November 27, 2014

Her Name Is Mary

I have a friend and her name is Mary. That isn't her real name, just what I'm going to use to refer to here as I tell you about her. I've known Mary since 2001, and while we now live on opposite sides of the country and visiting isn't frequent, we do have long phone conversations. She is a little woman... shorter than I am. She was born in another country, her first language isn't English and she practices another religion. She and I are close.

The quality I love and admire the most about her is that she by far the most optimistic person I've ever met in my life, past, present or likely future. I'm not just saying that. There is NOTHING that makes Mary waver in her optimism. I've often teased and tried to list things that I thought would annoy her. Without luck.

About a year ago, the company she worked for decided to close its office and relocate to another city. Mary and everyone else in the office was out of work. When I heard the news, I called to see how she was doing. She was excited at the chance of having a new opportunity, although she didn't know what that would be just yet.

We were out one day with a few other friends and it was one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, sometimes twice too. Gas tank that ran out of gas, cell phones that wouldn't work, pouring rain, a lost credit card, a group of steadily growing grumpy women... and Mary. "Come on girls, eventually it will stop raining. Anyway, the flowers need it."

The list can go on and on.

Always the optimist... it comes naturally to her.

I'm capable of seeing the positive in life's events, but I also get mired down with negative thinking. It's a symptom of Major Depression. Most of the time, I can self-talk myself out of it. But those times when its all-consuming... I call Mary.

By the time I've talked to her for even a few minutes, I'm feeling better. By the time the phone call is over and we say goodbye until the next time, I walk away with a feeling of comfort, as if I was wrapped in sunshine.

I hope you also, have a Mary in your life. Or perhaps you are the friend named Mary, in someone else's life.

(This reminds me of Mary)

November 25, 2014

Simon the Wooden Spoon

My name is Simon.  I am a wooden spoon.  I was designed to be in a kitchen.  My purpose in life is to mix butter, eggs, sugar and flour into delicious cookies, to stir fragrant spices into pasta sauce, to fold fresh and silky cream into soups.  Just thinking of all the culinary options is practically orgasmic!

But was I bought for those purposes?  NO!  I was purchased from a Wal-Mart kitchen aisle, where I was shelved with all of the plebeian spoons of birch and pine, for a different purpose.  To spank with!  It fills me with embarrassment to even admit that.  I don’t want to even think of what my ancestors would say if they knew my shame.

Imagine my gleaming oak self, far superior to those others of the cheaper variety, used for spanking the naked bottom of my owner’s wife.  How utterly debasing… it is so far beneath me!  Every time it happens, I’m practically traumatized to my grain.

I spend all of my “non-spanking” time in a jar with the other spoons.  The ones that get to make the cookies, sauce and the soup.  They get to beat the cake mixes, stir the drinks for the party.  <sigh> I am practically green with jealousy as I watch my owner’s wife pick one of them for the job at hand.  As she runs her hands over all of the spoons looking for the right one, she pushes me to the back of the jar with disdain.  How she tells me apart from the others, do you ask?  Aside from the fact that I am made of far superior wood, which she doesn’t seem to appreciate fully, I have to wear a red elastic band around my handle so my owner knows which one to pick when he wants to partake in that oh-so-disgusting activity of spanking his wife’s bottom.

Just last night, she had been sassing him, while they were in the kitchen getting dinner ready.  He warned her to stop but she didn’t.  No, no, no!  I felt my handle start to give off splinters with dread as I knew what was coming next.  Sure enough, he grabbed me.  He took her arm and bent over the counter, lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties and WHAM!  He hit me right on her left bottom cheek, then the right, then the left, then the right.  You get the idea, I’m sure!  Every time he pulled his arm back, I would catch sight of the steaming, delicious smelling food in the pot on the stove.  It was enough to drive me insane.  Oh, what I would give to go for a dip inside and stir the contents.  I would do it with so much love.

By the time I made it back to the jar, it took all of my superior abilities to hold down the instinct to gag.  I needed a shower.  All I could feel was the skin of her bottom and worse… the top of her thighs.

