Second Day of Summer

Boy oh Boy oh Boy. Please, I don't want to kill you, but if you keep this up...

Before going to work, Beloved left me a little note:

It coaxed a small smile out of me, but I gotta tell ya, I'm close to tears. Is Summer Vacation over yet?!?

Day 2 of Summer Vacation started with another rude surprise. For several weeks, I have been disturbed by how much the kids' laundry reeked. It really was bothering my Momma sense. Turns out my Momma sense should be trusted a little more.

After a very bad night and waking up from an ugly dream, I walked into the kids' room. Boy was sitting on his bunk with headphones, Girl curled up in her nest of blankets. I asked him to take off his headphones and explained that we had some adventures planned for the day, but first he had to take a bath to wash off the arrows. He balked, and I explained that the blue was all smudged and it didn't look good anymore (instead of "Because I said so"). He agreed, and started to climb down.

"Hey Mom, there's a big mystery! The dirty clothes are all wet, but it didn't rain last night."

Crap. I just DID laundry, so there wasn't much, but it was enough to be an irritation. However, the kids both have water cups, and although they are lidded, if it fell from the bed, I could see it popping open on impact.

"And it's not water...there are no cups!"

Double crap. I start adding things up. Even without coffee or decent sleep, the math was pretty clear. I stepped around to look at the laundry pile. Splatters, as if coming from a height. The side of the bunk beds and the window sill also have drips running off the edges. I eye Boy warily. His amused grin was the answer, but I put my finger in a drip and sniffed.

Urine.
From the top of the bunk beds where a five year old Boy sleeps.
And I have been wondering about the laundry for *how long*???
Triple, double-dog CRAP!

*breathe* Did you pee off the bunk bed?

"No, I'm telling the truth," with the grin only slightly fading.

I didn't wait. I grabbed his arm and swatted him. Do NOT lie to me! You are going to clean all of this up! Start by taking the basket all the way to the basement. Come back upstairs with a bucket.

I had to repeat the directions a few times while I got the Murphy's Oil and some rags. He got an inch of water and a dollop of oil and was put to task washing the bed, the window, the wall, the floor. Beloved took down the curtain for him and (bless Him!) explained that if this ever happened again, Boy would be wearing diapers for a week like his baby sister. (I hadn't gotten past the outrage to be clever about a future punishment.)

I still plan to have Boy do the laundry...I will tell him what to do, but HE will do it, all the way through the cycles. Combining that with the diaper threat, and maybe this won't be an issue again...

It's 9:30 am. How much worse CAN it be?

First Day of Summer Vacation

Yesterday...Tuesday...was the first day of Boy's summer vacation. Thank all the gods that we only have to get through the rest of this week!!!! Oiy.

Start off with it was a crazy weekend for the kids as well as the grown-ups. Friday-Monday, they slept in 3 different places, played and swam all day, and were generally run as much as I was running. Now, on Tuesday...Dada goes to work (like usual), and Boy is home with "Mean ol' Momma" who hasn't really prepared for this.

Oh, I have elaborate plans for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday this week...but ONE DAY AT HOME didn't seem like too much to ask for. I still have all the laundry and household chores to keep up with, after all.

Unfortunately, by 10am, it WAS too much to ask for. The kids had watched a show and were in the Great Room playing while I unloaded the dishwasher. Boy came running into the kitchen, "Look Mom! I'm the Avatar!"

The first thing I saw was the bright blue arrow he had very carefully managed on his forehead. Okay, washable marker. *breathe* Washable marker. Hey kiddo, that's pretty cool! His hair looked a little funny, though. Pushed back so more of the arrow was visible. He asked for some help with drawing arrows on his hands and feet so he could look more like Aang. Sure, lemme finish the dishes...

I drew out the arrows, but something was bugging me. Something was not right. I walked into the Great Room and saw Girl was following her brother's example and had also drawn lines up and down her forearms and forehead. *breathe* It's washable, it's washable.

Then I saw the scissors. I looked again at Boy's forehead. Oh crap.

Sure enough, it wasn't water that had slicked back his hair...he had CUT IT OFF. Oh my god, I'm going to kill you....
Hey you, come here... Yeah, the patch was not going to be easily fixed. Double crap. I can't tell you what I said...I was trying too hard to control the tone and keep calm...but I did get him naked and in the bathtub so that I could *try* to fix it. Within two minutes, I confirmed it was hopeless and Boy was sobbing because I was taking too much off and his friends would laugh at him. Not good.

I'll make you a deal...we will turn on the shower and wash off the arrows. Then we will get dressed and walk over to the shop and have them fix your hair. Momma just can't do it right. I promise that when we come home, I will help you make all of your arrows again.

It worked. In fifteen minutes, I was sitting in the busy neighborhood barber shop with a little boy who desperately needed hair fixing and a little girl who was dancing in circles and covered in multi-colored marker. I felt like I qualified for the Worst Mom of the Year Award. Beloved texted me, guaranteeing that every mom had moments like this. *sigh*

Seven dollars and forty-five minutes later, Boy is grinning about his prickly hair and we walked home. It took a couple of hours, but he did come around and ask about the arrows. I didn't blink. A promise is a promise.





