Does this make me look fat?

For the first time ever I think I've had second thoughts on posting something.

Half because it's a sappy video clip that has me wondering if I've picked up a head injury unknown to myself, and half because I just don't understand what the post is about.

However, as they say, "publish and be damned".

Or mocked, as the case may be.

I think I have a leak somewhere and I'm losing testosterone, probably in survivable amounts, but I suspect that stocks were dangerously low to begin with.

I'm turning into a woman. One that I wouldn't really fancy either, fabulous hair aside.

I think I'm PMSing.

That last entry was a bit on the whingey side for starters, but I then saw the above video clip on K8's blog the other day and melted into a keyboard assaulting skinsack of contradictory hormones.

In the absence of a tub of ice cream as big as my head, I settled for a bunch of grapes.

Probably subconsciously due to them looking like the testicles I was lacking.

Although, they were seedless.

(Noelie Mcdonnell's track 'Nearly four' and the album it appears on 'Beyond hard places' are both available on itunes. The best link for the artist himself I can find is his myspace page)

One stepping out, one stepping in

They say the draw of excitement and danger is addictive.

I think my wee wifey is hooked.

Barely two weeks after braving surgery she once again put her head in the lion's jaws.

She came out.

This weekend she told her parents about the last year and a half, what we are trying to do, and what we've done to try and achieve it.

It can't have been easy, I know how nervous she gets, but thankfully, the reaction was positive. They are happy for us, and I believe they will be the 'right' amount of supportive.

I'm so glad she has that now, for when she needs it, for when I can't provide. More people who care for, and worry about her. She deserves it.

Funny thing, I think I'm jealous of her now. The people who I have on occasions spoken to about this, seem to either just not understand, or don't really want to hear about it.
I truly don't blame them, everyone has their own plate full, but there's only so many times you can sense someone thinking 'Oh no here he goes again' before you just stop bringing it up.

So, from now on, I think I'll be keeping the public conversation to the football, and my thoughts to myself and my two best friends.

ET, and this blank page.

Suitcase

I knew it was going to happen, sooner or later. Last night it did.

I stood in the doorway as she pulled clothes from the wardrobe and threw them on the bed. I could only watch as she gathered them into a suitcase.

Packed. No more to say, ready to go.

To leave.

This morning I drove her to the airport.
"I'll call you when I get there" she said.

I don't think she will.

It was inevitable I suppose, no matter what I said, or how I pleaded my case.
No matter how many times I tried to change her mind and make her see that she was better off here.

Here with me.

"It's for the best" she said.

That was it. This is it. I'm alone.

What do I do now? How do I spend my days?

Sometimes I have nothing, no answers. I guess this is where this blog comes in.

Can anyone help me now?

Can anyone tell me which pub I should go to?, which pizza place I should call?, can anyone tell me how to work the washing machine and where the key to the back door is?

It's going to be hard. Living alone.

I should be thankful she'll be back from her mother's on Monday.

I wonder will she bring back teabags?

Anyway, now where's that remote...