Just as I was about to sink to the depths of despair, I felt the presence of a new spoon beside me.  “Hey mate!  I just saw what you were up to!  Details, man… what was it like?  Did you love the feel of her skin as you smacked it?  Was it smooth?  As her bottom became that delicious shade of red, was it warm to the touch?  Man, I was sporting a woody just thinking about what it was like.”

I could only stare at him in abject horror.  Did he think I actually liked my job?  Was he insane?

“Me?  I have to deal with the heat and steam of the pots, the taste of all the baking…” His voice faded as he visibly shuddered.

I had an epiphany.  Certainly it couldn’t be that simple?

With an air of conspiracy, I whispered my plan to him.  He was more than willing; excited even. 

Now he wears the red elastic band that marks him as a spanking spoon and I get picked by the wife to cook and bake.

Since that one moment, life has never been better.  I’m so happy. 

My name is Simon.  I’m a wooden spoon and I don’t ever have to be involved in spanking a naked bottom again.  <contented sigh>

November 23, 2014

It Could Always Be Worse

A friend of mine sent this to me in an email.  It made me laugh, and I hope it gives you some laughter or makes you smile.

This little animal is called the Naked Mole Rat. He can be found in north Africa...

If life is tough and getting you down, or just feeling sorry for yourself, just remember...

You could always go through life looking like a wrinkled penis with buckteeth!!

November 21, 2014

Shooting Rainbows from Her Nipples

I'm sorry, but no, this post isn't going to have anything to do with shooting (is loud if from a gun), rainbows (while yes, they are pretty) or nipples (we all have 'em). I just needed a title and couldn't think of anything else and decided to use this one.

It seems that some in blogland feel I have returned and not explained what or why everything happened a few months ago in the "Christina Scandal". I spent a lot of thought and time writing a few posts, one of which you can read HERE.

I'm going to make it as simple as I can and hope this helps.

Jim - He is a REAL man. He has a head, shoulders, 2 arms, 2 hands, a chest, stomach, bottom, dangly bits, 2 legs and 2 feet. If you pricked him, he would bleed. He is Scottish, speaks Gaelic, wears a kilt, competes in Highland Games. He loves playing and watching NHL hockey. In the past, he has coached children's teams. He brushes his hair, shaves his face, dresses himself and manages all of the functions that an adult male does. He occasionally farts in bed and grins sheepishly and tries to look innocent. He has a sweet tooth and loves anything baked with butter. He thinks onions smell funny and look slimly if cooked, but can eat them raw without a problem. He fell victim to a penis prank, a lawnmower prank, an underwear prank, and a few others not previously described on my blog, by ME. We've been part of each other's lives for more than a quarter of a century. He grew up in a family that practiced DD, and as the HoH he has practiced DD with me.  He spanks and is fond of other punishments as well. He is a Christian but cannot sing like an angel, which is why the Church choir hasn't asked him to join. He is good with his hands and can rebuild an engine. He was not at the LDD Retreat in June 2014, because it became obvious a few months ahead of time (not conveniently at the last moment) that he had to be away for work. As a result, no one during that 10 day trip of mine, which ended with a visit to Rogue, met him in person. That fact can't be changed.

No, I didn't tell you on my previous blog that he was not real and now claim he is. I didn't say he was just someone I knew. He was real then and is real now and tomorrow and next month will still be real. The lie and apology that followed were about the fact that I presented him on my old blog as my husband. That we were married.

Regarding the children, please see the aforementioned link.

You can choose to believe me or not. That is your prerogative. You can also choose to continue to follow my blog here and interact with me, or you can choose not to. Again, your choice.

However, I am asking politely that you refrain from emailing others to ask questions or spread unfounded gossip. That situation is similar to a group of children playing the telephone game, where one whispers a story to the one on the right who does the same to the one on their right. By the time it reaches the beginning, the story might have a grain of truth remaining but has been stretched beyond the original. Each person that was personally affected by the "Christina Scandal" of July 2014, has their own issues in their personal lives that makes the addition of time and energy spent on this drama, stressful.

