Merry Christmas!

Me and the cold I cannot shake are off for a long holiday weekend.

Merry Christmas to All!

May you have lots of love, peace, and holiday glows.

Sparkles

A friend and I were talking the other day and she commented that she thinks a lot of people never get to experience "those sparkles" in love. She noted she'd never had them with her first husband and was totally surprised when she first experienced them, with her current husband.

I completely agree with her. Sparkles are rare - and I think that rarity makes the lure of sparkles particularly strong. Plus, they're addictive. They're fizzy and whooshy and giddy and make us feel wonderful and when we're feeling that way we want more, More, MORE!!

But there is a dark side to sparkles.
Sparkles are also deceptive.
Sparkles can totally get away from us.
We think of them as being triggered by something external - the right person, circumstance, or activity - but sometimes, sparkles fly for no better reason than our own wishful thinking. Sometimes, we just *want* them into being.

Which would be great ... except ... self-created sparkles are false ones. They appear to have all the zip and zing of the true ones, but they don't have the energy source to be sustained.

Proper sparkles create a self-perpetuating energy loop. (Mine feed off of his, which in turn energizes me, allowing his to feed off mine …)
But false sparkles have nothing reciprocal to feed off of, so they either fizzle out or they turn and begin to consume their creator.

I love sparkles, I really do.
But they're tricky little devils.
Handle With Care.

Updates

It's the holidays and I'm nutsy busy, focused on real life as opposed to blogland, and really just kind of spinning like a top.
So for now, all you get is bullets...  ;-)

-Five people jumped into the cookie pile late.
    Autumn in jeans
    Dave the Rave -posted here
    Kitty
    morningstar
    Sarah the reader -posted here

-BG's latest attempt to quit smoking is working.
He's on the last level patch and much less wound-up.
    YAY!
This made my boobs sit up and sing the Hallelujia chorus.
Until his next visit, anyhow...
*wince*
Now they're just singin' the (black and) blues...

-I Found The Walmart Bag!!!!!!
Just in time for the "12 dozen cookies, in bags of 6" swap.

-I have a new UPS man.
(I think the old one requested a transfer...)

-Not only can I still not bind my own breasts, his response to my efforts has gone from twitching lips to outright mockery.
(I distinctly heard, "phhhhttt!", too!)

No one from FetLife has contacted me to say that I sound enchanting and they dooo wish I would sign up.  *le sigh*

-The tape worms don't work...
Maybe they're over-sanitized??
;-p

Enjoy the December Madness, y'all!

Thank You All

Thanks for playing along, for reading, for commenting, for taking the time to support each other and help make this so very much fun.

And, of course,
for THE COOKIES!!!
(and pies, and pastries, and savouries, and breads, and...)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go draw recipes out of a hat, because I Just Can't Decide!!!!!

The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza - 2011 Edition

(Once again, there are a couple of non-cookie recipes in the mix.
And again I ask, do you really care, as long as it tastes good?)

I DO like doing this! It's such a fun way to meet new people.
This year our ranks swelled to 40 and we doubled our international participation. The bakers are listed at the end of this post - please go check out all the recipes. (We want everyone to feel warm and fuzzy so they come back again next year, after all!)

Just bear in mind that there were no time frames for *when* during the day we'd post. So make allowances for all possible time zones worth of Dec 7th before you start leaving, "HEY! Where are the cookies???" comments.  ;-D

Get out the plates and Enjoy!

Jz's Cookie Selection 2011:

I've seen the recipe call for raisins or golden raisins but I prefer to hold out for the dried currants. And I cut rectangles, not diamonds, cuz my cutting skills are disastrous -- but theses cookies taste fantastic in any shape!  

Zaletti

3/4 C dried currants
2 T dark rum (I loathe rum, so I substitute freely. OJ, brandy, water...)
2/3 C butter, softened
2/3 C sugar
1 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
1 egg
2 t finely shredded orange peel
1/2 C yellow cornmeal
1 1/2 C all-purpose flour
     coarse sugar or granulated sugar

Combine currants and rum (or whatever liquid thing you chose) in a small bowl and let stand for 30 minutes.

Beat butter in a large mixing bowl at medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Add the 2/3 C sugar, baking powder, and salt. Beat until combined. Then add the egg and orange peel until combined. Beat in cornmeal and as much of the flour as your mixer can handle. With a wooden spoon, stir in the currant mixture and any remaining flour.

Divide dough in half and wrap each portion in plastic wrap. Chill the dough in the fridge for 3 hours or until dough is easy to handle.

One portion at a time, roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface until you have a 12" x 8" rectangle. Cut the rectangle diagonally, making diamond shapes 3" long and 1 1/4" wide. (Or whatever roughly uniformly-sized shapes you can manage.)
Place cookies on an ungreased cookie sheet and sprinkle lightly with sugar.

Bake in a 375 degree oven for 6-8 minutes or until edges are lightly brown. Transfer cookies to a rack for cooling.
Makes about 54 tasty little cookies.

selkie's Cookie Selection 2011:

my friend selkie, "daughter of the sea" has been on blogging hiatus for (far too long) a while but she's always ready to join in the fun with a yummy recipe!

Cinnamon Pecan Shortbread

INGREDIENTS

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup golden brown sugar, packed

1/4 cup cornstarch

1-1/4 tsp ground cinnamon 

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes, room temperature

1 large egg white, beaten to blend with 1 tbsp water (for glaze)
36 pecan halves
Granulated sugar for garnish

DIRECTIONS

In large bowl, whisk first six ingredients, up to salt, to blend. Add butter. Mash with back of fork until coarse meal forms. Work dough with fingertips until smooth; shape into disk. Wrap in plastic, chill until firm but not hard, 30 minutes.
Shape dough into 1-inch balls; arrange on two baking sheets, 2 inches apart. Cover bottom of drinking glass with plastic; press each ball into 2-inch round. Cut with scalloped cookie cutter if desired. Brush with glaze; top with pecan half and sprinkle with raw sugar.
Bake in 325F oven, rotating pans halfway through cooking, until tops turn golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes.
Makes 36 cookies.

Please check out the other yummy contributions from:
Aisha
Alice
Ally
Another Suburban Mom
Ashly Star
Beau
Beth
Conina
Elysia
greengirl
Hedone
Jack & Jill
His wyld rose
Infidelity Chronicles
Kirsti
Krissy
lil
Linda Long
Little Monkey
Lola!
Mijena
mouse
Naughty Kitty
nilla
ponderouspet
ronnie
Rose
Ryan
Sara
selkie (her recipe here, her blog here)
Sephani Page
Serenity
shadesofblue
striving for peace
sin
Tempting Sweets
The Missus
undercovermetamorphosis
Viemoira

Quote Of The Week (Dec 1st Edition)

"That's it, use that sexy, slutty, tawdry, amazing, wet, talented, slutty mouth on me. ... Yes, I know I used "slutty" twice ... but I think it bears repeating."

He really needs to stop making me laugh in these somewhat delicate situations...

Clean in Haste, Repent at Advent

For many years, the joke in our household was that if you couldn't find something, to look under Dad's bed. That was his catch-all.
Important papers, dress shoes, Christmas presents, firearms ... if it needed tucking away, under the bed it went, generally never to be seen again. At least not in under 12 months...

I'd love to say that my housekeeping skills are somewhat better than that. The blood of a neatnik Finnish grandma runs in my veins, after all. But apparently, house pride is a recessive trait. My approach to cleanliness is much more lackadaisical. (You won't, like, die in my house or anything, but don't bring your white gloves, 'k?)

Last spring, I had company come to stay (yeah, those guys with the dog) and not much notice before they arrived. So I gave my house what passes around here for a thorough cleaning, grabbing armfuls of crap and stuffing it into the nearest available hidey-hole before slamming the door/drawer on it.

Which meant that last month, it took me four hours of intensive searching to discover the whereabouts of my cold-weather shirts.

The "after Christmas sale" stuff I got at Walmart's last December 27th?
Five whole days I've been hunting for that bag.
Nuttin'.
I even checked under Dad's bed, lest some sort of residual psychic vortex was toying with me.
Nada.

Anyone seen about 18 packages of cellophane Santa cookie bags and a set of Yuletide votives? 'Cuz if you have, I think we've discovered a wormhole!

