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CalifChick

CalifChick

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I don't buy into that "submission is a gift" line. A gift is something you give with no expectation of anything in return, which is certainly not my definition of submission. Being submissive is my orientation, it's who I am.? Submitting to someone means accepting their leadership, seeking their guidance, digging deep into the dark places where the trust hides and letting it out, and above all, striving to please them.

For all of those that have fallen in lust with my avatar in the forums... I'm sorry to have to inform you that the naked ass bound in rope is not me.??Maybe twenty years ago,?but not now. Go get a tissue for your tears, g'ahead, I'll wait.?

I am in an open, poly relationship.?

If you want to read my journal, click on "view full?profile" then the journal will come up at the bottom... just trust me on this one.

Cali

One of the best things I ever participated in, known as "Dear Cali":  http://www.collarchat.com/m_1693546/mpage_1/tm.htm
Four years come and gone.  I asked Master for release just before Christmas. 

So now I'm dating again.  Dating.  Seriously???

This weekend I was at a party, and talking to some new people.  One person asked me how you decide to submit. 

I explained that submission, FOR ME, is not an on-off switch.  With Master, I started so slowly that I was hanging onto someone else at the time.  Over the last year, he gradually took control of more and more aspects of my life, most of the time without me even realizing it until it was a done deal!  Imagine THAT! 

His influence is broad.  He is always present in my day, as if his hand is on the small of my back, guiding me.  His wisdom enlightens me.  His wit amuses me.  His heart is intertwined with mine, loving me.

Hibbie and I ate our weight in king crab tonight.  I think they flinched when they saw us coming.  

 

 

I left the Bahamas after four days and moved on to St. Pete Beach to meet up with the girls.  Crabcakes, crabmeat omelettes, steamed king crab legs... life is good.  We had Sangria at our little Italian place, key lime pie at picnic tables on the dock, and revisited the birthplace of "finger-bangin' - it's hawwwwttt". 

I have taken refuge in the air conditioning for a bit, before going back in the ocean.  The water is so beautiful... the only evidence of the recent hurricane is some seaweed on part of the beach.  The sandbar offshore only lost about a foot in height, so it still is an effective barrier against rough surf, giving us small, gentle waves. 

This break from real life comes to a close in the morning.  Time to pack up our bags, say goodbye to our friends, and head on home.  Back to alarm clocks, deadlines, and dirty laundry.  Back to wakeup calls from Master, tasks to accomplish, and IMs to snicker over. 

When someone says, "jump on that scooter and follow me", with a glint in their eye and an evil chuckle, you can bet you're in for a wild ride.  How can I look at the scenery of Grand Bahama when I'm trying so hard to concentrate on staying on the LEFT side of the road.  Sheesh.

Wow, a blast from the past.  An old friend that I had lost track of just wandered back into my life.  They are based out of Freeport in the Bahamas now, so I am going to take a quick jaunt there to catch up!  Yay for friends with serious bank!

Approximately half of patients with heart failure suffer from memory loss and other cognitive defects.  That explains ALOT.

I realized yesterday why a certain person irritates me so much.  She reminds me of my ex-husband.  Just like my ex, once she gets an idea in her head, nothing else matters.  It doesn't matter how many times you tell them what the REALITY is, they never get it.  They keep bringing it up as if you didn't say a word about it.  It's like they think if they say it enough times, it will become true.  What a sad way of life. 

This would be amusing if it weren't so pathetic.  They couldn't get me directly, so now they're trying to set me up to take a fall?  Obvious is just a little TOO obvious. 

Stop sending me messages and screenshots, I don't want to know.  This is ridiculous.

Like Throwing $20 in the Dollar Swear Jar  

I had the most amazing, heartfelt, "walk into my soul and poke around for a while" sort of discussion with Master this weekend.  

Now, anyone who has been following my relationship with Master knows that he has a punishment spank that is tremendous.  I call them "death-whacks".  He calls them "god-smacks".  I'm pretty sure I'm not screaming "oh god" when he's doing them though, so I'll stick with "death-whacks".  

Usually it's my "lip" (as my mother always said) that gets me into trouble.  Rarely is it something I've done, but almost always something I've said.  

At one point during the discussion this weekend, I was agitated, and I knew that I would have a hard time getting my point across and yet still be respectful.  I wanted to just pour out what was on my mind without thinking about how it sounded.  So I told Master "just add two death-whacks to the count so I can say what I need to say."  

Wow.  Did I just say that?  OUT LOUD?  Did I just do the equivalent of throwing a twenty into the dollar swear jar?  

I definitely earned those two.  And since two MORE got mysteriously added, I think I earned those mystery whacks for being so fucking cheeky when I told him "just add two to the count".  


Random stuff about last night, kissing restrictions, horrors, and Master throws me a bone (so to speak). 

Last night I went to a play party. It is always good to see my friends, and to hear their delighted laughter. I'm a toucher and a kisser; however, I'm on kissing restriction, and I've become good at turning my head to avoid lips. 

Sidenote: Wednesday I was on my way to WTFW, and I called Master, and I said, "Daddy" (which I rarely call him), "there is going to be a boy there that I want to kiss... can I kiss the boys?" Without missing a beat he says "no". 

Huh? What? So I said, "can I kiss the girls then?" I heard a noise in the background and he said, "let me call you back". 

Uh huh. The question was asked, therefore I must wait for an answer. I did eventually get an answer of "no". Sigh. 

Back to last night. I was sitting outside with a couple of friends, and I went and got some punch. When I came back, just as I was taking a sip, one of my DYKE friends (the dyke part will be important in a minute) sez, "you could have brought me some." So I handed her my cup and said "take this" and I started to go get some more. Just as the cup was about to reach her lips, one of the other girls sez, "do you know where her lips have been? On her master's dick, that's where." 

The look of horror on her face was amazing. You could see the mental calculation of: her lips were on his dick, her lips were on this cup, my lips... this cup... his dick... 

So I quickly went back to her, pulled her head back, and planted a big kiss right on her mouth, with tongue. And I said, "there, now you KNOW where my lips have been."

This time, the look of horror was priceless. PRICELESS!

Then I walked away to get more punch.

Bwah hah hah hah hahhhhhhhhhh.

Later I was talking to someone that I don't get to visit with very often, and I was speaking of Master, and my friend was unaware that I was with someone. I told him that we had been together 10 months now, and we had kept things pretty quiet for the first 6 months. I was always afraid if I talked about us, I would jinx it and things would fall apart (something that has happened to me more than once). My friend stopped me with a big grin and told me when I spoke of Master, my eyes sparkled and there was a smile on my face that was so genuine, and he was really happy to see that. 

Back to kissing. I texted Master last night, "I kissed a dyke, there's a really funny story behind it, but I did do it," expecting to be told I earned two whacks for deliberate disobedience. He called me this morning and I told him the story. He said since I created horror, that negated the disobedience. If I break a rule but create horror, it's an even trade. 

YAY! 

Then he decided to throw me a bone. I can kiss again, with rules. If I kiss a girl, I have to suck their tongue like it's a cock. If I kiss a guy, I have to be holding their bare cock in my hand at the same time. 

Guys? Get ready to unzip! Girls? Get your tongues out! Let the kissing begin!


My Sense of Justice Has a Big Fucking Mouth 

Anyone who has known me for more than, oh, ten minutes, knows that I have a very keen sense of justice.  It's one of the things that keeps my world balanced and makes me not jump off of a high building.  And it's actually one of the reasons that I am NOT a lawyer, as the legal system is not about the truth OR about justice.  I naively thought, at one time, that I could right injustices by becoming a lawyer.  Hah! Hah hah hah hah hahhhhhhhhh! 

I digress. 

Back to my tale of woe. 

Yesterday, Master let me know that I had earned a punishment whack the night before, the first one after he had cleared the slate.  And by "cleared the slate", I mean purpled my ass with his bare hands.  Seriously.  If any of you have seen my pics on another site, you know that man has hands of granite and his whacks are no laughing matter.  Now here's where my sense of justice got me in trouble.  It wasn't that I disagreed with his assessment that I had earned a punishment whack the night before, it was that I argued with him about it, and then continued to argue with him. 

So my total of 1 became a total of 4. 

My sense of justice sat its fat, righteous ass on my slave heart and made me forget, temporarily, that things will not always be fair or just, as I may perceive them, and that is okay. 

Now as soon as my slave heart recovers, it's going to punch my sense of justice right in the mouth. 


One Step Closer to Freedom

Okay, maybe two steps. 

I've written before about my issues with my neck, and the past, and the assault, and not being able to breathe. Breathing is good, I like it, I want to continue to do it. 

Last week, quite unexpectedly, Master pulled on my collar, a heavy silver necklace, from the side.  It strained against the front of my throat.  Every hair on my arms stood on end.  I got goosebumps.  I felt my throat constrict as if it were a trap that had snapped shut.  My eyes started to water.  My vision tunnelled until I could barely see.  I tried to look around but felt lost.  I was transported almost 30 years into the past.  To that day.  To that room. 

Then he let go. 

I came back.  I felt weak.  Not physically weak, but mentally, emotionally weak. I tried to cover it, I tried to deal with it, I tried to act normal.  I don't remember what I said exactly, but I let him know it wasn't good. 

I spent some time thinking about it. 

I thought about the last time I had an issue that I kept trying to handle myself, instead of turning it over to him.  How long am I going to continue to struggle with shit instead of turning it over to him?  When am I going to stop trying to be Superwoman and handle everything myself? 

So at the next opportunity, I told him that I would like for him to do something for me.  And I took his hand, and I put it on my throat.  And I focused on his eyes.  Master's eyes.  And I stayed there. I didn't panic, I didn't get tunnel vision, I didn't smell the burning flesh again. I don't know for how long I stayed there, and then he said "open your mouth", and I did, and he laughed and said "breathe... you didn't die". 

