A Thought

I know I don't have many readers here, but I had an unusual (for me) Saturday afternoon yesterday. I went to a potluck BBQ at an acquaintance's house. 

I've known her about 5 years, but rarely saw her except for a once a year "retreat" of sorts. Anyway, when I broke my right humerus in two places last July, she was kind enough to offer her services to cut out the mats in my hair and help me feel pretty. She's a licensed hairdresser, and since she was willing to come to me, who was I to complain? She did a great job, and since then has come over about every 3 months when I asked her to help out with the hair. For the first six months, I was unable to wash or brush my hair, so either Stitch or Shilo got stuck with that along with other personal bodily tasks that I won't mention.

So, anyway, this BBQ is a once a year big affair that she and her husband  host.  He smokes meats, and people bring all sorts of yummy things to complement the meat. I decided to do something gluten free that Shilo and others might enjoy. People often say that "Gluten Free" is another word for tasteless and often disgusting baked goods that have a funny texture on the mouth. Often, recipes call for Xanthan gum as a binder because it's gluten free. I've always been determined to fix gluten free food with pronounceable and easy to find things that aren't overpriced.

I'm fond of experimentation as well, and because of that, I'll often buy gluten free snacks and dessert items at places such as Big Lots or even the 99 cents only store, along with Dollar Tree. One of my more recent finds was a box of "gourmet" chocolate chip cookies. I read the package,and was pleasantly surprised to discover that all the ingredients were recognizable, and most of them I had at home. I bought it for Shilo, and when I asked him,he said they were "delicious." I insisted on trying, and sure enough, they were a delight on the tongue and tastebuds. I noticed they were made exclusively with rice flour.  I decided that I'd go searching for rice flour on my next outing. I bought it at the 99 cents only store and put it in my pantry and forgot about it until a few weeks ago when I got the invitation.

Over the past week, I've looked through the internet trying to find a cookie recipe that would suit Shilo's need for gluten free and my desire for easy to pronounce ingredients that wouldn't break the bank. It had to be similar enough to my personal cookie recipe that I've used since I was in my teens as far as taste was concerned, and, of course, use the brown rice flour. I was met with many disappointments, but I found two recipes that almost fit my needs, but areas were lacking in both of them.  Fortunately, the areas could easily be fixed by taking the best of each, and that's what I did.

I made a HUGE bowl of cookies, and baked up half the batch for the BBQ. The rest got bagged and refrigerated to bake later this week. The cookies were about a '9' rated by Shilo, and I hate to admit it, but I gave them a '10.' There was one younger male who has gluten intolerance and was so excited to see cookies that he hugged me. Later, his girlfriend asked for my secret. I emailed my recipe to her. I told her she might want to halve it, because I like to make HUGE amounts of cookies.

I guess it was that success that got me thinking about all my other recipes that I've modified to make gluten free. I don't have many, but what if I created a blog/forum similar to Dan's where men and women could discuss and share their gluten free cooking disasters as well as successes, and recipes could be exchanged? Something for people like me who love to cook and eat but aren't professional chefs or nutritionists but just like good tasting foods.

I'd much rather talk to a real person about the trial and error approach where the (poor) family dog gets the mistakes, or sometimes it's too horrible even for the dog. I'd also like to share the recipes that I have perfected and maybe provide encouragement for people taking those first painful steps in trying out gluten free food and coming short. 

So, all the above is just saying that I have an idea for a blog, and I'm asking for encouragement.
Please?

I Deserve To Brag (3-11-17)

In case anyone missed it, we were approved for a lovely apartment in Long Beach about 4 miles from where we currently live. We picked up the keys yesterday afternoon. Then the reality hit me. We don't own any large appliances or furniture other than our beds and TV sets. In the next paragraph, you'll find my report:

ON SHOPPING LIST:

Sofa-Bought at IKEA
Futon-Bought at IKEA
Stove/oven-Bought at Sears
Washer-Bought at Sears
Dryer-Bought at OOPS! Not bought!
Silly me! it turns out we need a GAS dryer, and I was about to buy an electric!
Everything gets delivered on Thursday. Well, except the dryer for now, because I have to do research first.
In other news New cable company installs on Sunday (8 days from now)

OF NOTE:

The Futon was on sale for $90! (reg price $250) and, In fact, I bought EVERYTHING on sale!
On the other hand, my to do list is HUGE!