(N.B. - Only five more days for cookie exchange sign up!)

A Worry-Free Thanksgiving

Finally!

A way to relax and fully enjoy Thanksgiving!

I wonder if the jar holds enough to get me all the way through Christmas?

Happy Thanksgiving, All!

Seven Things

I'd been ignoring this whole VBA thing because I just flat out refuse to pick 15 blogs to nominate. My blogs are a package deal - you get all or none!
But since lm & gg trail-blazed by bypassing the 15 other bloggers criteria yet still posting the 7 things about themselves, I shall follow boldly in their footsteps (in my own subordinate follower kind of a way) and do the same.

So, ready?

1- I squeal like a little girl at the sight of mice.

2- I LOVE ice skating and water skiing. 
(There's a walking on water joke in there somewhere, but I haven't refined it yet.)

3- I sing or whistle much of the time - but rarely in tune.

4- I am an absolute sucker for pizza-flavored Combos.

5- My very favorite podcast is "Stuff You Should Know"
(I *heart* Josh and Chuck.)

6- I lead a vacuum-cleaner-avoidant lifestyle.

7- Even my real name isn't my real name.

Thanks to the people who thought of me.
And if you're reading this, consider yourself nominated, as well.  :-)

Calling All Bakers

On Wednesday, December 7, 2011, Blogland will see the return of The Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza - but we need YOUR help!

Last year, I had thought if I could get six people to play along, I'd be tickled pink. Well, we had twenty-three participants (with, astonishingly, no cookie duplication!) and I'm hoping this year will be even bigger and better.
I'm thinking more countries, more cookies, ... more fun!

But that needs more bloggers.
 So won't you please come to the cookie party?

Anyone is welcome to join us. The more, the merrier, in fact.
All you have to do is to post a recipe for a holiday goodie on December 7th.

However-
If you want your name to show up in the list of participants that I will be sending around for posting, there is a deadline.
(I type fast but still, I need a little lead time to pull this together.)
;-p

So please email me by Monday, Dec. 5th if you plan to join us. (Include your name and the title of your blog, please. It's astonishing how quickly I can get completely muddled.)

And even if you don't play, please come by and check out the recipes!

Hope to hear from you soon...

Dec. 6th-

Participant list sign up now closed.

Look for those recipes tomorrow!

Lurker Love

It's Love Our Lurkers day again.
A day that's dedicated to you, the faithful yet silent majority.
A day when we tell you we love you (which we do!) and we appreciate you (which we do!) and that we're really, really glad you keep coming around (which we are!)

It's really a bit of a sneaky ploy, isn't it?
We say all these nice things (that we mean!) to cajole you out of your silence, coax you to step into our world, to see you to de-cloak, like a Romulan Klingon Bird of Prey. (Sorry. I get rattled when aliens decloak...)

This is not really how I see my lurkers. I just liked the metaphor...

Of course, you may prefer lurking - but maybe you're just shy.
I've tried teasing your out of your silence before but I was too subtle. So today, I'm just going to come right out and ask...

   Dearest Lurkers,
   Won't you please say hello today?
   It would be nice to make a new friend.

It is, however, awkward to just start talking to a total stranger.
So, here are some icebreakers - things I'd like to know about you.
Pick one (or two) and head on down to that "comments" link below! 

   1- Where are you from?
    (generally - I'm not asking you to out yourself.)

   2- What brings you here?
    Word of mouth? A link from another blog?
    A Google search for St. Augustine of HIppo?
       (Don't laugh - it's happened.)
    You tell me...

   3- What keeps you coming back?
    The bizarre juxtapositions? My endless supply of klutz stories?
    The guilty pleasure?
    Go ahead. I won't get mad...

   4- What are your views on sumo?
    (Just looking for a little support here, people!)

C'mon. I'll even answer, I promise!

Strange Literary Bedfellows - and Stuff

A few years back, I found myself living the opening of "Dante's Inferno"
I woke up in the middle of my life, lost in a wood, clueless as to how I'd gotten there. I had let life change so much in me that I could no longer recognize the person I'd become.
But I could still sense echoes of the real me on a different trail, over there behind the undergrowth somewhere. I became determined to find that person, walk with her, and make myself whole once more.
It took three years of stumbling and groping and cussing and crying - but I made it. It's me I smile at in the mirror again these days.

I thought about this the other day when I read something that brought to mind a scene from "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Is Not Enuf".
There is a marvelous description there of what I think is one of the primary stumbling blocks to both love and submission - that fear of losing our self, just as I did.

   somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff
   & i waz standin there
   lookin at myself the whole time

   & it waznt a spirit took my stuff
   waz a man whose ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow
   waz a man faster n my innocence
   waz a lover i made too much room for
   almost run off wit alla my stuff

   & i didnt know i’d give it up so quik
   & the one runnin wit it

   don’t know he got it
   & i’m shoutin this is mine
   & he dont know he got it
   my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure of the year
   did you know somebody almost got away wit me

   me in a plastic bag under their arm
   me danglin on a string of personal carelessness
        -Ntozake Shange

We resist letting people in, making "too much room", because we worry they'll take our stuff. And, having once lost mine, I totally get that. It's not a good feeling. In fact, it downright sucks.
But here's the thing I learned...

You can be messed with, fucked-over, soul-ravaged, and heart-broken, but no one can take you from you. Even when you give your all to someone or something else, it's more like a drag and drop copy. You may cede proprietary rights for as long as they want it, but ultimate ownership will always revert to you.

I'm not sure how we forget that.
Maybe it's not how we want to see our lives, maybe we don't want the responsibility. Maybe, like me, we just get busy and oblivious.
But the fact remains, we are the ultimate arbiters of what happens to our stuff.

We own our stuff.
Fear of losing it should never be the thing that holds us back.

In Which I Demoralize The UPS Man

In my defense, it was purely unintentional.

Victoria's Secret happens to be one of the very few places that sells slacks with 36" inseams. And they were having a sale. So, naturally, I struck while the iron was hot -- then promptly forgot all about it.

Days later, I was working outside, looking just about as dreadful as it's possible for me to look. As I rarely bathe *before* doing heavy yard work, I was unwashed, lank-haired, wearing ancient, oversized men's clothing and smeared with mud, grass, and mulch.
But, you know, you tend to forget about details like that when you're losing yourself in satisfying labor. So I greeted the approaching UPS man with an unselfconsciously cheery, "Ooo! Something for ME?!?"

We both looked down at the package in his hand.
I knew it was a pair of slacks.
He just saw a Victoria's Secret envelope...

He looked at me. He looked at the package.
Me. The package.
Me....

His cheeks flushed, his jaw worked, his lips struggled to form words.
I heard the distant shattering of a hundred thousand fantasies as they crashed about his youthful head.

Finally, he found his voice.
"Here."

He stuck out his arm and waited for me to take my package.
He turned and trudged back to his truck, morose and looking, well, smaller, somehow.

He's going to be a mess by the time I finish my Christmas shopping...

Patience On A Monument

  (Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 4)

My relationship with BG is in many ways good and solid and fulfilling -- but it also leaves much to be desired. There are a lot of things that I want that are not going to be possible for a while yet. Life has thrown him some real doozies of curve balls and those are the things that have to be dealt with first. I may hate that but his priorities are sound, even though they mean I need to wait my turn.

And you know, there are days I'd love to sit down and whine about that. Long and loudly.
A big ol' country song full of soulful, twangy lament.

Except that would just be wrong.

He's been honest and up front about each challenge as it occurred. He is good and honorable and does not shirk a responsibility when it gets hard and I respect the hell out of him for that. The challenges are his, yet he's not whining, he's doing the best he can, so who am I to stamp my little foot?

Besides, I am not without responsibility or free will. If this is really not what I want from life, I've got two feet and I know how to use them.
If I'm still here, then I need to accept that it's my decision to be here and just STFU.

Which is very hard sometimes.
I am not by nature noble, so it's far more tempting to just pitch a fit.
(Or sing a song.)
Silence is not easy.
And there are times I wonder if it's worth it, after all.

Until he hugs me and says, "Thank you" -- then words die in my throat. And Patience climbs back onto her monument, once more smiling -- but not at grief.
Because she remembers why she sat here in the first place.