And he was right, I didn't die.  And I didn't panic.  And I stayed there, right there in Master's eyes. 

And the next day we did it again.  And it was easier. And this time I laughed with him when he said "open your mouth and breathe." 

A step closer.
 


 

When All Else Fails, Just Submit 

Four years ago, I attended the weekend-long Submissive Survival Course led by aranea of BDSMMentors at the Lair in Hollywood.  One of the things that aranea said in the class was, "When all else fails, just submit. You've tried everything else and nothing is working, try submitting." 

This memory was brought back to me in stunning fashion this morning.  Let me back up a bit. 

Roughly six months ago, there were two dominant men that had caught my fancy.  Both were (and still are) quite some distance away.  The one I would later choose to follow said, "you're mine, you'll figure it out eventually." 

Shortly after that, I decided I needed some physical release (well, I think everyone around me agreed I needed some attitude adjustment!) and since I couldn't get it on a regular basis from either of my men due to distance, I interviewed potential fuckbuddies. 

Some time passed, and I broke it off with one of my dominants, and started addressing the other one by who he really was and is: "Master".  Meanwhile, the first few fuckdates had gone well, but then the ones that were more recent were cancelled for scheduling problems and illnesses (on my part and on the fuckbuddies' parts).  I continued to tell Master whenever I made a date, AFTER I made the date.  At times he seemed irritated about the fuckbuddies, and I was confused.  He had told me to tell him whenever I had a date, and that's what I was doing, so what was the problem?  Maybe he didn't really want me to go, but wouldn't say that since he wasn't physically with me and couldn't take care of my urges.  Maybe it was all in my head and there was no problem.  Maybe I was overthinking.  Sigh. 

Recently I told him I was feeling guilty about the fuckbuddies.  I was confused about this feeling.  I'm not monogamous, I don't think I have to have love to have sex, I didn't feel like I was cheating.  But the only person I wanted was Master, and he was too far away.  Instead of patting me on the head (so to speak) and telling me it was all going to be okay, Master reaffirmed my guilt feelings.  Now I was really confused.  What the hell?  Maybe I should just give up the fuckbuddies and deal with it.  I decided to just stop thinking about it for a bit.  A few days passed. 

Then the other day one of the fuckbuddies texted me that he was going to be in town last night.  Instead of answering him, I texted Master with the information and asked if I could see the guy.  Master told me I could.  THIS!  This was what I needed!  Why hadn't I turned it over to Master before now?  Why have I been agonizing over all this?  Why had I been making dates and THEN telling him about it, instead of asking permission first?  Well, other than the obvious answer of "because he hadn't told me I had to." 

I was very excited and wanted to share my great epiphany with Master.  Well, um, yeah.  He told me I knew all along I should ask first, and that left me confused again.  Huh?  He never told me that!  I was pressed for time and so we didn't get to talk about it again until this morning.  I asked him why he had not told me just to ask for permission, when he had seen me struggling for so long with the whole situation?  And I asked him if he would tell me the next time he saw me struggling with something like that.  His answer was "no" and "no". 

Huh?  Enlighten me, Obi-Wan.  He told me I had to get there on my own, that if he ordered me to ask for permission six months ago it would not have gone over well, as I hadn't even committed to HIM at that time.  For the better part of my life, I have had to be in charge of me.  It was habit.  I always turned to me first. I was doing him a disservice, and he knew I had to figure it out for myself.  

A
nd that reminded me of aranea and her words of wisdom.  I had been struggling, more than I was letting on, and all I really had to do was submit.  Sigh.  Sometimes I’m really a dork.

 

A Comfortable Prison 

My personal limitations have been rising to the surface lately, daring me to face them. I have managed to keep them hidden away for so long that I forgot to warn someone about them, when for my own mental and emotional safety, I should have done so.

I took this as a gross personal failure. I can be very hard on myself.

I ran across this quote from Jed McKenna in Spiritual Warfare: A chameleon-like adaptability is one of [the ego’s] most effective maneuvers. Paint some trees on the walls of your cell and some clouds on the ceiling and you're free as a bird.

Is that what we want? Beauty that hides the prison bars? I would rather be free in reality than know I am trapped in a concealed yet comfortable prison.

So with this quest for freedom comes fear, and with the fear comes memories. Memories of the day you thought you were going to die and the instant that your world changed forever. The exact moment, as if it just happened, that your sense of survival engaged and you were ready to kill someone to prevent them from killing you. Not you were ready to escape, but you were ready to kill.

Your senses betray you. You can smell the burning skin even though it was over 25 years ago. His grip tightens on your neck as if it is there now. You feel the sting as he strikes your face. You taste the blood that flows from your mouth. You hear the words that were meant to destroy you.

No time at all has passed, and you are there.

This is the prison I seek to destroy.


I love it when a guy is confident enough to write this in his profile:  She has my dom panties in a fucking bunch and I love it!! 

I like it even more that he wrote it about me.

VEGASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!! 

Just got back from a last-minute weekend in Vegas.  Had a fabulous time, it was hotter than hell, and I'm tired.  Wooooooohoooooooooo!!!!

Of course, no trip would be complete without a travel story... this time, I'm on the plane ready to come home, and just after the flight attendants did the safety briefing, the pilot comes on the intercom and informs us that a light fell off the plane and is dangling by wires.  The mechanic says 5 minutes to change out the light assembly, 15 minutes or so to do the paperwork.  We took off close to an hour late from the scheduled time.

I think we landed with all the plane parts still intact.  If something else fell off, it was not apparent.

 

 

 

I think I can add a new title to my collection.  As well as being a cat whisperer , now apparently I'm also a relationship whisperer. LOL. 

I have a tendency to walk into someone's life, say something brilliant, set their life back on the right course, then drift out of their life if they no longer need me. 

I just wish I was AWARE of it when I was saying something brilliant! 

 

Some people should not write poems.  Eighteen lines with the same rhyming sound at the end of every... single... line.  Find a new hobby, take up fishing, stamp collecting, drinking, anything but poetry. 

Back from a fabulous vacation in St. Pete Beach. 

However, I discovered that my kink-dar needs a tuneup.  I scared the bejeezus out of a nilla guy that I really thought was up for some fun.  Sigh.  When will I ever learn???

::headdesk::  ::headdesk::  ::headdesk::

 

 

If I turn my head, avert my eyes, leave the room, it is not necessarily disinterest.  Sometimes it's a matter of giving you the privacy you thought you already had.

 

 

It's nearly vacation time.  Leaving Wednesday for Florida.  Wooohooooo.  Just have to find a safe place to stash the naughty stuff while I'm gone... can't have the housesitter keeling over with a heart attack or somethin'.

 

 

"He's just not that into you."  

It's something I told someone last night. If you're communicating for two weeks by email or videochat, and he hasn't asked for your instant messenger nick, he's just not that into you. If you've been communicating in some way for a total of three weeks, and he hasn't asked if he can call you, he's just not that into you. 

If he's a dom and feels it's up to the sub to make that move, is that the guy you want? Or do you want the one who makes that leap, because he is a strong, confident man? 

Does it mean he is a lost cause? Does it matter? Do you want someone who is more interested in someone else, and if that doesn't pan out, to come to you? You deserve better than that. Go on with your life, and if he comes around later, so be it... if not, no big deal. Just don't wait around for him. Good things happen while you're busy living your life.

Month after next... will be back in St. Pete Beach for the next Calibirthday. 

A couple of years ago someone told me that he would rather go to a place he wanted to be, and if other people wanted to join in they could, than go to a place he really did not want to be just to see people he wanted to see. 

I am not sure if I think that is always a good idea, but I do know that we (my pal Francine and I) pretty much do that for my birthday each year.  We go to Florida, and right now St. Pete Beach is our preferred place, and if other people want to come they can.  Ft. Myers Beach was too noisy with music blaring for over 12 hours each day outside the various motels; St. Pete Beach is quieter and more relaxing.  We have found a little Italian restaurant with fabulous sangria, another place with all-you-can-eat crab legs, a touristy place to explore, a bird sanctuary, and a non-crowded beach with gentle water to float in (due to an offshore sandbar that protects the area). 

Fran is a shell collector, so she is going on a shelling adventure this year; others who want to join in can do so (I have not decided yet if I am going on that one).  Another pal who is coming this year for the first time will probably join me on a dolphin-watching boatride.  We may even play uber-tourist a la National Lampoons Vacation and go on a Pirate-themed boatride.   

The whole idea is to relax and do what YOU want to do, not necessarily what everyone else wants to do. 

Well...

Unless that thing you want to do involves a strong man with big hands doing naughty things to you, and then it seems like you are asking for someone to hand you the moon in a jar.  Pfffffffttttttttt.

A few weeks ago I discovered that someone I used to work for was dying of cancer.  The news reminded me of something I had heard before... that when a tragedy happens to a bad person, it does not suddenly make them a good person, they are still a bad person except now they are experiencing a tragedy.  You can substitute "mean person", "selfish person", etc., for "bad person" and it is still valid.

Was he a bad person?  That begs the question... can you be both a bad person and a person with a personality disorder?  For the person that feels that rules and laws do not apply to them, are they a bad person or are they someone with impaired judgment due to a brain/developmental malfunction, or both?  As long as something benefitted him, he was all for it.  As soon as something could be perceived as not benefitting him, he quashed it.  It did not matter if he knew it really did benefit him; perception and public image was everything. 

I received a phone call this morning from someone who saw the obituary in the paper.  I looked it up online and was not surprised to see that remembrances should be made to his private company... a true narcissist to the very end.

This year, December was not a bad month.  In years past, not so much.  But this year, all in all, not so bad. 

My bosses (3 separate bosses) came through with generous bonuses - far more generous than I could have hoped for. 