Reality (incomplete Post)

I wrote this after midnight, and I know I'll never complete it because of everything else that went on since I started writing this piece.I'm leaving this for Shilo at his request.

Whenever I take the time to write here, I realize I'm subject to public scrutiny. I know I have people from around the world that read what I write, and they also read what Shilo writes. About 24 hours ago, Shilo wrote some opinions on his blog that I felt were controversial. I read it just as I was preparing for bed, and rather than write a drawn out response to those things, I made a rather quick reply to other things, choosing instead to write a piece on my blog after waking up and before leaving on church business that I knew would have me gone all day. I left home about 9:45 in the morning, and got home at about 10:30 at night. It was a LONG day, and now I'm so wired I can't sleep. It sucks!

Shilo will often act and not think about long-term consequences of his actions. I wouldn't say he's bad-tempered, but he can be fiery and his opinions are strong. He's stubborn, self-willed, opinionated, passive-aggressive and sweet. Every two weeks, we have a quiet argument where I swear that one day soon the two of us will just walk out on each other in disgust until we really come to our senses and run back into each others arms. Think what you want, but understand that our Love for each other is very strong.I'm not giving up that easily, and neither is he. He's stubborn, remember? Well, so am I.

And that's where I stopped. I decided to go to bed and check out his entry for replies, which ended up with us having a misunderstanding in the comments section. Which brought us to this morning where we finally somewhat got clear on things, and as he prepared to actually get sleep, I briefly walked out of the room to talk to Stitch, which is when Shilo's dad called to tell him his mom had died. What a fucked up Sunday we've had! Suddenly, our petty misunderstanding isn't so important anymore. What really matters is our Love for each other. And that is always the only really important thing.  Because we have each other, and we are committed to each other. Tell your significant other how much you care, how important they are. Don't allow misunderstandings to cripple your relationships. Will we have another misunderstanding? I have no doubt we will, but I also know we will work hard to resolve it, because that's how we are.

Sincerely,
Merry

Why I Don't Approach Men On CM or OKC

I belong to both Collarspace (formerly CollarMe) and OKCupid. I've noticed that available women are rare on both sites, or at least women who really are women. I'm not exactly sure on the ratio, but I will say that there is no lack of male attention, whether or not the woman has a profile picture. 

The problem (as I see it) is that men who are 5's (on a scale of 1-10, 10 being most physically attractive) expect to be with women who are 9's or 10's. It doesn't work that way in real life, but they feel 'entitled.' In the meantime, there are women who are 5's that like men who are 4's and they're being told by the men that they aren’t attractive enough. Color me confused. I thought attraction was based on intelligence, commonalities, and that 'special something' otherwise known as pheromones. I guess I was wrong.


So, as I said above, I don't approach men because, while I'm acquainted with rejection, I don’t want to be the instigator. Let the man show interest in me. Let him prove to me that he has things in common and is intelligent, or he can at least make a sentence with words and punctuation. The rest is easy. A face to face so I can decide if he is as he presented himself, and I enjoy his company. Picking up on the subtleties of speech, detecting the odor of cigarettes, too much cologne, or alcohol, and various other things allows me to make a decision about a man. In fact, within the first 10 minutes of meeting someone, I already know if I want to see them again. Predicting their impression isn’t so easy, but usually the attraction or the lack thereof is mutual. Since I don't pretend that I'm interested when I'm not, it's easy. I am who I am, and I'm not for everyone, and I tell people that before I meet them.


My typical interaction goes like this:

Him: Hi! My name is Average Joe and I read your profile. I was surprised by all we have in common. I enjoy using unnecessary superlatives too! My hobbies are basket-weaving and sleeping in front of the TV with sports playing at full blast. My favorite music is disco, and I'm a great dancer, I won a prize in third grade. Would you please take the time to read my most excellent profile and let me know if you're interested?

Me: Hello Joe!
I read your profile, and it appears we do have lots in common. It amazes me how your profile appears to be custom written for me. How do you feel about bats in your cave?

Him: I prefer to let my bats hang, cause they’re so very happy in there. I was wondering, when could we meet? I'm so excited about taking you dancing and I’m just thrilled that we can weave baskets together!

Me: (already beginning to question myself) How about Friday at noon? We can meet at Mickey D's on Main Street.

Him: I'm so excited and super impressed that you want to meet me, Also, I was wondering if you could send me a picture of you because your description and picture on your profile isn't nearly good enough.