I Am Deeply Suspicious

So, remember that time that BG came over while he was trying to quit smoking and had forgotten his patch?
(Refer to grousing in "An Open Letter From My Boobs")
Well, that attempt apparently didn't go so well, because he's been patch-free practically since that day.
And frankly, my boobs have enjoyed the respite.
There's been torture, sure, but nothing like the level reached that day.

fast forward to last week…

*ping!* goes my phone.

"Got time this evening?"
"Sure!"
"Good, cuz  it's Day 12 of the patch again and I'm VERY frustrated."
*oh, crap*

Yep, he was frustrated.
Yep, it was taken out on the boobs again.

He feels better --
I?... smell a rat.

Can you spell "scam"???

FetLife Fail

I was sent a screenshot of a FetLife profile... quite the piece of writing, I must say. Purportedly by a slavegirl who's into 24/7, it details how she craves hard and extreme use, and wants to please her master with the whole of her body - and all of her holes -- and lists a number of the seemingly unlimited acts she'd be willing to perform. (Including being "a bowl of cum [for my] Master.")

Now, there were definite clues that this profile was spurious but even so, I found myself thinking, "It's people like you who spoil it for the rest of us...!"

Because I could just imagine my profile in comparison...

"Situational sub willing to occasionally serve a Dominant. No longer a n00b but not quite "experienced" either, I'm stubborn and lippy and prone to telling you exactly what I think of that idea you just proposed. Fairly weenie-ish, I enjoy bondage and some degree of pain play but if you attempt to objectify or humiliate me, I will most likely bite something dear to you.

Our power exchange would range from total at times to completely non-existent at others.
My wishes are to make my Dom happy as long as that doesn't entail making myself miserable in the process.

I am educated, sometimes charming, occasionally amusing, but most often sarcastic.
I enjoy being guided and controlled.
I will be happy to proffer my whole body for your use.
Please do not expect me to clean your ears with my tongue."

Not really at the cum-bowl level, is it...?
*sigh*
;-p

Silly Colors for a Parachute

I can't be the only one who daydreams about throwing it all aside and starting fresh. So sometimes, I consider my options...

There's:
  Wrinkle Chaser
  Chicken Sexer
  Coin Facilitation Officer
  Commercial Space Hunter
  Remedy Engineer
  Technology Evangelist
  Circuit Princess (I need this on a T shirt...)
  Director of Fabrication (I am SO all over this one!)
  Lay Proselytizer (oooo! oooo!)

Not Under Consideration, However:
  Pig Wanker

Ah, the power of words...
What would YOU be?

Buggering Heights

So, I left out one tiny little detail in my last story.
It may seem minor, yet as any woman can tell you, it's huge.

That stuff I did ... ?
I did while wearing heels.

And I do mean heels.
No modest kitten heel here.
Proper "raise 'em 'til you teeter" Fuck-Me's.

Usually, my pragmatism wins out over my vanity and the FM's stay in the closet, where I just coo over them periodically. But I had a brand spankin' new, SERIOUSLY well-ventilated slut-dress that required an equally "no-holds-barred" approach to one's toilette.

So, I broke out the shoes.
Heck, I even put on .... makeup!
(Which he kissed-and-made-me-cry'd off me before I ever left the couch.)
Those shoes, however?
My ankles ached, the toes scuffed the rug, the heels caught in the almost-fabric of my dress -- but the shoes Stayed On.

Until... my rise to upright and the subsequent door fastening.

You see, we both love The Door but it's actually the most problematic of all our props. You can't just hoist my arms up straight and leave me dangling helplessly against the wood, as a Domly sort might want. Instead, I end up having to slip my fingers over the lintel in order to avoid banged knuckles. Drives him nuts.

And in these shoes, that lintel supported my wrists.
Absolutely NO suspension involved at all.

"*sigh* -- No. This isn't going to work. You are just Too Tall."

So (in a historic moment,) he knelt at my feet, pausing only to turn off the buzzing vibrator as it danced itself across the hardwood floor. Gentle hands unbuckled first one strap, then the other, and slipped the FM's from my feet.

"Great shoes, tho'. Definitely an "A" for presentation..."

Now, I realize this was ultimately a better choice than just draping my wrists over the top of the door and slamming it into position. (Which I'm *pretty sure* he contemplated...)
And realistically, I don't know HOW the heck I would have stayed upright on those puppies, given the balancing act I ended up performing.

But still... those shoes looked GOOD, dammit!

I am definitely going to have to look into ceiling hooks...

He Does Make Me Laugh

I wait on the couch, stuffed to the gills with vibe and plug, as directed.
He leans down to kiss me as he removes his belt and undoes his jeans.
Then stuffs my mouth full as well.
"Don't stop, now!"

He reaches over and grabs the rope I have set out.
"Stay on it!"
(It is a DARNED good thing I'm flexible, can I just mention?)

"Give me your hand..."
     *wrap, wrap, wrap ... tug!*

"Now, bring the other one up... hold them both there."
     *loop, swish, loop, loop ... tug!*
     *YANK!*

"Now, without any interruption to sucking my cock, I want you to get on your knees, and you're going to crawl over to the door."

I drop to my nice carpeted floor.
Hands still levered high above my head, mouth full of cock, I am led across the room, through the (still carpeted) short hallway, and onto the (ouch!) hardwood floor in front of The Door.

"Did you keep the vibe in you that whole way?"
"mmmmHMmmphb!"
"Very Good! ... Now, stand up..."

He keeps the tension on my hands and waits as I slide one foot in front of me and rise to standing. I straighten, rather pleased with myself.
The triumph is brief.

*CLACK!!*  *brr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr-rrr*
     "Well, the vibe's not in me now..."

*thud!*
     "And, um, neither is the plug..."

*evil grin*
"That's OK. I'm gonna to need to get in there soon, anyhow..."

Sad Day in Jz-land

 Thanks, man.

*sigh*

photo from Apple.com

The Joys of Pyrex

I got a little carried away and splurged on a slightly pricey new vibrator.
(There was a sale, what can I say?)

It's Shiny. It's Slickery. It's Silver...
It's Glass.

Ooooooooooooooooo!

BG wanted to know how it compares to him. *grin*
Since I've never yet found a vibrator that can tie knots, wield a flogger, or kiss like a fiend, his position is quite safe.
But otherwise …?
He might have been getting Friday nights off.

Because this thing ... is a thing of beauty.
The size is entirely satisfying - anywhere you use it. *delicate cough*
The ultra-smooth surface is FAB!
(My delicate bits are extremely sensitive to many of the more common materials, so I was tickled pink to find a vibrator that my body welcomes eagerly, as opposed to flinching away from.)

There's only one test I've put it through that it doesn't pass with flying colors.
I tried it as a "gag-reflex-taming" device - and danged near chipped a tooth.

Oh ... and if you're going to have it ripped from your body and rolled beneath you while he fucks you until you see God, you might want to turn it off first. Otherwise, you could end up with strange bruises on your coccyx.
(Another of the many things you shouldn't ask me how I know...)

But other than those minor details ...

Next sale, please!
(It comes in other colors, y'know...)

Truth in Comedy, Comedy in Truth

I can't remember the name of the comic I saw quoted, or even where I saw it (brain dead these last couple of weeks) but the gist of the joke was that men cannot simply make a nice, complimentary statement about a woman, they always have to expand on it with a secondary comment of a more base nature.
Like, "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. -- I wonder how she'd look with my cum all over her face?" or something to that effect.

Basically, he said that the best women can hope for is that men will bite their tongues before the second half of the thought - but they'll still think it, in any event.

I giggled and thought no more about it, until this afternoon when I was looking for blogular inspiration in my notebook of thoughts and quotes ... and came across this:

Jz: You're always there to help me over the rough spots. I feel like I can shut my eyes, fall backwards, and you'll break my fall. (Assuming you're nearby. If you're on the other coast, I shall, of course, endeavor to stay upright...)

SP: I will break your fall, but once you are safely down I may become less chivalrous. Because while I do want to catch you, and I always will, I would also LIKE to grab you inappropriately between the legs while doing it  -- with an audience.