My family is not in turmoil. 

I can provide for those in my care. 

I have friends that enjoy my company (well, they keep coming around, so I'm guessing they enjoy my company). 

A few random strangers sent me compliments.  Those ones really touch my heart, to know that something I said struck such a chord with someone who doesn't know me, that they felt compelled to write to me. 

Christmas morning was a treat.  For those who have followed along with my blathering for a couple of years... the kid I surprised a few Christmases ago with the viola... this year I surprised her with her very first flying lesson.  Yes, you can fly a plane without being old enough to drive a car.  Who knew? 

We regret to inform you that it looks like your only hope is to reformat the harddrive and reinstall everything. 

The boss is soooo not going to like this.   

Someone figure out how to create time so I can get everything done.   Sigh. 

Two things I said last night, when out with some kinksters, that were totally innocent (I swear): 

1.  That would NOT be good in my mouth. 

2.  I do not want shit on my rim.  

The Calibirthday 2010 has come to a close.  What a week!  We stayed in St. Pete Beach, and our room was right on the beach.  We swam, we drank, we snarfed up our body weight in king crab! 

The only sad part was that I didn't get my birthday spanking.  I had an unfortunate incident resulting in sunburn, and it just wasn't meant to be.  Sigh. 

My attitude, however, has been adjusted

"Prim and proper."  Those three little words hung in the air. 

I laughed so hard, nonconsensual watersports almost ensued. 

"Me?  Prim and proper?  Seriously?" 

I had been talking to two women, one of which I've known for 5 years, the other a year or two.  The one I've known the longer was the one who said I was prim and proper.  We had been talking about tattoos, and the subject of tramp stamps came up, and I said that a true tramp stamp should have the words, "pull my hair, bitch!" written above it. 

The one woman said, "I can't believe you just said that, you're so prim and proper!" 

So later over drinks, I'm telling my kinkster friends about this little exchange, expecting them to laugh as uproariously as I did, when one of my friends says, "well you ARE prim and proper." 

I almost fell off my chair.  Someone had some 'splainin to do Lucy!'

So this friend says, "you wear a nice dress, you're covered up..." (meaning my boobs aren't out smacking people in the eye), "you sit like a lady... you're prim and proper." 

Well fuck me runnin'!  Who the hell knew this and didn't tell me before now?  Just... WHO... the FUCK... KNEW???? 

Calibirthday 2010.  Look out, St. Pete Beach, here we come!  

Hey, if anyone has personal experience with motels ON the beach there, drop me a note.  Last year there were 22 of us from collarme, I don't have a headcount yet for this year. 

Is any Easter Sunday complete without a nice little visit from the local police?  No?  I didn't think so! 

My ex, annoyed with me that I won't answer the phone when he calls, decided to show up on my doorstep yesterday.  I did not answer the door.  He then called at 11:00 last night and again at 8:00 this morning.  EIGHT O'CLOCK.  ON A SUNDAY.  I still did not answer.  So then he called the police.  Not because he was concerned, but because he was angry that I wouldn't talk to him. 

Tall, hunky cop:  "Your ex-husband is very worried about you." 

Me: "No he isn't.  He is harrassing me because I refuse to take his calls."  

The look on the guy's face was priceless.  I'm on a roll now. 

Me:  "Did you check his record?  Did you see the domestic violence restraining order for harrassment that expired a couple of months ago?  Did you see the record of all the times he was over here pounding on my door, scaring the children?" 

We talked about the restraining order for a few minutes, and why I let it expire (I had to, he had not done anything to warrant re-issuing it). 

Tall, hunky cop:  "Who has custody?" 

Me:  "I do.  Sole legal and sole physical custody." 

Tall, hunky cop:  "Does he have visitation?" 

Me:  "Yes, but he has chosen not to exercise his overnight visitation in almost two years.  He only wants her for an hour or so at a time." 

Tall, hunky cop, who now looks quite pissed:  "Do you have his number handy?  I... will... take... care... of... THIS!"

Hmm... funny... ex hasn't called me all day.  Should I be worried about him? 

I changed my profile orientation today from bisexual to straight.  The orientation that I really want to use is not an option ("opportunistically bisexual"), and listing as bisexual appears to cause too many misunderstandings.  I wrote the following journal entry about a year ago, and it describes my feelings pretty well:

I identify as bisexual.  To me that means bi-sexual, not bi-romantic.  Don't get me wrong, I like girls.  We're soft and warm and squishy and we make these oh-so-lovely moaning sounds.  I like the way the uninhibited girls (like moi) react to touch... it's such a beautiful and hawt and sexy thing. 

And yet... I don't get THOSE feelings for girls. I don't have love for women the way that I have love for men.  I have no desire to serve a chick.  No desire to hear "good girl" from an XX-chromosome-type person.  Speaking of which... it's funny when that phrase comes from a guy, particularly when he says it slowly and deliberately (vs. a quick, off-the-cuff remark), it is as if my feet become cemented in place, my brain is on pause, and someone has reached into my soul and squeezed.  Oh... my... yes... is it suddenly getting warm in here? 

Okay, where was I?  Oh yes.  Girls.  Me likes to play with them.  With a guy or without.  Mostly with.  Or without.  Or with.  Yep.  Yep.  Yep. 

"You should be attractive."  One line in a profile that stopped me in my tracks. 

"You should be attractive."  Do you mean like the dark-haired girl that has no integrity? The one that you can’t take around your vanilla friends anymore because she doesn’t know how to behave? The one that other girls, kinky or not, don’t trust? 

"You should be attractive."  Do you mean like the redhead that thinks being tied up for sex makes her submissive?  The one that thinks that being mouthy is "cute"?  The one that wouldn’t know what "anticipatory service" means even if you made her read the entire hardcover edition of Mrs. Starkey’s Original Guide to Private Service Management

"You should be attractive."  Do you mean like the blonde beauty that deliberately misled you about who she really is? The one that you cannot take to any professional functions in case someone recognizes her? The one that if your biggest client ever found out you were seeing, would take his business elsewhere? 

"You should be attractive."  Everyone is attractive to someone, somewhere. So what are YOU expecting? What are YOU looking for? What do YOU find attractive? 

So the other morning at work we're having some phone work done, adding another line, and some of the jacks need re-wiring.  The phone company guy doing the work is a couple of years older than me, not unattractive, funny, likes to joke around, etc. 

The work takes a couple of hours, and when he is done, I ask him to wait while I scrounge up some additional phone cord that some of the phones need.  I said, "we have to make sure it works before you leave." 

Without missing a beat, he says, "awww, Daddy wouldn't do you that way." 

::THUNK:: 

That was the sound of my jaw hitting the floor.  Good thing I wasn't drinking coffee.  I think it would have been a coffee-spewing moment. 



You people are killing me! 

 

I had no idea, no idea I tell you, that receiving a reply from someone on the left hand side of the slash was an honor.  An HONOR!  Who knew?  Who the fuck knew and didn't tell me?  Who ripped that page out of my copy of The True Submissives Handbook? 

So if someone on the left hand side of the slash writes to me first, does that mean I'm in the presence of true greatness?  Will angels sing?  Will there be a cure for cancer?  Will my legs become self-shaving? 

The gullibility of some people just makes me laugh out loud sometimes.  Then I have to shake my head and wonder if they fell off the turnip truck yesterday.

I have been following, with mild interest (not unlike that towards a trainwreck), the saga of a girl on here, as she weaves her tale of intrigue, of practically (but not quite) being kidnapped and whisked off to another country, of being abused by her master, of being saved by another master and being returned to the states, blah blah blah blah blah. 

I suppose it appears a bit more realistic in that she is well-spoken (well-written), but really guys... it just doesn't hold up to scrutiny.   But you all sure look cute in those rose-colored glasses.  ;)



So I'm home today with my little one, who is not feeling well, and I've been killing time, by perusing profiles and journals.  Yeah, I think I really AM a masochist after THAT little exercise. 

The upbeat, funny, charming profiles are a real treat.  Some made me laugh right out loud.  Unfortunately, there are not nearly enough of them compared to the profiles I'll refer to as GloomyGus.  You have to shake your head and wonder why GloomyGus posts so much negativity on his profile and in his journal about the less-charming aspects of the internet and internet dating sites. 

Does he REALLY think he is helping his cause?  Does he REALLY think that he is the only one to WHINE about fakes/scammers/etc?  Does he REALLY think that whining is attractive? 

If you go to meet someone for coffee and they spend the first five minutes complaining about the traffic, the parking lot, the heat, and the bad coffee, do you really want to spend one more moment of your life with them?  No?  Then why are you acting that way here? 

Get a grip people!  

I've posted previously about the condition of never having been loved, and the possibility that there are some of us for which it is an impossibility for anyone to love us.  I've come to terms with this, although apparently, when I posted about it before, a whole bunch of people got offended... people that don't even know me. 

And I'm not talking about friend-love, or family-love.  I'm talking about guy-girl love.

Perhaps it's a chemical thing... the inability for anyone to feel love for us.  If so, I think there is another chemical that has been silently walking hand-in-hand with the first one.  And that chemical is responsible for making lives around us fall apart. 

People who come within breathing distance of me are losing their jobs, being injured, getting divorced, losing family members.  In record numbers. 

I think I'm trailing a cloud of doom behind me that reaches out and zaps everyone. 

Yesterday I was at a casual restaurant for a dreaded business lunch when I spied the guy at the next table.  Damn fine looking guy.  DAYUM FINE.  Casually dressed.  A bouquet of three roses lying on the table.  Kept checking his watch, then his phone, and looking around. 

My heart sank for him. 

I got up and went over and said, "please tell me you're not being stood up."  He said, "I'm afraid so."  I asked if he had ever met her before, and he said no.  We chit-chatted for a bit (okay, flirted) and then he left. 

