Monday, May 30, 2011

The Story of Hot Doctor

Alright. So after that last post, something more lighthearted and interesting?

I was thinking of telling you about Hot Doctor.

Hot Doctor is a customer of mine. She comes in two, sometimes three times a week to Casa Beuno. I've been waiting on her for most of the four years I have worked there. As a general rule she comes in on Sunday. She is almost always put in my section, unless for some strange reason my section is full or I am off the floor when she comes.

There's a lot of talk about Hot Doctor in my house. At work, too, strangely. And the name "Hot Doctor" actually isn't one of those clever monikers I've come up with for the purposes of my blog. We actually call her that. Not just me, but the whole staff.

Hot Doctor isn't actually particularly hot. She an attractive, but not supermodel or anything, late forties early fifties woman with shoulder length brown hair and big blue eyes. Through the four years I've gotten to know her I've discovered she is both a runner and a cyclist. She is in good shape. She eats pretty healthy. She usually gets two tacos. If she is indulging I've seen her get two enchiladas instead. Suffice to say, she is a cute lady for her age. But somehow, I got to calling her Hot Doctor when I refered to her. The staff picked it up. It stuck.

The funny thing is, I didn't know Hot Doctor's name until about six months ago or so. I'd been waiting on her for years. She may have told me her name at first. But see, we don't repeat them. But she knew my name. She knows Kitten's name. She knows all about our lives. I know what she does for hobbies, what she reads, where she goes on vacation. But I didn't know her name. And she always paid in cash.

Let me tell you, when I finally broke down and told her I didn't know her name, and asked her for it, I was dying of embarassment. After four years, you'd think I would know. Or have gotten one of our staff members to cleverly get her name out of her. Instead, I broke down and told her. She laughed. And totally sympathised. She is a doctor after all. When she sees her patients in public she doesn't have a chart. It made me feel better. After that we got along just fine. We actually talk more. i'll frequently end up sitting at her table if we're slow and talk to her during her meal. (Yes, I asked, no she doesn't mind)

There's a debate raging over Hot Doctor in our house. See, Hot Doctor is single. She's never been married. (I discovered this because her last name is the same as her parent's last name. She brought them in for dinner a few months ago. Dad paid. I checked the credit card) I've seen her in the store with her parents. I've seen her in the store with a group of ladies. There is one in particular that she comes to lunch with frequently. We actually know her name too. We'll call her Katie. Hot Doctor has never been in the store with a man who isn't her father.

See, we want to know if Hot Doctor is a spinster, or if she is gay. Of course we do. There's evidence either way.

In the Pro side:

-We've never seen her with a guy.
-She's never been married.
-When she went on vacation this last year she went to Africa, and she went with her family, a married couple she is friends with, and Katie.
- She wears almost exclusively khaki pants and "Life is Good" gear
- She wears crocs
-She's incredibly active and sporty
-She makes my gaydar go off (and mine is pretty good)
- Katie stopped coming to lunch for a while and hot Doctor started bringing in a lady we called "New Katie" because she looked like Katie, but wasn't Katie.
- Katie came back about two months ago, and Oscelot and I walked up on her apologizing to Katie for something. It involved her admittingshe was wrong and had been incredibly stupid. It sounded an awful lot like a sorry I dumped you take me back speech to me.
- We haven't seen New Katie since then.
- After I pried her name out of her, Hot Doctor asked how I always knew the bring her diet with a lemon when she got sat, if I hadn't seen her. I explained the staff lets me know she was there. She asked how. I told her they told me that "My doctor was here to see me." She blushed and said that there were worse things. I almost think she was flirting.
- Every time I come up on her and Katie, if they are bent over the table talking about something they jump backand look guilty. (of course, they may be plotting my demise. Who knows.)

- Not everyone that is older and single is gay. They might just like being single.
- She is reeeeally conservative. Like, she thinks NPR is part of the liberal media and Fox News is a reliable information source.
- She is an avid churchgoer
-She may just have bad taste in clothes.

Anyway. That's the story on Hot Doctor. I've tried, since I discovered her name, to get the staff to call her by it. Alas, they still come up to me when she's in and say "Hot Doctor is at table whatever. Katie is coming to meet her." It cracks me up, but I dread the day that someone calls her that to her face.

I know its nothing important. It certainly doesn't change the world. Its pretty mundane. But soemtimes, mundane can be nice. Especially if you're down.


Loss and Grief

Today something happened to spark me into thinking about the greiving process. I'm at an age where loss is something that you have to learn to deal with. As you approach your early to mid thirties, the sad fact is that people you love will start to pass. I think that like it or not, learning to grieve is something you have to learn to do as an adult. Unfortunately, there are times when you must start much earlier.

I was talking with Kitten about that, and it struck me that the way I grieve has changed massively since the time I was a teenager.

I lost my grandpa when I was 16. He had been ill most of my childhood. He had his first heart attack before I was born, when my mom and her sisters were still teenagers. As he got older he developed more heart problems and diabetes. The spring I turned 16 he went into the hospital to be treated for congestive heart failure. The night before he went in we had a talk. He knew they were going to reccommend heart surgery, again. He didn't believe he was going to make it through the surgery. When he went in, I was there to talk to him. He and I had a long talk, which I don't need to share here. Suffice to say, my grandfather was convinced his time was up. He asked me to leave the hospital, to remember him alive, well and loving me. He made me promise him some things, all of which I have kept- to this day. They were promises that I take very seriously. He told me when he went on that he would come back, and that he would be with me. Not like an angel, but a guide, and that I would always know he was near when I needed him. I kissed him, told him I loved him; and then as he asked, I went home.

Three hours later I got a call from the hospital. My family wanted me to come up. The surgery hadn't worked, they had managed to preform a procedure that would give my grandfather time to tell our family goodbye. I told them that Iwasn't coming. I already had my talk with Grandpa. I didn't need to see him that way. My grandfather passed on to another life shortly after that.

The thing I remember most about this first passing of someone I love is anger. I was angry with my family. Part of it was because, as arangements were made, it became apparent they were not going to fulfill my Grandfathers wishes about how and where he was to be buried. This upset me. I was also upset with my family because they were angry with me for not coming up to the hospital. No one seemed to understand that I had already done what they thought I needed to do. No one seemed to understand that I was already grieving. That I had started that night when I left the hospital, because my Grandpa and I knew the score. I was preparing myself to be there for my family. I was preparing myself to be strong. I was also waiting to feel my Grandpa there with me, the way he promised he would be. The sense of betrayal I felt from my family was enormous.

A year later the town I live in opened a veterans cemetary. I love to brag about my Grandpa's military service. He was a hero. I could go on for hours about him. I won't now, because that's a whole post for another time. Suffice to say, my family wanted to have him moved there. I thought this was a terrible idea. First, I think its terrible to move the remains of any person once they have gone on. It seems disrespectful. It made me more angry because not only had they buried him somewhere he didn't want to be, but they were moving him to another cemetary that he didn't want to be in. Suffice to say, I didn't attend the second funeral they held for him. Again, my family was angry with me.

I let it go. My grandpa is not in that casket. He isn't in that cemetary. He's somewhere better. He's with me. He's with all my family, if they would take the time to look for him.

The second time I lost someone was not long after I lost my Grandpa. I had a cousin, JM, and he was very close to me in age. When we were children he, Punk and I were the terrors of my grandparent's neighborhood. We grew up together, he was like my little brother. I loved him very, very much.

The winter I was 18 JM was in a car accident. He survived, we were all greatful. Unfortunately, because of the nature of the accident, JM lost his leg. He went through therapy, we got him a prosthesis, and it seemed like he was really coming along. I knew he was having a hard time, he had lost his girlfriend, some of his friends ditched him, and the accident itself had marred his classic good looks. I still found him handsome, and there was no lack of females lining up for him. But he wasn't happy.

The medication he was on had an effect on him. The loss of his leg hit him really hard. He felt like he wasn't the person he was before. He felt left behind. That spring, my cousin took his life.

The effect that had on me was far different from the one I had when I lost Grandpa. Part of it stems from me having seen him the night before he left us. He and I had something pass between us that I never talk about, but to me it seemed like what happened after that was my fault. It took me years of therapy to come to terms with what had happened. It took me forever to realize it wasn't my fault. There honestly wasn't a thing I could have done. But I didn't know that then.

There are nights that I still dream about the funeral. I still see everything in my head. I wake up and my chest feels heavy from the memories. I remember only parts of it, only bits and peices really remain clear to me. What I can tell you is I completely lost myself that day. I know that my family tried to get me to leave after the graveside service. I can tell you one of his friends came back after dark to get me. I don't think I have ever cried more in my life than I did on that day. That day my chest was an eggshell, with nothing inside it, and it seemed like every weight in the world was there, pressing on it, and finally it splintered. I was completely shattered, but the hollowness was still there. I have never felt more heavy or more empty than I did that day. I remember thinking to myself it was me, it was me that was really gone and I would wake up from the nightmare of that moment and find I was looking down on my family and that he was there, telling them not to greive for me. That I was happier. That I was whole.

I never did wake up. I spent weeks completely lost in myself. I remember the walls of my bedroom, and I remember sleeping in the same clothes for weeks on end. I don't know what my family was doing, or where I went. I only knew that it was my fault, that he was gone, and I would never have a chance to talk to him again. I hated myself.

When I finally came to I remember the numbness that came over me. People I knew, friends of mine that had known him as well, they wanted to talk about it, grieve with me. I did want to. I didn't want anything. I let it go, I let him go, for years.

About four years ago his mother gave me a picture of him for Christmas, with one of his old dolls. It was the puppy that went with my Rainbow Bright doll when I was a little girl. Everything came rushing back. But years of therapy, a lot of thinking, and to be honest a lot of time to mature; made it much easier for me to accept the gift and be thankful. I had moved on. I forgave myself and I forgave him. There isn't anything else I can do. Now I am able to exist in a world where he has moved on. I have to wait for another turn of the wheel. When it comes, I won't apologize, the way I always though I would. I will greet him happily, and move into a better place and be glad that we could be together again.