Mostly I hope that he will remember the glee of the afternoon as the Air Bender, and not have too much regret or resentment because "Mean ol' Momma" got his head shaved. I am also very glad that summer camp starts next week!

my Lioness

(If you do RSS feed, you might want to go back to "My Party" to see the photos from Rocky Horror Picture Show.)

Someone commented recently on my mention of my spirit animal.

"Religion" has always been a tough bite to swallow. My grandparents deemed parochial school as important enough to them that they foot the bill for nine long years. As early as kindergarten (5 years old), the Sisters worried about my soul, and in second grade (7 years old) I met a ruler for asking how you know you have faith in Jesus. I stumbled through Reconciliation and Holy Communion (8 years old). My father was not exactly helpful, encouraging me to bring home an F in religion class.

By eighth grade and Confirmation (13 years old), I had some harsh challenges to the supposed goodness of God. I'd been gang-raped, my mother was dying "because of unconfessed sins", and no matter WHAT I did, those Fs (and the $100 prize) were out of reach. I did not want to confirm my beliefs in the Church, I wasn't ready to be an adult in their beliefs...but the adults all assured me that my uncertainity were signs of my maturity. *shrug* I went through the motions for their approval. One of my favorite photos of that time is my Confirmation picture.

Like most teens, I was angsty and frustrated with my footing, but without an outlet. My mom died and my dad battled crushing depression and I stepped into "head of household". I read Fifth Sacred Thing and Clan of the Cave Bear and I formulated ideas that were condemned by the Church.

It wasn't until I met Beloved that I found others who shared these ideas, who played in the moonlight and danced around bonfires. We toyed with bits and pieces, mixed them with sex energy, and discovered realms of consciousness. One of the first times I orgasmed with Beloved (ever), I found myself slipping into a dreamspace. I was flying and tumbling and running. At first there was amazing freedom and peace, but I was like Peter.

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” “Come,” he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” ~Matthew, 14:28-30

God didn't answer me, though. She did. It is so hard to convey the image...this picture comes close. It was not a desert, but from a mountain cliff that she called to me. She was my mother, my friend, my protector, my teacher. Her calm, her solid body, her strength drew me and she kythed with me. When I was sated, she led me home to Beloved, her name on my lips.

Maybe it is a lot of "Woo", but my Lioness has taught me healing, showed me a better way to live, and reopened my willingness to talk to God. I mentioned my frustrations with religions earlier. Mahatma Gandhi said, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." I think that God and I have an accord; I will be part of the plan so long as I don't have to put up with the preaching.

*half smile* Hey...if God can talk to Moses in the form of a burning bush, anything is possible, right?

It's my party!

Yup, 36 whole years ago, at about 2pm, yours truly appeared on the scene. The scene hasn't been the same since! *laughs*

To celebrate, I'm dragging a bunch of my lifestylish friends to the Rocky Horror Picture Show at midnight. I would not have ever guessed that there would be so many virgins among you! To think that lil ol innocent ME gets to pop at least six cherries tonight is hilarious!



I'm currently thinking my black PVC jacket with black PVC corset, some barely public bottom with fishnet stockings and boots with three steel buckles. We'll see...how I'm feeling. Part of my reserve is girlie post-surgery bloating makes the idea of a corset a little daunting! Part of it is costuming at my 70-year-old aunt's house with my da and kids hanging about! If I pull it off, I'll get pictures!

UPDATE: I did get pictures!

The whole crew!


Tomorrow I am dragging Futhark and Beloved over to Shado's house and we are gunna to demolition derbies to a rotten shed and ancient picket fence. Monday will be off and running the kids, (hopefully) with Futhark and his crew.

By the way, Monday is Memorial Day in the USofA...it's supposed to be a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces. You don't have to agree with war...I sure as hell don't! *crooked smile* My da and I like to round-robin on this...mercenary vs. patriot. My opinion...the paycheck our soldiers get doesn't cover the courage and faith that it takes to give up your life. Sure, it's a gamble they may be willing to take, but I'm pretty sure *I* don't have that level of commitment for something vague like "my fellow citizens". Anyhow, amidst all of the fun and yumminess of the BBQs and hang outs and free-day bumminess, please take a moment to reflect on the reason we have the day off.

Don't look back

When you run the race of life, don't look back...it will only slow you down. ~Ben Gordan, Ripples #674

I have found that when I am on the computer, I am often trapped into looking backwards, remembering, regretting. This is not a good place for me to be. I have been experimenting with consciously limit the time that I am on the computer. Funny thing...when I log off, I am more able to create real magic, accomplish more tasks, and get excited about moving forward.

Of course, this means that I am even more elusive than I was before! *laughs* Don't like talking on the phone, not regularly on Facebook, and NOW I'm cutting down on chat AND e-mail? Next thing you know, I'll drop off the world completely! Not really sure what I can tell ya, except that I think Mister Ben is on to something...looking backwards DOES slow me down!

new plan...

So I got the apple tree planted...but...um...yeah...not much else got in the GROUND today. Grand plans and all that. But I *did* find the magic cord, so here are some update photos of the garden...






Daylilies about to burst into bloom and common chives








Budding Liatris, Lupus seed pods developing, Rhubarb seed pods





Tea roses going crazy, saw-tooth sunflowers and buds, ripening strawberries





Pink sundrops, tomato promises, first echinacea and golden sedum



First sprigs of lavender and more sedum

Thursday! CHAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGE!