About 30 minutes later, he came back in with a girl, and saw me look up.  He pointed at her and with much delight said, "she's here!". 

I got up and went over to them and she was just as cute as could be... bubbly and apologetic for being so late.  We chatted for a moment and then I went back to my table. 

The whole thing gave me a lift that carried me thru the afternoon. 

My friends have me pegged... there are no strangers to me, just people I haven't yet met or flirted with. 

Day four in Ft. Myers Beach.  Can you ever have too much sand, beach, friends, champagne, laughter, or screaming orgasms???  Nah, I don't think so!!!!!!!! 

Wow.  Only 3 1/2 days until I leave for Florida for the Calibirthday 2009.  I can't wait to see my Pimpettes again... I miss you all so much!  And I'm so looking forward to seeing other old friends again, and meeting some new ones.  So glad you all are coming!  

Just remember what Lushy learned last year:  never, ever be the first one to fall asleep, and god help you, never fall asleep with your mouth open! 

Wow.  Has it really been a whole year since we descended upon Florida for my birthday celebration?   Only 2 1/2 weeks to go.  Ft. Myers Beach, look out, here we come! 



 
I identify as bisexual.  To me that means bi-sexual, not bi-romantic.  Don't get me wrong, I like girls.  We're soft and warm and squishy and we make these oh-so-lovely moaning sounds.  I like the way the uninhibited girls (like moi) react to touch... it's such a beautiful and hawt and sexy thing. 

And yet... I don't get THOSE feelings for girls. I don't have love for women the way that I have love for men.  I have no desire to serve a chick.  No desire to hear "good girl" from an XX-chromosome-type person.  Speaking of which... it's funny when that phrase comes from a guy, particularly when he says it slowly and deliberately (vs. a quick, off-the-cuff remark), it is as if my feet become cemented in place, my brain is on pause, and someone has reached into my soul and squeezed.  Oh... my... yes... is it suddenly getting warm in here? 

Okay, where was I?  Oh yes.  Girls.  Me likes to play with them.  With a guy or without.  Mostly with.  Or without.  Or with.  Yep.  Yep.  Yep. 

 
The Art of Showing Submission. 

So it's not my title (thank gawd), but I snagged it anyway to make a point. 

I saw a recent discussion on the specific things a person does to show their submission.  The "flavor" of the question made it seem as if a person thinks to themself, "I'm going to do this (whatever THIS is) to show my submission." 

Does anybody really think that way? 

When I'm with someone, the things that I do are things I've always done, it's who I am, it's the way I live my life.  I cannot fathom it being any other way.  Why would I not do those things? 

Why would I not replace his socks as soon as they start showing a bit of wear? 

Why would I not iron and starch his dress shirts? 

Why would I not throw a towel into the dryer when he's in the shower, so he has a warm towel when he is finished? 

Why would I not search out and find a source for the particular brand of [whatever] that he likes? 

Why would I not massage his feet at the end of the day? 

Why would I not get up early and make biscuits and gravy because he likes them? 

Why would I not prepare his coffee the way he likes, when he wants it? 

Why would I not put extra time into making special treats for his friends when they come over? 

Why would I not notice the things he orders at a restaurant when we go out, and search out similar recipes to make at home? 

Why would I not do these things?  Why would I not want to make his life easier, more pleasant, more satisfying?  Isn't that the way life is?  Doesn't everybody do this??



"Envy is the pain caused by the good fortune of others."  Aristotle. 

"Charity rejoices in our neighbor's good, while envy grieves it."  Anon. 

It is an ugly, awful, painful, shameful thing to feel.  They say, and I have often said myself, that emotions are not good or bad, they just "are."  This is one for which I will make an exception. 

Envy snuck up on me like the creepy little shithead that it is, sending out soft little tentacles to surround me that I did not see coming, until it could clamp down tight on my soul.  And clamp down tight and hard it did. 

Dammit. 

Wallowing in the state of our own unmet needs just feeds the envy. 

Gawd I hate this.  Maybe it's a full moon or something.  Maybe I need a reality check.  Maybe I just need more Nyquil and softer kleenex.

Late in the evening, after a night of debauchery (okay, if we're being honest, a night AND a day of debauchery), when your emotional defenses are down, and girls get together and talk about the deep dark places in their souls, sometimes things come out that really shouldn't see the light of day.  But once they're out, can you really hide them away again?   

I found myself in just that situation, saying a truth about myself that was painful to admit. 

No one has ever loved me. 

Not in anything other than a we're-friends-and-I-love-you-because-you're-a-friend sort of way.  My ex-husband didn't love me, former boyfriends didn't love me, no one.

So what is it about me that makes me inherently unlovable?  Maybe some of us have a secret pheromone that makes others unable to feel love for us.  Maybe the reality is that some of us just... aren't... lovable. 

Bonnie Raitt sang it well... I can't make you love me if you don't; you can't make your heart feel something it won't... 

PS:  I feel compelled to add something here.  This isn't a pity party, or a call for sympathy.  It's a statement of fact that I'm trying to deal with.  Apparently some people find that offensive.  I truly don't understand why. 

Back from Florida.  What a blast! 

I met a couple of dozen people from collarme and they are all as wonderful in person as they are here.  Yes, yes, I know, it's hard to believe, but people from this site really DO exist! 

Standing up for what you believe in sounds easy, sounds right, but in reality can be a difficult, cold and lonely place, especially when you look around and find that you are standing all alone. 

It can be quite a trial when the other person involved is more well-known, has been around longer than you have... in essence, has more "street cred" than you do. 

So you ask yourself, "is this a hill I'm willing to die on?"... and the answer is "yes."  Then you quietly but firmly make your stand, and when the clouds pass and the view becomes clear, you find that you are not alone after all, but surrounded by people expressing their gratitude that you had the courage to speak up. 

Sometimes, you just have to stand up and say, "this is not right."

Orlando, woohoo!!! 

Going to Orlando first weekend in February for GreedyTop's wedding.  How much trouble, errr... havoc... uhhh... acts of sweetness and light can we commit in 4 days??? 

Will Orlando ever be the same?  Will the bride be held in ransom for the brideprice?  Will the groom hold out for a dowry?  Will there be farm animals involved?  (for the dowry, you perverts) 

And, the million dollar question... will I start talking to an amazing guy from Florida... the day AFTER I get home?  My timing, yes, if nothing else, my timing generally SUCKS ROCKS!!!!



I have a confession to make.  A secret.  An awful, dirty little secret.  It's so horrible I cannot even say it out loud, but am only able to whisper it.  *sigh* 

Must I?  Must I confess?  Oh gawd, I think it's time. 

*curls up in the corner of the couch, head lowered, puts on her little girl voice, and feels her lower lip tremble* 

Okay, I'm ready now. 

*big, courageous breath* 

I... do... not... kneel. 

*lip trembles some more and the tears start to fall* 

I'm not a true submissive because I don't kneel! 

No, no, don't get me wrong, it's not that I refuse to kneel, it's that I cannot kneel.  Really.  I've tried.  I've managed to break each kneecap at some point in my life (though thankfully not at the same time), and well, they've never been the same since.  I'm not disfigured or anything, it's just too painful to kneel. 

I did tell someone once that if he really needed to see me at his feet, he could stand on the bed and I could kneel on the mattress for him.  He found that greatly amusing. 

*realizes the magnitude of her confession and buries her head in shame* 

I'm not a true submissive!  I can't kneel!  *SOBS* 

*wanders off to turn in her membership card in the subs union* 

New Years in Sacramento with friends, what a time! 

* strolling thru downtown Placerville while the fog descended in the early afternoon. 

* attending the Sacramento MaST meeting, and getting quite a laugh when, in all seriousness, I told someone, "you know, there's a hand for every ass." 

* teaching my friends how to make my super-duper-secret truffle recipe. 
 
* meeting NuevaVida for the first time, and feeling as if it was a reunion of old friends. 

* having my teenager tell me, "You know mom, I've said it before, I learn more in five minutes with you than I learn all day at school sometimes." 

* and just when I'm thinking that life sucks rocks, having friends tell me, "we are in awe that you came into our lives when you did, at just the right time." 


Aww, I love you guys too.  Now I gotta go throw a rock at a bird or sumthin.  My street cred is suffering.


Slutty Sinning in Sacramento for New Years!  Wooohooooo!!!! 

Ahhh, who the hell am I kidding.  Some friends invited me up to Sacramento for a few days, or until we get tired of each other, whichever comes first.  The way my luck is going, I probably couldn't find a slutty, sinful experience if I hung apples from my nipples and carried a sign that said "eat of the Tree of Knowledge". 

What do I like?  Well that seems to be a popular question lately.  Do I like... (insert various BDSM activities here)?  My answer is often "yes... but...".  I hate yes-buts.

Do I like flogging?  Yes, but... not when someone aims for the kidneys, or the spine, or takes a stance like they're aiming for a home run at Fenway Park. 

Do I like spanking?  Yes, but... barehanded is my favorite, and warmup is necessary, and hitting as hard as you possibly can tends to be overkill. 

Do I like fucking?  Yes, but... not when a 911 call is involved. 

I hate the yes-buts.  It makes me sound like such a do-me sub.  And alot of what follows the yes-but seems like common sense, safety practices, etc., and that I shouldn't have to say it.  Sadly, experience tells me otherwise.

Subjective and objective... I find myself wondering about subjective traits.  Subjective meaning influenced by personal views, experiences, etc., as opposed to objective, meaning "just the facts ma'am."  

Why does someone puts in their profile that they are handsome?  Isn't physical attractiveness such a subjective thing that it truly is in the eye of the beholder? Why do I summarily dismiss someone who is looking for a "beautiful" girl? 

