I got an itch that no ointment will cure…

There are times that I get this itch.  The only way I can explain it is that it’s almost like Spring Fever.  I become bored and fed-up with my life, and the only thing that can really cure me is to get away, preferably, somewhere I’ve never been.  Although, going on a trip to my favorite shore town can also help.  For some reason, going to the shore can also rev my system.  It’s a bit like going home.  I’ve gone there so many times over my lifetime that I feel comfortable there; and I look forward to the same familiar sites, restaurants, and smells.  I’m an odd one when it comes to going to the shore.  I love going down there; however, I hate the sand.  Therefore, I need to be close enough to see, hear and smell the ocean but I also need a place with a pool.  I’m a freak in that regard, and I admit it.  I despise the hot sand in the middle of the day.  I get nuts if the sand gets between my toes and I cannot get it out.  Not to mention, should I get sand in my crotch area? OMFG, kill me NOW!  I mean it.   Just kill me. 

 

However, I digress.  What I’m getting at is that I need something to look forward to again.  I need to feel like I’m improving my mind and my soul.  I need to feed my travel bug.  I need to scratch my hobo itch.  That’s what seeing a new place does for me.  Travel is to me, what some people get from going to school or meeting new people.  There is a whole big world out there, and I need to see as much of it as I can find.  I have a goal of seeing all the states some day, and I’ve made a good deal of the way down the list.  But, I still have a long way to go.  I yearn to see things in history books and documentaries.  I need to see National Parks, humongous trees, mounds of dirt spewing hot steaming water, waterfalls and ice burgs.  I need to look a buffalo in the eye.  I’m not fussy though.  I’d also love to see the Mall of America and the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame or Cooperstown.  Give me just about any where I haven’t been, and I can surely find value in seeing it.  I just want to get out there and see it. 

 

My Grandparents travelled often and Grandpa always believed that travel was just as important to a person and going to school.  Not only do I agree I almost feel that it’s more important to some people.  I have never been very interested in history class, or science class.  Etc., etc.  However, once I’ve travelled and seen some of the things I’ve read about, important dates and places took life in my head.  Facts came to life and clicked.  I guess I’m one of those people that need to see in order to make sense of the past.  I marvel at seeing natural landscapes to see how the God provides the Earth with ways to see his wonders.

 

I know my Baby can see my unrest.  But, with the current lack of funds, it’s hard to plan a trip.  This is a big birthday year for me.  I’m not one to obsess over numbers, but I do think it’s a monumental year.  I’d really love it if he could manage to come up with at least one single night away somewhere.  I just want to mark the day in time with a special memory.  With a little luck, the memory will be one that quells that damn itch.

 

I truly thought I was smarter than this

I don’t exactly know why, but I seem to be obsessed with this at the moment.  I keep trying to get a higher score.   My best is 37.  Can you do better? 

http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/view2/countries

Good Luck!

Charlotte’s Web, Eat your heart out!

I have been grasping at straws and making myself nuts.  I’ve wanted to write a post now for days, but feel like I have cobwebs inside my head instead of coherent thoughts.  So instead of staring at that damn horny ass post that’s been staring me in the face for days now, I thought I’d just start typing about how I can’t think of a gosh darn thing.  Then, hopefully, I will clean sweep the cobwebs away and make room for real interesting things to think about.  Ha! Yeah, like that will happen! 

 

Why is it that when I’m laying in bed trying to sleep and deep yummy slumber is just avoiding the crap out of me that I can think of all these cool ideas that sound really prolific and almost amusing?  Then, when I wake up… yeah, they’re gone!  Maybe I should keep a small pad of paper and pen near the bedside.  Hmm, that’s an idea.  I may have to try that.  Then perhaps all four of you people reading about me not being able to write, will actually have something worth reading.

 

I’m Yours

Warning:  Today I’m taking a more creative path to blogging.  If you’re feeling prudish, please don’t continue reading this post.  The following is of a MATURE nature.  ‘Nuff said…

 “A woman can be anything the man who loves her would have her be.”