Ya know, five hours seems like a lot of time to spend on yardwork. 9:30am-12noon and 8:30-11pm. Take what I can get,it seem like I only scratched the surface of what needs to be done, though. :-S What was I saying about biting off more than I could handle this spring??? yeah... The cool thing is that I got a lot of the boring work done yesterday. Mowing the grass (although I did the back in the dark and there are two places I completely MISSED...go figure), weeding, watering straw bales, raking.

The unpleasant chore still waiting deals with three partial compost bins...little stinky, but basically I need to dump them and sieve out the bits that need to go back in and back, and then brew up some compost tea to work the rich good stuff into the straw bales. Inching closer to when I can plant them! *Hopefully* I will be better on task next spring and I will get all of this started in March and not the end of May!

I lost a batch of petunias and the green sweet potato vines, but I think I can get replacements...or not worry about it, which might be the better plan. I also got some pictures, but I can't find the magic transfer cord, so I'll have to see about uploading them later.

This morning, there are about 30 plants that are prepped and waiting patiently for me on the porch...purple asparagus, blue passion flower vines, scarlet bee balm, wintergreen, chocolate vine, goji berries, honeyberries, and yes, even an apple tree. Yes, I'll have to wait a couple more years, but edibles galore! I am so excited about all of this! Fitting it all into what space is left...hmmm. (Hopefully Beloved won't read this until AFTER I have plotted everything. :P)



Other two goals for the day:

* clean the bathrooms! oiy. I don't *mind* bathrooms, but I think I am the only person in the household who does clean them, and I have been out of commission for about 2 weeks. Little scary.

* finish washing laundry! I think 3-4 loads and it will be all clean. Then I can add it to the 3-4 loads that need to be folded (making about 8 loads of folding), and add THAT to the 3-4 loads that are in reasonable piles that need to be put away (12 loads total). That breaks down to 3 loads per person per week for clothes, towels, bedding. That's pretty reasonable, isn't it? How long before I can put a step-stool next to the washer and let the kids wash their own clothes, towels, and bedding? *sigh* Yeah, probably too long. *laughs*

I am presuming that Girl will not complain too much about either helping or going into her room and tearing all the books off the shelves...but my fingers are crossed!

Hmmmm-ing more on submission, garden, and a little TMI

“Submission depends on the individual’s ability to align his will with that of the dominant and use his intelligence to fulfill her wishes gracefully and efficiently.” -Christina Abernathy, Miss Abernathy’s Concise Slave Training Manual

"That is not to say you cannot challenge his ideas, you know, keep him from destroying himself or the family...that's okay!"
-Mark Gungor

Note to Self: There is no mention of bdsm, kink, play, or service, even a "lifestyle" resources. I also like the incorporation of intelligence. If there is no intelligence, you might as well que the March of the Lemurs. The act of submission means little if life railroads you constantly; it means the most when offered by someone who is strong and confident in their own right. In that case, submission can be appreciated as the ultimate sign of respect.


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The garden is in a frustrating point...the second wave of blooms is going to seed, the third is hinting at a color explosion, but it looks a little bedraggled right now. I want to tidy, but I also want some of the precious seed pods that haven't dried out enough to harvest. *hops from on foot to the other* Someone recently pointed out that patience is not among my virtues. Very true!

Oh well, maybe I'll get some pictures up later on.



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Five days post-ablation, and I have a bloody mess. I was warned it *might* happen, but it's a disappointment that my "last" moon wasn't really my LAST. Blah. I'm going to go pop some ibprofen before picking up the spade and shears.

What's submission got to do with it?

Cindy Easley wrote a book with that title, and I was highly amused when I saw it on the thrift store shelf. For 69 cents, I figured I could indulge. It wasn't until about a week later that I finally got to open it and at first I had to bite my tongue. It is BIBLICAL. Not the occasional reference, but multiple quotes on ever page through p61 (I haven't gotten further yet).

I can get particularly cankerous about "The Word" because quite frankly, this IS NOT the Word; this is the message that was translated from an experience with an angel, a burning bush, a dream. The message was then translated from Aramaic to Greek and Latin, and THEN translated to modern language. There are over 30 different Bible translations and versions online, all slightly different. *raises eyebrow* Care to tell me which one is correct? Not to mention, there are other Great Books that also claim to be The Word. I don't have enough knowledge, but I suspect they suffer from the same diverse translations and resulting subtle differences. *shrug*

This very simple belief is why I am not a religious person...spiritual, yes, but not religious. I am grateful for Beloved's Grandad, himself a Presbyterian church leader, who says that it is best to "eat the fish and spit out the bones." You can choke to death on those bones if you aren't careful.

All of this leads to a bit of surprise that I am finding some very true bits of wisdom in this book. Things that are echoed in Mark Gungor's materials, and I really love his work! Simple things. "Every man wants his wife to believe in him." In For Men Only, Shaunti Feldhahn wrote, "The male need for respect...is so hardwired and critical that most men would rather feel unloved than disrespected or inadequate."

I am opinionated, independent, strong-willed, not afraid to make decisions or open my mouth or take on leadership. I am not a doormat, nor would Beloved put up with me being a doormat. He *needs* me to be strong, to be a leader, to be his helpmate, to represent him when he is elsewhere. But so much of that got messed up when we started delving into D/s...mostly because it came with the trappings of BDSM and things we weren't truly interested in. We've fumbled through concepts, contracts, communications, but I never really found what I was looking for.