Why do I snicker at profiles that say "H&W proportionate"?  What they really mean is "no fat chicks".  After all, we all have proportion, some of us just have more proportion than others. 

Why does no one say "I'm dumb as a rock"?  Why not some truth in advertising?  I can understand the people who say they are smart, as it is a measurable trait, and frankly, I like being around smart people. 

And last but not least, why is today, apparently, "Hypothetical Question Day?"  Ummm, don't answer that, it was a hypothetical question. 


Wooohooooo!!!!!!!! Time to celebrate!!! 

I filed the last set of papers to get my divorce finalized in September. They told me there was a huge backlog in getting a judge to sign off on them, and it would most likely be February 2009 before it was final. 

Today in the mail I received a notice from the court that my divorce was final the day before Thanksgiving... 11/26/2008!!!!!!!!! 

Oh happy day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess this coming weekend just wasn't meant to be.  I rearranged work, got babysitters for the whole weekend, did the girly get-ready manicure/pedicure thing... and then plans feel thru.  Not to worry, a new set of plans were in the works and looked like it was a "go".  And then it went from "go" to... "no".  Sigh.  

So I'm zero for two.  Where's a girl to go? What's a girl to do? 

 

It's time for my little experiment to end.  I have taken down the picture of my friend Christine.  Sadly, it only resulted in a few offers, and those all acknowledged the little joke.  Hey!  It did show one thing though... that some people actually DO read profiles.  Here is what my profile said for a couple of days: 

Okay, time for some lighthearted fun.  The blond with the curly hair? That's not me, that's my friend Christine. Why do I have a pic of Christine you ask?  Well, Christine recently had her heart broken, and despite her wishes to be left alone, she has been inundated with offers of gifts and trips and plane tickets to help her to "heal".  What does that have to do with me? Well...

Someone recently parted ways with me due to some pretty bad things happening in their life (see my journal entry of 11/9/08)... yet I'm not getting the sorts of "healing" offers that Christine is getting.  So we decided that it was time for me to walk thru the shallow end of the water for a bit, and see if some of those offers will soothe my bruised heart.  Not that I plan on taking anyone up on any of the offers... just would like to see some.

Dear Mistress Karma, Madame Mojo, Mother Nature, Santa Claus, and the Tooth Fairy (and anyone else who has any real power):

I apologize for... everything.  Every single thing I've ever done to piss you off, make you roll your eyes, make you sigh that oh-good-lord-not-her-again sigh.

Whatever it was that I did, my friend does not deserve the things you have thrust upon him, and frankly, I don't think I deserve to be the collateral damage.
 
Goddammit!

Delusion.  The common definition is a fixed belief that is false, fanciful, or derived from deception. 

Delusions are held with absolute conviction, are not changeable by compelling argument or proof to the contrary, and are implausible, bizarre, and/or patently untrue. 

Fun stuff, huh? 

Early in my adult life I had a roommate that used to love to say things about herself that were not true.  At the time, I was not sure if she was doing it to seem special or different, or if she really believed it (a delusion).  For example, she used to love to say that she always slept sitting up in her bed.  I found that to be an odd trait to brag about (and when she said it, it was always in a bragging tone).  One day I'd heard enough and told her that she was mistaken; that she might fall asleep in her bed sitting up reading a book, but when I went in to turn off her light (almost every night), she was always lying down flat.  She then stopped saying she slept sitting up, until after I moved out, then she started saying it again. 

There were other, stranger, delusions that she had.  But none that seemed truly worrisome. 

Most words have an accepted meaning, or a variety of meanings.  I suppose you could make up your own meanings to words, but good luck living in that sort of world.  Perhaps to my roommate, "sitting up" really meant "lying down."  Who knows. 

At least she didn't go off on a drama queen sort of a rant, accusing me of implying that she was dangerous or out of control, when I told her that her reality did not meet the definition of the terms. 

Wish I could say the same for everybody. 

Don't tell me you're always a nice person if you scream at the driver in the next lane.  Don't tell me you're a sadist if you cannot inflict pain.  Don't tell me you always speak softly if you're constantly shouting... saying, "well, I always speak softly but at the top of my lungs" doesn't make it true. 

It just makes you delusional. 

Well, Vegas has come and gone.  What a time!  Some glimpses of special memories:

* The sight of two fine men striding quickly thru baggage claim, looking for me. 
* The look on Steel's face when he turned and recognized me for the first time. 
* The look on Kirk's face right before he put his arms around me and kissed me.
* The way Steel's face lit up when he saw the big "Welcome to the Steelbilation 2008!" banner. 
* Hearing Wyldhrt's laughter.
* The quiet devotion of andi to Steel.
* Seeing Merc and beth for the first time, and feeling like I'd known them forever. 
* The nonstop singing and merriment at the outdoor Carnival Bar at Harrah's, and seeing Merc doing a stunning rendition of Olivia Newton John as Sandy from the movie "Grease" (complete with long blonde wig) singing "Summer Nights." 
* Some quiet time with Kirk in the lounge at the top of the Stratosphere, watching the sun set and the lights of the city come up. 

and last, but certainly not least,
* Helping make the dreams of a friend come true.

Only 27 days until Vegas BABY!  I discovered something interesting though... trying to order a birthday cake for Vegas, something pretty plain and simple, should be no big deal, right?  Hah!  I can order two separate cakes for a reasonable price, but if I want them stacked and some words written on it (no fancy decorations), the price doubles.  Now I make cakes myself, and I know there's a little bit of work in doing stacked construction, but double??? 

On another note... I predicted three days for a restraining order violation.  Sadly, I was wrong.  Five minutes.  YEP.  He violated it in FIVE MINUTES.  Sigh. 





I hate it when I feel backed into a corner.  I hate that the exe's downward spiral is gaining speed at an alarming rate.  I hate that his grasp on reality is down to microscopic proportions. I hate that I feel forced to invite the legal system into my life more so than it already is.  I hate that I feel I have no options left. 

I cannot imagine that he thinks anything good will come of his behavior.  But then again, I can't believe that it's been over two years since I left him and he still hasn't accepted that he is no longer a part of my life, that he has no rights when it comes to me, and only the rights to the children that the court has given him.  He just doesn't "get" that. 

The judge gets the paperwork in two days to rule on my request for a restraining order.  God help me that the ex doesn't explode. I'm asking for no contact with me or the children until the hearing, which should be one to two weeks.  I'm predicting it will be about three days before he violates the order. 



Vegas Baby!!!   

Hotel is reserved, airline tickets are purchased, it's Vegas Baby!  This time it's Steel's turn to have people come from near and far to celebrate his birthday!  I know when it happened to me, I was frankly stunned that people who had never met me before were willing to spend money, get on a plane, and come to my birthday extravaganza in Florida.  I hope Steel feels as good when it's over as I did.

Although I hope he isn't expecting black pearls and diamonds, cuz as far as I'm concerned, that AIN'T happenin'!  We luv ya Steel, but I don't know that we luv ya THAT much. 



After a hiatus of several months, the fortune-cookie gods are back to their shenanigans.  Today's offering:  We need to attract people who create more light than heat. 

I'm working on it, I am, I swear. I opened one door and welcomed in light, while at the same time working to shut* another to keep out heat

There was a whole lotta light last weekend. Oh my yes, there certainly was. Yup. 


*in this case, the word "shut" means "slam with all my might, deadbolt it, nail it, melt the hinges into one solid mass of metal, and break off the key in the lock." 

Back from the Calibirthday in Florida, and trying to come out of vacation-drop and sub-drop all at once.  Don't look at me funny or I'll break into tears! 

Something I posted in the "CJ and the Girls" thread on the message boards...

Things that were heard at the Calibirthday that sounded dirty, but weren't:

1.  It's like a turd, but better.  (I just have to explain this one... Lushy and Hib were eating soft chocolate and Lushy got a blob on her hand that looked remarkably like poo, apparently) 
2.  I kick like a girl.  
3.  Spread, Lushy! ...  Goal!!!!!!!  
4.  These are too slippery we need the wooden ones. 
5.  It's not the same when you do it yourself.  
6.  It doesn't matter if you stick a banana up your ass.
7.  Some insect bit me repeatedly without my permission.
8.  Did you spill? ... No, I squirted and I hate squirters.
9.  I can't guarantee I can swallow, but I will spew.
10.  Twenty-five hundred isn't enough, give me six.
11.  Oh!  It's BIG!
12.  I can't put my fingers in there.
13.  You should have seen me squeeze it down so it didn't all ooze out.
14.  Not that one, he's kind of dirty looking.
15.  It's falling out, stick it back in.
16.  Soak 'em before you poke 'em... is this your first rodeo?
17.  It tasted a little bit fishy.
18.  Wow, look at all the wood.

And my personal fave, which CJ said to me...

19.  Stick your finger in this and tell me what it's like.

Gosh, it is just soooo much fun when the bipolars decide to write nasty cmails to me.  Makes you just want to pat them on the head while you convince them to take their meds as they should. 

On a happier note, I leave for my vacation the day after tomorrow.  How in the heck did it come up so quick???
Only 34 more days before I leave for Florida. 

 <-- happy dance

A short while after my last journal entry, a friend asked me how long I was going to sit on my pity pot.  My answer was, "until I'm done or it gets too uncomfortable." 

Since people seem bent on restoring my faith in mankind (whether they realize it or not), I guess I can't escape the inevitable.  While I wasn't looking, someone stole my pity pot.  So I bought a plane ticket to go to south Florida for a week around my birthday in July.  I get a real vacation around other adults! YIPPEE!!!!  