It’s quiet.  Only the soft and velvety sounds of Ella Fitzgerald on the computer speakers.  It’s hot as hell outside, but still cozy in here.  There is one lamp lit on the far side of living room; and there are two scented votives flickering on the faux oak TV cabinet.  The candles scented with the same perfume that’s been seductively dotted on my wrists and chest and between my thighs.  I’m in a very mellow and contemplative mood tonight.  Being alone does that to me sometimes.  However, I’m also restless, in a very womanly sort of way.  OK, hell, let’s face it and call it what it is - I’m horny and alone.  Laying here in a black G-string and lace teddy with matching thigh hi’s and heels.  Here I am, waiting for dessert to come walking through the door.  The only problem is that right now, I’m laying here thinking that instead of dessert, I’d really rather a luscious yet exotic appetizer or main course even.  The kind I can only get from a very long distance delivery, as I’m all alone in my thoughts. 

 

I close my eyes and can instantly feel your warm breath on my bare shoulder.  I imagine your lips moving gracefully toward the nape of my neck - just where you know I’ll melt.  I can almost feel your hands deftly moving over the curves of my body.  My fingers begin to mirror the motions I imagine yours would make.  Outlining my cheeks and lips, as I nip at your fingertips.  My right hand slowly trails down my left arm.  In my head, my fingers are yours.  Feather light, your thumb circles my budding nipples.  So quickly and easily, your hands wake my body.  Your fingers firmly massaging my thighs and brushing over my G-string.

 

Not being able to control my own impulses, my palm seeks out your already hard cock; Pressing deftly against you.  Enough to make you catch your breath under my touch.  My own kisses meeting your lips hungrily.  Our tongues dancing, while my hands roam endlessly over your body.  Always, always coming back to the same hot throbbing center of my fantasies.  Taunting you.  Stroking you.  Teasing you.  Sweet and gentle is always nice, but for now, I need you, Darling.  I need to feel the way we fit together.  I need to feel our skin meld together.  Your fingers have already found the dewiness that being near you effects.  As my kisses move effortlessly from your chest to your neck, and my breath quickens, I ask you to take me, please. 

 

Feeling your weight over me, my legs eagerly spread to accommodate your body.  Hardness pressing toward my pussy.  Sliding between my wet lips.  The head of your cock teasing my clit flirtatiously.  My hips thrusting toward you - I just can’t wait for you anymore.  I need you now.  Legs wrapping around you and pulling us closer together.  Trying to make us one.  Wiggling to fit our sex together the way we’ve always talked of being.  Finally.  And then moving as one, like the ebb and tide of the ocean’s waves.  So many moans and sighs and purrs that we can’t differentiate exactly which of us is making them.  You’re holding my wrists in your hands above my head.  Taking my breasts into your mouth hungrily.  The sucking and biting driving me crazy.  Thrusts of your hot cock overloading my senses and pushing me… further along.  I hear my voice begging for you to fuck me harder, but I don’t recall ever saying the words.  Tingling all through me.  Oh God, Please don’t ever stop this.  Please.  I can hear our skin smacking together in that incredibly sexy wet sound that two bodies make when completely on fire.  That’s it, Baby.  Just Like that.  I feel the waves begin to start to take over my body.  Over and over you enter me.  Each time, bringing me closer to you.  Filling me more.  I don’t think I can hold off any more.  Pulsing and tensing in the most amazing sensations I can ever remember feeling.  And in the distance I can hear your smooth sexy voice calling my name, as your body starts to go rigid with its’ own passion.  The walls of my pussy milking every last drop out of you.  Your orgasm only making my own last longer.  And you collapse on top of me.  Both of us breathless.  My hands rubbing your shoulders and back.  I love the weight of your body on mine.  The feel of your head resting on my breasts.  A very content smile on my lips.  Gently I feel you kiss my nipple. 

 

I whisper in your ear….. I’m yours.

 

Please, Let us Bow Our Heads and Pray…

Brothers and Sisters, join me today in a prayer of the utmost importance.  Yesterday, our main PC wouldn’t power up when Mike tried to turn it on.  He tried once again, and it started smoking from within the casing.  Apparently, the power source unit self-destructed.  Please, join me in a moment of silent prayer, while we pray that it was ONLY a small little power supply issue and NOT a short somewhere that could cause all sorts of major problems.  We pray, Dear Lord, that you will spare our wallets, as we don’t really have the money for any major issues right now.  We also ask you, Heavenly Father, that if this hunk of semi-outdated technology shorted out, and I lost all my poop (AGAIN), because I was stupid and didn’t back up my computer last week like I should’ve, that you will take pity on me and not let me hurt myself too seriously when I run out into on-coming traffic in desperation.