My second fall at Casa Beuno I lost my great-grandmother. I know to be my age and to still have a great grandparent is remarkable. She was a remarkable woman. When I think of her life I am always amazed. She was alive when the Titanic sank. She watched the evolution of radio, telephone, television and automobiles. She saw the moon landing. She saw everything amazing that happened in a century. Time, however, is hard on those who live so long. I know by the end she was very tired.

Still, her death came as a shock to me. I don't know if my family kept how ill she was from me, or if it was as sudden to them as it was to me. Either way, she passed on October 29. I was horrified to find that my family planned to have her service on Halloween. It seemed to me, it still does, terrible. And uncouth. How would she rest? I hated the idea. My boss Mrs Boss, offered to let me have the whole day off. I was scheduled to work in the bar from open to close that day. I simply asked her if she would let me off long enough during the afternoon to attend her service. She consented, thinking I am sure, I would end up wanting the rest of the day off.

When the day came I went to work in costume as planned. I was rainbow bright. Of course, I had a wig on, but I wasn't terribly worried. My grandma always liked me as a blonde. I didn't figure she would mind. I was disconcerted, as I brought my clothes in with me, with what I was wearing to the service. My family had asked that no one wear black. They wanted everyone in pink and white, or red, her favorite colors. I had brought a white blouse and a full pink and white floral skirt to wear. Still, it felt wrong not to wear black.

I worked all day, not thinking about it. I couldn't. When I went to the service I was suprised to see my whole family there. In black. Of course. I didn't think about it.

I know it might horrify some to think about it, but I didn't stay for the graveside service. I went back to work. I worked all night that night. I worked all day the next day. And the next. And the next.

At the time I was seeing BBD. He wouldn't go to the services with me. He wouldn't talk to me about it. He wouldn't let me cry. I had no one to hold me, I had no one to talk to about it. I had nothing I could do to but work. So I kept working. I don't say that because I want pity. I don't. I don't say it because I want someone to comfort me now. I don't.

I say it, because I think it is interesting to see how I coped. There was nothing for me in this instance, not the support I had from my Grandfather before he passed, or the offers of comfort and tears that I had when JM passed. There was nothing for me. I found myself grieving in the strangest way imaginable. I worked. I kepy going, because there was nothing else for me to do. I didn't cry. i didn't rave. I felt no guilt. The loss was there, but it didn't touch me. It became something inside of me, and then it was gone.

I tell you these things because I wonder, had these things happened differently if i would have reacted differently. I say these things because I wonder, now, when i loose someone I love, how will I react. I can say this, there have been times in the last few years that someone has gone from mylife, but not died, and I didn't handle it well. At all. There have been times when I have lost someone I love, like Beloved, and it was like the whole thing never happened.

I wonder where I am headed on my pathway of grief. It makes me worry. It makes me think.

I also feel grateful, now, that I know I have people in my life who will not let me go through it alone. They will grieve with me, even if the grief is not their own. I would do the same for them. I believe in sharing burdens. I believe that there are ways to lessen pain, by sharing.

The question is, when the time comes, will I let them?

Remember those you love.
Cherish those you love.
Find someone who will be there. Whether you need them or not.

Tonight, you don't know it maybe, but you helped me grieve in a way I never have before.

Thank you.

Crazy Exes, Strait Girls, Memorial Day and Other Odds and Ends

First things first- my girls won last night. I was so excited. It was a nail biter too. They pulled it out in the last three jams. One of our girls broke her personal point record for a single jam. She had 5 grand slams in the jam. Wow. Just wow. I screamed myself half hoarse. I don't know how I am going to talk to my tables today. I may not. I may get a pin that says "I love roller derby so much, I can't talk to you"

It was Saukura's first bout and I think he had a good time too. Once he got the hang of how it worked he was actually able to follow the penalties and stuff better than I was. Of course, I was too busy watching the jammers to notice what the hell was going on with the blockers about half the bout. I'm still working on trying to watch all of the game at the same time.

Kitten had probably my favorite moment of the night. There was a girl on the opposing team who was pretty darn cute. During the warm up she looked over at Kitten and made eye contact and she was crushing the rest of the game (its cool- I have a few of what I call rollercrushes myself). After the game Oscelot went to go say hi to a bunch of the girls, I talked to our tock star jammer and her partner, and hung out sort of by the changing rooms. Not because I'm a creep! Its where Oscelot dumped me. As luck would have it, Kitten's rollercrush came out and we waylaid her for an autograph on the program. Kitten was outside smoking, and had no idea we were doing it. The girl turned out to be really nice. I friended her on facebook when we got home. Kitten blushed furiously.

Short version is- we won, it was a good bout, I can't wait for the next home game. I evenmanaged tofind a list of the home bouts, so I could make plans for them, since some of them are on Saturdays and not on Sundays. (Those are harder to get off for)

As I'm sure everyone on the planet is aware, today is Memorial Day. I don't normally do the whole go decorate the graves thing. Its not out of lack of respect so much as I really don't think that they are there anymore. It seems like going to a butterfly farm and crying over the crysalises when the butterflies are all around you. Why would you do that? Look up and see the butterflies and appreciate them being there. I'm just saying.

Of course, that's not why I wanted to talk about Memorial Day. This weekend, for me, is by far one of the crappiest weekends of the year for me. First, I live near several large lakes. This means everybody goes out of town for the weekend, because its a long one. No business at work. The people who are in town still are all sorts of crabby, because they aren't at the lake. Hell, I'm one of them. I never grew up with that "I go to the lake to my faily's cabin" in the summer menatality most the people I went to school with as a kid had. But seriously, wouldn't you rather be by a lake, or out fishing, or out doing ANYTHING, rather than waiting tables in a mexican restaurant? (If the answer is you would rather be doing what I do- get some help then come find me, we'll trade places for the day)

The other thing that annoys me is that is this whole weekend and holiday is supposed to be about honoring the dead, why the heck is everyone leaving town to go party. Now I know that in this area of the country it is the signal of the beginning of summer. Most schools are letting out this week. Most the time now it will be warm and sunny. Public pools are opening up today. BUT it seems odd that something that is supposed to be respectful and reverent has turned into a weekend full of beer guzzling, boating accidents and sunburns. Maybe I'm old fashioned. I don't know.

Yesterday at work I was talking with our hostesses and we got on the topic of women. I love our hostesses because despite the fact that I am quite a bit older than they are, they seem to think I'm a pretty interesting person. Somehow the conversation turned to exes, and some of the absolutely crazy ones I've had. I was telling them stories about them, they were cracking up.

For example, I told them about a girl I dated, very very briefly whom I dumped because she was an idiot. They seemed to think this was funny, because when the girl asked why I was dumping her I told her flat out I thought she was a moron. I can't date morons. Well, I can, I have, but I try to make it a policy not to be with people I can't carry on an intelligent conversation with. This girl actually told me once that she could say anythign she wanted, because it was her 5th ammendment right. I tried to correct her, and she ended up arguing with me. She said that her right not to inciminate herself only meant that she could say whatever she wanted, especially in her own defense. I about died.

I had another one who was the daughter of an abnormal child psychologist and a microbiologist. She had so many germ issues it took the fun right out of sex. I get wanting to be clean, but she wanted a scrub down before, and you had to gargle with peroxide before she would have sex. Gross. Not to mention she wasn't about reciprocating oral because she said it was "unsanitary." After we split up she ended up dating and eventually marrying a guy friend we both knew. She piocked him, she told me, not for love but because he had good "breeding characteristics." Creepy.

In the course of this conversation one of our servers, who used to be a host, accused me of liking "fixer uppers" I thought this was funny, because as a general rule, I don't. I actually like nice, normal, well adjusted people. But looking back at some of the people I've been with, like BBD, I can see how you might get that impression. She also mentioned Rogue, which brought on the great debate as to whether or not you could really count her as my ex. Most of us agree she doesn't count. That's a long story, probably for another day, but it got me laughing. She's good buddies with Rogue, and she said that despite the fact she loved her she was definately a fixer upper because of all of her bad habits. (which I might mention, didn't start until we stopped doing whatever it was we did. Except the drinking. But then, I think that's a 20's thing anyway)

We chatted about my ability to pick up a woman (a really, really cute one) in just about every strait bar in the reigon, but never being able to pick one up at a gay bar. Its an oddity. I have good luck when I'm not around my own kind. We have a dueling piano bar in town ,and Iwas telling them about when I go there how I always seem to get approached in the bathroom. This makes me nuts. Partially because going in the bathroom there is usually pretty akward for me anyway, because when I go I usually wear a men's suit and tie and pin my hair up so it looks like I don't have any. I hate getting looks like I'm headed into the wrong room. Thank god for my girly face. I did this once, and wore a fedora and then did a full face of really dramatic makeup. I went to the ladies room and a girl actually cornered me by the sink and asked me to take her home. She was wearing a skirt so short that I could see she didn't have on any undergarments. I, of course, blushingly told her no. Strait girls are trouble for women like me. I promise. But this happens with uncommon frequency when I go out to the local clubs.

I've been trying to determine if this is because strait girls seem to think I'm cute in a safe way and they think I'm smoother than most lesbians do or if it is simply that most girls who like girls in my area find me completely unattractive. I'm betting on the latter. The girls at work seem to think I am some sort of badass who can hit it with any lady i like, just because I have two partners. They think its proof I know what I'm doing. I'd like to think that was the case, but we all know that's not true.

As a last, rather odd, note about yesterday; I wore my bangs out of my face in public for the first time in my adult life. This may not seem like a big deal, but for me it was. I've had a complex about my forehead since I was really little. I think I look like a cross between a klingon and a conehead without bangs. Kitten and Oscelot convinced me I look cute without them, so I took a chance. I got a lot of compliments. It made my day. It was also convenient not to have to talk to my guests from behind my hair.