  
And I'm thinking that late October/early November might be a good time to plan an excursion to Vegas.  Rooms in Vegas can be had for a good price, and I bet a bunch of peeps would be up for the trip.  Who wants to go?? 
I'm going to whine a bit and revisit something I said awhile ago, about what I was searching for: 

I want someone that I can trust, someone that is who he says he is, and is not hiding behind qualities he thinks he should have (but really doesn't).  I want someone that does what he says he is going to do

I think that I am asking for something that does not exist. Alot of people wax poetic about their honesty, their directness, their integrity.  I'm starting to think it's all just crap. (Yeah, the whining just started, get over it.) 

So, I give up.  I worked on some issues several years ago with a professional, and one of those issues was expecting the worst of people. That person convinced me that cynicism was damaging who I really was inside.  But now I see that I was correct all along. Better to expect the worst and be wrong than to expect something good and be wrong. 

So yes, I give up.  I'm going to go back to expecting the worst of people, so that if I'm wrong, it's a pleasant surprise. 

Training:  Forming by instruction, discipline or drill; teaching. 

Why do people feel the need to put special terms on everyday, ordinary things? The word "training" seems to be the latest one to stick in my craw.  Someone excitedly exclaims, "I'm in training with a Dom!".  Umm, okay, what is he training you for? What skill is he imparting upon you? 

The answer is usually something like, "Well, I've never been caned before, so he is training me!"  Okay, great, he's teaching you how to cane someone? "No, he is going to cane ME!" So basically you're going to play.  If he were actually training you, he would be teaching you a skill, teaching you how to do something.  Receiving a caning just doesn't cut it.

You can train someone how to do things the way you want them done.  You can train them in a skill.  Just stop calling the living of your life as "training."
A friend brought me to tears today.  The kind of tears that come when you realize that you do have very good friends who really do appreciate you.  

I am sitting at my desk, gazing at a dozen roses, the palest of pale peach with a tinge of dark pink on the edge of each petal.  They are so beautiful. 

And then there is the card.  The card says: 

There's a rare and special quality in the way some people live... 

However busy they may be, they still have time to give. 

Anything you ask or need, they'll do their very best, 

No matter what the task is, or how simple the request. 

Kindness just comes naturally to this rare and selfless few, 

Special, giving people, people just like you. 

And then there were the words, "I don't know what I would have done without you."  There had been a phone call, and a very ill parent, and a need to get on a plane immediately and fly across the country, and there was the plaintive wail, "I can't find a flight, I don't know what to do, help me, please help me." 

And I found a flight, that was reasonably priced, that left this afternoon, allowing a little over two hours to pack, and had the ticket selected, purchased and printed, within the space of about ten minutes. 

This is the kind of "service" that I live for. I will ride this high for a couple of days at least.  

Now I think I have to go throw a rock at a bird or something, just so I won't lose my stone cold bitch status. 

Cali
Integrity... The adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty. To behave in accordance with your values, to be sincere, and to be faithful to what you believe is important.

I have been trying to understand why it shakes me to my very core when someone I know, or feel that I know, underestimates my integrity. And it really does shake me - I feel emotionally wounded.

One of the things that you can count on with me is that I am who I say I am, open and honest. I don't lie and I don't manipulate. Now that sounds all "goodness and light" but that certainly isn't what I mean.

When someone underestimates my integrity, they are calling my very character into question... that I am not who I say I am, that my ethics and morals are just a sham. And that's why it hurts; it hurts because a friend would believe that of me. I wish I could turn on the cold, cynical bitch and say it doesn't matter, but that wouldn't be the truth... and it does matter.
On the message boards, someone asked the question, "how do you know what you're looking for", regarding relationships.  This was my answer: 

Last summer, just after turning the ripe old age of 43, I was chatting with some strangers in an internet game room, and we started asking those goofy questions you ask people when the answer doesn't really matter.  Things like, "have you found your purpose in life yet - and do you think you have a purpose?".  "Are you happy or have you identified what brings happiness to you?" 

I don't remember the exact wording of the question, but it was something along the lines of that last one that really smacked me upside the head.  No, I wasn't happy.  In relationship after relationship, I was not happy.  Good lord, had I not learned anything from the mistakes of the past?  Apparently not.  So I started on one of those much-cliched journeys of self discovery, and I figured out why I was so unhappy. 

My relationships started with a fairly equal division of power and control, with the caretaker role thrown onto my end.  But as time went on, each of these partners started disappointing me in fundamental areas, dealbreaker areas.  My exhusband pretty much encompassed them all:  underemployed (due to self-defeating habits), lying, cheating, passive-aggressive, emotionally weak, you name it.  I'm pretty sure he has Borderline Personality Disorder - he can be charming when he wants to, and hell when he doesn't.  Anyway, all that self-examination helped me figure things out. 

I don't want someone who is perfect, or who tries to give the impression of perfection. I want someone who is honest with me and has a good work ethic.  I want someone who is dominant - I do NOT want to have to make all the decisions all the freakin' time (hello exhusband). 

I want someone who can acknowledge that something hurts my feelings even if he doesn't understand why it hurts my feelings.  I want someone who understands why certain things are important to me, even if they aren't important to him. 

I want someone who appreciates my good qualities, and graciously deals with my bad ones. 

I want someone who does not want to remake me, but would tweak the areas that need tweaking (such as my awful procrastination habit). 

I want someone that I can trust, someone that is who he says he is, and is not hiding behind qualities he thinks he should have (but really doesn't).  I want someone that does what he says he is going to do. 

And if his motto is "better to ask forgiveness than permission", he's DEFINITELY not the one for me. 

And last, but certainly not least, I want someone that is willing to have really awesome sex. That seems obvious, but it's not.  Really awesome sex generally takes time to develop, as you get to know each other's mind and body. If they're not willing to try something new, then how will they ever know if that is going to be something to add into the regular "menu" or not? 

Oh yes, and I want someone who wants me in his life as much as I want him in mine. 

I was recently reminded of one of my favorite passages from the book, "The Princess Bride". And for all those TPB movie lovers out there, no, it doesn't appear in the movie.

There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl.

I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry, let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.
The "Dear Cali" thread may have run its course.  I think I achieved close to 100% on recommending blowjobs as the cure for most problems.  Methinks people ran out of questions trying to find something that a blowjob would not cure or at least help.  Bahhh. 

A friend today started a thread in the forums called "Dear Cali", a sort of "Dear Abby" for the kink world. 

My prediction is the advice for 1 out of 2 people seeking wisdom will be "just shut up and give him another blowjob." LMAO. 

We'll see how it goes.
My Sir and I parted ways today. I will be forever grateful for his leadership on my journey. Under his direction, walls were knocked down, fears were examined, hard limits melted away, and there was tremendous growth. Yes, I am grateful.

I wish you well Sir.

So the fortune cookie gods must have gotten together for a little pow-wow. See I haven't been in to pick up one of those special fortunes in a while, so now they've turned to email. 

I got an email from someone that rarely emails me, and the title of it was "The truth shall set you free." It went on to say that first the truth might rock your world, shatter your illusions, and take a chunk out of your soul... but eventually, it will set you free. 

There are people in my life that just haven't figured this out. My ex is a prime example. The more energy he expends on withholding information, telling me half-truths, or just flat out lying, the longer it takes for him to get what he wants and for me to get what I want.  Hell, forget that. Make that... the longer it takes for me to be able to focus on my own true self. 

No secrets, no lies. Be true to yourself and be honest about what you want. I'm not understanding why this is such a difficult thing to implement.


Under a Microscope?

Over the past several months, a few of the natives have been gracious enough to email me to invite me to the munch. I was working on a number of things that I wanted to settle before I got involved with the group, for several reasons. One of those reasons is that I one of those volunteer-types, and up until now, I had very little free time.

So I let a few people know that I was ready to take them up on their hospitality, and suddenly there is a small explosion of locals perving my profile. I feel like I need to clean up my language, wash behind my ears, and shine my shoes. 

Hi everybody!  I don't bite unless you ask me to! 

Please be kind. Don't make me sacrifice a virgin on my first day, please. (It will take me some time to find one)

Cali
Sir has a particular talent for hitting the same spot over and over... there is one spot on my left butt cheek that he seems to favor. Now I don't know what makes that one-quarter-inch of territory so appealing to him, but in a silly moment he grabbed a crop and went after that same spot.  He turned the crop sideways to use it like a cane, popping me with the stick. 

Now I said this was a silly moment... we were laughing so hard I could barely breathe. I was writhing back and forth so he was having a more difficult time finding the 1/4 inch territory... I was about to fall off the bed onto my head, laughing hysterically, and I started hollering no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no. 

Oh wait... he's a sadist, so saying "no" will get me nowhere.  Amidst gales of laughter, my hollers changed to red-red-red-red-red-red-red-red-red-red. 

He stopped in shock. He said, "Oh my god! I've finally been safeworded, and it was by a woman laughing hysterically!?!?!!" 




Sadists and Fear

When I was in Los Angeles, Sir and I were sitting on the bed, talking about our weekend, laughing, being silly.  I started thinking about something that our class leader, aranea said.  I'm paraphrasing here... she told us that her Dominant is a true sadist, and that he will take her far past her comfort point in dealing with her fears. After all, if you never go past your comfort point, you are never going to make any headway with the fear.  She just keeps telling herself that this will not kill her. 

So I was thinking about how I go to the bad place when someone puts their hands on the front of my neck, and how much I want to get over that. I do not like having bad places, not at all.   

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I asked him to put his hand on my neck. This was a huge thing for me.  Now, this next part, I do not know WHAT possessed me, but for some reason I was of the silly notion that he would gently and slowly slide his hand up my neck and talk me through the panic and the fear.

Are you laughing yet?  My Sir was taking classes all weekend from a true sadist, he is sadistic himself... and I thought he was going to be gentle???  I know you're thinking it, but I was not smoking any of that funny stuff.

