Letís talk about good moaniní - and I donít mean the good eveniní
When youíre at your sexual peak you know the moaning you do in
Well, like everything else as you edge toward your dirt nap
(grave), this changes.
Nowadays, a chunk of chocolate ganache cake melting in my mouth
gives rise to great gustatory moans. I mean, at my last birthday
party the guests were so impressed they tried to steal bites
from my cake without success.
Why, nowadays even collapsing into a chair to take the load off
my feet causes ďUn-n-n-ngĒs to pour forth.
In my youth, I was a lap swimmer. I swam around, I confess. At
hotels, motels, schools, private homes, health clubs, you name
it. It was 40 minutes per day every day for 17 years until I
began to moan from pain in my rotator cuffs.
Anyway, as I was saying, I swam everywhere. And in the showers
everywhere I swam I would encounter women moaning.
Iím not telling a surreptitious naughty joke here. These were
older women and I now understand: dropping your creaking joints
into the hot water is a kind of indescribable relief. Your bod
canít stand the cold water anymore. You extract yourself from it
with chill blains and your only salvation is the hottest shower
you can pump up.
One of my favorite moans lately is while absorbing the sun.
After decades of sunscreen, hats and generally staying out of it
- I am savoring it. And when I feel it on my aching bones I am
filled with such pleasure and gratitude that long noises escape
If you are over age 50, Iíll bet you can think of many other
circumstances under which you moan that heretofore would have
Well, itís time to sign off. I have bills to pay and Iím
groaning. But donít confuse that with moaning, which is always
an expression of joy.
P.S. I just talked to my younger sister, Glenda, who still
swims. She says this one woman at her club has so many
infirmities that she loudly moans as people help her into and
out of her bathing suit and clothes. However, I suspect her
moaning is really groaning with pain . . .