There isn't anyone but me that knows the intimate details of the relationship with Jim. It stands to reason that I should be the one that the questions are directed to. Just saying...

This is also directed to the one that started the ball rolling with an email to Chelsea. I have to wonder at your motives behind the email. They certainly weren't pure. The less hurtful way of "helping" would have been to contact me. After all, you must have my address and phone number and know where I work, right?  If you have something to say, do you have the decency to address your concerns to me, since apparently you know me so well? You haven't so far, but perhaps you do now.

Yes, I lied.  But, I also took responsibility for my actions, apologized publicly and have been working with those hurt to try to make amends.

There is a time for confessions, a time for recriminations, for the gathering of a community to support those hurt, a time for punishment and a time to say, "Enough."

It's been 5 months.

November 18, 2014

He Was Called Ugly

Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage and love. The combination of these three things, combined with a life spent outside, had their effect on Ugly.

To start with he had only one eye, and where the other should have been, was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail had long since been lost, leaving only a short stub, which he would always twitch and jerk. Ugly would have been a dark gray striped tabby, except for the sores covering his head, neck and shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.

Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. “That’s one UGLY cat!”

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.

Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. When he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up, he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day, Ugly shared his love with the neighbor’s dogs. They didn’t respond kindly and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent that his short, sad life was near an end.

Ugly lay in a wet circle, his lower legs and back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white stripe of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear his wheezing and gasping, and I could feel him struggling. I must be causing him terrible pain and suffering.

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear.  Ugly, in so much pain and suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly, battle scarred cat, was asking for only a little affection, and perhaps compassion.

At that moment, I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me with complete trust to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deforemed little stray, could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, but it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I care for.

Many people want to be more successful, richer, beautiful, well-liked, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
Something to think about, isn't it?

Source - Ugly

November 10, 2014

We Will Remember

On November 11th at 11:11 am, we take a moment out of day and embrace silence as we remember those brave men and women that have fought and died in the many wars of our past. I don't have any relatives or friends in the armed forces, but I will stop and remember in silent tribute. Please do the same.

For service and sacrifice given. For blood spilled. For precious lives lost.
We will remember.

Blondie's Place - Where There is a Paddle for Everyone

Looking to buy a paddle? Want a good deal? Do you admire excellent craftsmanship? Check out Blondie's Place on Etsy. She and her husband currently have 57 different paddles available, all hand made.

Shop Announcement -
Handcrafted wooden paddles made for every shape and size and for all types of spankings!
If you are just starting out with spankings to add some spice to the bedroom or you are heavy into the BDSM scene or somewhere in between, we have a paddle for you!

My husband decided to make some paddles that we would enjoy. H is paddles are beautiful.  We have many different sizes and types of wood.  And they can even be customized to your liking.

These paddles are made for consensual adult spankings only.  Both partners are to be in agreement before the paddle is used.  These paddles will HURT. Use CAUTION when using them.  Always play safe.

Let us know if you like what you see or you want one that is more personalized. Please ask questions and we can help you find the perfect paddle.  Pick a size and/or shape, type of wood and color of finish - we would love to make a paddle to your liking.

We use a variety of American domestic and exotic woods from around the world and each piece is crafted with a personal touch making each paddle unique.

Thank you and...Welcome to Blondie's Place!

A few months ago, the instruction was given to me to purchase two implements. One was a paddle from Blondie's shop. I love the purpleheart wood! For a small looking and thin paddle, the sting delivered is quite deceptive. Here's a picture -

Check out the store and buy a paddle at Blondie's Place

November 08, 2014

Dirty Minds and a Wet Pussy

I was surfing the 'net and came across a few things to share.  I hope you are successful at figuring out the words and don't forget to look at the wet pussy at the end of the post - as a reward! 

I'll admit that even I fell for them, so no need to feel embarassed ... LOL!

They say...