Submissive women is NOT a popular idea. It is not culturally acceptable or even open for discussion in a society that worships equality. Sitcoms carry the theme of "the slob-idiot-man married to the beautiful and brilliant woman," and it is hilarious and laughed at. There is a real struggle for a girl who is seeking meaningful submission.

Just two weeks ago, I shared the moment my desire for submission was born when I walked out of the hospital, owned and protected by my husband, and outside any other attempts of authority over me. Combining that memory with Gungor's "be his number one fan" and Easley's "One of the greatest gifts we can give to our husbands is to bring them honor and respect..." I think maybe I am finally finding a picture I understand.

Doing well post-procedure

The ablation apparently went well...the poor anestesiologist had a terriible time finding a vein...it took four attempts and two of those resulted in perforations and I'm black and blue...but once that was done, I was gone before the doctor returned. The afternoon had some rough bits as I came down from the drugs. The "simple" solution was to throw up (after two hyperemesis pregnacies, I'd MUCH rather throw up than be nauseous!) And a HOT shower to raise my body temperature. Once accomplished, I was able to sleep well through the afternoon.

I got up and took some ibprofen, ate some high-calorie easy food, and am tucked back into bed. I have been ensconced at Rain's house...no children, no computes, none of my usual distractions...so I can foruse on healing, sleeping, and quiet.

Anyone trying to get in touch with me...it appears that text messages are highly delayed. With NATO in Chicago, I wouldn't be surprise if the Chicagoland networks are overloaded and monitored. Don't freak if I am hard to get a hold of.

A picture is worth a thousand words

Let's go for another ride!

There is an ache when I see something that I identify with too much. Perhaps it is because it chips away at the illusion that I am someone unique, someone special. YesterDAY was probably on of the best days I have had in weeks. I decided on and registered for something amazing for Girl's third birthday. I don't imagine she will have complete memories of it, but it fulfills a fantasy *I* have held since my own childhood. At the moment, I feel like I could dance. This...THIS is what I begged for in those dreadful weeks of my first pregnancy. The taste of magic. The realization that the magic is real and can flow through me, effortlessly.

From there, I shut down the computer. The electronics have been a stone in my shoe...blistering and crippling. Instead, I went through the summer wardrobe, cleared out the winter stuff (at last!), and even put some things aside for my ablation-healing and camp.

When Girl was bored with her bath, we went outside. We blew some bubbles and I cut down the broken lupus stalks and the lemon balm. There are three bundles of it drying on the porch. I was considering doing the same with the sage when Girl asked about taking a walk.

We scooped up some books to return to the library, and then played for about 20 minutes at the swimming stones before dropping by The Mill. I don't know how long he's been at it, but HBY inherited the place and has done a painstaking job with the restoration. The front is commercial, but the back and the upstairs are residential...designed for one resident in particular. And it is amazing. From the display shelves for his collection of "toys" to the split bathroom with slate tiling (damn it, I am back to being grumpy we couldn't afford slate for the Master Bath) to the exposed copper water pipes, to the kitchen concept, to the glorious ceiling in the Great Room... I have a serious case of house-envy! It is positively glorious!

We chatted a bit and teased about how I am going to have to be the one who packs for my ablation-healing...otherwise, I'm sure to end up with no unders and lots of sheer clothes. Girl refused a ride home, so we hurried as far as the China Hut and ordered some bubble tea to slurp on the rush home to get in the car to get to school to pick Boy up.

He was a little reluctant until I told him we were coming back for the play. We wandered around FiveBelow looking for suitable congratulations for the actors...all we found were goggles that will hopefully be better than the crappy ones I tossed in the Easter baskets and a prize for BaconFest (yes, I DO start this early on such things). We got back to school and thoroughly enjoyed the "green eggs" cookies and playing in the park.

I braved Chuck E. Cheese for dinner. *deep breaths* Beloved told me next time I should take ear plugs as well as the tokens. I swear my ears get more and more sensitive...

The evening presented a little hitch that was designed to rattle me. Clever, but the brain behind the ploy didn't take into account that I have friends in many places. *shrug* The report back was "markedly unfounded". Go suck on a shoe.

Still, I decided on a bath to unwind and made a fatal mistake; I picked up the third book...The MockingJay.

Beloved said the book was hard, and it was. I got completely lost in the trudge through the Capitol, much in the same way much in the same way I can only take so much catastrophic drama in movies before I lose interest and end up scanning to see when the horror ends and the story resumes. It was the epilogue that was my undoing. Those two pages weren't written about some fictional character...they were ME, in black and white, in someone else's language.

"One day I'll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away. I'll tell them how I survived it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away."

I cried...not for the character, but for myself. Because one day...right now...I am struggling to make sense of my own horrors and losses and resentments and insecurities. I am doing Very Big Work, and the core reasons were summed up in that last sentence. *winces* That chip in the armor...partly that I'm not unique, partly because so many other people are trapped in their own stories and probably identify with it as closely as I do. I wish I had enough magic to wave a wand..