Me: (sighs internally) Sure, nothing would give me greater joy than have you build me up, and then criticize my crooked nose and huge feet.

Him: I can't wait! Even though I'm a 4, I just know you'll be an 11 ¾!

Me: Here are some recent pictures I painstakingly picked out because it shows me with my dog, and this other one because my eyes are so pretty.

Him: uhmm... well... you're not even a 10, you're a 6 at best, and in spite of the fact that appearance-wise I'm a 4, I expect to only be seem with a 10. I don't care that we share these interests and might be compatible in all these other areas because you must be be-yoo-tee-full !

Me: It figures...


Honestly, I'm okay with being a 5 appearance-wise. I rate higher in areas that I feel are of greater importance, so I really don't worry. Only I wish that people were a bit more honest about things. For example, if you want a Barbie doll, say it! But say it on your profile so I can ignore you.

/END RANT

Spike: The Aftermath

More of the same... Not really, but let's say that there wasn't the usual awkwardness that I have had with former subs/lovers in the past. It was like all those years apart hadn't really happened. It was obvious to me that he made an effort to look good for me, Still, we were both cautious to not fall into any traps that we feared. I made a point to introduce him to Shilo, since they had obviously never met, and I directed him into Stitch's room, mostly re-purposed as a 'dungeon' the night before, with a few added touches this morning. I poured coffee and brought it to him and he drank it while we talked. We used our proper names when talking, and got caught up on medical conditions, commenting on how age and medications affected how we played with others. Not our typical conversation. No "I missed you," no "I love you's" just comments on how much some things had changed or stayed the same.

We talked back and forth for an hour, with me covering my expectations on honesty and transparency, and him acknowledging his prior reluctance to do so, and his desire to do so now, and what he was currently doing in his vanilla life. Then I smiled and told him to get undressed. I silently noticed that the visual of his naked body, while pleasing, did not elicit any involuntary reactions or feelings. For the very first time, I saw him as he was, and not as an object of my desire, sexual or otherwise.

Since I couldn't remember very much about our past, and the things that he liked, I had him stand in the corner. This is something Shilo enjoys, so I thought I'd try it. Personally, it does nothing for me. Apparently, it did nothing for him as well. After having him confess what a naughty boy he'd been, I had him climb onto the spanking bench.

Spike was among the earliest masochists that I was with. He enjoyed it hard and rough, and other than a few swats on his backside, as warm up (if you could call it that) I laid into him using medium hard strokes. OOPS! I guess that his advanced age and medications has tenderized him a little, and he asked me to stop after about 20 swats using the heavy leather tawse. While I was okay with him asking to stop, he was upset and disappointed that we couldn't continue.

I told him to get on the bed and lay down, and I could tell he wanted to argue the point, so I repeated mt request politely. Finally realizing it was a demand, he did so, and I took off my outfit, leaving my black lace panties on, and I held him and we talked some more. It felt good and right being with him like that, and we discussed the probability of him returning to play again. I guess I left enough of an impression (pun intended) that he set up a date with me in the near future, and when it was time for him to go, he got dressed, and we hugged goodbye, It was very fitting and comfortable, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again, and maybe going further into negotiations with him.

In Other News:

Shilo appears to be feeling better on his gluten-free diet, which led to Shilo asking me for a "funishment" session about an hour after Spike left. While I'm not holding my breath waiting for another session with him, it was the first time since late October that we played hard enough for me to leave marks.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Tension

It's not necessarily a bad thing. Think of sexual tension and the warm ache you get from it.Think of the tension of waiting for a good thing to happen. The tingle of anticipation, the longing ache you get from waiting, and the inevitable pleasure you get when the time is right. The precious release that is so desired. The past few days, when other things aren't in my thoughts, that's where I am. That place between pleasure and pressure, waiting for release. Wanting it now, but with the knowledge that anything worth having is worth waiting for. That delicious ecstasy that awaits me.

BUT:

I've grown up a bit, and I know there's a difference between fantasy and reality, and, yes, I've had more than my share of experiences where the reality far surpassed any fantasy in my head. Yes, I've been severely disappointed, but not that much. I also know that time and practice only makes for increasingly better experiences. I secretly hate my high hopes right now, mostly out of a fear of failure. Yeah, I hate that "F" word. Failure. A thing that is unsuccessful or disappointing. ::Deep breath:: The good thing is that that particular fear only lasts an instant. Pinning my hopes and dreams on an idea. Waiting on a pleasurable idea to come to fruition. Knowing that that particular feeling is shared with the other party makes it a little better.