So what did he do?  He sat behind me on the bed and grabbed what he could of my hair (my hair is quite short), yanked my head back hard, and literally wrapped his hand across my throat, pinning me back against his chest.  He did not say a word.  NOT ONE WORD.  I'm not sure how long it lasted, maybe 5 minutes or more, but I just kept breathing out through my mouth, thinking, "I won't die from this" over and over.  And it was okay.  It was really okay. The bad place did not come and swallow me up. 

And I can't wait for him to do it again. 

Cali

Just got back from Los Angeles from the submissives survival course (and Dom Bootcamp for my Sir).  BDSMentors put on an amazing set of classes at Lair de Sade (wayyy cool dungeon by the way).  I would recommend that anyone who can get to southern california look into the classes.  They also have advanced classes, although there is so much hands on work for the beginners class that if you can do both, I would recommend it. 

I discovered so much about me that I'm sure I will be yammering on about it for a long time. 

The leader for sub survival, aranea, was such a fantastic instructor; I cannot say enough good things about her. 

Uh yes, you read that correctly, "my Sir", no longer simply "my One". 

Cali 
He gets on a red-eye flight tonight; I drive down to Los Angeles in the morning.  Still calm.  WTF is up with that? 

I think it's the blood red fingernails.  You can do anything you set your mind to when you have knock-me-down-fuck-me-red fingernails.  And the toes too.  

Cali
Less than four days now until we meet.  As each day passes, I've gotten calmer.  I have no idea what is going on with that.  Is it that nothing bad has happened as I feared? Is it that I'm busy occupying my brain with lists... lists of instructions for the babysitter, lists of things to buy, lists of things to pack, lists of things to do? 

Or is it that I've accepted that nothing I will do will alter the outcome, as long as I'm true to myself? 

Amidst all of these questions, I am sure of one thing... and that is the depth of the convictions of my soul.

Cali
Today is his birthday.  I... ummmm... might have faxed over a sassy birthday greeting to his shop.  Think that might have earned me a "sass bucket" point.  Good thing I'm not a SAM, I'd really be in trouble. 

A while ago, I asked him how he managed to bring me to the place I am, without me really noticing, let alone without me kicking and screaming about it.  He simply said, "I listened." 

"The greatest motivational act one person can do for another is to listen." Robert E. Moody 

Thank you, Sir, for listening. 

Cali


The easy roads are not the ones that lead to interesting places. 


Sounds like another fortune cookie, doesn't it?  Not this time... although I swear, if that does show up in a fortune cookie I am going to start paying more attention to the "lucky" numbers on the back of the fortune paper and start playing the lottery. 

Where did I find this little gem of wisdom?  A little background first.  It is a mere twelve days until my "One" and I meet.  I've been getting more and more "squirrelly" the closer it gets.  It's been more than just jitters.  I've been bothered by things that don't bother me (in my normal state of mind), making me feel out of control, just off kilter... nothing about my feelings was making any sense to me let alone anyone else.  

My squirrellyness (what a word!) reached epic proportions yesterday just before I figured out the cause.  I finally pinned it down to my history of having something really good in my life that goes really bad right at the last minute.  So I guess subconsciously I keep expecting something to go wrong, and that expectation was causing such angst. 

It took just one question from him to set me to right.  He asked basically, 'is this going to continue?'  That one, centering question was all that was necessary.  No, it's not going to continue.  I believe that nothing will go wrong. I believe that we will click. I believe that he is my One.  I believe. 

So back to the question... where did this come from?  I was browsing the internet when I ran across an article about first meets, and there was a bit about why it is worth the risks, when the alternative is to be unhappy in the vanilla world. I’ve been hiding in that world for a long time, and I have no desire to go back.   

So... The easy roads are not the ones that lead to interesting places.  The journey I've been on has been anything but easy.  It's been up and down, gut-wrenching and soul-searching, full of stops and starts and sometimes leaps ahead.  But he took my hand, and led me on the road, and helped me find things within me along the way.  In one of his first few emails to me, he said, "the things in
our past that interfere with our present… We never know what will cause these haunts to come crashing into our everyday lives, tainting our current relationships. So it's a good thing to let the people closest to you in on your past, then they wont think it's all about them when your haunts show up and they can help you through them. I know this is hard, just consider it part of that trust thing."  

So a haunt showed up and he took my hand and squeezed it and asked the question that made it go away. 

Twelve days. 

Cali

If someone told me this happened to them, I would have to say, umm.. *cough* bullshit *cough*. 

Sigh. But it happened to me.  You remember what I said about a certain deity's sense of humor?  Yep, that one has struck again, only this time it wasn't a fortune cookie. 

Last night a certain phrase that I absolutely despise came up in conversation.  That phrase is "everything happens for a reason."  I think it's bullshit.  Seriously.  That phrase gets thrown about, it seems, at the worst times in your life, and it is usually said by well-meaning but completely clue-free people.   

So I was going on and on about it last night, and I was getting more and more worked up, primarily because it appeared that the person I was discussing it with wasn't really getting how deeply I felt about it.  He did finally let me know that he understood, and the matter was over. 

Or so I thought. 

Today at work, the girl who usually checks the office general email was out, so I did it.  There was an email from someone who apparently likes to send out jokes and inspirational messages.  I usually don't see these, unless there is something particularly funny, then the email person lets me know.  Her inspirational message today was called... 

Everything Happens for a Reason 

I saw the email, and I'm thinking WTF??  So I read the very sad, sappy story, and I'm conflicted between the very sad story and the fact that the phrase is just bugging the bejeebers out of me.  The story ends with "there are no coincidences, everything happens for a reason."

Sigh. 

I'll give you this much:  some things happen for a reason.  But I will never agree with the notion that everything happens for a reason. 

Cali 

What the hell is with the fortune cookies?  Is there some guy in the back waiting to send out one that is of particular meaning to me?  Where are the fortune cookies that say, 'you will find great wealth and happiness' or some crap like that?? 

But nooooooooo.  What do I get?  I get:  A leader is someone who will take you places you would not go on your own. 

Sigh.  I'm afraid to go back to that restaurant.  What's it going to be next?  You know who your leader is, now follow. 

Cali

Sometimes, you think [insert deity of your choice] must have a sense of humor.  Yeah, sometimes that one is a real kick in the pants.  For instance, that one must think that I've been moving along a bit slowly, or perhaps that one is just reinforcing what I already know.  I haven't quite figured that out. 

Why do I think this?  Yesterday I had a very soul-baring discussion with a friend on what I need to feel safe.  Not physically safe, but mentally and emotionally safe.  I came away from that talk feeling very much at peace. 

Sigh. 

My fortune cookie today:  A ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not why ships are built. 

Okay already, I hear you.  I'm about to set sail out of the harbor, just give me a minute or so.  I gotta check the lifejackets, the mooring lines, the rigging, the sails, the compass, the anchor, the... what's that?  Stalling?  Who me? 

Okayyyy, I'm going already.  Onward, into the breach. 

Rewind to Christmas. 

I received a gentle reminder that I haven't talked about the outcome of Christmas and the musical instrument.  <maybe somebody needs a spankin' for that> 

Her instrument is the viola, which to the untrained eye looks exactly like a violin.  To those in the know, I'm told it's a little bit bigger with a bit deeper sound. 

Christmas morning, the older one had a small but respectable pile of presents, which were mostly books she wanted.  The little one had quite the mound of presents, as often happens with the preschool set. 

The older one finished opening her gifts, and seemed quite happy.  I looked around with a puzzled expression on my face, and I caught her eye.  I said, "Daughter... I think I forgot something... go check my closet and see if I left something in there." 

She comes back out dragging the wrapped box (it was a HUGE box), and she says "I can't find the tag, who is it for?"  I pointed out the tag and she says "OHHHH" with a shocked look on her face.  She tored off the wrapping and I asked her, "What's the company name on the box?"  She finds it and says, "A STRINGS COMPANY!  IT'S A STRINGS COMPANY!!!". 

She was bouncing about, alternating between trying to rip the tape off the box with her hands, to trying to find the scissors.  I let her bounce for a minute and then I cut the tape.  The look on her face when she pulled the viola from the box was worth every penny spent.  She was completely floored and excited and thrilled. 

The viola came with a digital tuner and a gorgeous case with room for all the accessories.  She met with her orchestra leader later in the week and together they worked it to a beautiful sound (I'm not an instrument person, but I guess you have to play it hard to flatten the strings). 

Mommy did good.

Kisses.  Sigh.  I love kissing. 

It starts as a tingle, an ever-so-slight tingle, around the edges of my mouth.  When I am with the one, and I feel the tingle, it grows and builds and becomes an all-consuming urge.  An urge I must act on. 

I reach up with my hands, on either side of his face.  Slowly sliding them down his cheeks, the darkness starts to creep into the edges of my vision, until I can see nothing but him.  I feel the pulse quicken in my throat as I part my lips.  They tremble slightly and I cannot help the low moan that escapes me as I gently brush across his mouth.  A slight taste of the tongue, then a gentle sucking on his lower lip.  Then more, harder, my pulse races, the heat builds, I lose all track of time. 

Sigh.  I love that.  BIG SIGH. 

And there is another type of kiss, in the midst of rough, primal, raw passion, that is hard and fast and frenetic and... bruising.  That one is especially delicious for entirely different reasons. 

Oh and the "after kisses".  How could I forget about those? The hot lips pressed to glistening skin, every touch a reminder of the sensations imprinted there.  And the soft exhale that follows, flowing over the back of my neck like cool water, sliding over the hills and settling into the valleys. 

I had a thought about this, I'm sure I did.  Where was I?  Oh yeah.  LOL.  I have heard that some people do not kiss, as it interferes with their dynamic.  I have found that my desire to kiss someone is a direct barometer of my true feelings for them.  If I just want to "throw down" without even thinking about kissing them, well, hmmm, does it really matter who they even are?