*sigh* The ablation is tomorrow. In fact, 24 hours from this posting, it will be DONE. *deep breaths* I think I would choose a 10 minute roller coaster ride on the world's worst roller coast than this stupid 10 minute medical procedure. Any medical procedure. Voluntarily getting my innards microwaved and having meds for expected nausea and muscle cramps just isn't my idea of a relaxing time. The ONLY saving graces right now is that I am familiar with twilight and I actually like this doctor. *deep breaths* Like I said, 24 hours and it will be over. I'll be tucked into bed AND I have a free pass to do absolutely nothing all weekend except sleep. That...well, yeah, that's pretty sweet.

stop struggling

Talina{ZAR} is one of the amazing people I met at SJW. I think I have a little bit of hero-worship because she is "proof" that my former roommate had ZERO clue about the Gorean world. Thank god! If J had a clue about anything, I think the world might collapse.

Anyway, Talina posted a journal entry that speaks to me a lot (although I don't know I'm cut for the slave label yet). The highlighted bits are my own emphasis.

Your identity will, by definition, change as your ideas of who you are change. You are in the process of acknowledging parts of yourself that you have hidden for years, and that automatically means that your identity is shifting. This has probably happened to you many times in your life, and you probably didn’t fight it before, because it seemed natural. After all, if you’re not a different person at age 45 than you were at age 25, you’ve missed some incredible opportunities!

So, why is it so uncomfortable to contemplate developing a slave identity? The fact that you can’t envision the endpoint. And that’s good! That means what you are becoming is so fantastic, your imagination can’t even define it.

As far as your Owner remaking you – just not possible. I know, I know, FetLifers talk about how their Owners formed them….yada yada yada. Not true. What happens is that WE CHOOSE how we’re going to change. The most our Owners can do is provide the catalyst for us to desire the change, as well as some direction on how they would prefer the change to go. From there, it’s all about us and our choices. Please stop thinking of yourself as some helpless victim who is going to be irrevocably changed against his will by some Owner who is going to abuse the privilege. Again, not gonna happen, dude.

When you relax and simply realize that the slave has always been inside you, and is simply asking for a little time-share with the outer world, you’ll laugh at how silly you were to struggle so hard. Let your inner slave have a chance, why don’t ya! He’s been hidden for years, and just wants a chance for expression, like all the other aspects of who you are.

Okay, so I know this message is a bit rough. It’s clear, straight talk with no fluffy filler. If you don’t like that kinda talk, let me know now, so I can be more gentle in the future. Otherwise, you’re gonna get more of this stuff later. smile

Damn it, I hate roller coasters.

*sigh* It sure has been a rough couple of days. Last night, I gave Beloved the example of marbles. Pretty, shiny marbles are fun and easy to pick up. I have my hands full of marbles right now, each one representing a different responsibility or upcoming obstacle (real or perceived): Boy, Girl, chores, ablation, Tryst, major poly-life adjustments, the garden, my work on self-discovery and identifying needs/wants/desires, rebooting drum circle, school/work/future, withdrawal.

My hands are only so big. The more marbles I try to hold, the more I become afraid of dropping one. If I drop a marble while looking at one of the other ones, how do I pick it up without risking dropping more? I am frozen. I can't enjoy any individual marble, and I can't hold on to all of them at once.

Still, I try. hahaha. I'm not human, I'm pixie! I can do it! Watch!

One of the blemishes on the Tryst marble has been potential interactions with an "ex" at Twisted Tryst. I have been worrying about this pretty much since our paths crossed at a poly event back in March. I attempted to be kind and civil, but that didn't seem replicated, by her specifically. I am very good at spinning fears in my head, so in a moment of clarity, I stopped and decided just ask if I was imagining the worst. Apparently I was not.

The last response I got was

I want to offer more clarification. The way things stand right now, you would not be welcome at any drum circle or event. [E]ncountering each other at Tryst will cause tension at the least.

I have spent the last couple of hours doing an excelled version of the five stages of grief. I have come to a place of acceptance with this drama. Re-reading my initial response this morning, I think addressing another e-mail to them would be like rubbing salt in the wounds. At the same time, I am trying for transparency and I need to share.


My intentions response

I do not appreciate the passive-aggressive threat that "encountering each other at Tryst will cause tension at the least." Even with 250 campers, I cannot promise that we will not encounter each other. The best I can offer is transparency in my intentions.

At Tryst, all events are open to everyone, including the drum circle. No one should feel unwelcome at ANYTHING sponsored by Tryst, ever. If individual campers want to do individual things at their own campsites, obviously they are free to do that and invite whomever they please.

I intend to bask in the company of my own tribe and the Tryst Tribe energy. I intend to relish my camp experiences. I intend to maintain a respectful distance, in mind if not in body. I intend to be at the Tryst drum circles.

*deep breaths* I am trying to do some Very Big Works in the area of self, but the progress is agonizingly slow. Beloved has talked about context switching at work...the problem when you are deep in coding and someone jolts you out of the thought-process with a completely unrelated issue and the time it steals from productivity because of how long it takes to get back into your groove. I deal with context switching interruptions every 20 minutes (the length of a Go, Diego GO! episode). My head hurts, my body is tense, and It seems to me that the roller coaster of the Universe is doing all it can to make me lose my marbles.

Life can be like a roller coaster...

I'm not going to get into it...just accept the summary that yesterday was a *BAAAAD* day in my little world. That said, you can forget Six Flags...I am the ultimate roller coaster! *sigh*

Thank you to those who confirmed that it's springtime and busy and not that I'm doing something wrong with Blogger in regards to the comments! I really appreciate it! I've poked the admin folks with my complaint, but at least for now I know I can force the issue.