I'm off to get ready for work. I'm hoping we'll have a little business today. I've been bored for a solid week. I am also making a mental note- remind me to talk about Hot Doctor soon. She's one of my regular guests, and we've had an ongoing discussion about her at work for about two years now. I want your opinion.

Have a good day. If you have it off, go soak up the sunshine for me.


Sunday, May 29, 2011

Hit it Hard

So tonight I am headed out to watch a roller derby bout. I'm really excited about it.

I've never been a huge sports fan. I think it stems from growing up in a household where women weren't supposed to play sports. Ballet, cheerleading, drum corps- all of those were totally fine. Anything rougher, well, that was more for the boys. I also grew up a delicate kid, I was sick a lot when I was a kid and my asthma kept me from doing anything terribly active. I mean, riding a bike down the street was a challenge. When I started doing ballet I got a little stronger, but it was still a challenge until well into my teen years.

Either way, I never really developed a taste for sports. We would go with 2.0's parents to watch the local college woman's team play basketball, but I always brought a book. What was the point? It wasn't until I was out of high school and with Beloved that I actually became a fan of any sport. True, in high school I followed hockey- but then so did all the guys I hung out with. It was natural I would develop a taste for it, I heard about it all the time. I started watching simply to be able to follow the conversations. Turns out, I like violent sports. I like watching college football (I'm sorry, most professional atheletes are total whiners. I broke my toe, I have to stop playing for the season. Seriously, give me a break. Play for love of the game.)

When I was about 21 I played on my first sports team. It was a co-ed softball team. I had a blast. Turns out I am a pretty fair catcher and I'm a good hitter, for a girl. The batting cages became (and still are) my favorite outlet on a stressful day. I began to follow college softball, fell in love with the Texas Longhorns, and my first actual fandom was born.

I still love to watch softball, and when I started hanging out with Rogue I developed a taste for women's basketball that shocked my mother. Turns out, now that I am older, I like to watch. Did anyone else know its actually a pretty heavy contact sport? It is in my area of the country anyway.

Meeting Oscelot, though, was what brought me to love my new favorite sport. When we started seeing her, she was playing Roller Derby. I'm not talking about the kind from the seventies with the raised track and the staged fights. I'm talking about flat-track, hard core, absolutely amazing girl on girl competition. Let me tell you, these girls are tough.

I didn't understand, at first, how tough you really have to be. These women practice at least three times a week. They skate indoors, scrimmage, do floor exercising, go for outdoor skating sessions. They work hard. And they don't play easy with eachother either. I remember the first time Oscelot came home with a cracked rib and a concussion from practice (practice!) and I was floored. Someone on her team cracked her rib. At practice. I asked her "Aren't you supposed to be on the same side?" They are, but it turns out that they don't go easy on eachother. How else are they supposed to learn?

Still, I thought, it can't be that mean. Right? No...I'm not kidding. My first time at a bout, I was floored. I'd never seen anything like it. Rollergirls are rockstars. There's no question about it. And the toughest ones? They're also the smallest. It blows my mind. Now, I won't say the blockers aren't tough- they are. But the jammers (that's the point scorers) they're small because they have to be fast. When you have a 170 all-muscle girl full body check you and you can still get up and skate so fast the spectators can feel a breeze? That's a hard-core chick.

A brief roller derby lesson. In case you have never seen it played:

Right, so that's the basic way the sport is played. ( A special thanks to Hammer City Roller Girls for the chart, I couldn't make one half so cool- and I would be shite at explaining without a diagram)

What the chart doesn't make clear, I think, is that you get one point for ever opposing player you pass after the first lap, if you're a jammer. You can score points whether you are the lead (first Jammer to make it around) jammer or not. If you pass all of the girls on a single lap without being blocked that's called a Grand Slam, and you get extra points for that.

The jam (play of the game where it starts at step one and moves through the last step) is 2 minutes long. Most of the time. If the lead jammer wants, they can call the jam. That means they stop and everyone starts back over at step one. This is generally done when you've got the points you can, or if the other team is whipping your ass. (there's other reasons, but that's the two most common.) If I remember right, a typical bout has two halves and each half is 45 minutes long. That's a lot of 2 minute jams. A lot of fast skating. A lot of girls kicking your butt all over the track.

It blows my mind. And its really fun to watch. I have to admit, I didn't follow as well my first time watching as I do now. I love it. And I love roller girls. They're amazing women. Tough. Friendly (for the most part) and man, do they know how to have a good time. What amazes me most, though, is some of them you'd never guess. They'er business owners, college students, nurses, waitresses. They do anything and everything. But get them in their shorts, fishnets and quads and man- they become the scariest, coolest people you'll ever meet.

Plus they have cool names. They all have signature names, and you have to register them, and its your persona. The Lifeguard, for example (yeah, she plays) is Lifer Death. There's one girl on the team called Poisonous Polly. Her number, A404, is the chemical compound of Arsenic. Scary, and cool. The numbers all mean something too. The roller girls in my town also have a JK Growling, a Shotgun Shell (she's so fast it hurts, and the sweetest person too!) Amber Lager, Miss Chetty Boop (get it, machete? It took me forever to get that one) all sorts of fun names and girls. Oh- one names Thugs and Kisses. That one cracks me up.

Sometimes I think I want to be a roller girl so bad. I've had a couple ask why I don't. I can skate well already. I've got a pair of quads like theirs. They were my birthday present this year. I got sick of renting crappy skates at the rink we go to every week. Honestly, I think it would be tons of fun. Then I think of all the practices, the working out all the frickin time, the injuries (oh gos- what if I broke something and couldn't work) and how I'd never be as fast and cool as some of the girls I so admire...and I think I would rather just park it on the sidelines, right in the suicide lane, and scream as loud as I can for my girls.

Either way, tonight is the first home bout I'll be able to attend this season, and I'm looking forward to it. As a bonus, they are doing a benefit for the recent tornado victims in our area. I love that about them, they are all sorts of all about the charities. I'm excited. I'll be sure to come back and tell you all about it. I've got my hopes high that our girls are going to tear it up this evening.

If you've got a roller derby team near you (and you'd be suprised how many there are!) go check it out and tell me I'm wrong.

Off to the Roller Gating party (yeah- tailgating with girlsin fishnets and skates- who needs football!?)


PS- also a special thanks to the Reno Roller Girls for the awesome pinup at the top.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Anywhere But Here

So I'm having a cranky day. Work was even slower than yesterday, if you imagine. I was off the floor after three tables. Not exactly the way to make your mortgage payment. It leaves me angry and a little disiillusioned with the job, to say the least. I think I'm approaching another burnout period, which isn't suprising. Four years in any job will burn you out, and I work with people- that makes it harder for me. Despite what anyone might think, I'm actually pretty shy, and I don't like being around strangers. This makes my job difficult, because I earn my wage by being nice to them. Its helped me come out of my shell, but some days I feel like running and screaming out of the building. Today was definately one of those days.

When you're at work and you have literally nothing to do, boredome creeps in. I try to find ways to amuse myself. Today I made a list of places I would go, if i were able to. Money is no object, time is not a concern. If I coould go anywhere, do anything today, here are the things and places I would rather be. (complete with illustrations!) (By the way- sorry if the formatting is jacked up. I've edited this thing four times now. It hates me today)

Portland Oregon : Not only home to one of my very best friends in the world, but also the city I hope to make my home one day. The fantastic Carly Baer (an up and coming musician, two albums deep and amazing) is also there, and I would be happy to see her too. If I were in Portland today I'd be stopping by Powell's City of Books, the largest indipendednt bookseller in the country. Their home store, lovingly nicknamed "the mothership" is over a city block long. The satellite stores are actually genre stores that have broken off because of how big the place is. After, I would stop by Voodoo Doughnuts and get their world famous Voodoo Man doughnut. He's amazing, a raspberry filled jelly doughnut in the shape of a human. Coated in chocolate with x's for eyes and pretzel sticks stuck in him like voodoo pins; probably the best pastry I've ever had. Then I'd stop off at Cargo, the coolest foreign import and antique store I've ever seen. And because its in the Pearl District, I'd finsih my day with an eveing at one of the local taverns eating fine foods and sipping reigonal beers. You know, the kind that are more than 5% alcohol, the ones that get you wasted after two. I learned the hard way, but what a great way to learn.

St. Louis, MO

This is a picture of a fountain outside St. Louis's Union Station. Its called the Meeting of the Waters. I absolutely love it, I have since I was a little girl. I would definately make this, and Union Station, a stop on my visit to St. Louis. Hell, I would probably stay at the Hyatt inside union station. The hotel is nice and there's a mall with decent food inside. Can't beat that. Beyond the appeal of the architecture of the city, there's a great zoo, a science center, several really nice art museums, The Fox Theater, and The Magic House- a interactive museum designed for kids, but I always have a blast when I'm there. On top of that, there's The Hill, famous for italian food made by real Italians that settled in the city in its early years. Rumors of mafia connections and everything homemade are more than enough to draw me there. I've never been, which is something of a crime seeing as how many times I've been to the city. Its so close...I need to make it a priority. Also, Oscelot tells me there is something called the City Museum, which is a gigantic playground that adults can go to, with slides big enough to thrill even me. Beyond the awesome touristy things (I've only been in the arch once!) There is also a certain lifeguard who is there for the summer. I wouldn't mind seeing her either.

New York City

Yeah, I'm not posting a picture of New York. Suffice to say, I've only seen one Broadway production live, and it wasn't there. I want to. I want to see them all. I've only been there once, overnight, just before Christmas, and I want to go back and experience everything.

