buy him a ticket to France?

Wife and I have (I think!) ironed out all the kinks of our separation agreement. Not bad for FOUR YEARS.

And I've been writing a lot, but it's all in emails to Marie. I don't know how this relationship will look in the ling term, but she's my best correspondent by far.

Battery's low. Gotta go.

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