I didn't forget. As a reward for your hard work and naughty mind, here is the wet pussy I promised to show you ...
Have a good weekend! :D

November 07, 2014


"I do not like the format. I can't stand the thingy that pops out from the side. Change it right now!" Yes, Cat.

"Remove that message and change the settings so that your blog allows comments again."
Yes, Cat.

"Your blog is still not allowing comments. I told you to change it, girl!"
Cat, we're still on the phone, I'll do it. I promise.

She does NOT like the "Dynamic View" option in blogger's settings.

The format is changed back - I currently like the black and white instead of red and white. There is no thingy to pop out of the side at Cat. And comments have been turned back on.

Okay, Cat? (love you!)

I have always tried to respond to comments. I think that if someone takes the time to leave a comment, write an email, give a gift etc., its important to acknowledge their effort.  However, I've just had a week in the hospital and I'm not in a good place right now and so hope you will understand if I'm less than punctual at responding, but please know they are appreciated. Thank you! :D

November 04, 2014

Premiere - SEX TAPE


This has been in the works for awhile now. It's taken a lot of coordination, expense, trial and error... and courage, but I have finally finished the production of my very first SEX TAPE.

It's tasteful. I promise. You won't burn your eyes by looking at it.

No, you won't need any special program to view it, nor will it consume large amounts of your internet quota and you certainly will not be fired for having it on your computer.

Here we go...

Sex... tape... you got it right? 69... sex. I hope I don't have to explain it too much!

Oh, one more thing.

Don't for a minute tell me that you opened this post expecting to see... something else!

Have a good week - I'm still away so hopefully the schedule of this post will go up without a problem and it will make you smile, chuckle or laugh out loud! :D

November 03, 2014

Spanking Workshops

A business called "Spanking for Wellness" offers male and female counsellors to provide individual and group workshops with the goal of helping clients achieve wellness through positive spanking experiences in a therapeutic and professional atmosphere.

Sessions are provided through group workshops, private instruction and personal sessions to individuals and couples who wish to learn more about or experience spanking as a modality for stress release, transformational healing and expanding loving relationships.

The counsellors claim experience in using spanking as a tool for stress reduction, releasing blocked emotions as well as changing negative or detrimental behavior patterns. The work with couples focusses on helping them learn to use spanking safely and effectively as part of a loving relationship.

Don't worry if you can't meet the workshop schedule or aren't in the city where the spanking counsellors are located - the company offers sessions by Skype!

Source: Spanking For Wellness

What do you think about this service?  Does it sound like a spanko-club or a type of DD counselling with personal hands-on experience?  Would you become a client?

I found this site by doing a google search for "Transformational Spanking", because I hadn't heard of the term before and I wanted to find out what it was about.

*Post pulled from my previous RBW blog (version 1.0) until I'm feeling well enough to write something more current and original. I'm expecting to be away for a bit so programming this to post.

November 01, 2014

It's All About The ASS

Some thoughts about the ass...

Happy November 1st!

Remember... enjoy the ass, in whatever way you can! :D

October 29, 2014

Spanked Straight Into SUBSPACE

Maintenance spankings have been part of our Domestic Discipline dynamic for many years.  It's rarely scheduled and its frequency is determined by our needs at any given time.  The "ritual" of a maintenance spanking is definitely different from that of a punishment spanking.  I have written several posts on how it works for us, although they are currently stored on my old blog and have yet to be transferred over here yet.

For the first time, ever, I've achieved that elusive, often discussed state of subspace during a maintenance spanking.  On three seperate occasions.  If you have ever reached this state, you'll know how pleasant and remarkable it feels.  Almost like an out of body experience.  If you haven't, the best description I've found for subspace is as follows:

Subspace is a bot of a floating, blissful or trance state created by the action of natural body endorphins.  Relaxing... healing... it makes time feel like its gone away, like one is floating outside of their own body.  The right combination of sensations (such as after a DEEP cry, for example) can create or sustain it.

I mean... WOW!

The first time it happened, Jim wasn't even aware that something different had occured and I was feeling so "amazed" myself that I couldn't get the words out if I had wanted to... and talking was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment.  It lasted for a few minutes and I came out of it on my own.