I guess when you've known someone 29 years, you don't bother biting your tongue anymore... ;-)

Nearly Done With Dragons

(Little-known words of St. George:
"Can we stop talking about it and just let me go stab the dang thing already???"
Almost, George. Just one last bit to cover...)
************************************
Once upon a time, my dad (himself easily among the most stubborn humans ever to grace the planet) said to me, "At least there's one way I don't have to worry about you - NOBODY will ever make you do a thing you don't want to."

Thirty years later, BG touched on the same thought when he said, "You like me because I challenge you - and nobody has ever done that." He's mostly right, although I did have to point out, "Well, you've never met SP..."  But with the exception of the Scholarly Wonder, no.
Nobody else challenges me, not down deep where it counts.

Because I don't let them.
Usually I am the only challenger of me.

It's not an intentional stance - I think it's more a factor of that intimacy thing I've discussed before. If you haven't gotten all the way in to the inner room of my soul, then you really have no authority over what goes on in there.

But BG has gotten in and he IS my dom. So, while he may not be able to make me do something I don't want to, I'm willing to explore if I can make myself do something I don't exactly want to - for him. I will cede that power of challenge and go mucking around in the moat surrounding my comfort zone - at his behest. Because of who he is to me and because I think challenge is essential to growth. (And, hooboy, is this one heck of a challenge!)

Someone brought up an interesting point after my last post, however. They wondered if BG might find it useful to step out of his comfort zone a little, as well. My first response was to giggle. Partly because I can just see his face were I to suggest this. (You know, like on the day when I start doing mind-altering drugs or something...) But it also amused me because he's so very unflappable that I can't imagine what might discompose him.

Then I got thinking...

I mentioned that I have a fantasy of my own, with those flipped gender numbers. BG has said he's willing to consider this. (He may love to push my limits, but he also likes to make me smile.) So he's sent me videos of MMF menages and we've discussed a number of the possible permutations.

Yet here's the thing - HE gets to set conditions that make a MMF comfortable for him: he'd be the only one domming; I wouldn't do certain things without his express permission; certain parts are his and his alone to use, etc., etc.  There will be no free-fall into the unknown for him. He's got that domly parachute and he's using it, by golly.
Which is fair - he IS the dom, after all.

But it does just make me wonder a bit...
Could my dragon have a cousin?

The Persistence of Dragons

For all I may not angst that much over TTWD, there are still monsters beneath the bed of my relationship with BG -- and we've been discussing one of them again lately.

He has one unrealized fantasy, which involves two subs.
Being Determined Man, he periodically sounds me out about this.
"Can you do that for me?"

Being Weenie Girl, I consistently disappoint with my response.
Because I just can't say, "Oooh yeah!"
Instead, my record skips at the words, "I don't know."

He tries logical reassurances.
"It's just sex, reveling in the sensual. It doesn't have to mean anything. There would be nothing to be jealous of... You'll never know if you don't try..."
And, you know, my head gets that, it honestly does.
And can even conditionally agree - in theory, at least.

The problem, however, is that these reassurances don't touch on the actual issue, because it's not logical.
Nor is it jealousy -- or moral rectitude.
It's not even like I haven't had similar fantasies myself. (albeit with flipped gender-number distributions. *cough*)

The problem is with sharing me.
Or, more accurately, exposing me.

The very thought of having to undergo such an up-close and personal, side-by-side comparison causes major shriveling in almost every part I possess. Because I just know who'll come off the worse under scrutiny. (It doesn't matter if it's only in my head, a fail is a fail is a fail.)
And even though I know we should face our fears head on, I'm too chicken-shit to run at this one, because it could end so very, very badly.

And yet...
   I want to give him his fantasy.
   I want to be able to do what he wants...
   I want to not always get tripped up on the stupid stuff...
   And I'm frickin' tired of being Weenie Girl.
   I want the courage to dare.

So I'm reading and thinking (bold, huh?) and trying to figure a way through this maze that leaves us each reasonably confident that both I and "we" will emerge unscathed at the other end.

(Don't hold your breath though, cuz I think this is gonna take a while!)

Didja Miss Me?

(Sorry, couldn't resist.)
I was riding out some technical hiccups. Sorry I couldn't warn you but I think I'm all set now. And, look... it's Tuesday!

TMI Tuesday - Dating

1. You’re on a speed date. You’ve got 7 minutes with the potential partner. You already know the person’s name. What are the first three questions you would ask?
  "Do you have a Mac?"
(no further questions if answered poorly -- but assuming I got The Proper Response, I would continue with...)
  "Do you like to eat?"
  "What are your views on sumo?"

2. Have you ever participated in speed dating?
No way.
I don't "speed" anything...

3. How many dates have you had as a result of online dating?
Five, including BG. 
(This is also how I became acquainted with Goat Man)
BG was the hands-down winner.
(Sorry, Goat Man!)

4. You are attracted to:

   a. Who people are?

   b. What people have?

   c. What they can do?
Mostly who they are, altho' what they can (or will or do) do factors into the equation, too. If you're an Xtreme sports participant, or you adore reality TV, I'm going to save us both some frustration and move on...

5. What “little red flag” will cause you to end a date or immediately decide this person isn’t for you?
Presumptuous familiarity.
I demand couth, what can I say?

6. What do you feel you need to sacrifice or have sacrificed to be a part of a relationship?
Compromise is necessary but sacrifice is not.
I have unintentionally done that and it's not worth the price you pay.
Nevermore.

7. If you cooked for your date, what would you cook?
I don't have any one "killer" meal up my sleeve...
What does he like, what's on sale at the store, how much time do I have to cook it?

8. At the end of a first date, how would you kiss your date?
   
   a. Press your lips against theirs
   
   b. Gentle kiss on the cheek
   
   c. Lots o’ tongue, like you’re on a tonsil exploration
   
   d. I don’t kiss on the first date
It depends on how I jibe with the guy.
I've done all of the above.
*shrug*

Bonus:  You just put up a profile on a dating site. You must describe yourself in 10 words or less. What are your 10 words? 
Oooh, oooh! I've actually done this before!
sharp, funny, tall, curvy, reader, intellectual, klutzy, curious, imaginative, traveller

Hurricane Zen

"If a transformer explodes before your eyes, does it make a noise?"

Yes.
Sparks and smoke, too.
(Don't ask me how I know this...)

"If hundreds of thousands in your area have no power, who gets it back first?"

Not the twitching woman with the sizzling transformer.
(Don't ask me how I know this, either...)

Back when I can, all!

A Sticky Wicket

Here's a question...
(OK, a bunch, actually.)

It's BDSM, right?
That means -- according to standard definitions and the way most of us like to live it -- open and honest communication.
I don't lie to him, he doesn't lie to me.

But...

What happens when his version of truth and mine are not the same?
When he doesn't like my truth and I cannot see his?
When I am told not to let him hear me saying that again?

I can do it, of course.
I can muzzle my truth -- voicing only his.
It's all subjective, after all.

But if I don't believe those words, isn't that encouraging me to lie?

Will forbidding my words make this one truth go away? Or will it take all of them with it?

Does lip service actually serve as honesty just because the words sound right to the listener?

Is there no way to accommodate his truth without invalidating my own?

Yeah, that's way more than one question, isn't it?

(Disclaimer in case anyone just saw a red flag, this isn't anything happening with BG.  But it IS something I've stumbled over in the past -- and have wanted to write about for a while. It just took time to find the words.)

I Actually Doubt the Universe Cares, But...

It's TMI Tuesday...
"What The Universe Needs To Know About You"

1. When you go to a party, would you rather show up accidentally underdressed or overdressed?
        Underdressed. That way everyone still knows it's me...

2. What is something you have won and how did you win it?
        Free airline tickets.
        Won them by being the top fundraiser for a charity.

3. Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, end, or top?
        The end-- with occasionally bad aim.

4. What is something your parents used to say to you that you promised yourself you would never say–but now you catch yourself saying frequently?
        Can't think of any phrase but I DO hum like my Dad when mischief is afoot.

5. What 3 lies did you regularly tell your parents?
        Gad, I'm such a weenie. I really didn't lie much...
        OH, WAIT!!...
        "My homework's all done."
        I used that one an AWFUL lot...

6. What is something that you intended to do today but didn’t?
        Get over myself.
        Progress was made but this particular one is going to take a few...

7. What is something that people do in traffic that really bothers you?
        Tailgating and people cutting in front of me too closely.