Spike: I thought he was lost and long gone. Out of reach, out of sight but always on my mind. Spike, formerly known as _______, returning to me.  A thought I never entertained I could laugh at the reversal of fortune, but most people wouldn't get it. The events that brought this to me are just weird.

Counting, counting. counting... and Bedtime is upon me. Sleeping, dreaming, and hoping for the best!

You Wanna Know A Secret? (2-3-15)

I'm a Dominant. That means that, like it or not, I get to decide if I want you around me, my Household, my Pack, my chosen Family. It means, in my Household, at least, I get to choose your position. Are you an Alpha male? Well, I get to decide that. Trying to find my favor and usurping authority does not go over well. My Household has a hierarchy. You can be Beta, Omega, or somewhere in between, but I chose the Alpha male. He has earned that spot. 

If or when I invite you to be a part of my Household, I will give you my rules for all household members. I will be patient and kind in explaining what I expect, and how I want things done. I will correct you the first few times you make an error, but I will expect you to remember them. I might even go behind you and do things the way I want them done. I expect you to notice and learn. I expect no argument as to why you think your way is better. In fact, arguing will not be tolerated. Discussions are welcome.


I do my best to be fair and equal and I give options whenever possible. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. Do not, even for a moment, think you will get away with shit. I keep track. I listen, and I know. I have a breaking point, and you will have time to get your shit in order. I might surprise you, but it's only because you didn't listen or heed the warnings that were liberally given.


Don't point fingers at the others. Don't disrespect them. They have the same rules as you. Let this serve as a warning to those who follow your footsteps. It's too late for one, but there will be others, and they will be wise to learn from your mistakes.

Of Interest

http://wannabespankee.tumblr.com/post/33971933681/oneyear

I honestly cannot comment without giggling for oh-so-many reasons, most of which have nothing to do with me.

Restless

I don't keep secrets. Well, not on purpose. I have a habit of forgetting things, remembering them, and then promptly forgetting them. Live with me long enough and you'll see it in action.

I'm also a horrible procrastinator, and I'm easily distracted. I'll have several "projects" going on at once, and I find myself wondering how it all happened.

The chronic insomnia is a frequent stumbling-block to accomplishing things because I will often fall asleep sitting up. Mostly, though, I'm just restless.

I wouldn't say uneasy or bored, but I frequently feel like I've neglected or forgotten something or someone.

Shilo has a calendar for me. It sends reminders, and I still forget. I frequently overbook or double book, and other days, I'm completely empty and wondering why I didn't book stuff that day.

I've been depriving myself of intercourse lately, waiting for Shilo to heal. I hate it. I also discovered that I hate using a condom for sex with him. It prevents him from hitting all the "good" spots inside me, and causes frustration. I don't want to deprive either of us, so I'm going to try to figure out a workable solution for the both of us.

Driving to Huntington Beach Sunday evening with Stitch caused me to get agitated because we (the other members of my Household) are feeling that a certain person in the Household isn't doing enough. I came home and started on a chore list. I haven't finished it yet, but I also haven't finished writing the changes in the Agreement that Shilo and I discussed. Both are important, but which one should be a priority?

I've been struggling with both for several hours, and neither one is where I want it.  I refuse to send either one to Shilo unfinished, so he won't get either.

The events of Sunday afternoon has me wanting to be (sexually) teased mercilessly by Shilo, but I already suspect that my inability to finish either document will probably severely curtail any sexual activity on Shilo's part because he (understandably) wants me to get something done. Yes, I'm the Dominant, but our marriage is set up where I "allow" him to have some authority, because if I didn't nothing would ever get accomplished. I want to be kept on task, and he does that for me.

I'm going to stare at the papers more, but I'm also going to message him and tell him now about my inability to get anything accomplished.  Really too sleepy to think straight.

Today

About a week ago, I special ordered a new collar for Shilo because his had broken (See previous post) Anyway, there have been problems in the BDSM aspect of our relationship, and I said that I felt that due to his actions (inactions also) Shilo was not worthy of wearing my collar. He understood and agreed.

Well, his new collar that I ordered arrived in the mail today. I decided to give him some incentive and show him the collar I ordered. I allowed him to open it and look, and then I took it back from him, and told him that when he is ready, he may have his new collar. I carefully re-wrapped the collar and put it away in a safe place.