Amen.

Staycations are cheaper than you think

“People deal too much with the negative, with what is wrong…Why not try and see positive things, to just touch those things and make them bloom?”  Thich Nhat Hanh (a Vietnamese monk and activist)

There seems to be something in people that causes us to speak up loud and clear when things don’t go our way.  We whine… We complain…  Right, isn’t that what happens? Your boss is a jerk so you go on and on about it.  My friend blew me off, so I complain to another friend.  Mom gets totally pissed at Dad for one of a million reasons this week alone and calls her sister to vent.  However, why is it that we don’t use that same enthusiasm to sing to the world when something good happens in our lives?  There can be a thousand occasions to pass on a good deed or a nice comment, but our natural instinct is to smile but overlook those incidents for the more juicy negative ones.

 

Not this time, however.  Sunday was a WONDERFUL day and I want to tell someone.  For those of you who know me well, you know that things haven’t been going the smoothest for me lately.  Many conversations seem to revolve around my past illnesses, or my unemployment and lack of finances or ongoing marital stresses.  So I think I need to tell you all about how one simple day, was like a well-needed blessing.  Before turning in on Saturday night, I took the phone off the hook.  I didn’t want the persistent phone demons to wake Mike on his only day off from work.  (I didn’t even think he noticed, but later he thanked me for that gesture.)  We woke on our own terms to a remarkably quiet house.  We spent time laying in bed just talking - catching up on the time we haven’t really been able to lately because of his second job.  That leisurely time quickly lent itself nicely to some of the best sex we’ve had in many months.  It wasn’t rushed.  None of the worries that have plagued us recently came to either of our minds and got in the way.  We laughed and talked and probed (both literally and figuratively) each other about things we might like to explore.  It was sex the way I always dream it should be, but doesn’t always lend itself to becoming.  Later we showered together and he washed my hair, which is something I find so very romantic (and really unlike him lol).  The rest of the day was peaceful.  We watched a few movies.  We ran some errands and cooked dinner together.  Before bed, we had even-more phenomenal sex.  Don’t get me wrong though.  The sex wasn’t the reason the day was great.  It definitely didn’t hurt (and that’s also a blessing lol), but it wasn’t the reason.  It was more the attitude.  It was the fact that we were the way we used to be before all this crap came into our lives lately.  I had a thought and later his apparently echoed mine.  He leaned over, kissed me, and told me that in one short day, he felt as if we had been on vacation and he was relaxed and happy.  That was the best compliment that I can recall of late.  Moreover, I felt the exact same way.  At a time when I’ve been pretty-bummed about not being able to get away on a vacation to see some far away friends (or anywhere else for that matter), my Sweetie and I had our own little “staycation” that was almost as good as a “homeymoon”.   

 

Don’t forget to smile and share all the wonderful things that happen to you with someone.  The good times are much more fun to hear about then than the negative ones! 

 

I Wish You a Period of Contentment

When twilight drops her curtain down and pins it with a star, remember that you have a friend though she may wander far.” Anon.

 

I was thinking today about a time in my life when I was 18.  It started within the few weeks’ right before my 19^th birthday, actually.  Wow, 1987 seems SO long ago.  I remember a strange feeling of calm and peace in my life.   I remember talking to an old friend about it at the time, and we and two other friends were all feeling the same way.  Things were running smoothly.  There were no real worries.  We were happy.  Our home lives were running smoothly.  I had a great part time job that I enjoyed as a customer service rep for a furniture company.  I had been talking to a guy that I really liked, and we had been hanging out a lot (not dating, per se, just hanging out and being friends).  I knew my birthday was coming up, and that was making things even better.  (I happen to be one of those people who LOVE my birthday!)  I remember getting a large teddy bear from a guy, not the one I just mentioned though; it might have been from another friend’s brother, now that I think about it.  The gesture was unexpected, and as silly as it seems now, it apparently stayed with me all these years, so I guess it was an event in my life then.  When we discussed the “period of contentment”, as we later referred to that period, we had heard that there was also a planetary alignment in the heavens and that some astrologers believed that this occasion would cause times of harmony.  Whether that was all true or not, I don’t really know, since I’ve never really read up on too much astrology.  All I know is that I’ve never really had another time like that in my life.  I’ve never had another period of utter peace and harmony for my close friends and myself that occurred simultaneously.  Today, if I could have just one wish, I think I might wish for a new and improved “period of contentment” for me and for all of you.  I would love a time when all seems right in our respective little worlds.  A time when our problems seem to drift away and smiles seem to flow freely.      