8. Whose autographs have you collected?
        Sweet Fanny Adams
        ;-p

*phooey*

Some days it would be much, MUCH easier to inhabit someone else's body.

Anyone wanna trade??

Learning Curve

BG remarked to me the other day that I really have learned to submit and truly enjoy the bondage, and mentioned all the things he does now that I would never have withstood early on.

My first thought was, "Well, that's because I trust you."

But I realized that that's not strictly correct -- because I have always trusted him. Right from the very start, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that I was completely safe in his hands. Yes, we've grown and learned about each other but that hasn't changed the level of trust I feel for him. It's hard to increase absolute.

Then it occurred to me what the difference is.
Through my relationship with him, I am learning to trust me.

I can trust myself to open up.
I can trust myself to cope.
I can trust myself to let go.
I can trust myself to give what he wants.

I think this is the change that makes it possible for SP to say, "allowing yourself to be "abused" is actually clearly boosting your confidence."

It is, yes. But not due to the externals.
It's my faith in myself that's making the difference.

Open Mouth, Insert ...

So yesterday, for the first time, I was gagged.

(I'll just pause here a minute to give everyone the chance to get all the "Finally!" "'Bout time!" and "What took him so long??"s out of your systems…)

:plays Jeopardy music:

OK, done?
Thank you.

Anyhow, I was totally floored by this. It's not anything that has come into play before and as a long-time TMJ sufferer, you can believe it has never appeared on my wish list.
However, that piece of t-shirt he had ripped off me was apparently too much temptation for him, cuz in it went!

"nhrrhOOOoooo!"
"W-i-i-i-d-e-e-r…"
*stuff, stuff, stuff*

He asked afterwards how I'd liked the gag.
I was honest, said it was ...ok..., but noted that my jaw was hurting a lot (he achieved a VERY ambitious agenda yesterday, this man) and maybe without that, I could have gotten more into it.

But did I stop there??
Oh, no.
Verbose Girl just HAD to keep talking.
"I'm just really glad it was fabric, not a ball gag. I look at those things and cringe visibly..."

The Evil Grin appeared.
"Oh, reeaally?..."

(*Shit! shit, shit, shit!*)

"... I'm going to keep that in mind..."

Anybody got another piece of torn t-shirt hanging around? 
I think I need it...

The Trick

BG has this trick.
I'm not sure it's strictly a Dominant trick but the only other person I've met who has it (or been able to use it on me, at least) is SP, so I do have to wonder sometimes.
Nor am I sure I can explain it to you properly...

Part of it is acceptance.
Like most people on earth, I am still a work in progress. There are realities about me that have to be dealt with, like them or not.
And he does.
Baggage, quirks, and mortifying factoids, he takes them all in stride, with no hesitations.

But it's how he accepts them that is the most striking to me.
His acceptance is totally without cost to me.
I'm never made to feel embarrassed, defensive, or beholden by it.
Not that those feelings are supposed to accompany acceptance but that's not how it always happens in real life. Too often, you end up being made to feel that the other person is doing you a huge favor by taking you as you are. (And do, please, remember this!)
BG does none of that.
He just says, "OK, we can handle that" -- and never mentions it again.

Some of this ability might, I think, have it's roots in his dominance. A good Dom is always paying attention, whether he appears to be or not. So doms generally learn to read people, particularly their subs, that little bit better than the average bear.
Which seems to give them a knack for just knowing.
Which is the other part of what BG does...

He knows just how far my patience can be stretched before it snaps,
He knows how to curtail behavior he dislikes,
He knows how to stop me from spiraling into a vortex of behavior I dislike,
...and he does all this using nothing but his common sense, judgment and words.

I've been reading a lot of thoughts lately by people who seem to feel that punishment is an integral part of D/s. While I don't question the right of the dominant to correct the sub, I do find myself on a different side of the fence in that discussion. Because I know from experience that correction does not have to come through punishment, or even through praise. Both are effective tools for many relationships, I understand. But they're not inevitable.

Sometimes, it's possible to control just by understanding.

And that way you get to save the fun physical stuff for playtime! :-)

It's Summer, Dammit!

I'm supposed to be spending my time doing this:

However, I seem to be far too busy running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, so I shall have to rely on you, oh faithful readers, to do the summertime lounging thing for me.

(Let me know how it feels, willya?)

Back asap!
J.

Birthday Candle

I was on my knees before him but I was neither bound nor being directed. The pace was mine to set and what I wanted was slooooow. The focus was pleasure, not release.

I slid the swollen flesh into my mouth for a long, languid glide to the back of my throat. Pulling off with a slight *pop*, I worked my way around the outside, suctioning up the wide ridge, caressing the soft tip with my tongue, before finally pulling it back between my lips again.

He bent forward, hands sliding down my back in a long caress that ended at my rump, palms smoothing and stroking. I braced myself for the sting of a slap, but it never came. Instead, he pulled back up, hands reversing themselves until they could slide around to cup my breasts. As the caresses began, my head found the rhythm of his hands and matched it, stroke for stroke, lick for squeeze.

He took my hand and guided it down until I could feel my own softness.
"There. That too."

Our movements synchronized further.
Hands, hips, mouth, breath...
All quickened in unison.
Energy spiraled between us, giving, receiving, moving from one to another and back again.

"And I'm not even being rough with you," he growled.
His hands clenched once, HARD.
"But oh, I want to be...!"
My breath caught in anticipation but his grip softened and, slowly, his hands took up our rhythm once more.

It couldn't last.
The heat was too high, the pace too inexorable.
But we drew it out, let it consume us while the flames roared, before slowly dwindling ... and finally flickering out.

A power exchange is a living thing, vibrant and unpredictable.
Sometimes, the dom needs control and obedience.
But sometimes the exchange wraps back in on itself.
Sometimes, he'll just love you.

Screwed Again!

BBC News Headline today:
"Tall People 'more likely to develop cancer'"

Like just trying to buy jeans isn't hard enough, now we find out that being tall increases your risk of getting 10 common cancers.
By 16% for every 4 inches over five feet. 
Until finally, you come to the tallest group - those over 5'9" (*smiles and waves to the crowd*) - who are, in fact, 37% more likely to develop a tumor than people under 5 ft. tall.

This comes from a 5 year study of 1.3 million middle aged women in the UK, undertaken by University of Oxford researchers.

Too much thinking causes mental disorders.
Death by height.
But NEVER any "Pudgy Tall Chicks Best in Bed"

I think I'm just gonna stop reading BBC News...

Summer Heat

******************
he walks in, hugs me, pinches a nipple... and holds.
"is that coffee?"
he grabs a mug and walks over to the pot...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.
a quick sip
"could be hotter"
he switches to other breast and walks over to the microwave...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.

my wrists are tied
pants unzipped, he sits...
"you know the drill"
i drop to my knees in front of him, hands out to slide down his back
bound arms circling him, we become each other's prisoner.
my head drops down,
his belt comes off...
i earn a sore jaw, burning bottom,
and cum all over my face and hair.

he gathers the rope and vibe in one hand and motions for me to follow,
we wander from room to room
in search of the optimal location for his plans.
a satisfied smile on his lips, he turns to me...
"you'd better get naked now"
i obey.

knees to shoulder, i am tied, barred, and spread.
"you can't move"
"no, i can't sir"
"you can't really give head like this, tho'"
"no, not really sir"
     (he wanders out of the room)

and returns holding a shiny, lubed plug
*nudge* ... *swirl*
*nudge, nudge* ... *swirl*
*push*... *swirl*
*SHOVE!* *tap-tap!*
     (he wanders out of the room)

*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
he flogs my ass,
my tits,
my pussy,
all in random order
      then sticks the flogger handle between my teeth
      (and wanders out of the room)

two vibrators
one pushed in me, one laid across my clit
he retrieves the flogger
("don't let that vibrator fall...!")
and resumes flogging.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
     (he wanders out of the room)

"ooo, what perky little nipples! let's see what we have for them..."
*clip!* *clip!*
he retrieves the flogger
and aims directly for the clothespins.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
("watch that vibrator, now!")

he unties the rope that run from wrists to bedpost,
removes the balanced vibrator,
fucks me hard and deep with the buried one.
my moans ratchet in a crescendo
until they become screams.

he pushes his cock past the spreader bar
into my mouth
and removes the clips from my nipples.
straightening up, he snaps one on my clit...
("mmmm, yeah, that hurts, doesn't it?")
snaps the other on my labia...
("but that one wasn't so bad, was it?")
then walks back up my body to re-tie me into position
making sure his thigh jostles the clips with every move.

he dons a condom, removes the plug,
plunges into the now-gaping orifice,
and goes to town.
things get pretty fuzzy --
I blink dazedly at him when he stops,
cock still buried deep.
"your hands are going purple" he says,
untying the rope i didn't realize i was straining against

then he takes us both to the stars.