You see, I want him to want it, to desire it, but also to know that he is forever in my heart. Now the only thing holding him back from the collar, is himself. Not me. Him. He already knows what needs to be done to receive the collar, so now I must wait.

Shilo, my collar for you is waiting until you are ready. I Love you!

Recent Occurrence

The chain of Shilo's collar broke right about the time things got crazy in our relationship almost two weeks ago. I told him not to worry about it, knowing that our BDSM relationship has gone out the window as of late, and, while our marriage is doing okay, he's not really been where he should be otherwise. He insisted on putting the tags on another chain, which somehow broke yesterday. The tags have gone missing. In the meantime, tomorrow is one year since the very first time we played together in a dungeon. It's pretty special.

About the collar: I'm upset at the poor quality of it, and I can guarantee I'll never buy anything wearable from there again. As for the disappearance, I feel that everything happens for a reason, and, while I truly Love Shilo, I don't feel he's been acting worthy of the collar. I know he will get momentarily upset by this, but then his cool logic will set in, and he will agree with my assessment. This brings me to something else: Do I feel that the BDSM aspect of our relationship is over? The short answer is "No." The long answer is "HELL NO!" because we both have that desire deep inside of us,  and to cut it out of our lives completely for any length of time would be foolish. I think of this time as a time of reflection, to regroup, and to renegotiate our BDSM relationship. In the meantime, I still have his play collar available if we decide to play. The 15th will mark the one year anniversary since our first contract, so maybe by then we will have made some decisions about what we will do, and where we are going.

In the meantime, I hope Shilo uses this time to think about his desires regarding the BDSM aspect of our relationship, and we can both use our "off time" to improve other aspects of our relationship that need some attention.

Just Around The Corner

Shilo has been battling his fears and depression quite a bit lately. Or, rather, he has given in and surrendered to it. The reasons for the depression are valid, and though I dislike it when he gets like this, I understand why he feels so helpless and hopeless. Him being like this also leaves me feeling helpless and hopeless because he shuts down and shuts me out. Fortunately, he is cooperative on one thing. He will talk to me about what is bothering him, and even though he refuses any BDSM activity and doesn't want sex, he will usually respond to my request to come to me for our morning talk. Keeping in mind that he is bigger and stronger than me, it's nice that he willingly cooperates, because there is no way I could force him to do anything.

Shilo and I started out in my typical BDSM mode: No sexual activity, period! He was in self-imposed chastity and considered himself to be asexual, so I was perfectly happy. When we fell in Love, it was (thankfully) mutual, and our sexual desires for one another was equally mutual. There was never any coercion on either part, and it quickly became apparent that we both enjoyed the activity with each other. Sex is the one aspect where I prefer not to be the sole initiator and I enjoy being the one who is wooed and pursued. Yes, I will sometimes initiate sex, but it's not my preference. I rarely refuse sex with Shilo because it is so pleasurable. I am his cock slut and fuck whore (my words, not his) and I am a Tigress, biting, scratching, and growling the whole time.

Going back to Shilo's mood: I will not initiate sex when he is in one of his moods, and he will not initiate sex either. This leaves me all the more depressed and anxious and needy for emotional support, and it's one of those things that Shilo is unable to provide. I become weepy, he gets more withdrawn. I tend to use sex with Shilo as a "temperature gauge" of our relationship with each other. If we are having problems in our BDSM relationship, but we are still having sex, I see it as a positive thing, and I feel that everything will work out between us. It's a way of communicating without using words, and, unlike most other men, Shilo will not have sex just because it's available. He'd rather be locked in chastity than have sex when he's angry or upset.

I wrote all the above to say this: It looks like a reprieve is just around the corner, because he actually initiated sex on Wednesday morning. It was not forced or fake, and he was enjoying it. Me? Well, I was pretty happy too. I told him earlier that I wanted my husband back, and it looks like he's on his way. Are things better or improved? It's too soon to say, but I see a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Can I Tell You A Secret?"

The above, or some other similar version is something Sunshine frequently tells Shilo when she is "out." During those times, she will put me "deep" so I can't hear, and she will tell him something I usually don't want him to know. Naturally, in the interest of our relationship, and my requirement for his transparency, he will (eventually) tell me what he knows. Today, however, I'm revealing a secret of sorts. Ready?

