The Resident Peach Hog

Alba is a peach hog! I bought 5-pounds of peaches from the Farmer's Market--maybe 20 peaches, or so, of which I've had MAYBE five.

I came home for lunch today hoping to have a nice juicy peach, because I knew there were at least four left, but no. Not a single one left. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zerooooo.

WTF!!

I bought those Tuesday morning to last all week! Less than two days later they are ALL GONE!

Dammit! And I thought I went overboard buying this huge bag of peaches.

Why am I all pissed off about peaches?

I don't know. Maybe it's because they're one of my favorite fruits. But when it comes to fruit of any kind, Alba is like a vacuum hose, sucking up everything in sight.

The only fruit that lasts awhile are apples, and I'm not overly fond of apples. For me, it's peaches, strawberries, watermelon, and grapefruit--precisely what disappears faster than a strip of bacon down a dog's gullet.

Next time, I'm going to buy a frickin' truckload of those damn peaches. That way I can still have a frickin' peach two days later when Alba's wolfing them down 10 at a time!

The Stan

Updates

I'm in a much better mood today. All is well that ends well. (In other words, we've had our make-up sex and are no longer arguing at the moment.)

In other news, I bought a green 1996 Toyota Corolla that's in fair shape cosmetically, but excellent shape mechanically. In fact, it was owned by a mechanic who kept up the maintenance and even rebuilt the engine. The rebuilt engine has less than 10,000 miles. The car as a whole, 144,000.

It runs very smooth, too. (I know it's supposed to be "smoothly" but that form just sounds too stilted to me.) He went on and on about how he aligned the valves and such. And you can feel it. Very smooth running engine. The mechanic assured me I should have no major maintenance issues for the next 50,000 miles.

All in all, $2700. Great value...even better than blue book. Car fax report showed a couple of minor accidents--nothing major. I couldn't pass it up, even though it didn't fit our original criteria.

Meanwhile, I've been taking Alba to the chiropractor. She'd been pretty sore since the accident and he's been snapping her back into place. It sounds just like stepping on a bunch of packing bubbles when he straightens her out.

Every time we go, Alba complains she has to fart. (Lying flat on your stomach is a great way to alleviate gas, by the way.) But I tell her that if she just times it for when he's cracking her back, he'll just think her back is really out of place! (Won't account for the smell, though.)

On another front, I'm organizing the brass band again. We'll be doing a concert on July 29. Further details to come.

And on yet another front, I can't wait to get the last disk from season 2 of Battlestar Galactica in the mail from Blockbuster. I think that is the best sci-fi show ever to air on television period. To Star Trek or SG1 fans, it might be sacrilege to say that. But there's a very good reason why I feel that way and I'll talk about it in a future post.

In the meantime, sayonara my friends.

The Stan

Henpecked

I'm not really in a mood to write today, and I haven't been for the last few days. I consider myself a positive person. I like to keep in good humor. That's why when I feel down, I'd rather not dwell on it by writing about it...even if that mood pervades all my thoughts.

But on the other hand, if I'm any kind of writer, I should write everyday. So here I am writing even though I don't really feel like it.

Ever since Alba got in the accident last week, she's been EXTREMELY irritable and argumentative. I hate arguing. I hate getting in verbal fights.

So when I'm forced into it, it makes me very irritable and frustrated and a lot more argumentative than I otherwise am.

Well, that only escalates the issue.

It sort of came to a head yesterday when unlike my ordinary behavior, I yelled at her in anger to just shut up, I don't want to hear another word.

I don't want to justify what I did. Even if I was extremely angry and frustrated. I should be more understanding. She's obviously traumatized from the accident and suffering some kind of depression, maybe PTSD.

But I'm only human. So when I should be patient and understanding, I'm impatient and self-centered.

I admit it.

But she's still irritable and I'm still very frustrated. I don't even feel like going home tonight. I just want to hang out with some guy friends and have a couple of beers. Guys don't yell at each other and say things like "if you really cared about me, you'd..."

But then if she found out I drank a couple of beers, she'd start riding my ass about how I shouldn't be wasting money on alcohol, that it's bad for me, that I smell like a homeless man, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

And then I'd get even more frustrated because she'd STILL be irritable and I'd probably yell at her again to shut her trap that I don't want to hear another word.

I don't know any other way to describe it, I feel henpecked! To be honest, it didn't just start last week. It's just that it suddenly got a lot WORSE.

It's the sort of thing a guy can only take so much of. So I'm hoping she starts getting in a better disposition sometime soon. It's already enough to make me seriously reconsider this relationship thing.

I really care about Alba. But there's a limit to my patience.