*sigh*

I have been given a writing assignment.
Remember me telling you that SP says I need to "write from the cunt"?
Well, apparently, not enough of my cunt is showing -- and he is quite determined to correct this. He wants me to push the pointy-headed intellectual aside and let the emotion pack the punch.

He's not wrong (*dammit*) nor is he picking on me (altho' it sure feels like it)  -- and what's really sweet about it is that he's pushing me for me. He wants to see my "talents soar". (His words, not mine!)

However, we're walking a fine line.
First, because I am dismayingly pointy-headed -- so that's going to be a tough push. But more importantly, my cunt (both literal and metaphorical) is private -- not intended for public consumption. Sure, sometimes I throw open the door but for the most part, total disclosure is only for special guests. (Is there such a thing as a finicky slut?)

So, yeah, I create a distance. I don't lie in how I present myself but I do muffle the impact with words. In part, because I don't want to put anyone off with unwanted familiarity. (It's a Golden Rule thing.)
But even more to the point (and this, I think, is what he's trying to address) is that I'm just plain scared. I'm not very good at emotions so I don't trust myself to represent them well -- I'm afraid I seem puerile.

Baby bird likes it in her safe little nest.
Professor bird is determined she'll fly - even if he has to push her.

And I know he's right. His points are all valid.
So, I will accept the assignment and all accompanying dictates. (No to certain word constructions, No to precision, Yes to emotion, Yes to humor, and [my personal favorite] Be Myself -- while staying strictly within all of his designated constraints.)

I will write.
But I am really pretty uncomfortable about it...

(wish me luck?)

Whoops!

Company's Coming!
You do your best to hide the evidence from outside eyes.

Toys are put away...
Clothespins returned to the laundry bag...
Ropes hung innocently from hooks in the basement...
Spreader bars tucked into closets or disguised as artsy curtain rods…

Accoutrements gathered and stashed out of sight -- check!
*phew* -- safe!

Or Are You????

I live alone. When you live alone, you quickly come to expect that if there is another person in the room and they are talking, they must be talking to YOU.

This company? Includes a dog.
People talk to dogs...

So you can hide the paraphernalia 'til you're blue in the face -- but if you can't stop your mouth from uttering it's instinctinve response to the words, "Shall I take you outside and tie you up?" -- you're still busted.
Totally and completely busted.

just sayin'...
*insert casual whistle here*

Allegory in Miniature

His hands combed softly through my hair in long, fluid strokes.
Section by section, the strands were smoothed back and gathered.
Gentle fingers teased the damp tendrils away from my cheeks.
Face exposed, visibility improved, his grip tightened at my neck.
Caress morphed to guidance, to command.
Smooth to powerful to forceful.
Cherished. Led. Controlled.

hmmmm...

I can't decide if the bruise is from his teeth or the flogger...
Either is melty and wonderful, of course.
But secretly? I'm hoping it's teeth.
I feel just that little bit more taken that way.

A "Things About Me" Quiz!

OK. For each category, there are 4 true statements and 2 false.
See which answers you think are NOT true.
Put your guesses in a comment -
top score gets some sort of highly significant prize.
(to be determined...)

1. Things I've Injured:
  a- I have broken my arm
  b- I have broken my leg
  c- I have broken my hand
  d- I have broken my foot
  e- I have broken fingers (multiple)
  f- I have broken toes (multiple)

2. Klutzy Things:
  a- I have fallen through a ceiling
  b- I have fallen off a ladder
  c- I have fallen out of a tree
  d- I have drawn blood with a downspout
  e- I have walked into a wall while gawking at a man
  f- I have required stitches

3. Risqué Things:
  a- I have had sex on the floor of a teacher's room
  b- I have had sex in the stacks of a research library
  c- I have had sex in an active construction site
  d- I have had sex in a car
  e- I have had sex on the beach
  f- I am a member of the mile high club

4. Things I've Done:
  a- I have been locked in an embassy parking garage
  b- I have defaced my mother's wedding dress
  c- I have gone au naturel on a nude beach
  d- I have been in a threesome
  e- I have danced on top of a bar stool
  f- I have sold T-shirts in Honolulu

5. Things I Haven't Done:
  a- I have never flunked an English test
  b- I have never unlocked my car door with the clicker thingy
  c- I have never ridden a horse
  d- I have never been drunk
  e- I have never flown a plane
  f- I have never hooked up my own DVD-VCR player

Bonus Question:
     Which are there more of in my house - vibrators or computers?

Jane Austen and BDSM

rose wrote a really wonderful post the other day about the need for people in the lifestyle to remember that we are all living, breathing individuals, and that BDSM is NOT a "one size fits all" practice. There is no One True Way, there is simply what works for you and your partner. I applauded.
And a quote from Jane Austen sprang to mind…

Shortly after that, Little Monkey wrote about her belief that you either are a dominant (or submissive) or not, that it's not something you can learn. (A One True Dom?) I do not disagree with her at all -- but I did see a caveat. (Who defines "real"?)
And a quote from Jane Austen sprang to mind…

Interestingly, however, it was the same quote for both responses:
"Lizzy, you do not make allowances for differences of situation and temper..."

A while back, Vesta offered the lovely observation, "I have it on good authority that men with dominant personalities like well trained girls. They enjoy the ease, the quiet and the pleasure of it. They find pleasure in the uninterrupted control. A girl who knows her place and enjoys her place is very fine company."

I read that and, for a brief moment, glowed in communal pleasure and pride. Then I recalled myself and thought, "Oh, poor BG...!" (This was around the same time I decided it might be best to just change my name to The Recalcitrant Bitch.)

Ease, quiet, and grace are not, as you may recall, my selling points.
And I know that to many dominants out there, I am absolutely out of the running as a submissive.
And yet … I still have a Dom.
One who values the contributions I do bring to the table.

I certainly agree with LM that there is a core inside us that either is or isn't dominant or submissive. Clearly, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.
But I also think that people sometimes rush to judgment -- that when a person doesn't fit our perception of what constitutes a certain "thing", we tend to dismiss them out of hand. We disqualify them as real.

I think this is where rose's reminder of the Many Ways is so important.
We get so caught up in our own realities that we forget to allow for other's.

Vesta, rose, little monkey, me…
A fairly disparate collection of submissives. Yet all have found a dominant who appreciates them.
"Differences of situation and temper" notwithstanding.

Quote of the Week

"Oh sure, get all exegetic on my ass first thing in the morning" - SP

Is it any wonder the magic between us has never died?
;-p

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Peeves...

Hi, I'm Jz and I have pet peeves.
Some of them are fairly reasonable, many of them are not. One or two are even absurd. I know this, and I'm about to share anyhow! :-)

1- My nose curls at the smell of roses.
I hate it. Hate. It.
So I'm always cranky for two weeks in June, when the wild roses are in bloom. Every-frickin'-where...

2- I want to smack people who lean into their grocery carts.
The clearly aged or infirm are exempted here. But the hale-yet-torpid? Seriously. Are you man or sloth?
Stand up. Just ... stand up.

3- I have no patience with dishonesty.
Granted, none of us are perfect in this respect. The odd fib can make things go smoothly. But I see too many who make such habitual use of the little white lie that they have lost their perception of truth. The small lie "doesn't count." Then it's the bigger lie. Soon they can't speak without some sort of lie, even using lies to embellish a perfectly acceptable truth. They have become exemplars of bullshit.
Do not expect my trust.

4- I am driven to distraction by improper word choice.
Yes, malapropisms can be amusing - but I also firmly believe that if you aren't certain what a word means, you shouldn't use it until you are. 
Google is our friend.