"The fear we avoid waits on our shoulders for the opportunity to subtly govern our lives." --Jerry Wennstrom 

The fear we avoid... the walls we construct, the vision we refuse to see, the path we veer from, all the ways we expend energy to avoid the fear. 

I vow to scale the walls, to open my eyes, to stay on the path... to throw the fear off my shoulders and stop letting it govern my life. 


I love rope.  However... cold steel.  Such a contrast to the rope. 

The steel, so hard, so heavy, so cold, so unyielding.  The rope is soft, pliable, it molds to you.  But the steel, it is unforgiving.

When you are bound in the steel, it feels so... permanent.  No matter how tightly you are bound by the rope, there is always that small flicker of doubt in your mind, the thought that you could get out if you really tried. 

When you hear the click click click of the cuffs as they are ratcheted tighter, when you feel the pressing weight of them on your ankles, when the cold chain connecting them slides against your hot skin, that is when you know your journey to intensity has begun... yet again. 


Sounds.  The auditory kind, not the urethral kind.  In case you were wondering. 

When you close your eyes, when the blindfold slides on, when you turn off the sense of sight, oh the sounds that become so vibrant, so alive. 

The sound the rope makes as it slides against itself, as you are being bound into it.  It is that kind of a soughing sound like the whisper of the wind as it stirs the autumn leaves on the trees.  The sound gains in intensity as the speed of the rope being pulled increases, just as the sound of the leaves increase with the wind.

The sound his fingers make as they trail across the silky skin on your cheek, your ear, your neck. 

The sound of the sting as his hand spanks your ass. 

The sound of the quiet as it envelops you in its darkness as you drift. 

Then the sound of his breath in your ear as he murmurs so softly, "your heart, your mind, your soul, they belong to me now and..." then the sound of the vibrations as the murmur becomes a growl, "you are mine." 

Facing our fears.  Sigh. 

There is a fear, a panic-inducing, anxiety-drenched kinda thing, derived from an assault, a betrayal, an event that happened a long, long time ago.  I thought I had worked through that.  I thought it was over, in my past, mostly forgotten, a dim memory that could stay away for months and months at a time.   

Yet in the last several months, the memories have come back quite vividly, and I don't know why.  I cannot trace its return to any trigger, nothing I can identify anyway.  

I've been reading alot about facing fears, and about turning on the logical side of my brain to deal with it, and trying to turn off the emotional part of my brain that causes the panic and anxiety. 

So I have to ask myself, what are the odds that particular thing would happen again?  What are the odds that I would become involved with another sociopath that would betray me like that (rhetorical questions, if some math genius has the answer I'm not sure that I really want to know). 

I think there are parts of the assault that I am fully recovered from, and then one or two parts that are the problem. One of those parts involves branding.  The last time I tried to face the fear, I read about people being branded (willingly) and I'm not sure if I got sick over the specific description that was similar or if it was a picture.  I remember telling a friend about it right after it happened (me trying to face it I mean), so maybe he can tell me.  This only happened a couple of weeks ago yet I cannot bring it to mind. 

I don't have the answers.  I can ask myself, 'is this a real or imagined threat?' Logically I can say that it is imagined, so therefore I have nothing to fear, but oops, there goes my lunch.  If I cannot even look at a simple, non-gory picture, how can I talk myself out of the panic?

A thread on the forums this morning has me thinking again.  Yes, be afraid. Be vewwwwwy afwaid.  LOL. 

It seems to me that alot of people talk themselves into agreeing to an open relationship (or poly, or swinging, or whatever the particular flavor of non-monagamy is for them) because they want to be with a particular person. 

I think if you have to talk yourself into it, it's not going to last, and jealousy is going to rear up more and more often.  
  
In my brand of logic, either you're hardwired for it or you are not, and if you are not, you're just ensuring you're going to be miserable.

Sigh. 
I am such a bad secret-keeper.  In a mature relationship, this is a good thing.  With little ones, not so much.

However, I've done really well in keeping a Christmas secret.  One of the little ones is convinced she is not getting anything "big" because I've had to shell out some bucks on her behalf lately for sports.  She is pretty realistic when it comes to finances and is okay with not getting anything big.

However, she is getting something big.  She has been playing a musical instrument for four years now, and she is good.  She has had a loaner instrument up to now.  So her new one is in my closet, wrapped and covered with a sheet.

I'm going to try to pull a "red ryder bb gun" moment on her.  I'm going to let her open everything under the tree, and when it's all done, tell her something is missing and to go check my closet. 

If I can hold out that long.

Cali
Sometimes you just gotta have faith in other people.

After yesterday's pity party, Mummy called me again and said that she changed the menu.  It is now something I can eat.  It isn't ham, but it will be good anyway.  I think the little one with the dietary condition cannot eat ham, but I'm not sure, and I thought it was so nice she changed the menu after all that I wasn't going to ask.

In a moment of temporary insanity, I decided to go out shopping yesterday.  Yeah, the Saturday before Xmas.  My little ones were being royal pains, it was crowded, everybody was cranky.  We had been at a big toy store for a while, and I think spent more time in the checkout line than actually shopping. 

The lady in front of me in the checkout had one item, I didn't get a good look at it, but it looked like a toy car for about a 7 yr old.  The total came to $12.98.  I watched her put a ten dollar bill on the counter, and then start counting out change.  Now while this is going on, the person behind me is ramming their cart into my ankles, someone's unattended little one is running up and down the front of the store screaming their head off, and my own little one is begging to ride the horsie at the front of the store (you know, that non-stop kinda thing... "mommy mommy mommy mommy").

I realized the lady in front of me didn't have enough money for the toy.  I don't know what possessed me, because I try to think that I'm NOT a nice person (because "nice" can be so difficult sometimes), but I opened my purse and put a dollar bill and some change on the counter.  She whipped her head around and stared at me in shock, mouth hanging open.  I just said, "Merry Christmas."  She stood there staring at me while the cashier counted it all out and then tried to give me the couple of pennies of change.  I just smiled at her and said, "it's okay, you have a Merry Christmas."

Such a small thing to me, such a big thing to someone else.  The cost of making someone's day? $1.28.

Time for one whiny, self-indulgent and selfish pity party.  What would the holidays be without at least one?

Family sucks sometimes.  No one else ever has to, but family should at least give the illusion that they care about you.

I think alot of people build their expectations around the holidays based on what they liked from their childhood (as well as doing away with what they didn't like from their childhood). For instance, we open presents on Xmas morning.  Santa comes on Xmas eve, so there is no way we could open presents on Xmas eve because Santa hasn't even been there yet.  I know alot of people who do that anyway, but it's not me

So this whiny rant is about Xmas dinner.  Our tradition is ham, scalloped potatoes (or something similar), a yummy oyster dish that usually only Mum and I eat (and that we only have around the holidays) one or two types of vegetables, rolls, various desserts.  We also pass appetizers.
 
I look forward to Xmas dinner.  This is something I really enjoy, sitting around the table, glass of wine, talking.  So Mum calls and says she has set the menu and to let me know what to bring.  The menu is lasagne, green salad (which I am assigned), and rolls.

Excuse me??? WTF?????

Now before you think I am being inflexible, there is another issue here.  When I met my now ex-husband, I was a bit "cushy" but not terribly so - womanly and curvy.  Part of his mental abuse had to do with wanting me to be fat.  He succeeded.  I lost of alot of who I was during our marriage as I gained weight.  I got out of the marriage last year and realized earlier this year that I needed to get back to the real me, who I was, what I believed in, etc.
 
So this summer, on July 1, I went back to eating the way that makes me feel good physically.  This means almost no carbs or sugar.  When I eat meat and green vegetables, I have lots of energy, I feel great, and I don't get fat.  It's not easy to eat this way, since I absolutely love bread (I moan for garlic bread), but it's what I have to do to feel good. 
 
I have a little one who weighs 40 pounds. In the last six months, I have lost approximately 1 1/2 of her.  I still have a long way to go.  
 
So to yank this back to the current whiny rant, my family is very, very well aware of how I eat.  They know I don't eat pasta.  They know I don't eat red sauce (tomato-based sauces are high in sugar and carbs).  But yet the menu is set as lasagne.  So not only is it NOT the tradition I love, its not even something I can eat.  And I can't exactly show up with a ham or something.  If it weren't for my little ones, I would just say 'fuck it' and not even go.
 
To add insult to injury, there is a little one in our family who cannot eat chocolate due to some sort of esophageal anomaly, and chocolate irritates it.  I love to make desserts, but when I make a dessert for a family gathering, I make sure either I have two items, one of which is not chocolate, or I just make one thing that is not chocolate.  After all, I wouldn't want anyone to feel left out and forgotten.
 
So my whiny, self-indulgent and selfish pity party boils down to the fact that when it comes to my family, I feel left out and forgotten. 


Sometimes someone surprises you, gives you something you didn't expect (whether they realize they gave you something or not), and it just makes your day.  Completely.  Amazing effect it has on calming your brain, and the resulting sleep it allows you to have.  Mmmmm. NICE.
I hate the walls.  I absolutely hate them.  Things are going along just swimmingly and then BAM!  A topic comes up, a question, and the impenetrable concrete wall, so cold, so thick, so high, so HARD, surrounds me until it feels like I cannot breathe.

Make the walls go away.  They serve no purpose anymore.  I know this.  They really don't.

Just make them go away.

A recent forum discussion has me thinking (not that it's a bad thing!).  There are some subs that, because it does not please their Dom, express no opinions of their own. 

Their only expressed opinion is their Dom's opinion. 

Wow.  Just... Wow. 

Okay pause for obligatory disclaimer:  If it works for you, great.  I'm all for everybody doing whatever makes them happy. 

To continue... I cannot even IMAGINE being with someone who expects me to have no opinion on anything, and merely to regurgitate his opinion.  I think my brain would implode.