The second time it happened, Jim had remembered what I had ultimately told him about the first time and stopped spanking to ask me where I was mentally.  That dissapated the subspace.  I wasn't too happy with him at that moment, after all, there is time for talking and time for silence to allow one's woman to float.  He felt it was time for spanking.  Since he was currently involved in spanking, his argument won the moment.

The most recent time it happened, Jim was a little slower to realize it again but when he did, he stopeed spanking and asked, "You did NOT just fall asleep or go off into that subspace again, did you?  This may not be a punishment spanking but it is discipline and there IS a point to it!"  At which point, a couple of spanks on the back of the thighs were sharp enough to end the short journey into subspace right then and I was yanked back to earth!

I've been thinking a lot about this issue and have talked with Jim as well as some DD friends.  What I am struggling with, in my own mind, is that after years of maintenace spankings, some harder or softer, some longer or shorter than others, why has this happened three times in a row, now?  One answer I can give myself is that during each of these three spankings at least, Jim seemed to "find a rhythm" and kept it steady, which might have created a state of self-hypnosis.

It was a lovely feeling, to feel so relaxed that I wasn't consciously aware of the spanking, to feel like I was floating outside myself up in the clouds... that I want that feeling again.  But do I want it as part of a spanking?  Is this making me a spanko?

If spanking has always been a part of discipline for me, for us... then how does it change our Domestic Discipline dynamic if I enjoyed this subspace from a spanking so much that I want to achieve it for a longer period a fourth time?

I don't have any answers to my own questions at the time but the concept is intriguing and worth further study.

*Post pulled from my previous RBW blog (version 1.0) until I'm feeling well enough to write something more current and original.

October 28, 2014

How the Thesaurus Contributed to a Spanking

It started when my derriere was doomed! 

My tush was toasted!

My ass was annihilated!

My sit-upon was scorched!

My rump was roasted!

My bum was burnt!

My gluts were grazed!

My caboose was chastised and then cooked!

My rear end was reddened!

My tail was tanned!

My fanny was fried!

My posterior was paddled!

My seat was smacked!

When it was over, I was assuaged into complacency and contentment to recline in repose, rest and relief to my ultimate satisfaction and well-being. This was done by my man, mate, my partner clasping me close to cuddle, envelop with a cherished clasp and locked in love.

What was the spanking for? That's for another post...

But this comes from a thesaurus – with only the words “bottom”, “spank”, “spouse” and “comfort

October 27, 2014

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary, Ladybugs and Cribs

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary How Does Your Garden Grow? Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home...

Nursery rhymes, cribs, car seats, tiny socks and scratch mittens.  Tiny fingers and toes, newborn smell. Breath on your neck and a limp body in your arms as the ultimate trust.

Blessings from God. To be celebrated. To be cherished.

We have a new baby coming in our family within the next 2 weeks. This will my brother and sister-in-law's second child.

The pregnancy has been challenging and there were a few visits to the hospital emergency department and worry that the child would come too early.

One of the last things my brother told our Mom before she passed away the following morning, was that they were having another child. A boy. A grandson. A nephew.  She wasn't able to say much, but she smiled. She was proud. It's comforting to know that she took that information with her, when she went to heaven to be with our Dad. They both would have welcomed another grandchild.

Of the many gifts I have given this new nephew-to-come, is a onesie. I thought it was funny. My brother didn't so much.

(This isn't the actual one I gave - the writing on it was blue, not black. This is the picture that gave me the idea.)

This little boy won't have to worry too much - his Daddy is awesome!

We're all waiting...

October 24, 2014

Dear ... You

I have much to say to you. I hurt you. I know this because I've lived with the consequences ever since. Who is the you, that this directed to? "You" is a variety of people, some in blogland and some in my daily life.

You have hurt me as well.

You told me to "pull up my big girl panties" and get on with it. I laughed at that (thank you), and the first thought was it was better than letting the big girl panties drop to the knees.