5- I loathe being told I'm beautiful.
(see peeves 3 & 4)
There are plenty of good, complimentary, non-bullshit, accurate words out there. Please choose from among those instead.
Thank you.

6- Considerate lovers make me nuts.
I'm floating, I'm soaring, I'm flying, I'm ... almost, I'm  ...
"ARE YOU GOING TO COME FOR ME?!?"
*BAM!*
I'm on my butt on the ground, looking ruefully back up at the clouds.
I hate Twenty Questions during sex. Do you have any idea how hard it is not to smack the "considerate" person that does that to you?
I love that you care.
But let's just let the chips fall where they may, OK?

Summer Reading List

My local library has a killer book sale every year and I am now Stocked for the Summer. (Well, sort of. I only got 34 books, after all…)
But as I sat on the floor of my living room, happily sorting and cooing over all my purchases, I got thinking...
One of my favorite podcasts has listeners send in their summer reading selections and it's a fun way to pick up some good suggestions. Pygar paved the way with his recent post about the book he read on vacation, but I thought it might be fun to take it a little further.

So here are a few titles from my summer reading list.

Why not play along and list some of yours, too?!?
Email them, post them in the comments, or on your webpage.
Let me know and I'll even put up a link.
The more who participate, the more suggestions we all have!
(How's my wheedling?)
**************************
Shadowfever - Karen Marie Moning
     This one I've finished already.
It's the conclusion to the five-part Fever fantasy/paranormal series. Complex but it wraps up almost every loose end - and the one remaining dangle was intentional. So … these long years of suspense are finally over!

Elizabeth's Women - Tracy Borman
     The subtitle says it all - "Friends, Rivals, and Foes Who Shaped the Virgin Queen"

Brick Lane - Monica Ali
     A novel about a Bangladeshi immigrant living in East End London.
(Short-listed for the 2003 Man Booker Prize)

Guns, Germs and Steel - Jared Diamond
     A biologist's proposal as to why Western civilization became hegemonic. (hint: it's all in biological resources.)

Play for a Kingdom - Thomas Dyja
     May, 1864- A Union company from Brooklyn encounters an Alabama company while on picket duty after the Battle of the Wilderness and proceeds to challenge them to a series of baseball games before all hell breaks loose in Spottsylvania.
"an entertaining novel about humans tested under the strain of war -- revealed through baseball…" 

For Your Eye Alone: The Letters of Robertson Davies
     One of the most flippin' brilliant wordsmiths of our time.
     In his own words.
(And if you've never read The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks, add that, too!)

The Geographer's Library - Jon Fasman
     Alchemy! Smugglers! Romance! Suspense!
Mixed reviews but I'm intrigued…

The Empty Chair - Jeffery Deaver
     Lincoln Rhyme vs. Insect Boy
     w00t!

The Romance Reader - Pearl Abraham
     The story of a young girl's coming-of-age in an ultra-orthodox Hasidic home.

Vicious Grace - MLN Hanover
     Another urban fantasy/paranormal series I got hooked on - The Black Sun's Daughter. I love a fun yarn, and if you can write it well on top of everything, I'll keep buying the installments!
    
Ghost Rider - Neal Peart
     Peart, the drummer for Rush, recounts his 55,000 mile cross-country motorcyle odyssey of grieving, thinking, and healing following a year of personal tragedy.

**************************
C'mon…
How about yours?
Surely someone can recommend some good zombie lit?  (*ahem*)

Deeper?

As those of you who've been reading for a while will know, BG and I are decidedly not 24/7 types. He's not Master, he's Sir - at the appropriate moments. Otherwise, he's BG. This is his directive, although it suits me, too. We chug along quite nicely at this level of interaction.

A while back, someone asked me if I thought I'd ever want to take it farther, to go deeper into myself, deeper into D/s. I've considered that on and off over the months and I still have no good answer.

As I've mentioned before, the stumbling blocks that BG and I face in our relationship do not revolve around TTWD. Rather, our issues are the normal, mundane problems of dating, specifically of dating someone who really hasn't achieved satisfactory closure from his crumbled marriage. (Yes, I do know better but the apple was sooooo tempting!)

We get along marvelously and our approaches to BDSM are remarkably well matched as well. (Although I expect we'll eventually stub our toes but that's a bridge for another day.) So we're generally pretty much in accord about how to proceed with TTWD. I don't have that sub angst one reads so much about. You know, where the sub wants to beat her dominant for not taking her far enough, fast enough, or where she can't stop pushing her own limits in a preemptive strike against the possibility that a situation might someday arise in which she wasn't already perfect. (Y'all really need to be kinder to yourselves, btw.)
I don't doubt the real dissatisfaction that seems to push these subs, but I just don't react that way. Instead, I find myself content to follow his lead.

Not that I've tried everything I want to try. (See annoying friend's crack about my arrival at the Pearly Gates here.) But those things are more like expanding the range of play, not switching playing fields entirely. I'm just not jonesin' to jump out of the kiddie pool while the water's still refreshing.

I suppose that could be me protecting myself in an uncertain situation, but I also suspect that submission is simply an organic process for me. I want it to be with him and for him, so if a greater depth is to be achieved, it will come from our relationship deepening, not from my psyche gnawing away inside me.

Again, this is my wiring, not anyone else's. But it jibes with my approaches to love and lust, too. I'll go without love rather than have it with the wrong person. And as far as scratching that itch, well, I've got two perfectly good hands, a toy box, and a vegetable crisper... You need to bring a lot more to the table than just a functioning dick.
(and flogger) ;-p

So, yes, I'm open to going deeper at some point, if it should happen.
But otherwise, I'm quite happy where I am.
Maybe this makes me a more shallow submissive than most.
I will admit that my lack of angst does give me pause on occasion, like I'm missing some intrinsic point that everyone else seems to get.
But that seems a silly thing to fret over.
So I generally don't…

Rest and Responsibility

I read a rather flippant comment the other day in which a non-submissive speculated about a possible reason for the appeal of submission.

The remark was made in jest but it was sufficiently foreign to my version of reality that it caused the Inner Contrarian to raise her head.
"Nooo... that's not why I do this, …"  and off I went!

(Ever notice how getting caught off guard by an inaccurate comment can sometimes cause you to cough up hairballs of previously unrecognized truths? Yeah, one of those...)

So, why DO I do this?
Absurd though this may sound, I find D/s restful.
Like Sookie Stackhouse hanging with her vampires, I enjoy the break from mental noise. For however long that I'm in a scene, my brain shuts up -- and that is a rare gift. When I'm with BG, all imperative to thought flies right out the window and I simply am. Worries, concerns, speculations, musings, distractions -- gone. There's no room in there for anything but his hands and his voice.
Heaven.

Mind you, it's just a break. I couldn't easily handle giving up all responsibility, all the time. I'm far too independent for that. But thankfully, that's how BG likes me. He doesn't want to carry the weight of my world, he wants me to stand on my own two feet.  
Except when he has them tied above my head...

Asking For Directions

Recently, a couple of lost souls have pulled into my yard and asked me for directions.
Wouldn't it be GREAT if we could do that with our lives?

"Hi. I'm kind of lost. How do I find happiness?"
"Straight ahead for 3 miles, hang a left, it'll be right in front of you. Can't miss it!"
"Super! Thanks!"

Sadly, however, it doesn't work like that. We each have to find our own way -- and my particular internal compass seems to be one of the quirkiest ones ever put on this earth. I'm honestly not convinced it's pointing me toward anything at all. Rather, it's primary mission seems to be to lead me around by the nose, ignoring all other input, no matter how logical or well thought out.
(So even if I did find somebody who could positively tell me the right way to go to find guaranteed happiness, I'd have to take notes, then knock myself unconscious and have a friend drag my limp form along the given route, otherwise I'd never make it!)

It just seems that I am fated to a life of flying by the seat of my pants.
Which I suppose actually kinda suits me, so I'm not complaining.
But there are times…

Times when I feel wistful over seeing people who have carefully thought out plans. They know, by golly, what they'll do, what they won't do, what they'll put up with, what they won't. They have created a very solid structure they can work from -- and I think there must be great comfort in that.