In the middle of the middle of the meltdowns, a friend of mine wrote that, "I'd like to be my own friend, I really would."

geez...I'm laughing and crying trying to verbalize my response to that simple thought. There's a gut-wrenching honesty in it that I recognize as something I need to work on, too. When I went looking for a life-as-roller-coaster quote this morning, I found this:

“There comes a time when you have to stand up and shout: This is me damn it! I look the way I look, think the way I think, feel the way I feel, love the way I love! I am a whole complex package. Take me... or leave me. Accept me - or walk away! Do not try to make me feel like less of a person, just because I don't fit your idea of who I should be and don't try to change me to fit your mold. If I need to change, I alone will make that decision.
When you are strong enough to love yourself 100%, good and bad - you will be amazed at the opportunities that life presents you.” ~Stacey Charter

When you are strong enough to love yourself....that is a WOW thought in my present existence. I spent plenty of time yesterday indulging in self-pity and feeling very much like a selfish bitch. I know how much is done for me. What more can I possibly ask for? REALLY? What the hell do I need to be happy? You all give so damn much and I am embarrassed and ashamed that I don't know what I can give in return...can't imagine or understand why you all put up with me...

Fold in highlights of silly conversations and pleasure of connecting with others of "my kind" (and being told to "tell Sunshine I said....penis" was a hilarious highlight in my day), and sheer abandon and confidence I had Saturday night... yeah. It's been a ride the last 48 hours.

I can't think beyond June 10th, but the next three weeks have an awful lot going on that perhaps I haven't given enough credit to the import it has. The ablation, only 4 days way, is looming up the way the real monster appears in movies...you think it's a tiny, squashable nuisance, and the closer you get, the more you are looking UP and thinking, oh crap....

I am worried that I have bitten off more than I can chew with my garden this spring. I got so excited with how awesome things were coming in that I got ambitious. I have some HUGE work ahead, and I'm freezing up and getting annoyed with just thinking about it.

My birthday bash...scamming people to go to Rocky Horror with me...and not being as confident that this is the hilarity I first thought it would be. I'm sure it will be great...I just need to beef up on the mantra that THIS IS ME DAMN IT! No apology, no excuse.

Tryst. Oh gods...Twisted Tryst is an unknown, and that always fucks with me. I'll get to see Sir, although he's promised to make me squirm despite (or perhaps BECAUSE) I'm not doing the branding. I'm nervous about potential problems with DSG and AprilBlue, although camp is huge, because of the drumming. I don't want it to feel like a competition ("Drum with me." "No, come drum with ME!" childish kid-crap) but I am afraid of feeling very unwelcome trying to drum with them...at least I have owned up and asked directly on that one...

That ends June 10th. The rest of the summer is in a nebulous "later" in my mind. So much in my life right now is falling into that space...I can't do that NOW...maybe "later". It is making my heart hurt.

commenting problems??? PLEASE RESPOND!!!

I was recently informed that "I wanted to drop you a comment there, but there's not commenting feature." *cocks head* I've been a little curious about the silence from readers, but life gets busy and all that jazz. Or maybe I haven't been interesting enough. Whatever. But now, I'm curious? Can you comment on this page? Drop an anonymous "yes" if you want, but please make a comment if you can!

I know that the blog-wide options have not been friendly with me lately, but I have tried to make sure that individual posts allow comments. I'm trying to get help on that.

It's also possible that the commenting feature is less than self-evident. When I'm looking "anonymously", at the very bottom of a post, there is a link that (usually)says 0 comments. That is a link to allow you to comment. Click on that, and you'll get a new screen to comment.

I hope to hear from you, and thanks for helping out!

To all you mommas...

Your mission, should you choose to accept it...

Back in March, I attended a seminar. At the end of one of the exercises, my partner used those words, challenging me to find what would make me *happy*. That has been a theme is several of the presentations and conversations I have participated in lately.

When am I most energized? When am I most comfortable? What inspires my passion and enthusiasm?

Beloved and I have both realized a conclusion that is difficult to embrace. He was thinking back to the "dream careers" I talked about when we first met. I was reminiscing times in my childhood that were truly joyful. The discovery-realization is that I do best in my own little world, where I can spend hours and lose track of time, and then I can come out and share the fruits of my time. Secret places that I have discovered, ideas I have connected.

But the important element is being ALONE. My spirit animal is a mountain lion.

This cat has the greatest range of any large wild terrestrial mammal in the Western Hemisphere...An adaptable, generalist species...the cougar is a solitary animal...with adults meeting only to mate. It is secretive and crepuscular, being most active around dawn and dusk...It is a reclusive cat and usually avoids people.

It's funny to find the answer staring me in the face...one I have recited to others over and over again...and yet be unprepared for it's "discovery." There is a sharp dichotomy between desiring Beloved's leadership and ownership and my reclusive nature. I am not quite sure how to reconcile his social being and running about and being a butterfly with my need for solitude.

Reading over yesterday's posts as I contemplate today's...Seeing the bounce is scary and hopeful at the same time.

bleech

Methinks I should be more careful about that late-night posting. oiy. I'm not deleting it (although I considered it) because there are actually a few valid notions. *shrug* When I don't have enough distractions, my mind becomes a centifuge, flinging random particles. I suppose it's not entirely a bad thing...maybe getting it out of my system will allow clearer analysis? I can hope, anyway.