One thing I sincerely wish for you is that you do not make the mistakes I did and then face the world to apologize. Do you know how humiliating that is? It would have been easy to vanish, but you begged me not to. It can be worked out, you said. Have faith in your friends, you soothed. I faced the world because I truly believe that when we make mistakes, minor or major, we need to apologize, try to make amends and take the consequences. This is always something that I have done. One example of those consequences was $3200.00, an amount I was not asked for, but freely offered, even though it broke me financially over the summer. I did this because it was the right thing to do. Because in wronging you, I owed you the amends.

I've tried to give you what you wanted, what you said you needed. You wanted space, time away from me without reminders, to call you, don't call you, give you answers but different ones than I gave you. Sometimes the messages were so mixed up. You promised you wouldn't turn away, but you have. You called me pathetic, sick, out for attention and dismissed me. What is worse, now you say that I don't exist, not worthy of being acknowledged. That I ... am ... not ... worthy ... of ... being ... acknowledged. We called each other "friend".  If the tables were turned and you were me, how would you feel hearing that?

"Darling," my mother would say, "remember that sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you." You were wrong, Mom.

I don't understand the motive behind cc'ing me on an email thread between a few of you. What would be gained by having me see that you have a vicious side? I don't know how to deal with the hateful you. I never knew you to be hateful. I sat in a stunned stupor for a moment because I didn't recognize that part of you. I miss the you that was my friend. Why make it possible for me to see that you have thrown everything I've given you, as gifts, away. Some of which I spent a lot of time making just for you, by hand. I'm going to leave one that be. Too much hurt there.

I have nothing to say on the issue of the stolen/returned computer. I know that you stole from me, that you sat there and smiled while the group went through a cabin search, while rooms and cars were searched. While I stood in front of you and cried. I didn't publicly accuse any one of you. Not a single one of you. But you accused me. Publicly. I sent an email. I haven't received a response and likely won't. The label of "conspirator" would almost be funny, if it wasn't sad. It's sad because there is pain involved.  I've let mine go, but you haven't. You let it keep you from your children and husband and blamed that on me. Accused me of conspiring to set you up.  I spent a lot of time and energy that weekend helping you with your issues.  I've never conspired to set up someone to be hurt... and to do it deliberately.


I told you recently that HIMSELF has left. I can't bare to say his name at the moment. He promised me forever. If you had shared that with me, the very next thing I would have done was to pick up a phone and call you. If I couldn't do that, I would reach out to you some other way, and ask how you were doing. You know that I would have done that... because I have done it. What did you give me? Nothing. Silence. Do you have any idea how that hurt me? It wouldn't have taken much to give... something... anything. Perhaps the thing that hurt the most here is that you were gone while this happened. I couldn't turn to you to talk about it. I haven't felt your loss more than in those moments.

I've tried to keep the darkness (desire for an ending through death) away. We had a relative who gave into her own darkness and ended her life. The pain that left her family, us included, was horrific. I vowed to myself that as long as my parents lived, that HIMSELF was with me, I would never put them through that. No parent should ever outlive a child. My parents are now gone and himself has left. It would be so easy to lay down and let it come, but I'm stubborn and stronger than it ever will be. I will not let it win.

I do not want to live in darkness. I have made an appointment and I am pulling up the blinds, opening the drapes. And walking out into the sunlight. It might take me a long time to feel the sun's rays and appreciate the clouds (even shaped like a penis), but it will happen.

I cannot control what you do, only my own actions and reactions. For me, this ends right now.

I am choosing to forgive both you and myself. I forgive you for the hurtful words, especially recently, whether acknowledged here or held privately, for saying that you know a real friend and that was never me. I forgive you for not being willing or able to forgive me for hurting you. I forgive you for being caught up in your own hurt that you abandoned me and turned your back away. I forgive myself for starting all of this hurt at those I never wanted to hurt in the first place. I forgive the one that stole from me.

And because I have the suspicion that even now, you'll still have your back turned and be silent, I forgive that as well. Maybe you can't do anything else right now.