London, England

Another place I haven't really been. Heathrow is just outside of London, if I remember right, and I spent most of my time there getting felt up by a security lady because I forgot to take out a navel ring. Oops. So, technically, I haven't been to England at all. It seems like a nice place to visit. There are plenty of things to see and do, and seeing as how I know some lovely folks that live nearby, I'm sure I wouldn't lack for a knowledgable source for real, interesting things to do, that didn't involve me messing with a Beefeater.

The Louvre, Paris

I'm sure there are plenty of other things to do in France, but lets be honest, if you're a geek like me, here's the big draw. I'd need a good week to truly enjoy the museum. After that, maybe, maybe I'd go see Notre Dame de Paris, but you never know. I might just check out from the museum to view the Champs Elysees. you're supposed to be able to meet someone you know, know matter how far you are from home. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?

In spite of my firm "drugs are bad" policy, this just seems like too much fun to pass up. Not to mention there's a red light district, formula one races (if you're there at the right time) right in the streets, and other sundry fun things to do. If I were to go be totally irresponsible, this would be the place to do it.

The Rhine River, Germany.
Take one look at this picture and tell me you don't want to go. The entire Rhine River is riddles with castles, some of which you can tour, as if the beauty of the river isn't a draw in and of itself. What a beautiful, relaxing way to spend a week.

The Grand Canyon

I've never been. To be honest, the thought of falling off the top of the cayon only to have bits and peices of me floating along the Colorado River has always been a huge factor in me not making this a destination for me, up until now. But I think taking some pack mules to the bottom and camping sounds like great fun. Rafting the Colorado appeals to my sense of adventure, and its one of the most beautiful sights in the US. Living in a city that is increasingly filled with concrete, strip malls and mini storage places makes you appreciate the few natural wonders we have left.

Niagra Falls- Another thing I've never seen that I want to.

Chicago, Il

I've only been once, and you know, I think I'd like to go back now that I'm an adult and can truly appreciate the city. Of all ironic things, its the first place I tried Thai food, and I never got around to a deep dish pizza. The gay district was amazing, and in Andersonville, a bookstore called Women and Children only; where the books are written by (you guessed it) women and children. The whole city was breath taking and I think I would enjoy it now more than ever.

Oklahoma City, OK

Right now the super reigonals for the college women's softball is going. Next week will be the World Series. I haven't been in years. It was a good time when I did go, though. On top of that- more museums, more science centers, THE VERY BEST ZOO I'VE EVER BEEN TO, and world class gardens make for a great trip. Add in some seriously good food, the National Cowboy Festival, The Red Earth Festival (the US's largest native american pow wow) and there isn't much room for argument that this city is not only beautiful and fun, its fascinating.

Wow, I'm talking too much. This could take forever! Alright- less pictures, more yakking.

Orlando, Fl. - I want to go back to Disney World

Guatemala- Mayan Ruins

Hawaii- Never been, never seen a volcano. I'd like to do both.

Stonehenge- Because I am a good Irish Girl. I'll kiss the blarney stone while I'm at it.

Canada- I know almost nothing about the country and culture. I should. Not to mention, all reports from friends say its a beutiful country. The healthcare sucks, I hear, but since I don't plan on injuring myself....should be okay. I also wouldn't mind learning that one game they play like shuffleboard on ice....Oh! and hockey! Did I mention I love hockey?

HaHaTonka State Park- I want to go hiking there. Its in my neck of the woods, it has great trails, some pretty strenuous. I love it there. Super relaxing, really a great picture of how beautiful Missouri can be.

Italy- If only for the food and wine. Oh, and Gypsies.

Greece- If only because of the cliche. And the beaches.

Other things I think would be fun to do right now:

Go to a lake

Lay by a stream and listen to the water.

Go bodysurfing. I've been craving the ocean.

Go Scuba Diving. Now, granted, I've only done supplied air, but that was fun. Why not take the time to do it right, and really explore? Also, sting rays terrify me.

Go horseback riding somehwere open like Montana, where there's more cows and horses than people. Run the horse as fast as I can. Shake my hair loose.

Go to a really, really big toy store. Play with the stuffed animals and the tonka trucks. Find an electric train set to take home and put around my christmas tree.

Go to an arcade. Waste a lot of money playing skeeball, pinball and any other game that has no reward but saying you rock at it. Go somewhere like the vintage arcade in my town where you can play games like Frogger and Galaga.

Play mini-golf. Because I suck at it. It still fun.

Go ice skating. We have a rink in town and it is so easy and cheap and fun. I never have anyone to go with. I'd love a day on the ice.

Visit one of those ice hotels in Alaska. Order more fur blankets to keep me warm. Drink enough martinis and hot chocolate that it wont matter. Make love, just to see if the ice will melt. (I know it won't but its worth a try, right?)

Anywhere in the Carribean. I haven't been. I've never been on an island, unless you count my brief stop in England. I want to eat really good food from seriously scary roadside stands. My hair is long enough I could take a whole day to get it braided. I'd have them put black and pink beads in my hair.

Visit an amusement park and ride roller coasters until I throw up. Eat some nachos, a crappy frozen lemonade, and other unhealthy foods. Go in the haunted house. Repeat.

Anywhere in the world, right now, where I could go swimming and actually need sunblock so I wouldn't burn. I'd be cool with that. I need a good swim.

The Wizzarding World of Harry Potter. Yeah, I know, it is a ton of money for something that seems really trivial. But I want to go. I want a slytherin scarf, and I want to drink a butterbeer. Bite me.

Go to a candy store and try every single flavor of Jelly Belly jelly beans. Even the berty bott ones.

Yep. So those are the things I would love to be doing right now. Of course, there is one other thing. If I could be with you, just this moment, things wouldn't seem so boring- would they?

Have an adventure for me this week friends.


Friday, May 27, 2011


Adult content. Again. Enjoy.


Leaning over the railing of the red brick balcony, I can see people wandering about on the deck below. The concrete tickles me with the sand coming loose against my arms. Conversations, the smell of alcohol and smoke, and a small bit of longing drift up at me from below. I idly play with a lock of my hair, which falls down over my shoulders as I secretly, silently watch the movements of the people below. I feel a bit like a vouyer as I listen, un-biddem, to people talking. I am a goddess, peeking overfr the edge of heaven; I'm interested- but not enough to go down.

She creeps up behind me, silently stalking me like a cat; just as quietly watching me, as I am watching the people below. Without thinking I lean back against her chest, settling into her as she warps her arms around my waist, hooking her fingers together over the top band of my underwear.

"They're fun to watch, aren't they," she asks me, in the half-gentle, half-mocking tone she always uses when making conversation with me.

"They are. It must be great fun for you, to live above a bar."

"Sometimes." She pulls me closer, back up against her chest, tightening her grip around my waist, as her lips brush my hair away from my shoulders. She smells like allspice, cinnamon and vanilla. Her scent drifts across my back with each of her tender but detached kisses.

As she works across my back I light a cigarette and breathe the smell of nicotine mixed with the smell of her. I let the feeling of the cigarette rush over me, making me light headed. I press my hips against the brick railing, the sandiness working its way through the sheer robe over my shoulders. Her hands shift higher to rest somewhere between my hips and my shoulders, laying on the rail next to my arms.

The feeling is strange, being pressed between the wall and her body- somewhere between the sky and the patio below, where the people are still talking and laughing. They are unaware; unaware of she and I looking down on them, our smoke, our cares, our passions. Held there, completely unnoticed, pinned by her hips and feeling light-headed, all of this makes me feel oddly free.

"Are you ready." She asks, mocking, gentle, curious.

"I am."

I turn to go inside and take in the giant french foors- wide open and waiting. Inside my feet sink down into the thick white rug. A giant bed is waiting for me, anticipating me, covered in white, pillows and tassles. The warm breeze chases me in, tickling the backs of my calves with silky sheet curtains. They kiss me like tiny butterflies, floating gently off course, whispering to me. Sunlight pours in, giving everything an unearthly glow. It makes me feel unreal. I tell her so.

"I don't feel real. I feel like something else."

Her black eyes roam my body as I slip off my robe. She smiles at me with an odd look in her eyes- somewhere between guarded admiration and envy.

"You're not real. not today love. You are perfection. You are mystery. You are need. Do you believe that?"

"No, not really."

She moves behind her camera in the corner, checking her film and the lenses. "Shall I convince you?"

"Please do so, if you can." I know she can, I think to myself. She could make me feel like time itself if she wished me to.

She leaves the room for a moment, and when she returns she comes quite close to me, and offers me a small glass filled with soft green liquid. I can feel my breath catch as she slips her other arm arounf my waist and strokes my back as I toss back her offering. When I finish I follow a trail of stars behind her hand, which she lowers to a drawer on the bedside table. She sets the glass down and I lick my lips, tasting licorice, sugar and heat.

I breifly close my eyes and inhale, and when I open them I see her dark eyes boring into mine. Her lips begin to pres against me, her tongue slipping into my mouth, and the peices of holding my thoughts together begin to loosen. I sigh, wrapping my arms around her neck, and I close my eyes again- letting the feeling of her tongue tracing over my lips, teeth and mouth take me away.

She leads me to the bed, lifiting my legs, shifting my hair to one side and petting my face. Laying onmy back, I feel her running her long, smooth, too-perfect fingers over my bra, down my stomach, to the top of my thong. I shift my thighs, open my lips and anticipate.

In my ear, she whispers to me, "Hold still now, darling. This, you- are perfect."

I open my eyes again and she's looking at me from behind the camera. I can see, though, the look she gives me. She looks as though she can barely keep from coming back over to me.

The camera clicks.

I think of her mouth and sigh. My back arches slightly. I hear her.

"Beautiful, darling."

The camera clicks again.

She comes back. I blink, once. Twice. She straddles me, playing with my hair, teasing my neck with the tips of her fingers and her soft, sweet smelling breath. She truns me on my side and kisses my back with those soft, detached kisses she gave me before on the porch. Her jeans and white t-shirt press against my skin. The feeling of her so close makes me crazy.

