After Friday's excursion into DC to see the fireworks, I did very little for the rest of the weekend. B&c spent most of Saturday packing and running errands, and then he left at 8:30 Sunday morning for the airport. He's off to Bogota for a couple of weeks, followed by an additional two weeks in Managua. He's upset that he's losing a day of paid travel time by going directly from Bogota to Managua, but he didn't find my suggestion that he fly home from Bogota one day then down to Managua the next particularly helpful.
Also, I think that he resented a bit that he had to spend Saturday packing while I sat in a comfy chair, reading my daughter's copy of A Series of Unfortunate Events and watching uninspired television. At one point, I mentioned that I was tired, and he said, "How could you possibly be tired?" but as it happens, one of the many things that I didn't do much of this weekend was sleep.
One thing I did do this weekend was stake my tomatoes. Of course, my tomatoes should have been staked weeks ago, but better late than never, particularly if late is before there are any fruit resting on the ground. Back in the day, my father made tomato stakes (when he didn't use cages) by taking 2x2s and carving the ends to a point. I made tomato stakes by going to the dollar store, buying fourteen mops, unscrewing the mop heads, and pushing the rubber-tipped, thin-but-strong-and-painted poles into the soil. They worked surprisingly well, and they should last for years, but now I have fourteen string mop heads and no use for them. I suppose I could learn to juggle.
The tomatoes and the peppers have both begun to set fruit. I found two itty bitty green plum tomatoes as I was tying up the plants. We planted six each of two varieties of tomatoes. The garden always seems like a lot of work when I'm preparing the soil, but it's really a very small garden, and when I get to this point in the season, I always wish I'd planted more, like maybe some small cucumbers so that I could make some cornichons, but my history with cucumbers has not been an unmitigated success, and the cornichons at Trader Joe's are both delicious and inexpensive.
Speaking of cucumbers, I am trying to perfect my recipe for Sichuan Pickled Cucumbers, and I made a pretty good batch on Sunday. I think that next time I will use less sugar and/or more rice vinegar, but the batch I made was very good. The flavors are very intense, and the ratio of sugar and sesame oil to cucumber is so low that the pickles can be eaten without guilt, but whenever I make them, I can't help wondering why "Sichuan" seems so ascendant these days while "Szechuan" seems to have fallen out of favor. But I haven't collected any hard data, so I may be guilty of misperception.
Speaking of hard data, around 2 pm Sunday I was packing my cucumbers into a plastic container to let them ripen in the refrigerator when I got a text from Kip saying that he was horny. I figured what the hell and texted him that I could play but that I needed to be done by 3:30. He said that he'd be over around 2:45, but then he kept pushing the time back (apparently, shopping was involved: I showered when he called and then sat around reading, so it was no big deal), and by the time he showed up at the door, it was 3:15. So, one minute to get him up the stairs and naked, two minute of kissing, two minutes of working his nipples, five minutes of eating his ass, one minute of sucking his cock while pressing a finger against his prostate, leaving four minutes for cleanup and chit chat. I will probably insist on fucking him again sometime soon, but I mostly do that as a matter of principle. It's become clear that I enjoy rimming him enough to make the encounters worthwhile.
Kip said that he hadn't cum in three days, but his load wasn't any bigger than the load I shot at 11 pm, the third time I jerked off Sunday. A while back, it seemed to me that my loads were less copious than they used to be. This can hardly be considered a tragedy, but I am happy that they have rebounded at least somewhat. They can be messy to clean up when I'm finessing the trombone, but the cocksuckers do seem to appreciate volume. Chacun a son gout, I reckon.
I think it is probably a mistake to read five volumes of A Series of Unfortunate Events in a single weekend. I think that if I'd read one a week for a quarter, they'd seem clever and charming, but five at once make them seem horribly redundant. Fortunately, YFU decided to reread volumes 7 and 8 during this week and took them with her when I dropped her off at the bus for her day camp this morning, so I won't see those until Thursday evening, at the earliest.
I was surprised at all the glowing comments about the long schlongs in my last post. Who knew my readers were such size queens? For the record, I don't know for sure, but I don't think most of those guys were Americans: I chose them because American are (rhetorically, at least) known for carrying big sticks. I find cocks of that size to be mildly interesting but borderline grotesque. It seems very odd to me that anyone would rather look at those cocks than at the asses in this post, but our diversity makes us strong, I suppose.