BEFORE that vomitous purge, I had gotten into a conversation about dark things...as in sadistic twistings that fascinate and frighten me.

"How do we get involved in these conversation late at night?"
pixiemschf: *laughs* Because during the day, we are distracted, and because such things BELONG in the dark

Perhaps it is also not wise to START the day with such thoughts, but there was another bit of the conversation that I am worrying away at. Submission. D/s. All of that stuff.

Five years ago, in April 2007, I was held for about two hours against my will because I was thought to be a danger to myself or to my child. I managed to alert Beloved that I was in trouble before I was literally dragged from the lobby, threatened with anti-psychotics, denied MY doctor's advice or even their doctor's evaluation. Beloved...the man is amazing. If he had charged in, guns blazing so to speak, I probably would have remained. Instead, he politely, professionally thanked each person for their assistance and asked to speak to their supervisor, until at last he was sitting with the president of the hospital who finally agreed to actually evaluate me. I was released and walked out of the hospital, my baby in my arms, Beloved's arm around my shoulders.

In that moment, I belonged to Beloved. I was his to protect, to have and to hold, and no outside "authority" had any power to deny him. How grateful was I! How I longed to make that feeling last!

In the days and weeks that followed, I delved into new words, trying to find that secure and treasured place in the nebulous world of my stay-at-home confines. Odalisque, slave, submissive. Owner, Master, Dominant. I also began the spiral of Big Pharma, hoping that the little blue pill would satisfy my aching depression and let me dance again.

By August I wore a "collar" and by December I decided to start blogging my thoughts. From time to time, I have glimpsed the peace and confidence of my place, but mostly I was frustrated with the labels, the demotion from a VIP who was once invited to Washington DC to serve Congress to a *mom* whose major accomplishment was a load of laundry half-done or vacuuming. Beloved and I have sampled different lifestyles, tried to mold our lives into someone else's definitions, and generally aren't satisfied with the results. For five years, I have struggled and screamed, at times hating everyone and everything around me, always doubting my success because I never feel truly successful.

"It is a process." Namaste's words haunt me. While I am turning over ideas and searching for a new path, I am also frozen in fear because there is no finish-line, no "successfully completed" measurement. Typing that, I can feel the panic like a vise around my chest, making it hard to breathe. The well of bitterness and resignation opens up and threatens to swallow me. I have not found grace in submission...I have only found other ways to withdraw and hide until it is over, and now I am told it will never be over.

"Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled." ~Loki, The Avengers

The moment in the movie is poignant, rallying defiance. At the same time, I wonder if there isn't a deep truth to it. After all, isn't that precisely what I have been struggling with, lusting for? The mad scramble for power, for identity when what I really crave is that security I felt on that April day five years ago.

*sigh* I'm not completely undone, at least I don't *think* I am. There is a lot going on in my life, and sometimes the centifuge begins whirling, and posts like the one below happen. bleech. Apply salt liberally, and definitely avoid biofreeze in the eyes!

chalk it up to biofreeze in my eye

Who can I talk to? Who might understand? I remember one night, decades ago, when I sat at the computer to pour my angst out into pixels. My page started with "Dear Computer," and my father said that it was okay to be angry, to hate him...but don't talk to a machine. Find someone...

Is that you? Are you listening? What do you hear? What sense does this make, if any? Or am I still just emptying my heart into a machine?

Bits and pieces of my day filter through my thoughts, unorganized, unbidden. Each a different speaker, yet all from today...

You are a creature of light.
They will do whatever it takes to break you.
Most women seem relieved.
Describe what you mean by "service" submissive.
You're in my thoughts...
Deep breaths, my love. It will be no big deal.
She's doing lamaze breathing.
You seem to have an aversion for sleep.
I won't leave you alone.
What should I do?

What should I do? I *should* sleep. Perhaps I even should swallow a little pink pill that will MAKE me sleep. But I'm fighting so hard to align myself...how can I find myself if every time it gets hard, I duck out? What am I made of, really? I think of my mom...the hell she went through with the cancer, so brave, stubborn, STUPID...but I remember being told the same things when I was pregnant and dying. I know why. The distraction makes it possible for you to take the next step, to wake up in the morning. Without the distraction...

I'm so scared of losing myself...of finding myself. Is the ablation different from a branding? Does it count if I'm in twilight and then tucked into bed? Why do I feel like everyone walks on eggshells around me? Am I crazy?

I am so tired, but I can't sleep. I am tumbling through emotions and I don't have a foothold. This isn't like the Vipassana where it felt like I was dissolving into a whole...no...this is more like I am crumbling. Dry leaves, disintegrating.

I don't want to explain D/s or why stones make ripples in the water or how to file tax exemptions. I want to plunge my hands into the dirt, to ground myself literally. I want to lose myself in the solitude of the beach. I want to curl up with the cat purring at my side, to feel the warmth and weight.

If you are reading this...click the BACK button, close the window, go away. I don't want you to see this uncertainty. I'm poised and pixie. I can work miracles and move mountains. Pay no attention to the little girl in the corner. I am the great and powerful PIXIE!

*sigh* I'm not fooling you, am I? Yeah...I'm not fooling myself much either, but sometimes the verbal vomit does make you feel better. I wiped my eyes and got biofreeze in them, so I gotta go. Sorry about the mess...I'll add it to my list to clean up...