The Stan

The Stan and His Wo-man...

Well, that’s me. And that’s my fiancée. This photo was taken, oh, almost three years and 60 pounds ago. We’re standing at the kitchen bar in our apartment.

Alba is a Oaxacan native and descended from the Mayans. Ever since watching Apocalypto, I’ve been living in fear that she may be harboring some long-dormant head-lopping genes that could express themselves at any moment…particularly during certain periods of the lunar cycle.

Now is one of those times.

Since Alba doesn’t like taking medications of any kind, she just suffers through it…and I along with her.

Still…I always forgive her for her grouchiness. Who can’t forgive such a beautiful face?

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Alba’s appearance (besides being short) are her eyes. They can’t be called brown…they’re almost solid black. You have to get really close to distinguish the iris from the pupil…which means you have no idea if her eyes are dilating or contracting.

So to judge her frame of mind, you must look for other clues…like the furrow in her brow, or the shape of her mouth.

That may be a bit disconcerting for some people, but to me it makes her even more beautiful and alluring.

In a lot of ways, we really are an odd couple. I’m much taller than she is. I weigh well over twice as much as she. Even once I get back to my lean-mean-sexy machine self (I believe I was around 220 at the time this photo was taken), I’ll still weigh twice as much as she.

I suppose you don’t really appreciate the cultural difference until you live with someone for a while. Since English is Alba’s second language, communication can be maddening at times.

But also humorous.

For example, she occasionally says, “See you later agulator!”

To which I can only respond, “After while, crodocile!”

She often gets “he” and “she” confused and it makes it almost impossible to follow a story if more than one person and one gender is involved.

And on one occasion, she said, “Let’s finish watching this tomaña,” a mix between the English “tomorrow” and the Spanish “mañana.”

Being the occasionally quick-witted person I am, I said “Okay, but I’m really in need of a glass of aguater!” (Spanish “agua” and English “water.” I guess you had to have been there.)

Anyway, you never know what Alba’s going to say…and when she says it, it often makes little sense.

But I still love her.

She’s also introduced me to some very tasty foods I’d never heard of and would likely have gone my whole life never eating were it not for her. I’ll talk more about those tomorrow...

That is, of course, if my head is still firmly attached to my shoulders! Let’s hope it stays there for a very long time…

The Stan

Here's To Good Food...And GREAT Sex!

Well, I'm back in the Blogosphere, boys and girls. Not that too many of either will notice. Perhaps one or two of my old friends...perhaps. It doesn't really matter.

I can't really say for sure why I decided to start posting again...Oh, yeah. It was fun. I've realized I like to write. Enough to perhaps call myself some sort of a writer, I suppose. But also enough to make it a somewhat time consuming process to post something. Being a writer means I like to write too much.

So instead of just two sentences about how I ate the Evil Jungle Thai Steak Salad at Houston's (it was awesome), I like to renumerate on it's qualities, speculate endlessly on the complete list of ingredients, describe the jucy bits of steak that were so rare I felt like I was eating steak sushi, etc. But I'll spare you most of the details.

Rare steak used to make me gag. But I suppose since I started liking sushi, rare steak is actually enjoyable now. And when I say rare, I mean RARE. I think they just waved the steak in the direction of the grill before they cut it up and put in my salad. It certainly put me in touch with my inner carnivore.

But the real story that night was not the food...immensely pleasurable though it was. I took Alba out for our three year anniversary.

Three years.

Gone in a flash. And yet, on the other hand it's like we've been together forever.

Not to sound grotesquely romantic and sentimental. It's just strange what a paradox time is. How can time fly, and yet seem like forever? Three years is a long time, and yet it flashes by with barely a notice.

Alba and I have gone from non-stop sex to the more normal 2-3 times a week. Except on certain occasions--perhaps when I eat more rare meat than usual--when it feels like my sexual drive goes into hyperdrive and it's just like old times for a few days.

This week was one of those times. Is it a cyclical thing? Was it just a coincidence that I happened to get horny as a Gila monster during our anniversary week? (Actually, I don't think Gila monsters are all that horny...but it certainly rolls off the toungue better than "horny as a Texas horned lizard.")

So what I'm wondering is...what's the secret to continuous sexual energy? Can I learn to control my appetite such that I can turn it on or off on a whim? Could I just decide that everyday I'd like to have a morning wake-up romp, a lunch-time quickie, and an after-dinner delight?

Hmmm.

Well, at the moment, I don't know. Maybe it's really just a matter of diet and exercise. But I think I'll keep my eyes and ears peeled for more information on this subject.

Siyonara, boys and girls.

The Stan