Inside, I can feel my stomach turning over. I struggle to maintain my composure as I feel my body become wet, warm under her touch. The fluttering feeling in my stomach won't calm, won't stop. My heart races as her hands move up and down my back. I try to focus, turning my face into the blankets, breathing in the scent of them. But she's tehre too, they smell like her- allspice, cinnamon and vanilla.

Just as I feel like I have myself under control she unsnaps the back of my bra and pulls it off. My will snaps, and I am sure that she can hear it echoing around the room. I act without thinking, doing what I had never dared to do before; I flip onto my back and try to trap her with my legs. I reach out for her, but she is fast, so fast. Too quick for me. Gently, she pins my arms above my head, and she slides across my hips again, leaning in to whisper conspiritoraly,

"No, darling, I need you to wait. Can you be my goddess just a bit longer?"

I whimper my assent, more to myself than to her. Turning back on my side, I watch her with a focus I've never know myself to have before.

She's never undressed me before

The camera clicks.

I've never snapped like that.

I've never wanted her more.


I wonder if it will show in the pictures?

I watch her, eyes half lidded, as she removes the roll of film and places it in a container, setting it aside carefully before returning to me.

"You sell a lot of these, then?" I ask quietly.

"More than you know, especially since I started shooting you. Everyone wants to know who you are," she smiles.

"And what do you tell them?"

"That you're a friend of mine." Her eyes roam over my body hungrily. "And when they inquire, I tell them you aren't available."

"Do you," I whisper softly.

"Of course." Before I can ask, she lays down beside me, pulling me tightly against her. "I want you for myself, haven't you noticed?"

Her mouth closes over mine, this time with more passion than I've ever felt from her. No, this time she isn't detached. It feels like flames licking along the top of my lips as she pours herself into me. Her jean-clad leg slides between my bare ones and I can feel myself arching my back into her.

"And if I were to say no," I gasp breathlessly.

"Don't be silly," she says, rolling me beneath her.

I cease to argue. There's no point. I'm hers and she knows it.

Her hands move along my body with a familiarity that should startle me, but then, she's been watching me like this for months. Her fingers touch me softly, gently, like she knows me better than I know myself.

Each touch, each caress, draws a moan from me. My hands flutter up and down her back eagerly, pausing, every moment or so, to touch her face. My head spins as she leans her mouth down to my breasts, her murmurs of delight thrumming through me as she licks up one side, teasing the ridge of my nipple with her tongue before releasing it and sliding the whole of my other nipple into her mouth.

I arch into her again, my legs wrapping around her jeans, my body pressed hard into her chest. I pull her hands down my waist, against my ass as I lick at her neck and beg for her.

"So impatient," she murmurs into my ear.

Quickly, she slides off my thong, slipping her hand inside me.

I discover I was right. Time ceases to exist and she strokes me- gently at first and then more quickly. I forget everything but the feeling of her, inside me, whispering to me of my own perfection. I forget about the heat of the afternoon and the cool of the approaching evening. There is no such thing as temprture, or time, or the rest of the world. I forget about the people below, the patio, the sky and the curtains that conceal us as she moves inside me. Her hands flutter softly over me, inside me, and around me. Her mouth leaves mine, and she licks hers way down my stomach, resting her mouth gently between my legs as I begin to whimper for her in earnest.

For a moment, it seems, I cannot breathe. Ther eis only her and a film of white and silver in front of my eyes as I reach into myself and give to her over and over. Her sighs and whispers mean nothing as she draws me into her. I only think of how the feeling seems to go on forever.

When my vision clears her mouth is over me, kissing me, and I can taste myself on her.

"Perfect," she whispers.

I smile up at her, stretch my back, and curl my legs to my stomach. "Do you want to take a picture of me now?"

"Of course," she says, standing and moving behind her camera. "Bu tthis one is for me."

And now for an important announcement

Today was the day of boring. Seriously. I think I could have not gone to work, fished coins out of a local fountain and made more money. It was terrible.

I thought, before I got on to my nest post, which will undoubtably be inappropriate, I would tell you all that Kitten has allowed me to link to her blog in my blogroll. She's under Tyger. You should go tell her hi. I'm sure she'd appreciate it.

Also, I want to tell all of you who have been leaving me comments, and who have been with me all this time, I love you. I am so glad to have met all of you. You have enriched my life and made it better. I've learned so much from all of you over the years. I can never thank you enough. You are wonderful people and I am blessed to know you.

Off to write terrible things now. Hopefully well.


Thursday, May 26, 2011

Talking to My Lover

This is a post for all my lovers, I'm thinking of you tonight.

Tonight, I just want to talk to you. I want to tell you everything I've never told you, all the secrets I hide inside my heart. I want to tell you all the things you make me think of.

I remember looking at you for the first time, and I couldn't look away. I remember the way you looked, in the dimness, in the dark shimmering cloak of night. I remember the way your hair caught the light. I remember the way your teeth gleamed brightly when you smiled at me.

I remember when you took my hand, and you wouldn't let go. You held on too long, you squeezed me too tight. I could feel it then, before anything else happened, in the soft, gentle pressure you gave me in that moment. You were going to be mine. I was meant to belong to you.

I remember the first time you wrapped your arms around me. You held me so close, so near you. I could smell your cologne, I could smell your shampoo. I breathed in the soapy scent of your neck. Even now, after all this time, if I smell them; your soap, your cologne, your shampoo- the memory of that moment comes rushing back to me and I feel you all over me again.

Do you remember our first kiss? I can't forget it. I can't ever let go that hushed breathless moment when our lips touched for the first time. There was so much there. The intensity, like the wind in a storm, sweeping over us. You were so deep, so full, I couldn't let that moment go. It became something more, a second kiss, and a third, and I thought to myself why did we wait so long for this?

There are moments, too, that must seem so simple, so trite, like you would never remember them. Do you remember walking barefoot through the grass with me? I remember it, I can't forget. It tickled, it teased, brushing against my bare ankles like your caresses. It was a sweet moment, the sky seemed farther away than it ever had, when you took ahold of my hand and led me through the rustling green kisses. The whole world separated from us, and it was you and me walking through this singular plane, a world we had created together. No one else was in it, but we were never lonely.

When I danced with you that first time? Do you remember the way your hips felt against mine? Do you remember how I threw my head back and laughed? There was nothing else for me to do. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure how to act. I only knew I didn't want to spoil that moment when you began to dance with me. You made me sweat. You made me move. You move me still. But that night, I was more graceful than I had ever been, I was more beautiful than I had ever been. I was sex, and longing and laughter and happiness all in the same moment because you danced with me.

There are other things too. Long langourous drives. Do you remember those? The wind whipped through my hair as we drove, probably too fast, and talked like we would never talk to each other again. I remember, the windows down, the air rushing past me, how amazing it felt to reach across the seat and hold your hand while we drove. We sang, too loudly, to the music on the radio, and when the singing was done, we were quiet, still, and being togeher was the only thing we needed.

Still, there are some things I think of now, that I think of all the time. Your voice, for example. I can't stop it from echoing in my head. It sounds like everything. There is a symphony resting inside you and it plays for me whenever you speak. Sometimes it is high, and the flutes dance as you laugh with me. Other times I can hear the low sonorous tones of the strings as you weep. Your sadness has an unearthly beauty, and painful as it is, I still find myself listening with wonder.

But your whisper, that is my favorite thing. Like wind in the trees. Your whisper is my secret and yours. Its the sound we make only between us. Its the secrets we never tell but share only in look, and in touch and in hard to hear moments when we're together.

I remember it, the sound of your whisper in my ear as we loved each other. I can hear you now, telling me how beautiful I am, how much you need me, and I feel you pressed on top of me like we never stopped and you are here still. I hear you saying my name and to me, for once, it sounds like something beautiful, something more than my name. You say my name and I hear a million other things. I hear my desire and yours. I hear my need. I hear longing and love and lust. I hear the pain of our separation and the joy of our union. I would wait, forever and forever again, to hear you whisper my name.

Before you were mine, did you ever feel me near you and ache? I did, surely you must know, you must have known then or how would we have gotten to where we were? It ws the simple things: you patting my back, you hugging me goodbye, your gentle press of hand when you had something personal to say. They made me crazy. I remember once, you leaned in a brushed my hair out of my eyes- such a simple gesture. In that moment all I wanted was to lean in and kiss you, to taste you in my mouth, and see if I was dreaming all of the tenderness I was feeling.

Later, when we had been together, none of those touches lost their meaning. You could still raise the hair on my arm with a touch. You could still undo me with a glance. It only took a word, so brief, to bring my desire bubbling to the surface. I never grew tired of the look of you, or the sound of your voice. I never stopped wanting you to touch me. I never grew bored with the press of your body against mine.

You were there, you know, the moment I gave everything away. You were the one I gave it to. You took my heart inside you with a touch. I let myelf be completely yours. It was heaven, that night, when we finally let ourselves be together. I'd never known anything like that first touch. I was a new person the moment your skin touched mine. The world expanded and you made me into something different with your mouth and hands on my body. You made me into something I can't escape even now. I wouldn't want to, because I would never have been yours.

We parted. We had to. I hated every second of it. There's more pain in the goodbye to you than I would have ever admitted in person. There was more torture in letting you go than I would ever have told you outside of this place. The sight of you walking away from me, knowing you were no longer still cuts deep. It makes my eyes tear to think of it. And then, with those tears, I think of yours. You thought I wouldn't see them. How could I not? I saw them in your eyes, unshed, and the sadness there drug me down further than you will ever know. When you were gone, I sank down, curled up into a blanket and I tried to cry those tears for you. I couldn't make them come, so I lit up a cigarette, and let the smoke do my crying for me. I was hoarse the next day from our pain. But I didn't mind, I was sharing something with you.