I write. In fact, I write quite a bit, and more often than he even knows. While I don't have daily entries like I require of him, I do write about once a week, sometimes more often. So... where are these things I write, anyway? They aren't being published here, nor are they even online. Most of them are partially written, and they're in my Documents folder. I start writing, get interrupted, or maybe there's a (*)squirrel and I get distracted enough that I never really get back to it. Either way, it remains partially written, and I rarely or never get back to it. (*)Squirrels are everywhere, so I need to be careful.

Maybe I'll get back to those partially written stories and anecdotes and finish them and publish them. Then, again, maybe not. I write to unclutter my brain, so once I've written, whether or not I've published, my head is clear, so it doesn't seem to matter as much.

That's the secret for this time. There may or may not be more.



(*)A squirrel is something that will immediately take my attention from whatever it is I am or should be doing. It could be a phone call, or maybe an attractive person walking down the street when I'm driving, Either way, I get so focused on the squirrel, that I completely forget the original task I was doing.

I’m Not Stupid Nor Am I Confused (3-6-2014)

For the past 20 years or so, but mostly in the last 15, I’ve felt like I was slowly going crazy. I come across as being of at least normal intelligence (being modest here) until I open my mouth. No, I’m not that bad, but I will try to explain. I cannot remember names. Even worse, I frequently call things by the wrong names. A good example of that is about 2 days ago, I asked Stitch to get my clothes out of the oven. The word I needed, and couldn’t remember, was “washer”, I didn’t struggle when I said “oven”, but I knew I used the wrong name right after I said it. I’ve called the kitchen the garage, the garage the bedroom etc. Ad nauseam. I cannot remember the names of people either. Normally, it’s not a problem, and I can wing it, but imagine my horror last month when I had out of town guests to introduce and couldn’t remember Shilo’s name! He’s my husband! I just kept talking, struggling to remember his name, so I could introduce him to them. Finally, he picked up on my discomfort and introduced himself.

Sometimes, I just feel like crying or want to die of embarrassment over it. People don’t understand because I don’t look or act impaired, and there have been times when I wished I looked or acted “different” so people wouldn’t judge me so harshly. On really bad days, I avoid speaking to anyone but Shilo or Stitch because the stress of having to remember a person’s name is too much for me. I ignore people at parties so I don’t have to struggle to remember their name. It can be a very isolating experience. When it comes to writing or public speaking, I manage to look polished because I can “look up” a word, or even ask someone at home what the word I want is. Once I’ve written it down, all I have to do is read it, and nobody knows that I’m unable to remember the name of the thing I drive (car) or the thing that water comes out of (faucet) or the name of the place I cook dinner (kitchen) or even my home address. I can’t even remember the name of the disorder, but I wrote it down earlier. It’s called Anomic Aphasia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anomic_aphasia). I have what I would consider a mild case, because most of the time, I remember and can say the correct words of things, but places and names are a constant thorn in my side.

Please understand. This is not a pity party. This is me sharing and explaining why I am the way I am. It’s me asking that you laugh with me and at me when the wrong words come out, and, instead of correcting me if you know what I meant to say, just act like I said the correct word. Trust me, I know when I’ve used the wrong word, so there’s really no need to embarrass me further unless you’re just petty and/or cruel. Also, in the remote possibility that I made no sense at all to you, politely ask me to repeat myself. I won’t be angry or offended if you say you didn’t understand me. All I ask for is a little kindness. Thank you.

A Public Service Announcement

I've become my mother! Please stay with me and my thoughts. I haven't really become my mother, what I have become is a little bit more observant when it comes to other people. I notice things I never paid attention to before. Things I might have ignored, or (heaven forbid!) actually done myself! I try hard to be tolerant. I really do, but some things are intolerable, much like those men who wear sandals and black socks, you try to look away, to ignore it, but you just can't! The error, the atrocity of it, is just overwhelming. 

So, what has my panties in a bunch? I will share: High Heels. Honestly, I have nothing against high heels. They can be sexy on nearly anyone, and, when chosen properly, they can be worn all day, and all night without a problem. BUT There is a problem, and it isn't just young women. I see older women (such as myself, or even older) doing it too, and it's time someone knocked some sense into these women! It's funny that men in high heels aren't guilty of this, but I suspect that they know better than most women, and this irritates me most of all.

Women, you know you look sexy in those heels, and that people go wild over your sexy legs, so PLEASE do yourself a favor. Buy those sexy heels, put them on in the privacy of your own home, and (are you ready for it?) Practice (yes, practice!) walking in them! Look at yourself in the mirror! If you look like a newborn foal, then DON'T WEAR THEM IN PUBLIC!!! Just don't! You practice walking in them until you glide across the floor! Then, and only then, wear them in public, wear them to the club, the grocery store, the 99 cents store, or even Wal-Mart.