I forgive, for you, but also for me. I do not currently have the mental health to spend any more time feeling like the biggest piece of shit to float down the river. To regret and feel the loss. Apologies have been given, the door is open. Whether you come to the other side of the portal is up to you.

In the meantime, I don't have much left in me. I'm going to write what I want, read Outlander blogs and gush at Sam Heughan playing Jamie Fraser. And know that I have done everything I can, but that I have been hurt as well.

Above all, I am going to know that I exist.

P.S I'm not suggesting that you move on. I'm saying that I am moving on.

October 20, 2014

She is Gone and I Miss Her

My Mom passed away almost 7 months ago and lately her loss has been overshadowed by other issues. Two weeks ago it was Thanksgiving and the holiday was always a time to gather as a large group, where anyone was welcome. My Mom's sayings were "there is always room in the pot for one more potato" or "we can always find an extra plate".  Without my Mom to ground us, we all went our own ways and didn't spend the actual holiday together. It wasn't until this last weekend that we had Thanksgiving together. 

There was laughter and several conversations competing with each other at the table, until one of the children said something about "Grandma" and then silence fell.  It took effort from the adults to regain the lively atmosphere, awkward for a moment or two afterwards, but it did return eventually. We are a close family, but we are grieving at different paces and talking about her with each other is difficult.

I looked around the room and was grateful for those present, as well as grateful that I had a close relationship with both parents, but particularly my Mom.

I miss her. For four years, I looked after her as the disease ravaged her body. Her spirit was always strong, but she was tired. She said so to me a few days before she left.

I'm not there yet. Some day, maybe.  I was looking at old pictures and found a copy of a poem I read at her funeral. It goes,
You fed me well, you made me strong
You taught me to know right from wrong
You made me feel that I belong
You showed me the value of a song
You gave me life, you gave me love
You always knew the way I feel
You used the words you thought might heal
You convinced me it was no big deal
Your advice would keep it real
You gave me life, you gave me love
Broken hearts you liked to mend
It was not in your nature to offend
Birthday cards you'd always send
You knew the value of family and friends
You give me life, you give me love
You left me now, you've gone away
I'm left behind, I have to stay
So I'll just have to pray
I’ll meet you again another day
You always had that ‘special touch’
I loved you so very, very much
You gave me life, you gave me love
Please watch over me from above.
It is said that the first year is the hardest and I know that to be true. We're looking at the first Christmas without my Mom and I can't face it. For the first time in my life, I'm dreading Christmas. I miss her every single day.

And the ones that I would turn to talk about this, are gone.

October 15, 2014

It Started in 1991

I have a confession to make here.

This started on or about June of 1991.  You see, on that date, a woman from Arizona, USA, did something that had an impact on my life in many way.

She wrote a book... and called it THE OUTLANDER.  I was hooked. So much that I read every other book in the Jamie and Claire Fraser. I heard the whispers that the series would be made into a movie or a TV series, but over the years, nothing much happened.

Until August 2014. Along with millions, I watched, recorded, watched again, re-read the book along with each episode, watched interviews with the cast on YouTube, read articles and reviews, started a board on Pinterest for Outlander and filled it with fan-art drawings (there are some amazing ones out there on the 'net), added the cast to my Twitter account so I could follow along with their LIVE Q&As and even had a reply from Sam Heughan and giggled like a schoolgirl! Then it came to an inglorious end... just like that.

Now, I have to wait until April 5, 2015 for the next 8 episodes of the first book!

Oh Lord, I have it bad. Outlander Withdrawal.

So please forgive me but...

April 5, 2015. The episode when Jamie spanks Claire for disobeying him and putting herself and others in danger. Bloody April of NEXT YEAR!!

When I heard that news...

Some might say... "What's the big deal?"

But alas, I am not alone. There is a support group found under #OutlanderWithdrawal where others like me can gather and soothe ourselves.

In the meantime, here is a fun picture...

I will cope with my Outlander Withdrawal for now. But I am looking forward to April!

