Wanting Something More: More or Less, January 08, 2016 Gratiana Lovelace (Post #857)

I’m always in awe of people who have a pithy way of social media sharing their lives in small clumps/posts/tweets, etc. I am interested in reading/seeing about their new entertainment center layout, or their recent baked confection, quotes they like, or even their harangue about something that irked them that day.

I don’t do that–share minutia about my day to day life in social media. Though I might share tidbits within certain forum confines–and make a few likes or comments here and there on tweets and blogs that I like–my life goes virtually undocumented. Ha!

Although, yesterday, I tweeted about my wish for a hunky physical therapist who looked like this guy below (the talented British actor Richard Armitage as a Gym Trainer in tv’s 2003’s Cold Feet):

I'll take 2003 #RichardArmitage as my physical therapist for back & hip issues. What does one wear to a PT appt? pic.twitter.com/BwUp5OIApD

— Gratiana Lovelace (@GratianaL) January 7, 2016

Can you blame me? Of course, if I did have a hunky gym trainer slash physical therapist like him, I wonder if I would get well faster? Or would I find ways to still need his therapy attentions? That is one of life’s burning philosophical questions that I won’t have to face. *wink*

My lack of personal minutia revelations is partially a privacy thing and partially a feeling that my observation about my male dog peeing on my female dog–because he couldn’t wait for her to get out of the way to mark his territory again–is amusing only to me. Of course, I found that incident amusing long after I cleaned her up.

Also, the fact that I cleared out my clothes closet of items two or more sizes too big–creating an open space that I forgot existed–is one part celebratory as in “girl, you need to buy some more smaller clothes that fit the new you”; and one part realizing that I am ceding the other half of our small walk in clothes closet behind the door area to my husband–losing valuable closet/shelf territory to him. Previously, my toehold in our shared closet was two thirds. But he’s taller, and his clothes take up more room–if he would ever hang them up. *shakes head*

That’s another thing about my wonderful hubby–his seeming inability to hang up his freshly washed shirts and trousers. He tosses them onto a pile on the bench at the end of our bed. So then if he wants to wear his now wrinkled shirts and look decent, he will need to iron them–he made the wrinkles, he can iron those wrinkles out–or put a sweater over them.

Yet, my man has his moments–in and out of our bedroom. Nope, not going there. Some things are sacrosanct. But his extracurricular activities–such as in loading the dishwasher–are much appreciated by me. That is the way to my heart.

And I don’t suppose anyone is interested in my recent discovery that cushioned restaurant booths work for me–now that I’m a bit thinner, despite my skirt and dress wearing attire. I swear, whomever designs those booths (be they male or female) should try sliding into them in a skirt or a dress–and not have their skirt or dress torque around their body such that the twisting fabric is hard to untwist in a ladylike way as the table edge pins you to the cushioned booth’s seat back–and your clothed bosoms lay on the table, and needing a garnish so they don’t look out of place. Ha!

A decidedly bright spot in my work life these days is that my relatively recently acquired newish coworker is a delight to work with–personally and professionally. I especially like her nonverbal means of conveying agreement or thanks for some info or instructions that I shared with her, via her displaying her opposable thumbs in vertical orientation–e.g. the image below (Richard Armitage again, this time as a sheep farmer in 2002’s Sparkhouse”):

In my responding to my hubby’s blog post about his bemoaning the lack of outdoor bicycling weather until Spring–and my calculating that it is 73 days away–makes me wonder do I want a second real snowfall so that it seems like Winter? I’m a girl who likes my four seasons–in addition to the beautifully stirring “The Four Seasons” composed by Vivaldi (that sound fabulous on my new Sony headphones via a video on You Tube! ), that I first heard because of the charming 1981 movie The Four Seasons with Alan Alda (I’ll have to watch that again soon). The Vivaldi music quickly became one of my favorite classical pieces to listen to. Or, do I want Spring to hurry up and get here–along with golf and planting flower boxes on our backyard deck?

And like the four seasons, Spring will usher in my need for a new cut & color.  After a week of moaning like Jo March (“My Hair”) about being sheared of my long hair in December 2015–11 inches worth!–and donating it to Locks of Love–I’m liking my bobbed hair. I feel like a twenties flapper–or Lady Mary Crawley on Downton Abbey (portrayed by Michelle Dockery, below), but without Lady Mary’s penchant for turning men away. I have one man and he’s a keeper! And yes, I realize my good fortune at having found him nearly twenty eight years ago–or, he found me. Ha!

And then I read the New York Times article online about male biological clocks and the truth about bachelor singledom not being all that great titled “Meet the New York Bachelors Who Yearn for Something More” by Sridhar Pappu (January 7, 2016). Oh fellas!   Can we talk? Waiting (pining away) until later in life to experience the comforts of not being single any more resonates with me–in wanting to have someone to share your life with.

Afterall, I was a late bloomer for love. And my second ever blog post here–“Late Bloomers for Love Can and Do Bloom” –was about my suggestions for men wanting to measure up and be worthy, in order to find and keep that special person to love. Of course, I’m no expert–my being a one man woman, literally. But I snagged a good one. And one man is all it takes.

So though like the New York men in the NYT article, I want something more in my life–sometimes. But, that something more would mean nothing without my someone special in my hubby.   Like the Rod Stewart song “You’re in My Heart” (lyrics) goes:

“You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul.”

And yet, “A Tiny Corner of My Heart” still has room for one more …who happens to also be a gentleman New Yorker (RichardArmitage by Leslie Hassler for NY Moves, October 2013, below left).   And here is a more current visage of the man (Richard Armitage selfie from Christmas 2015 well wishes tweet, below right):

 

Purrrr!  I hope that you have a nice day and great start to your weekend!

P.S. So though I shared a few tidbits about my life here, hopefully they weren’t too boring. Ha!