So I have tried to create a similar structure for myself. I have even on occasion come up with a splendid Flow Chart For My Life.
It's just that the putting it into effect part always trips me up. There is always some mitigating factor or unexpected input that I am constitutionally incapable of ignoring - I have to fit it into the plan. Which then changes the flow chart, which means redrawing, rearranging, and generally dismissing of all my previous labor…*sigh*

And meanwhile, my directional instinct gloats.
Anyone know where I can get a good deal on a GPS…?

Another TMI Tuesday

(Hedone is persistent, what can I say?)
1. What time did you go to bed last night and were you alone?
     Midnight and of course.

2. If you could be given ANY gift what would it be?
Well, since I get to dream big here, it would be either...
     A huge chunk of change that would become my retirement nest egg and remove that large monkey from my back
          OR
     A gift card for "free books from Amazon for the rest of my life!"
     Wheeeee!!!!!

3. What was the last film that really moved/disturbed/thrilled you and why?
     "Water" by Deepa Mehta.
It's lusciously beautiful, heartbreaking, yet hopeful enough that I don't want to slit my wrists.

4. What is your favorite way to wake up and what is the first thing you do?
     My favorite way to wake up is knowing that it's the weekend and I can roll back over, and the first thing I do then is just that.

5. You’ve been granted an extra hour in the day, what are you going to do?

     a. Sleep more

     b. Extend a sexual interlude

     c. Shop

     d. Finally fit in that workout that you usually can’t make time for

     E- Read more!
But, if I absolutely must choose from the list, I'd say a.
Sexual interludes run on BG time, not mine.
I do like to shop but I manage to do enough of it that I don't need an additional hour.
And while it's nice to dream that I'd use the time to workout, I know better.

But I'm ALWAYS low on sleep. Has to do with being a night-owl who is forced to function on a lark's schedule. I get up at oh-dark-thirty but never feel like bed in time to get a full eight hours of sleep. Or even seven.

BONUS:  Are you in love or lust?
     Definitely lust, but toeing the line into love, I think.

Talking Dirty?

I have to admit, I smiled a little while reading lunaKM's post about how to talk dirty. Not because of anything she wrote but simply because of where my mind leaped:
Step #1- Remove the dick from your mouth...

Now, there's much truth in that in my life but even when I'm not otherwise occupied, BG doesn't leave me much scope for talking dirty.  Or just plain talking.

Which is an interesting position for me to be in, since I spend much of my life operating in verbose mode. (I actually once asked him if it bothered him that for every word he sent me, he got 47 back? As I recall, he never did answer that ...!)

BG, on the other hand, is the master of brevity.
He knows how to convey much with very few words.
And does.

When we're playing, however, the tables are totally turned.
Mr. Taciturn disappears and I am drowning in growled commands and purred approval. His voice and words punch straight into me and shut down all my higher functions.
I don't think, I just feel.

I whimper, groan, moan, wriggle, nuzzle, arch, mewl, keen, yelp...
But I don't talk.
I can't  - I'm too enthralled by listening dirty.

He seems OK with that, though...

A Mechanical Girl

I had a Popcorn and Old Movie night the other evening and re-watched "White Nights". So if you heard strange, uncontrolled whimpering noises in the distance, it was probably me - when Mikhail Baryshnikov did this:

Holy Mother Of God Stabbed With A Knife!

My mouth watered, my hands ached to grope...
I hit rewind several times.

All the while laughing at myself as I did, because this is honest and truly not a typical reaction for me. As I have mentioned before, I'm not particularly drawn to strictly physical attributes. Parts is parts.

However, while laughing (and wiping fingerprints off the television screen,) I did recall once when I had experienced a purely physical reaction to the mere sight of a man. I couldn't tell you a thing about his looks. All I know is that he was hula-hooping -- and I was a puddle on the floor, mesmerized by the sway of his hips...
Mercy, could that boy move!

Then I thought about my years of dance training.
My love of gymnastics and Cirque du Soleil.
My fascination with sumo...

No, it's not any one shape or form that does it for me.
But apparently I am a complete sucker for how a shape or form is used.

It's body mechanics, it's control.
I like to see the body pushed beyond what most people consider normal limits.
(does any of this ring a bell?)

I realized then that it's probably no coincidence that I'm so satisfied by my submission to BG, because one of the things we both enjoy doing is precisely that kind of pushing. We each love to get me tied up into strange, esoteric positions and then given a seemingly impossible task.

Whether I succeed or not, there is much mutual enjoyment in the challenge.
(Plus, I kinda like the fact that he can stalk like a flippin' panther...)
oh my yes please sir...

Yeah, parts is parts.
What I like to see is what you can do with yours.
So I can think about what that will let you do with mine...  :-)

The Bogeyman

There's a irksome expression that had gone into hibernation for a while in my little neighborhood here in BlogLand, but it's cropping up again.
And I can't bite my tongue any longer.
So, I'm going to step right out on a fairly unpopular limb here and say that I think the whole concept of "topping from the bottom" is a bogeyman.

For all the furor this accusation creates, I don't think topping from the bottom is a thing that actually exists. I think it's a device, a warning Doms use to mold and control - but I don't believe it ever really happens.

A secure dominant will not be topped.
Nor will he be threatened by his sub expressing her opinion.
He will not see a differing viewpoint as an affront to his dignity.
Or tell her she's being uppity.
Rather, he will do as BG does:
Nod, smile, and do exactly what he chooses to anyhow.
Or ignore me completely -- and do exactly what he chooses to anyhow.

Either way, there's no chastisement. Because he doesn't see my opinion as a challenge his authority. He recognizes that I am simply stating a differing viewpoint, one I would like him to consider.

For my part, I do not expect him to agree with me.
I do not expect that my words will change anything that he is doing or alter a course.
I do, however, expect that he will have sufficient confidence in his own authority to be able to think about what I say without condemning me for manipulation.
I expect him to let me be heard.

This is not to say that I don't think subs ever get challenging or cantankerous.
I can be flippant.
I can be contrary.
I can be a pain in the ass.
I can tell you that my Dom knows how to stop me in my tracks when he wants to -- and never by resorting to high dudgeon. He calmly addresses the actual issue.
He does not LET me top.
It just can't happen.

Can we find another term, please?

Musings From My Yard

It is really much nicer to get my exercise walking down by the river -- where the roar of water rushing over the dam drowns out all sounds except the birds in the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot -- than it is to manhandle an intractable, ear-splitting, gas-guzzling conglomeration of hand-numbingly-vibrating metal parts over two acres of grass that I've let get too high...
   
There IS such a thing as an ugly flower... so it's OK to mow over those.

The disk from an autopsied hard drive makes an excellent scraper for cleaning the underside of a mulching push-mower...

I think my lawn got bigger over the winter...

You can split some really big rocks with a mower blade!

Apparently, I cannot walk in a straight line...

I wonder if the neighbor and I could come to some sort of mutually-beneficial agreement involving his goats and my back field...?

If I continue to ignore my asparagus, how much taller than 40 inches will it grow, do you suppose?

Almost time for rhubarb pie!

Someday, I should really try dating a man who actually likes to eat...
Or at least to mow...

An Open Letter From My Boobs

Dear Jz,
It's not that we don't love you.
You treat us well, after all.

You've resisted hole-punching us.
You take us for regular checkups.
You buy pretty things for us to wear.
You've learned how to choose men who know how to show us a good time…

But we'd like to go on record with a request.

The next time you hear a sadistic, tit-torturing, iron-gripped Dominant utter the words, "I forgot my nicotine patch this morning and am VERY frustrated right now"…?

PLEASE… we beg of you…
  do NOT allow the words, "So, five minutes?" to fall from your lips.

Instead, we ask that you practice the following phrases:
     "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that!"
     "How very irksome!"
     "Golly, you'd better run straight home and slap one on ASAP!"

Should these prove too inconvenient, selective deafness might also be cultivated as an acceptable alternative.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Sincerely,
The Girls

P.S. CVS has arnica on sale.
       Just sayin'…
 

Memento Amore

As of recently, I have officially spent 3/4 of my life without my Mom ...
and I still miss her.

I miss our duets in the car.
I miss laying my head in her lap and feeling her stroke my hair.
I miss having to paw through her purse to get her a piece of clove gum. Or a tissue to clean her sunglasses.
I miss her banana cream pie,
her smile,
her laugh,
her love.

If you've got a mom to celebrate with this year, please give her an extra squeeze. For me, ...
and because you can.