Musing about that "L" word

You know the one I mean.  Everyone uses it so casually, it's almost lost it's meaning.  No, no no... I don't mean "lust" - though frequently enough people seem to mistake the two for each other.  No, I'm talking about that word that evokes terror into the hearts of even the most macho of men, when uttered at the wrong time.  A word which is difficult (at best) to truly define, and yet which symbolizes an emotion that almost all of us eventually feel and which we (as humans) need to some extent in order to be socialized.

That's right - I mean Love.  Affection plus attraction plus tenderness plus emotional attachment plus caring plus that indefinable "something" that we can't always put our finger on, but which we know is There when it is - that extra "spark" that flows between us and the person of our emotion which cannot be measured or named but which we nonetheless know is present when it happens.

It's more than simply hearing someone say, "I love you."  Which, I'll grant you, is very pleasant to hear said even though it's not always Necessary to be spoken.  Sometimes, we can go without it ever being uttered, and yet we know beyond any possibility of doubt that it exists.  We either intuit that it's present, or it's "spoken" through the actions of another person to tell us much more clearly than words that we are dear to them.  Loved, cherished, appreciated, and holding an important place within the spectrum of their positive emotions.

Don't mistake me.  I enjoy hearing it.  It gives me that "warm fuzzy" glow which can't be seen or explained - only felt.  Yet I don't "need" to be Told in order to KNOW that I'm loved.    It's spoken loudly and frequently in those little things he does.  It was all over that special batch of cookies - modified to exclude an ingredient I have a mild allergy to - made just for me to enjoy.  It's in things like showing up unexpectedly to pick me up, after telling me he has "plans" but making no mention of what those plans are, or whether they even include me.  It's in the subtle caress delivered while he's asleep and I'm mostly that way, not to any portion of the body that could be mistaken as an unconscious sexual overture - but to my hair while my head rests against him.  It's in his gentle teasing, the strength of his arms holding me against him, and the tone of his voice during those moments when I most need (but refuse to ask for) comforting on some level.

He's an incredible man.  I find it difficult to imagine life without him.  And whether he's phyiscally close or miles away... I know - always know, soul deep, in every fiber of my being both physical and spiritual - he loves me.

Random Ramblings on a Positively Meh Day

Days like this can sometimes become a true chore simply to deal with.  While nothing goes specifically "wrong" - nothing seems to go quite "right" either.  Things become a bit "meh" and lackluster simply because they tread that obsequious line of mediocrity from start to finish.

Is there, really, any way to push things past the mediocrity that seems to instill the very air on such a day, so that it begins to approach outstanding?  Or how about, if not outstanding, then at least memorable?  Bright?  Focused? Anything other than lackluster???

On days such as this, the creative muse seems to have decided to take a nice, long, Nap.  Of course - it's days like this which I also have free to myself, to try and accomplish something meaningful beyond being a wage slave or doing neverending housework.  The sun is bright, there are no clouds, and nothing is actually pressing, screaming at me to "Get It Done, Already!"  The temperature is mild, with enough heat that one not need to bundle up, but enough cool breeze that sweating simply because I move isn't going to be an issue.  All the Major housework has been completed - no dishes sitting in the sink, staring at me accusingly (as they so often do) the laundry is as caught up as it's ever going to get, the only household chores left to accomplish are minor tasks like taking the 2 minutes it's going to require to clean up the catbox for the day unless I want to devote the whole day to doing a serious (and probably much needed) deep cleaning.  But that deep cleaning will simply have to wait, because I can't work up any sort of gumption to get it done right now.  (OK, maybe not ALL the needed housework has been done, but all of it that I'm willing to work on at this point!)

In all honesty, this is the sort of day that I would love to spend out wandering around the Zoo, or hiking out in the woods at the lake.  Unfortunately, with no car and both of those being at least a 20 minute drive from home (at 60mph, on the highway) it's not exactly a practical option.  No, I'm limited to where I can go on foot, or at best slowly on the back of my bicycle (poor thing needs to be used more frequently anyway.)  I remind myself that the exercise is good for me.  Walking increases the heartrate, helps lower the body's setpoint for weight, burns calories, and gently tones muscles.  All of which is beneficial both in the short and long term on various levels.  So why does the prospect of having to walk everywhere if I happen to leave the house make me want to snarl and growl and cuss and throw something sharp, pointy, and deadly in a random direction?  It's not like I wouldn't be doing the same amount of walking - if not More - while wandering the zoo or hiking trails at the lake.

Could it be that I'm simply feeling the subconscious pressure to Conform to society's norms.  And one of those norms, at least here in the U.S., is to have a car and drive everywhere we go - whether we're going 4 blocks up to the corner convenience store, or to the airport across town to fly to another state or country.  Ah well - I haven't been much of one to Conform - especially not simply because "everybody else does it that way" - in a long time.