Been up for a bit.

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Rough, though.  Mostly just sleepy, tired, just a little sore.  Blood sugar was high, at 206 fasting.  The potato last night, and I forgot slow acting insulin.  I got that going, this morning, and 10 cc's of fast acting with kefir and a fatted coffee.  Sassy has been fed, her litter cleared.  Not great, but not terrible.  A start.  A couple hours ago?  Maybe.

Dark and weathery out there.  Raining?  Snow?  Sleet?  I can't say what is coming down.  It's on and off, and I have only seen it off, but it looked damp?  All good.  It 'tis the season.  I... love the seasons.  Spring and fall are my favored.  One, the former, cripples me.  The other, the latter, bounces me off the wall like a superball... do they still make those?  Hmm, if so, I ought to buy one.  I loved those.  Just couldn't keep em'.

Dreams of minor love and war last night.  Sex is so dirty, and I don't mean... nasty.  I mean, well, sweaty, gritty, with fluids, and else.  A dirty job, but someone really has to do it.  Lord knows, right or wrong, I have... done my share.  And, produced children.  Probably more than I know.  Most women, back then, knew who the father was.  At least there was that.  They like their giants.  Anyway...  I often, too, and did last night, dream of women I... never touched, but wanted to hold.  Far more of those, if plenty of women I was with.  Never enough, or long enough, had... places to go, people to do, things to fix or break.  Mechanics, it's the way.

I wouldn't even know where to meet up with women these days.  Or... women I would be interested in meeting up with.  I suppose there is the old and ill dinner place.  Or restaurants in town for coffee.  Bars, I suppose, if I would keep from drinking.  If you are there just for some lime and fizz water, you'll meet women who don't drink as well.  Drinkers and non-drinkers tend to find each other through simple tests.  The last few times I was at a bar, I... spied and was espied by enemy combatants, with boobs.  :p  Some enemies... are... different.  Different sorts of warfare.  All I'm saying.  *boobs*  Dreams can make me silly.  So can thinking about them, and what they contain.  Hmmm... pheromones'.

There was some dreams of fighting, but just simple ones.  The easy ones.  Hand to hand, even against two or three guys, was always easy for me.  Almost... pleasant?  Yes, pleasant.  Most men couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag.  Even if they go to the dojo twice a week.  If they haven't been on the streets, fighting whatever, and whoever, in whatever numbers?  No.  I've fought enough of those to pretty much realize that experience, if you survive it, is best.  Much more risky.  But, what is it they say?  The higher the risk, the higher the reward.  You learn to survive, in raw combat, something... changes.  No dojo can teach that.

Still, the dreams were pleasant.  Hit, miss, fight, live.  All... good.

Well, on to gaming.  Oh, I'll pull chicken out to thaw.  I'll probably have beans and beef tonight, or blood sugar will drop again.  I hate this up and down, and without candy or other to bring it up.  I have to use food.  But, really, don't even have much food that has any serious higher glycemic index.  Out of potatoes.  Ugh.  I'll... figure things out.  Later.

Yes, I... get it.  Not sure if this is presented kindly or in mockery.

Though?  Depending on who presents it?  What's the difference?