 

If anything resembling this experience happens soon to any of you, you’d let me know to be on the look out, right?

You Belong in a Zoo!

The Internet is a wonderful and magical thing, don’tcha know.  Once upon a time, in a fairyland called AOL, I met an incredible person.  (No, not Hubby!  Well, technically I did meet HIM there too, but for now NOT him. LoL)  I was frequenting chat rooms trying to find a social life. BWAHAHAHAHA, many years later, and I’m still doing the same thing, just on Flickr these days!  Anyway, I digress.  In the special land of BBW chat rooms, I met a young woman, who later became one of my bestest girlfriends.  She and I hit it off right away.  As it turns out, we had many many things in common.  We were both in our twenties and living home with our families.  We both had brothers of approximately the same age.  We both had (have) an incredible sense of humor.  Both of our fathers preferred a few too many alcoholic beverages, now and again.  This meant that both our families had seen more than their fair share of alcoholic rage issues.  And, as strange as it may seem, while both of us where in our twenties (one of us WELLL into her my twenties), we were both virgins.  We were virgins trying to forge ahead in the weird, wacky and perverted world of AOL. We found all of these similarities amazing, and they just helped create a bond that has lasted for about 9 years now.  Today is her birthday, and I wanted to take a minute to let her know how much she means to me.  Because we live two states apart, we don’t get to see each other as often as we would like; and lately circumstances have even changed how often we get to talk on the phone or the computer, but I know she’s only a phone call away.  To me, that means the world.  Shar, I love you with all my heart.  You always have a home-away-from-home here in NJ.  Well, make that two if you count Mom and Dad’s house!  May your birthday be a fantastic one, and may this coming year bring you all the special blessings that you deserve! 

 

 

PS  No, neither of us is still virgins.  Thank goodness. Now we are both experienced sex goddesses!  LOL

 

PPS  Why do kids now sing “Happy Birthday to you, cha cha cha.”?  When did this start and why?

Who Wants to Get Busy with Me? ;)

“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.”  Dale Carnegie 

When did I become a person who is SO afraid of failure?  How did I loose the will to try things?  It doesn’t really matter what it is, I cop out in one way or another because I’m nervous and unsure of myself.  Many months ago, I researched and found a local amateur photography group and was extremely excited at the prospect of learning to use the Canon Rebel XTi that my husband gave me.  Have I gone to even one meeting yet? No!  Now the summer is here and there are no meetings for the next few months.  That was just one example; I could name probably about a hundred more.  The unknown is not the only thing that paralyzes me to the point of isolation.  Sometimes, I get the same terrified feeling when I think about speaking to a friend or calling a member of the family.  I feel like I won’t have a thing to say that they will want to hear or talk about.  What a ridiculous notion.  These are the people I love and respect, for crying out-loud.  As far as I know, they feel the same about me as well!  I realize too that this is not something that I’ve manufactured all by myself.  This type of behavioral isolation runs in my Dad’s family to a degree.  In many ways, I guess I’m like him.  He’s a people person, but only when he’s got some liquid courage behind him.  Otherwise, he will hole himself up and not want be bothered by the outside world.  Perhaps that is just his way of coping with his insecurities.  Luckily, I rarely go the liquid courage route.  That’s not my style.  As for me, I need to re-learn to motivate myself in such a way that I really don’t care what happens when I try things.  I need to care more about trying than succeeding in tasks.  I need to participate actively in life again, and I don’t know where to begin any more.