There are things I should have told you. Things I want to tell you now.

I loved you almost immediately. There was never a moment I didn't want to be yours.

I love you still, in spite of everything. I could never truly stop loving you.

I was wrong, too many times, and I should have told you then. I'm sorry.

I was stupid and blind and foolish. Sometimes on purpose, but not always.

You made me feel more special, more beautiful, than I have ever felt before. Thank you.

I still think of you, and I wonder if you think of me. If you do, I hope its with fondness. I always think of you fondly. I think of our moments, the ones we stole, the ones we cherished, the ones of pure unbridled ecstasy.

I miss you. More than I could say.

I love you.

You're beautiful.


A Long Walk

I promised I would get back to normal writing today, so here's a boring life update.

I've been writing more, as you can see. There is a high liklihood that there will be more and more short peices coming up on the blog in the future. I'm liking that I am in the mood to write, even if it is only short stuff, even if it is only nonsense. It keeps makign me think that sometime soon I'll shake the muse loose and get back to work on the novel.

Kitten started her own blog today. If she decides to update frequently and will allow me to, I'll probably add her to my blogroll. It would be interesting, I think, to have an additional perspective on the life we lead together. Of course, I don't know that she'll want me reading it, but then- that doesn't mean you cant. It was fun to go through the setup and remember how frustrated I felt when I picked out this blog template.

She decided to do it this morning, and we talked about it over breakfast. It made me remember the people I met when I first started blogging, and how I got into the world I am now, where people know me as Alecya and are interested in my life though we've never seen eachother. Some of them are still my friends. Aravis and Swiss, in my blogroll, have been there since almost the beginning. I recall sending Swiss a message on facebook a few months ago, noting that it has been seven years since we started talking. Seven. That's longer than I've been friends with Perpet and Sakura. In fact, I could go backand find my first posts about them in the old blog, if I wanted to. It made me think of the people I've somehow let go, or the blogs that are missing from my roll now, and I wonder what they are up to, how they're lives have turned out, and I rather miss them.

Of course, there are a few, like me, who went missing on the blogs but I never lost touch with. People you wouldn't (or maybe a few of you do) know. Flash, Hyde and Wingring. I still see Mark Reed around every now and again, and I was fortunate enough to meet his brother through facebook. What fun guys. Good lord, wasn't that a long time ago? I remember a blogger called Mr. Mystic, whom I still think about all the time, and hope is doing well. I remember he always inspired me.

Anyway, the trip down memory lane was fun. I ws prompted to remember the origins of my original blog name, how this one got its name and how I used to have an erotica blog that disappeared long ago. I miss that thing, and wish I hadn't felt guilty about it, because really, it was Beloved's hang-up and not mine that brought that to an end. Actually, Swiss commented earlier today about one of the last posts, and mentioned I was good at it, that I used to be. It made me smile. I don't know if that;s necissarily true, me being good at it (though Itake the compliment kindly friend) but I do remember how much I love it. I think that's what shows, isn't it? My love of the erotica genre, and most likely, my love of sex.

Because lets face it, I love sex. I don't think its possible to be in a relationship like the one I'm in without loving sex, because there's a lot to have. When you have two partners needs to meet...I do have my hands full. But sex. Sex! Wow, I don't think there's ever been a time when I didn't love it. Even when I was with BBD and not really getting any, either from my repugnance or his own, it was always there, pulsing and teasing me. I think there's somethign that's a little bit wrong with me, honestly, there's got to be some sort of condition. I think of it all the time. Its there in the back of my mind. When I look at anyone, anyone at all, not a just a woman, it seems like my eyes automatically seek out those things that make them sexy. I have to admit, I don't always find it. But if its there, I'll notice it. And its not an "I want to get laid" thing, either, with strangers. I just like to see the strange beauty in the people I encounter. I suppose it does make my job more interesting. I suppose you cold sttribute that to my nature, that I want to love people and the best way I know to love is through the physical aspect, but that probably isn't right either.

Its more than that though. The girls give me a hard time, because it seems like I'm The Todd on Scruubs sometimes. Everything seems like a double entendre around me. I actually made an effort to behave, to not do it, when we went to the zoo the other day (see prior posts). The girls entreated me. Said I was making some of our friends more bashful because of it. I did it a few times without thinking. Not like, on purpose, but they took it the way I would have it I had meant to be teasing, and just like that I saw how I make people think about it anyway.

It might also be noted, that trip to the zoo, we had been making an effort to set up The Lifeguard and Black Magic. That was an epic fail. In fact, I think I'm still in the doghouse for that one with Lifegaurd. I'm not sure how Black Magic feels about the epic fail, since she isn't really speaking to me right now. Again, a story for another day, assuming she stops talking to me permanantly. I know she reads here, and it would be cold of me to air her dirty laundry without asking first. I try to be a good friend even if I fail. I digress. Point is, the girls seemed to think that Lifegaurd was feeling more bashful than usual because of my joking and the effect that it had on Black Magic. I don't think this is the case. I rerained as much as possible anyway, in case I was wrong.

The long and short, I suppose, is that writing erotica is a good outlet for me. Its like making something constructive out of somethign that would otherwise waste my time.

In other news, I did get to have a nice long conversation with Perpet last night. It was so good to catch up with her at last. The time difference between us now makes calling impossible without inconveniencign at least one of us. Either way, I was up quite late last night, and I enjoyed staying up waaay past my bedtime to text her. I have to admit, I like the texting. She and I are able to both talk at once. The conversations move faster. It cracks me up. WE probably covered at least 6 hours worth of talking in 3 hours of texting last night. Hooray for us.

It turns out, and I assume she doesn't mind me saying so, she misses me like I miss her. I was thinking about it the other day, and really, since she left almost a year ago, I haven't had that once person I can talk to or vent to or whatever to. I have al ot of great friends, don't get me wrong, but its hard to find a person that I trust with all my secrets. Its a different kind of relationship, with the two of us, because there are no serets. There isnt any mystery between the two of us. When you honestly love your best friend, it amkes such a difference. I do, too. I love Perpet. I love her like I love my wife, like I love Oscelot. Not romantically, that is, but with the same devotion and intensity. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, we my world to crumble, or hers, she and I would be there together fighting whatever it is. Also, having slept with her (yes, yes I have and it took us way to long to get to it if you ask me) the whole problem of attraction has been solved. I would say we got it out of our systems, but that isnt necissarily so. Its more that we can let it go now, and be friends, because we don't have to wonder. We already know. It was great, we had fun, now lets get back to the business of supporting eachother and being best pals. (Isn't that right, Perpet? Back me up here:))

Either way, I love her and she's a great lady and its been really hard not being able to ring her up for a drink or a bitchfest of whatever it is we did when she was here. I was terrified that her arrival in the Rose City would be the signal of my demise as best pal, not because I think her fickly, but it seemed like physical closeness was so important.

I shoud have known better. Look at you, my longtime readers, look at Perpet, look at the people I love who are far away and love me still. Turns out distance doesn't change anything, really, except the location itself. It means I travel more, I text more, I burn up my cell minutes more, because I can't have them there on my couch or in the park that we would go and walk to when I was having a bad day. It means I check my facebook more frequently and I email more vociferously. I means my camera is getting a workout. But my love for her, nd all my friends that are father from me than I would like, it hasn't changed.

Wow. One hell of a ramble, huh? Get back to the emo and the erotica, Alecya. Its not nearly so boring, eh?

Oh, and for the record, all my lurking buddies, I enabled the comments so you could leave me messages to. I know you're out there, because I check my stats. Talk to me. I like making new friends.

I'm off to write something more salacious. Or whiney. I'm not sure yet. Maybe a bit of both. We'll see.

I love you all.

Oh, and in case you're interested, that's me on the carosel in the center of the Kansas City Zoo. We took that pic last summer. I just thought you might like to see something that isn't me in that blue shirt. Plus, my thumbnails on facebook are getting boring.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Lap Dance

Okay. I lied. I got a request. So, another one. In the same night. I'm going to be a mess when I finally hit the sack.

I'm editing this to add, I was listening to goldfrapp when I was writing this, if you want a soundtrack.

"Dance for me."

It wasn't a request. Not really. The command in her voice was there. I could see that it was what she wanted. How could she not?

All those years ago, when she saw me, that first time, wasn't that what I had been doing?

Dancing. Lost in the music. Lost in myself and the movement of my body.

She already had music playing. I didn't have to wait.

I nodded, simply, and led her to the couch; pushing her back. I wasn't gentle. I wasn't kind. I didn't have to be. I was hers, always. Tonight, though, I was going to show her she was mine as well.

There was a pulse to the music, and I found it. Soft, insistent, throbbing for me.

She was watching, and I could see in her eyes that she wanted me already. I could see in her eyes the desire she couldn't hide. I loved it.

A throaty chuckle worked its way up my throat as I slid my shirt over my head. I tossed it beside her and moved to straddle her lap.

She shuddered beneath me.

It was easy, too easy, as her eyes raked up and down the line of my body. She took it all in, the black bra, my breasts swelling beneath it, the ivory gleam of my skin. I leaned into her, and let my hair fall like a silk curtain over her eyes. I could feel her gaze still, between the chestnut tangles and curls. I could hear her breath before I felt it, moving my hair slightly.

I tossed it back, arching my body back and away from her. my neck, my chest, my stomach in a perfect line, teasing her, tempting her. I ground my hips against her, pushing into her as I moved back and away, giing her a view of my body.

She moved for me. Her hands reached out and I felt her fingertips brush against the silk and lace of my bra.

"No," I smiled at her firmly. "You're not allowed to do that."

I took her hands and moved them behind her head, teasing her with my closeness as I did. She groaned softly, and I couldn't help but smile again.