Please save me from getting arrested for assault! One day, I just might get crazy enough to stop one of these girls (or women) and tell them myself, and it might get ugly, so please, tell your daughters, tell your wives, your girlfriends, your subs, slaves and Mistresses, tell them all to practice wearing those sexy heels so I don't have to!

Thank you!

Doing It Wrong… A Confession

Oh, where do I begin? The beginning is too soon, the middle seems a little late, and the end? Well. It’s not happened yet, and, with a little luck, it will be a very long time from now.

Let’s start by establishing a few things. I am ‘scattered,’ I can’t help it. Keeping things and myself together is nearly impossible. It’s something I do my best to explain to people, but very few understand it, until, one day, I’m particularly so, and then they tell me (as if I didn’t know) “You are scattered.” Thank you! Now that we’ve established that, can we please continue with our coffee and conversation, or whatever else we were doing?? I’m a closeted perfectionist. I want things the way I want them, but I will also look at a task and decide whether or not I think I can do it. If I feel it’s impossible (or improbable) I won’t do it. There’s no need or use for me to extend my energies on something that I can’t do perfectly. I detest failure. Specifically, my failure. Your failure is yours, and, while I might point it out, or complain, it’s quickly forgotten and forgiven. Some people mistake my desire for perfection, and refusal to do something I feel I won’t succeed at as laziness, but I don’t care what others think, unless I’m having a personal crisis, and then everything matters. So… I am flawed and a perfectionist. Some might say I’m doomed to fail, but they don’t know me. My redeeming quality in all this is that I’m honest. I tell the truth. Yes, it’s MY truth, but still the truth. My mouth often gets me into trouble, and I pay the consequences.

I can’t really talk about Shilo’s qualities without mentioning Stitch. It wouldn’t be fair. Stitch is loving and caring and, whatever he does, he means well. He’s always anticipating my next move, and will often go above and beyond what is expected/requested of him, often to his own detriment. It’s endearing and irritating. Shilo, on the other hand, is self-assured, and is a pretty good judge of character. He has a low tolerance for people who whine, and he gets things done right the first time without prompting. Where Stitch guesses, Shilo knows, and if I give him something to do, it will be done right. Both Stitch and Shilo have one similar fault: If I notice something awry and happen to mention it, they both take it personally. Stitch will object loudly, and Shilo will shut down. I don’t enjoy fighting/arguing, but if Stitch gets loud, I get loud right along with him, and we often wind up laughing. When Shilo gets upset (and he does so on a regular basis) I wind up with a stony-cold silent man. I can’t handle that very well, and, many times, I’m not exactly sure what set it off. All I know is that something went wrong somewhere and I have to guess. It’s frustrating, and if I ask him directly, he often won’t answer. If it wasn’t for his journal entries, I’d have no clue what went wrong 80% of the time. He holds grudges (just like me… I said I had flaws!) and does things to his own detriment to prove a point. 

Occasionally, I’ll think things are just fine and smooth sailing till I read his journal. Things I thought were resolved this weekend apparently were not according to what he wrote, and so, while he has no idea that I read his entries as soon as I woke up this morning, I already know that he’s still a little (a lot?) upset over some things I said that were meant to be corrections. Which, by the way, once I said them and felt they were resolved, I forgot about them… well, until I read about them this morning. Now I just feel like crap, because he’s still hurting, and it’s a failure on my part. So… what do I do? What can I do? I guess I could try to repeat what I said over the weekend to him, but I can’t remember half of what I told him. I could play stupid and act like everything is fine, but that will eventually blow up in my face in a very bad way. I could try to get him to talk (I fail nearly all the time on that) or I could write this, and tell him that I Love him, I appreciate him, and that he’s perfect for me. The things he’s held onto are things that we discussed, and it’s over with. I'm no longer upset.

We’re from completely different environments, and I panic because I’m so used to doing without that when I have, I treat it like it’s precious and I want to make it last. It’s going to be a while for me to adjust to “having” so please be patient with me. You are my Superman, my Knight in Shining armor. Yes, there’s kryptonite and chinks in your armor, but that’s okay. Love makes all that inconsequential. Just remember and remind me that I’m not in that dark hole anymore.