2000-09-21 - 1:32pm

On the internal soundtrack: Prelude VII again. I need some variety, here.

All right, from my logs it appears that I might have a regular reader or two besides Terry. Is that you? Would you mind writing and saying hello? Actually, anyone else who's reading this, please say hello. I'd just like to know who's reading. And if you have a journal of your own, please refer me to it, and I promise some feedback.

In particular, I'd like to know if you read me 'cause you relate to me or 'cause you think I'm a complete moron. I read journals for both reasons, myself. ;)

If you're having trouble thinking of stuff to say (which is always my problem when I write to journalers), you could answer some or all of these questions:

1. Age/sex/location (lie if you want)

2. Do you read a lot of online journals? Got any good ones to share (including your own)?

3. Been here before?

4. (If answered "yes" to #3) Was there a particular segment of or entire entry that you liked a lot? Which one?

5. City mouse or country mouse?

6. Wonder bread or Bran'nola?

BTW, if you're reading this as you wade through the archive six months or a year from now, I still want to hear the answers to the questions. :)

Warning: possibly TMI ahead. Bodily functions again. Clearly I have not gotten past age two in some regards, but I'm not the only one.

So, of late SimEvie and SimPoindexter are comfortable enough with each other that SimEvie will use the toilet while SimPoindexter's in the shower.

Blearygh.

My parents have always shared the bathroom. If one person has to pee and the other has to take a shower, there's no taking-turns, it's simultaneous. While I greatly admire this kind of closeness, and it makes a hell of a lot of sense, actually (come on, really, they're MARRIED), Poindexter and I decided a long time ago we weren't going to do this.

While I realize there is a segment of the population that finds bodily eliminations erotic (and I clearly remember the moment, when I was about 20, that I found that out), I am not one of them.

While I am not *afraid* of bodily eliminations, having changed a few diapers and shared bathrooms with family members in my lifetime, I really don't want to THINK about Poindexter in that capacity. It just isn't sexy. It's hard to think of someone as a sex object when they're sitting on the john, reading a magazine. It's funny, and quite natural and understandable, but not erotic. And since Poindexter is the only lay I'm going to get (not that I'm complaining, nosiree), I'd like to maintain a little mystery in that department.

Hmm. I wonder if I should quit belching, so as to be more mysteriously sexy to Poindexter. Nah. He seems to be doing okay. Men are so easy to please. Show them some flesh and wiggle a little and they turn into slobbering beasts.

It's a bad habit, though. Belching, not wiggling. Poindexter taught me to belch one day ("just open your throat and let it out") and I never looked back. In fact, one day I belched in a subway station, which would have been really cool (echoes and all) except that there were people around. Shame on me.

OK, so my goal has been to get myself onto the Smart & Lazy webring. Back in late June, when I started this journal, the criteria was "update 2+ times a week, be at least 3 months old."

Well, I'm almost at my 3-month anniversary. Went back to check again. The criteria has CHANGED! Now it's 3+ times, 6 months. Sigh. By the time December rolls around it'll probably be a year and daily updates.

But it's a good thing. Will encourage me to keep at it. And once I'm on it, I have to keep updating to stay on it. Fifty-year-old Evelynne will thank me.

Poindexter and I went out for a skate last night. We decided to try the park on the edge of our development. It went well. Parking lots to practice in, trails around the lake, a few small hills, not too many people. He got a little irritated with me because I made him practice braking, because it was "boring". I nagged anyway. I did it with him, too. Skate, skate, skate, brake. Skate, skate, skate, brake.

The whole broken wrist thing has made me a little paranoid. I hope that Papa-in-law can brake, turn, handle hills, and avoid obstacles. Since he skates over the ICW bridges, hopefully he'll be okay.

No sign of the Loch Ness monster. Maybe he left.

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