I stood, slowly, sensuously, swiveling my hips so that she could see the matching black silk band of my thong below the ruffles of my skirt. I kept moving to that slow, throbbing pulse. I glanced at her over my shoulder and I spread my legs and leaned to the ground, tempting her.

I could see her strain. She wanted to move. I wanted her to move too, but not yet.

Slowly, so slowly, I slid the skirt down. My hips exposed, my thighs bare, I danced for her to the rythm of the music, and our pulse. I could see it in her chest as she breathed, I could hear it in the soft noises from her mouth. We were pulsing together, we were moving together, she and I.

I backed into her, my ass firmly planted against her, my legs falling full over hers. I leaned back, pressed against her heaving chest, my hair over her neck, my head beside hers. I turned, every so slightly, and licked her.

Swiveling, I pulled myself into her lap properly, my legs bent gently over her before I extended one, slowly, so painfully slow, beneath her nose. My ankle slid behind her neck, drawing her head forward.

"Kiss me. Once. and be sweet about it," I told her.

Her lips moved obediently, gently pressing my ankle, then my calf, then my knee as I moved it beside her mouth. I lay back, my head on the couch, looking up at her.

Desire, raw and untamed was flickering in her eyes. I loved it, loved my power over her, loved the thought that she wanted me so badly it hurt.

I slid up, up again, kneeling over her. My legs across hers, straddling her again, I listened to the music change to something slower, headier.


"Yes, please." She was breathless.

Wordlessly I reached behind me, unhooked the black lace of my bra and let it fall between us. I leaned into her, softly, gently, feeling the cotton of her shirt scratching against my skin. Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

As she tilted her head back I moved closer, sliding one breast, then the other, slowly and carefully beside her face, close to her lips, and down her body. I never stopped moving, not once, as I moved my hips against her, my stomach warm and soft on her shirt and then her jeans.

I knelt beween her legs and looked up at her.

"Watch this. Watch me."

I fell back then, lifting my legs for her, spreading them wide, letting her see the fullness of my body as I sprawled out on the floor. My hands in my hair, my back arched shrply, I lifted my hips, again and again, for her to gaze at. I rolled onto my stomach and let her look at the perfect lines of my back before moving my ass against her, nudging her legs wider apart as I teased her and danced slowly to the rythym she had set for me.

On my back again, my legs up again on each side of her knees, hips lifted, and I asked, knowing hte answer.

"Shall I?"

"Please. Yes."

I slid the silk and lace confection from my hips and flipped them lightly into her lap. But she wasn't looking there. She was gazing at me, legs spread wide for her, laying in the floor, looking like a fallen angel.

It took me no time to pull myself into her arms again, this time with her help. I didn't object, no- I couldn't.

The music began its insistent rise, moving harder and faster for me. I didn't want to stop her. I felt her hands upon my hips as I rode her and her passion for me. I could feel the strength in her fingers as the nails dug into my bone.

Ecstasy, in that moment, I could feel it in her. I could feel it in the roughness of her jeans and the cotton of her shirt. I could feel it in her hands and she stroked my hips and my back and my chest. I pushed her back and felt her mouth close over my nipples and I sighed.

I pulled away, so slightly, so gently, and titled her face back to look at me. I gazed at her, and took in the perfect pout of her parted lips, the sweetness of her breath on my body and the unbridled lust in her eyes. I moved my hips again, gently, and felt her rise up to meet me.

"Kiss me," I bade her.

She did, gently, sucking my lower lip into her mouth.

"Do you like it when I dance?"


"Good. Take me to your room, and dance with me."

She kissed me again, lifting me gently, and we did.

Taking Me

Practice for love scenes in the new books. Dirty, adult content. Skip if its not your thing. Back to normal commentary tomorrow. I hope.

Serioudly. this is not for a child's eyes.

Have a naughty night friends. I know I will.



Her eyes were perfect. The shimmered in the dark like two candles lighting me down a darkened hallway to the bed I found myself laying on. They were deep and full of promises. They were all promises I'd hope she kept.

Her lips were heaven. They were soft and warm and wet. I sighed as she stroked them over mind, quickly, teasing me, making me want more. The press of them grew harder, rougher, and I could feel her breath hot against my mouth, filling it with the heat of her desire. Her tongue was candy as it slipped inside me, stroking me everywhere and tempting me to more wicked things.

I slid her fingers inside my mouth, they were salt and warm and tasted like me and her together. Licking at them, sucking them, I felt more wanton than I ever had before. Our exchange perfect, mouths close fingers moving in and out of eachothers mouths. I couldn't stop it, I didn't want to.

She streaked the wetness from my mouth and hers down my cheeks and twined our hands together as she pulled me below her. She never let go, not for a moment, as she spilled her body over mine. She pressed hard into me, as I lay there, helpless beneath her, wanting her to take me, top me, in a way I had never felt before.

I knew, in that moment, my surrender was imminent.

She stripped me bare. There is no other way to put it. I lay bemeath her as she pulled me free of everything that kept me from her. I shivered; from the cold air against my body, from the look in her eyes and the power she had over me. I wanted to give it up.

Her hands were gentle, infinately gentle as she stroked my face, looking down at me like I was a work of art, a picture she wanted to preserve in her mind for all her life. She moved down, my neck and my collarbone receiving similar attentions, as though she were memorizing every part of me, as though she never wanted to forget. I hoped she wouldn't.

I hoped she wouldn't forget, but recall it again and again as she stroked my breasts and teased me to the point of begging and whimpering. "Please, please, please," it was all I could say, a single, echoing refrain in my head that spilled past my lips before I could stop it.

Her legs were strong, so strong as she held me down with them, lowering herself so she could lick and kiss the places she was touching. My mind loosed, and all I saw was a swirl of color and emotion behind my eyes as they fluttered open and shut. Her hair was soft as I tangled my hands in it, drawing her yet closer to me again.

But it was her skin, the warm sensual heat of her body that finally sent me to the edge. Her breasts against mine, her stomach hot and firm against me, it was all of my yearnings in a single movement, as she slid over and down me. There was nothing in that moment, nothing but the strength of her arms and the touch of her body all over me, as I began my refrain again.

Please. Please. Please.

If there was a moment to beg, this one seemed perfect. If there was a moment to lose it all, this was it. I couldn't wait, not a second longer, for her to take me.

My hands slid over her body, down her back- screatching as I went. I grabbed her and pulled her firmly against me. Her wet, perfect heat was almost more than I could bear. The feeling of her push and release was all I could have wanted, all I hoped for, and yet so far from the release I was wanting.

Her hands, finally, finally, moved into me, and I knew completion at last. She and I, joined together, that was perfection. That was true pleasure. Her golden, husky voice whispering in my ear of my beauty, her need for me, and how I felt- it was everything. I echoed her, I called back to her, as she moved. Her hips and hands and breasts never stopped, her mouth at once on my neck, my mouth, my shoulders and my ears.

Please. Please. Please.

There was a moment I felt it. There was a perfect, golden glowing ball of heat growing inside me and she was stroking it and playing with it like it was her own. She owned that spot, she owned me, and she wasn't going to let that ball break open until she was ready.

I begged for her, hour after hour. I cried for her, wept tears of pleading and passion. I could feel her love for me with every stoke, every kiss, every moment she delayed me. I was dying in her arms, but there was life; every part of me was awake and dancing and screaming for more of her.

Fill me, fill me again. Give me more and more. I begged her. There was her, and more of her, and at last everything. Her hands, her mouth, her body were inside me, completely.

I could feel the moment she released me. I could hear it in her voice. "You belong to me now." I couldn't dispute it as I rode wave after wave of pleasure and passion for her. I gave in to her, every second of it, and when at last, finally, there was no more of me to give her; she fell back and a wept.

As I cried for her, soft gentle tears, she stroked me, petted me and told me of my perfection. Her tongue was soft, gentle as she licked the dampness of my neck and stomach. She drank me in, tasted all of my pleasure. She dipped her head between my legs, and there I found how truly hers I was.

Gently, softly, slowly, patiently, she moved her mouth over me and brought me again. This time with love, this time with all the softness that her strength could afford her. As I shivered and shuddered under her velvet kiss, I felt myself move beyond my body and into the gleam of her perfect gaze.

Finished, wasted, completely her own, she let me hold onto her. She was my breath. She was my heartbeat. She was my pleasure.

Last night, she was my muse.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Feeling the Evening

On the menu tonight: Emo Crap. Skip it is you don't like it. But, as far as emo crap goes, its not too bad. For me.


If you asked me what I saw tonight, I would tell I saw the clouds. Skitering tight against the sky and rolling over the moon so that it seems like Halloween in fast forward. Soft, grey and edged in ebony. If I took a fistful of obsidian and threw it hard across the grass, that would be the clouds this evening.

I'd tell you I saw the stars. Stars are so romantic. Right? That shimmering softness in the black of night is a guide. Somwhere up there is the people you love, the people you miss, and they watch over you and you can feel safe because they are there, shining on you. I don't see that in the stars. Tonight I see them laughing at me, the twinkle is the shine in the eyes that hide a smile beneath a serene gaze and fingers lightly tripping over the mouth. I can hear the soft sigh as those fingers move, the secret laughter of the earth in the wind this evening.

Its not the stars so much, its the spaces between them, another romantic notion that there's more out there, more to be had, more that can be sought. How sad- to think that the brightness of the stars, those loved ones looking down, is just the reflection of the greater blackness around them and me and you. How terrifying to think that between all those spaces are not only the hopes and wishes of everyone, the things we strive for and the all of the untamed and wild possibilites of life; but also the things we will never achieve. It seems to me tonight that the sky is the backdrop, the canvass of all my future failures and lost dreams.

Tonight I see nothing, nothing I want to see, nothing I can hope for. Tonight I see the blackness and bleakness of life. It doesn't depress me, it doesn't bother me. In a way, its comforting to think I am not alone in the constant toil and failure that is life. Keep moving, keep moving and I will share it all with you and we will be alone together in the dark looking at the laughing stars and thinking that there's more.