 

I’ve been thinking about all this a lot lately.  While some of these fears have been with me a long time, they have increased in intensity and multiplied themselves after my bout with cancer.  I think I’ve concluded that I’m afraid to be happy again.  Doing things, even the smallest most unimaginative things will mean I’m living.  Once I live, do, and feel, I will become that much closer to having my dreams crushed all over again.  That terrifies me in a way that I can’t begin to explain.  All I know is that I cannot continue on this way.  What is the purpose in being a cancer survivor, if I’m not living?  I suppose that is an answer all unto itself!

“There are places I’ll remember… all these places had their moments… In my life, I’ll love you more…” (Lyrics: In My Life by the Beatles)

Father’s Day is a day to celebrate our Dads.  A day to show them how special they are and how much they mean to us.  Sometimes we give them token gifts or serve a BBQ dinner.  This year, I wanted to write down some of my special Dad memories.  A few of the reasons I love him as much as I do.  These aren’t all of them, but instead are the ones that came to my mind randomly.

• It’s late but Mom let me stay up to see him because he promised he wouldn’t be “much” longer.  He should’ve been home earlier, even at the tender age of four or five I know this.  Finally, I heard a noise outside and see Mom check the window, and with a disgusted groan, I can tell he’s home and did something she wasn’t happy about.  So, I got up and can see dad coming to the door with a bundle.  He brought me a puppy!  A cute little mutt that I later named Cap (after a toy baby bottle cap that was lying on the coffee table).  I adored him for that, for going against Mom (even though she would be the one taking care of the finger biting pain in the rear puppy!).
• I’m little, about seven I think, and I can remember sitting behind Dad on the sofa.   It’s his time to rest, and yet he sits patiently while I sit and play beauty parlor with him.  Combing his short hair and trying to make it into a “pretty” style.  He would pretend it was a bother but I know deep down he loved every minute of sitting there and getting “pretty” for me.
• The smell of bacon and eggs on Sunday morning was common when Dad was home from work.  He enjoys a nice home cooked breakfast.  First, though, I would crawl into bed between my parents as they read the paper, and wiggle and cuddle with them.  Usually ending up rubbing his chest hairs – for some reason they always fascinated me.  After breakfast, however, he would move to the living room.  I also remember watching Sunday morning movies with him sometimes: Our Gang, Shirley Temple, The Bowery Boys or Bob Hope movies.  Other times, we would play double-handed solitaire.  I cherished those days.
• The lunch bell rang.  I lived about three blocks from school, so I could run home to eat lunch at home, and then get back before the lunch bell rang again.  Sometimes, no one would be there and I would rush a quick bite to eat on my own.  Sometimes Dad would be there with lunch ready and waiting, and we would eat together.  It was always comforting to sit and have lunch with him, even if the conversation was awkward.  Still, there were still other times, when he would go out before I got there.  However, he would have the table set, lunch ready on a plate in the fridge.  Sometimes it was just a hello written on a scrap of paper, or a love poem on paper napkin.  A rose picked from the garden laying next to my plate.  Somewhere I have those sweet notes; the little tokens that he cared enough to make me feel special.  I can still remember one poem, as silly as it was… “I love you, I love you, I love you, I do.  If I had a donut, I’d give you the hole.”  He’s not a man of many words or emotions.  He doesn’t dote on us.  However, those little gestures of love went a long way for me.  Even though I always knew he felt that way, I Just wish there were more of them.
• Until I got married, not a Valentine’s Day ever went by that he didn’t make sure I received a Valentine in the mail and when I was younger, always a pretty, red heart box of chocolates.  I have to say that when I got married, and even though I had my husband, I missed not getting my annual Valentine from Daddy. 
• Have you even been close to a neighborhood fire? Do you know what that sort of smoke smells like? Mix that particular smell with the smell of the rubber from his coat and boots and mix in some after-shave and that’s what I think of when I smell fire.  I think of my Dad.  I love that smell.  It takes me back to every trip to the firehouse to see him while he was working.  It takes me back to that proud feeling of knowing that Daddy would keep the neighborhood safe for us.  Of knowing that my friends thought he was special and looked up to him for what he did for a living.
