Play that funky music, white boy...

 

If you said, "Wild Cherry, 1976," you get 50 bonus points.  If you understand the premise behind the song, you get 50 more... disco was the big thing back then, and Wild Cherry stayed with playing rock.  Apparently, a black audience member shouted out, "Play some funky music, white boy," and the rest is history.  May be made up history - I wasn't there.

Today, my cousin asked me if I'm still able to play guitar.  Yep.  The numbness in the fingertips is mostly gone.  The tenderness across the lower abdomen means it smarts just a bit to sing from the diaphragm.  But, I play something for Joan and Rufus most days.

That's a distraction from what my days are currently about: trying not to wet myself.  There is a wide range of products made for this situation; we have tried several (and by we, I mean: Joan buys 'em, I try 'em).  One of those products is essentially an adult diaper.  Joan said, "Do you want some help getting it on?"

"Oh, yes, let's add some insult to injury."  I'm kidding; I didn't say that.  I did, however, explain that I am not bed-ridden, nor shitting myself, so perhaps that was a solution to the wrong problem.  So, we compromised and I put on the stupid diaper.  Give me any crap about that and I will send photos to your e-mail.  I'm kidding again; mercifully, there are no photos.

There's another kind of pad that is roughly triangle shaped; well, rounded edges.  So, does the narrow part go up... or down.  I tried it both ways over the course of the day.  The way that seems the most effective is the least comfortable.  Although for full disclosure, none of these things are comfortable.  And, sure as hell, aren't stylish.  ;-)

One of my walks today was just under a half mile.  The walk with Rufus was much shorter.  Doing my kegel exercises.  I don't know if I still have a kegel, but if I do, it's tired.  Yeah, that's a joke.  I read about kegel exercises a couple decades ago in one of Joan's Cosmopolitan magazines.  As I recall, it is supposed to "drive your man wild"... although, also as I recall, there is something every month in that magazine that is supposed to do that.  That is a lot of wildness.  I'm not looking to drive a man wild... I don't have a man.  Don't want one.  I do have a big furry boy, though, and if I want to drive him wild all I have to do is go to the pantry where he knows his food supply is.  No kegels necessary.