Ask me what I hear. Ask and I'd tell you I hear the sound of trains moving in the distance. Its lonely and comforting and beautiful all at once. Its work- work to be had, work completed and time that will never be gotten back, however long we moan.

I hear the sound of water moving, though I couldn't tell you where or why. I can hear the babble of water over cobble, dripping off my roof and sliding down over the windowpanes through the cracks in the ceiling and dripping into the floor. Its a soft sound, almost noiseless, the fall of water into carpet. I like it, the falling, the tripping, stumbling, freewheeling feeling before you're silently absorbed into nothingness. I can her the water playing and it makes me wish I was playful tonight, that I could rollick and laugh and be silly for no reason at all. I wish I was clever like that water; moving, changing, never seeming to mind where it goes, so long as it does, so long as it moves on. I love the water tonight.

I love its sound and I love its feel. I want to slide deep into it and lose myself in its heat. I want to pull myself in over head and fill my ears and my eyes and my mouth before breathing deeply, spitting it out and laughing at the feeling of it pouring down my shoulders. I want to feel it all over me, on my legs and my hips and running down my back, tickling and teasing me and reminding me to keep moving. I want to hear the splash and know that I can scatter it too. I can move and push and change the things that move and the things that won't stop. Somehow, there it is, I can feel it and touch it and change it and somehow its the same all over again.

I couldn't tell you if it was raining, I couldn't tell you if there were water running nearby. But tonight I hear it like the roar of the ocean in my head. The waves lapping at my feet and teasing and tempting me to move onward with it. It sounds so good.

Tonight I smell things too, of course. I can smell chocolate, faintly, ever so slightly and it makes my mouth water. I can taste it on my lips and I wonder where its come from too. Tonight I can taste nicotine on my breath and it makes me think of countless nights and countless kisses and tears and screams that I was never really able to let go of until I smoked. I think of the soft tap tap of the pack and I can taste the filter and the paper in my mouth, like I've never lit the ciigarette, but it doesn't matter, because it burns for me whther I light it or not. That makes no sense, does it? It makes no sense to have the fire there, when it was never lit, but so it is. It burns and smolders and fills me up.

I taste mint tonight, I feel it in my teeth and on my tongue and on the outsides of my lips every times I lick them, I can taste it as I breathe, deep inside, and it teases me with its scent even though there's no mint here, no oil, no candy or anything sweet. No, tonight it just me and the water and the stars, but the smell of mint lingers like I am laying in it and it has been all over and inside of me. Somehow I am made of mint tonight.

Thre's something else to scent. It isn't the thing I want but its there and it echoes and teases me and I can't stand it because its not...its not anything. Its like earth and rain and dampness and sweat and the smell of leather all together at once. It smells like the center of a seraglio with inscence burning and women dancing and there's life and light and painful lust and I can smell it. I can smell the scent, like fresh turned earth, like grass freshly mown and it drives me crazy. Its the smell of shampoo and rubber and plastic and salt. Its sweet, so sweet and its not sweet at all. It stings my mouth as I taste it and it burns as the scent moves up into my mind. I somehow think it is the mosnt inescapable scent of all. I can't stand it, but it is always there.

But to feel, isn't that where this must go? What do I feel? What can I feel? The immediate is superceded by all the things that overwhelm when I close my eyes and let go and try to simply feel. I feel wet and cold and hot all at once. I feel tiny blades of grass all over my legs and in between my toes. I feel the breeze moving its teasing laugh over my chest and into my hair and tossing it and tangling it until thtere is nothing for me to do but throw my head back and laugh at it . I feel the touch of love, the touch of pain, the touch of everything, like laying in a feild full of blooming flowers and there being nothing but nettle when I stand. It feels like pavement beneath my feet; sticky oils competeing with the softness of the grass, trying to heat me, warn me, drive me to somewhere new and different.

But to feel? What do I feel? What can I feel? I want to say nothing, nothing at all. I want to say there is an empty, echoing, hollow part of me that feels nothing but that's a lie. I feel everything, all at once, and that seems wrose sometimes. I feel like there is fullness to the point of pain, aching to the point of terror, and love to the point of weeping. There is so much, there is everything. There is me and you and everyone in the world and it feels tonight like all of them are crying and I can feel it all over me. Somehow though, I can feel it too, the hysterical laughter. I'm alright, I'm alright, its says. I'm not afraid, I'm not anything. But to feel it, to feel it all..

Tonight, to me, its perfection.

Monday, May 23, 2011

The Wind Screams With Me

So I was planning on a happy or funny post today before last night happened.

If you've read the news, or live anywhere near me, you know that my area of the country was struck with absolutely terrible weather last night. A city not too far rom mine was nearly leveled last night. It was terrible. In the midwest, in the springtime, its not unusual to get severe weather. It is, however, strange to get such severe weather that one storm can flatten an entire town. I mean, this wasn't a tiny town. It had like, 50,000 people in it. That's a big storm.

Of course, by the time the storm hit that city, there were warnings coming fast towards the city Ilived in. The counties all around us were getting tornado warnings. We were expecting ours at any time.

Now, I used to never have a problem with tornados. I really didn't. Mom's second husband, 2.0, was a weather spotter. I grew up listening to storm scanners and hearing stories about tornados. Punk was always afraid of them, but when the scary stuff started when I was a little girl, I was at the picture window in my front room looking out at the sky. When I was a teenager I went out with my friends and drove outside the city to watch the scary stuff from far away. It was stupid, but then, who isn't stupid when they're a teenager? I will say this, we did see a tornado a little too close for comfort about the time I turned 18 and it spooked me enough I didn't go looking for them again.

As an adult, I really don't like them. Its not the tornado itself. I'm relatively secure in my karma, and I figure if its my time to go, then it is, right? But what does frighten me is that I have people I love now, people I don't want to leave, people I wouldn't be able to bear the loss of. I have a home and secure employment and a vehicle that runs well. I have a start on a decent amount of savings. In one night, hell- in less than an hour, people who live just a city or two away from me lost all of those things. I grieve for them because they are facing what I fear the most.

Here's the rub: Kitten is terrified of storms. I mean blind panic terrified. I'm not sure how Oscelot feels about it, honestly. She looked scared and sick, but then, she's been sick for three days now. What I do know is that once we started getting reports ffrom the nearby cities about the damage and how bad the storm was, the girls didn't want to stay home. We don't have a basement, there aren't really any interior type rooms. Our house is a hundred years old, it isn't laid out with hallways. That's not how things worked back then.

So the quest for somewhere safe to go began, and the packing of necessities, and the great wrangling of the cats. Honestly, I wanted to be at home, but sometimes you make sacrifices for the people you love, so they feel better. This was one of those times. So Kitten, Oscelot, our five cats and myself piled into our Frontier, and off we went. Kitten originally wanted to go to her Dad's house. He was at church. Then she wanted to go to Precious, her best friend, because she had a storm cellar. She had told us we could come by. When we got there Kitten took one look at her house, surrounded by old trees and power lines and said hell no, and so off we went, back across town again, to Kitten's mom.

During this time, over the terrified wailing of the cats, Kitten and Oscelot were on their phones calling people and texting them. There was a monsoon going on outside and Kitten was texting, calling and driving. She hates that. Tells you how scared she was. I called Sakura to make sure he was safe, because he was on the road home from out state capital, and I called Black Magic, although I don't think she appreciated it, (that's a story for another day) and then I called my grandmother. Once I had ascertained they were all as safe as they were going to be I sat and watched out the window and texted The Lifeguard.

She had stopped back by the house after coming back from a roller derby bout in Oklahoma City. Thank god, she dodged their bad weather, our bad weather, and in the end only got stopped shortly outside of St. Louis, so I was greatful at least for that. Now, as much as I am not an advocate of texting and driving, last night I was greatful The Lifeguard did for me. I told her she could just let me vent, and ignore it, but I needed someone I could vent to and it couldn't be someone stuck in the storm with me.

I don't like admitting I am frightened. I sure as hell won't do it when my partners are frightened too. Its my job to take care of them and be strong for them, so when stuff like this happens I try to go to my happy place and be tough for them and fall apart later. It wasn't the storm that scared me, honestly, we were headed somewhere safe and that was fine. Part of it was the panic I saw in my girls' faces. Part of it was that I don't want to loose my house and my livelihood. Part of it was I don't want to loose my friends and family. I got to thinking about the few things I would regret if anything did happen, and that scared me too.

The Lifeguard saved me last night. I can usually hold it together. But there was soemthing about the non-stop lightining, being stuck in monsoon force rain in a truck with two frightened women and 5 howling cats that broke me. I was really, really greatful for her last night.

In the end I spent most of the evening in Kitten's mom's living room floor teasing my cat Evelyn, talking to Mom and Kitten and Oscelot and texting The Lifeguard. I even got a shot of a beautiful rainbow just as the storm ended. I saved iot as the background on my phone. (to my local readers, no it wasnt the double rainbow that everyone seemed to be posting about on fb either) I am okay, for the most part, as long as I can watch the weather coverage on the news (we go to round the clock coverage in circumstances like this) and have someone to chat to, it turns out.

I woke up this morning feeling very greatful. I am happy to have good friends, a good family, my home and my job. I thought about it, and you know, I think I'm a pretty happy woman. Today I want to make it a point to tell people thatI care about them that I do. I can't always count on dodging the bullett.

Iw ill say this, I am happy to think of moving to the west coast, where this hardly ever happens. Seriously. Until then, I'll just have to be thankful for the few coping mechanisms I have, and hope my luck doesn't run out.

Stay Safe, Y'all.
I Love You.

I might note that the tornado was helead story on NPR this morning. If you want to read actual news about it, you can find it here. Also, relief effort will be ongoing. Get involved if you can.