• It’s nighttime, though not very late.  Although Dad usually enjoys a drink after work, he rarely drinks at home.  That’s why I can tell this is different.  He’s at the kitchen table with a bottle and a glass.  He’s visibly upset, and I don’t exactly know why.  I stay in my room because he and Mom are talking in hushed voices.  I can hear him pouring a drink or two.  I can hear the catch in voice and later the sobbing as he told Mom what happened at work that day.  There was a really bad fire, and he couldn’t get to the child in time enough to keep him/her alive.  The baby died, and he had to carry it out of the building.  It was that night that I knew that Daddies aren’t always sure of themselves and that they feel real pain.  That was the night that I wanted to run to Dad, throw my arms around him and tell him that I loved him even more just because he tried; but I didn’t want him to know that I heard.   I wished I could take that particular day away from him or at least show him that what happened was FAR from his fault.
• Every year when I was small, I both dreaded and looked forward to Lent.  Dad would do an annual physical and spiritual cleansing of his body.  He would diet, stop smoking and drinking.  The first week or so during this time, where ALWAYS a pain because he’d be markedly grouchy.  After that, however, I loved it.  Then it was a pleasure to have Dad around.  My father has an infectious and mischievous sense of humor.  I think I must get that part of my personality from him.  We would laugh and just enjoy having him around.  I love those memories.  When he wants to, he can have a great deal of self-control.  I’ve always admired that about him.
• It’s very late and I’m half-asleep.  I can barely get my clothes off and the phone rings.  It’s dad saying that Mom will have the twins (my brothers) soon.  He tells me that Gram and Aunt Yvette are on their way back to the hospital.  So I rush to change again, and run down the stairs to meet them, and we rush back to the hospital.  “Soon” turns out to take quite a bit longer though.  Then, suddenly, the doors burst open and we see nurses and doctors rushing two incubators towards the nursery.  They are followed closely behind by my Dad, who has the most amazing smile and look of love on his face.  I can still hear him saying “I have sons!”  Although I love that moment with all my heart, I always wonder if his look was the same when they had me.  I hope it was.
• My Mother’s smile was a mile wide.  My brothers and I at her side in a crowded room, waiting to hear Dad’s name as he was being sworn in as Fire Captain.  It was a big day for us, but more so for him.  He worked hard to get there.  I know that it was a big deal for him.  For a long time, I think he was afraid to try.  He and I are a lot alike in that way.  I think he decided more for the family than for his own need.  He knew it was a good financial move and we would all benefit.  To tell you the truth though, I’m glad he did it for HIM.  He always knew he could to do the work and do it well, but I think he doubted the testing and the managerial part of the job.  I’m glad he took the chance and proved to himself that he was capable.  I am still as proud of his accomplishments to this day, as I was the first day we could call him Captain.
• When I was a little girl, before my brothers were in the picture, I can remember that my father’s favorite piece of chicken was the drumstick.  After the boys were born and growing up, I can remember that my brother Brian liked the “handle” chicken as he called it.  All of the sudden, Dad’s tastes changed and his favorite piece of chicken became the wing.  That’s when I understood what being a parent meant and why people do the things they do for the people they love.  It sounds silly, but I think of Dad and Love every time I eat drumsticks.
• My parents sold their house in the city and bought a new one about 50 miles from where we used to live.  The hard part was the commute.  We (mom, dad and I) all still worked in the city.  During that time, Dad and I would commute together.  At first, I was not thrilled about it.  It meant I would have to wait almost an hour in the car for him to be done with his job for the day.  Then we would have an hour-long drive, sometimes in silence.  Conversation was awkward at times, but little by little I think that time forced together made our relationship stronger.  It put us in a situation where we would eventually talk and sometimes stay silent, but the silences became less awkward.  I think we began to respect each other for what we were - working adults.  
• He’s at my side.  We’re arm in arm behind closed doors, waiting to hear the music.  He says, “Are you ready, kid?” And, I reply “Yes”.  Then he asks if I’m sure I want to go ahead with it, and again I say yes.  He squeezes my arm and kisses my cheek just as the music starts and the doors open.  Dad escorts me down the isle toward another wonderful man, and toward the next part of my life.

 

Not all of my memories are great.  Some hurt, some confuse me and some just make me angry.  But, there are a lot more than those above that make me smile and give me the security to know that I am loved.  Thanks, Dad.  In my life, I’ll love you more.