Where I've been
Hello folks, sorry I've been gone so long, but a lot has happened over the past...has it been over a year?
I still cherish those of you who have friended me, and though I may not visit your journals or reply as much as I used to, you are all still in my thoughts.
Where have I been? Well, as some of you know, I began to avidly train for the wife-carrying contest, so naturally I had less leisure time between the demands of my job and the extra training.
Things were going well until about last summer. When my wife worked longer hours in the laboratory, but I still wanted to train, I would invite one of my mates over and train with him over my shoulders in her stead. Because all of the blokes are heavier than my wife, I initially thought it to be a good thing that would make me stronger in less time. Unfortunately, I trained so much with the blokes, that when I was running the course with my wife later on, I ran with a little too much spring and overshot the landing when jumping over the hurdles. My dear wife was thrown from my shoulders and landed on the next hurdle. You might say I went mental then, thinking she had broken her neck. Even though her injuries weren't nearly as severe as I had originally feared, I got a little down for I thought of how easily she might have lost her life. And I would have been too blame. I thought of how her death would be mine as well, for after nearly seven years of marriage, I cannot imagine life without her. When I wasn't at my job, I spent my every moment caring for her, and helping her with her rehabilitation.
She's back at the laboratories, and walking almost normally again. Unfortunately, she can no longer dance with me with the grace she once did, at least she believes it to be so. I told her exactly what I thought, that I could not see any lack of grace, and that it may only be because I see her with the eyes of a husband, who thinks his wife is nothing less than divine. That, plus the fact that all that training left me with such thigh muscles that I look almost comical whilst waltzing.
So you might say, I've been driving my wife up the wall by spending so much time with her. Perhaps it's simply guilt because I could have killed her, or it's just that I love her all the more for surviving. The only time I ever sign on at all is when my wife says to me: "Fjodor Mulcahy, bugger off!"
Silly, I know, but there you are.
I still cherish those of you who have friended me, and though I may not visit your journals or reply as much as I used to, you are all still in my thoughts.
Where have I been? Well, as some of you know, I began to avidly train for the wife-carrying contest, so naturally I had less leisure time between the demands of my job and the extra training.
Things were going well until about last summer. When my wife worked longer hours in the laboratory, but I still wanted to train, I would invite one of my mates over and train with him over my shoulders in her stead. Because all of the blokes are heavier than my wife, I initially thought it to be a good thing that would make me stronger in less time. Unfortunately, I trained so much with the blokes, that when I was running the course with my wife later on, I ran with a little too much spring and overshot the landing when jumping over the hurdles. My dear wife was thrown from my shoulders and landed on the next hurdle. You might say I went mental then, thinking she had broken her neck. Even though her injuries weren't nearly as severe as I had originally feared, I got a little down for I thought of how easily she might have lost her life. And I would have been too blame. I thought of how her death would be mine as well, for after nearly seven years of marriage, I cannot imagine life without her. When I wasn't at my job, I spent my every moment caring for her, and helping her with her rehabilitation.
She's back at the laboratories, and walking almost normally again. Unfortunately, she can no longer dance with me with the grace she once did, at least she believes it to be so. I told her exactly what I thought, that I could not see any lack of grace, and that it may only be because I see her with the eyes of a husband, who thinks his wife is nothing less than divine. That, plus the fact that all that training left me with such thigh muscles that I look almost comical whilst waltzing.
So you might say, I've been driving my wife up the wall by spending so much time with her. Perhaps it's simply guilt because I could have killed her, or it's just that I love her all the more for surviving. The only time I ever sign on at all is when my wife says to me: "Fjodor Mulcahy, bugger off!"
Silly, I know, but there you are.