October 10, 2014

Spanked in the Shower

He pulled the shower door open and stepped inside.  She pushed the hair from her eyes and stepped back from the water to look at him.  He had been thinking of this moment as he drove home.  He was happy to see her, frustrated with her, and ready to get this moment started.

He leaned in close for a kiss and wrapped one arm around her back, drawing her body up tight to his and said, “I’m going to spank you.”  Her intake of breath was loud between the two of them. 

The water fell on his back, stinging slightly with its heat.  The glass doors of the stall fogged with steam.  Turning her around, he guided each of her hands to the tiled wall, grasped her hips to pull her bottom into position, and nudged her feet apart.

Without any preliminaries, he drew his arm back and let his hand land on her bottom cheek.  He alternated smacks between her cheeks and aimed a few smacks for the back of her thighs.  Her back arched, her feet drummed the bottom of the shower, but she managed to stay in position.  The sting of the smacks was intensified by the water on her skin, until her distress became audible.  The sound of skin smacking skin met with cries of dismay but was muted to the outside by the water from the shower.

After a few minutes, her bottom had bloomed into a dark pink colour.  He helped her stand up, pulled her close for a kiss.  Her breathing was ragged, as she leaned into his body.  He reached behind her with both hands and grasped her bottom.  She looked up at him and smiled.

Taking her hands in his again, he leaned her against the glass door and the dance began.
*Based on a true story? Hmmm...

October 07, 2014

The Nipple

Nipples are one thing that all humans have in common. We've all got them chilling out on our chests, but how much do we really know about them? What are they capable of? How do they tick?
Here's what most people generally know:
  • Nipples produce milk, which comes in handy for breastfeeding.
  • Nipples bring some extra excitement to the bedroom.
  • Women's nipples tend to be more sensitive than men's.
1. Did you know that it's possible for a woman to achieve orgasm solely through nipple play? It's true! This doesn't happen for every woman, but certain women can have genital orgasms that are caused by intense nipple stimulation.

Feel free to test this one out, ladies!


2. Statistically, one in 18 people is born with a third nipple. One in 18! Any day on the street, you could pick out a group of 18 people, and chances are that one of them is blessed (or cursed) with one or more extra nips. 

These nipples rarely serve a purpose; they are simply remnants of the multiple nipples that usually disappear from a baby before birth. Keep that thought in mind the next time you see a crowd!

3. Men can breastfeed. Though it isn't common by any means, male lactation has happened more often in recent years as a result of hormonal treatments for prostate cancer.

What is really interesting, though, is that both men and women can actually lactate from excessive massaging and sucking on the nipples over an extended period of time. Who knew?

4. There are 4 types of nipples: Average nipples stick out a few millimeters from the areola and come out more when aroused. Flat nipples protrude only from temperature changes or when stimulated. Puffy nipples have a raised areola, and the last type is inverted nipples, which are turned inward.

5. Whales have nipples that differ quite a bit from human nipples, and even those of other animals. Because their young aren't able to perform the suction motion necessary to retrieve milk from an underwater nipple, a whale's teat is built to be operated by the mother.
When the baby whale attaches to his or her mother's nipple, she then ejects milk into its mouth. Pretty cool, eh?

6. For those not in the know, wooden peg legs and iron hooks are not the only prostheses available on the market. For those who desire to augment their nipples, there are a wide variety of options available.

But nipple prostheses were created for a far nobler cause than pirate fashion: the emotional and psychological relief of breast cancer patients. (When I first saw this picture, I thought it was some kind of breakfast food - a new spin on the fried egg perhaps.)

7. Don't like the way your nipples look but not in the market for a set of prosthetics.


Thankfully, the Japanese have created a line of nipple make up.  Users can choose among a variety of colours to suit their specific preferences or even their mood. You can have a new nipple colour every day if you want, just like facial makeup. Need I say more?
8. Finally, even the Guinness World Records has a place for the Nipple. Introducing the "Great Nippulini" Check out this video!
All I have to say about this is that it is important to have goals in life and something to strive to achieve!
That concludes this post on the nipple. I hope you have learned something interesting that will increase your appreciation of this body part!