The Garden

I have made many mentions of working in the yard. I first started tearing the daylilies out three years ago, and Beloved was quite concerned about what I would do to replace them. Admittedly, I didn't really know. Hours and barters and years later, I am getting to a place I am pretty happy.

Street-view

(yes, I am aware that the Easter lights are *still* up...I haven't found what I want to replace them yet)



view from the front porch, with close-ups of the lupines and columbine



view looking south, close-ups of sundial and globe



Japanese maple (next to the bridge), allium, entrance to the gangway



shady gangway - celandine poppy, ferns, violets, and lilies-of-the-valley





tiny blueberry bush, rhubarb in bloom, and sage bush



peony and hostas along the back walkway and the freshly re-graveled parklot...with about 3 tons left to spread








sweet peppers and herbs (cilantro, oregano, basil, and boxwood basil)








tomatoes, chives, and garlic chives




So, now you can picture where I like to play when I talk about the garden. I have some other herbs hiding in corners, and my roses aren't blooming, so I didn't take pictures of them. I have plans for three more gardens to put in this year: a herbal-display garden in the parkway; a corner prairie with meadowsweet, Joe pye, milkweed, and maximillian sunflower; and a straw bale vegetable garden on the south side of the garage. There are two bamboo tee-pee frames that are also waiting to go up for my beans and sugar-snap peas...*smiles* Oh, and another 60 bulbs are ready for the fall, and I haven't really done anything with the north side gardens!

The time. The Time! Who has the TIME?!?

8:35pm. Boy and Girl are bathed and tucked into bed. I sink wearily into a chair, knowing I "should" address the dishes in the sink, pick up the bathroom from bathtime, or at the very least, find something nutritious to eat. Instead, I sit down here.

I spent a lot of the day digging in RiverVixen's yard...I bartered time weeding in exchange for some of her volunteer ferns, black-eyed susans, and lambs ear. I'm excited about the plants and she seems happy with the service. Win-win. It's a little tricky to come home with enough energy to get them into the ground here. Next time, I will be smarter and prepare my space BEFORE going to her house. :P As it is, I should be able to finish what I have before it is too hot tomorrow.

*shakes head* Hot. The weather has been nuts. 80F in March and 90F in May. With no AC in the house, I am positively dreading this summer. Beloved and I are casually making plans for an "apartment" in the basement to retreat to. The hardest one is a bed for us. I think the kids will be perfectly happy on cots, but I am concerned that my back won't do well with that. I did scored some free wood pallets and we can haul the mattress down and put it on top of pallets. From there, maybe the kids and I will try some tie-dye art on old sheets for curtains and "partitions".

*half smiles* I'm daydreaming instead of being HERE. Instead of addressing chores or reading through class material or doing anything that might lighten the burden I feel.

There's so many people inning on me, I'm getting run into the ground. Everybody's wantin' something from me, and there's not enough of me to go around... ~ "Natural High", Getting My Act Together and Taking It On the Road

Always my standby, so often running through my head. I am also hearing Namaste's patient voice...that it is all part of the process. Embrace the process.

"Quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep! I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep." ~ Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Live in the now. Breathe. Sit. Love YOURSELF as you love others. Maybe I should go wash the sunscreen off my face and eat. There is time enough.

Doing a drive-by...

I don't seem to have time to do anything else...always on the run! Anyhow, a couple of quick updates:

* Rain is home! I flew out to Pennsylvania and drove home with her. There are a lot of questions about how things will go forward, but she has accepted a full-time teaching job here in Illinois. We're good at figuring things out on the fly. Mostly, I wonder and worry about labels. *chuckles* She makes my anti-label frustration look like nothing!

* I saw some friends! The drive was a really great opportunity to catch up with some of MY friends, although the visits were way to short to make up for how long it's been...in one case, it has been over 6 YEARS since we got together. The amazing part is, it was like we live next door. Plans are in the works to make an actual VISIT with the family in August.

* Sacred Feminine Intensive. I continue to lag behind. I seriously need some time to myself to read through the materials and determine my daily devotional. *sigh* This is just one of those things that I WANT to do, but no one seems to understand that I need time to do it. I'm sure he doesn't mean to, but Beloved has made me feel very guilty about jumping on my computer. I suppose I understand, since I'm often limited to a few minutes and so I grab a game (10-15 minutes) rather than something more intensive...round and round...

* Branding. I have made the decision to postpone my branding. I am ultimately uncomfortable with the circumstances and the proposed artist. For me, the brand is something built on 20 years of consideration and desire. The artist hasn't been in touch with me, despite a couple of attempts on my side, and I do not want to feel like this is being "squeezed in" for a busy schedule at Twisted Tryst. It is too important. So...it will wait. SOMEDAY...

* Ablation. Everything is looking on schedule for the procedure, which will destroy my uterine lining and probably end my moontimes. It's kind of funny that I am having mixed feelings about it all the sudden...not that I LIKE having a moon cycle, but...I don't know. There are many, many stories that highlight women's cycles, and I am choosing to deliberately withdraw from that shared history. Weird...neurotic...but that's why you like to read me! *laughs*

I think that is a pretty good summary...I have to get back to groceries and then pick up Boy and make dinner for company and...