Thursday, April 29, 2021

Zippy Snippets

The following snippets are little thoughts or stories that did not make it as full posts in my writing of the  AtoZ Challenge, but I thought I could end with a compilation.  Here we go.......

"You stupid thing.  You zigged when you should have zagged." -- My father talking to a fish that did not catch the hook in it's mouth, but has instead run into it with his side, tale, or head, thus making it an illegal catch. The angler has to release it back into the water after he/she removes the hook.  I've thrown a cross-eyed fish back in a time or two.  I don't think they accepted my apology for hooking them in the eye though. 


Most nights as we crawl into bed and the lights are out, Storm and I chat for just a few minutes before he falls asleep.  Well, I had given him a blow job the night before but I did not request any sexual action in return because sometimes that's how it goes.  Storm keeps track of this sort of thing and offers to "hook me up" the next night.  Sometimes I take him up on the offer and sometimes I'm too tired or too something.  So no.  Well, one night, we're lying there with all the lights out and he says, "Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?" I knew what he meant, but since the lights were out, I said, "You going to read it to me in Braille?!"   And he knew what I meant!  Woot! 

There have been times in our bedroom life where Storm can "get there," but then I don't quite make it over the hump.  So when that sort of thing happened one night, he again offered, "Do you want a hook up?  I owe you one."   I took him up on the offer this time.  Well, things were getting hot and heavy with me, and I knew he had to be turned on as well, so I reached for him under his shorts......... and I was not disappointed.  Things ended nicely for both of us.  The following morning, I said to him,  "You decided you wanted to join in on the action last night, huh?"  He said it wasn't his fault because, "Someone had me by the horn."


There are certain words that sound feminine to me and when Storm has to use them, it makes me laugh.  It wouldn't be funny if he called his underwear "panties."   Blech.  Mostly it involves take out food or restaurant menu items.  What are you ordering, what did you have for lunch today at work in the big city, what do you call that sauce that you like?  His answers are things like Mexi-Ranch, Pasta Pronto, and Buffalitos.  I love when I am with him at the drive thru and he has to yell into the speaker in answer to the question what kind of sauce would you like.  It just tickles me to hear him yell, "Mexi-Ranch!" 


Okay, married people or just lovers in general are sometimes gross.  I was putting a little cream on my razor burn down by my pun-tang and Storm happened to walk into the bathroom.  I reached out my hand near his face and said,  "Sniff this."  He said he couldn't smell anything, so I moved my hand closer to his nose. His entire face lit up like a Christmas tree! I kid you not!  He said, "Makes me think of good memories."  My response was,  "Well at least it didn't make you want a tuna sandwich!" 


In the comedic movie, Bringing Down the House, there is a scene between Steve Martin and Queen Latifah where he wakes her up out of a dead sleep and she, having been in prison before, sat up in bed swinging before she was even fully awake.  I refer to this sometimes when Storm surprises me in a bad way in that it scares me and almost makes me want to hit him out of self defense.  Sometimes when he uses the Loopy Johnny on my butt, he can get close to certain parts and nooks and crannies on accident with that fucker. One time in particular, I wondered if he was almost doing it on purpose, but like a good sub, I didn't say anything until afterwards. I told him he was getting very close to striking some very intimate things and that I almost "Queen Latifah'ed him."  At first he was confused at to what I was referring to. Then he realized what he must have brushed with the LJ and asked,  "Oh, you mean your whiskers?"


As we are aging, I think of health related stuff that scares me and it makes me want to lose weight.  Storm isn't too interested in that, so I read something that I thought might give him a little motivation.  "I read where losing 10 to 20 pounds makes your penis grow another inch."  He took over my dog walking responsibility when I wasn't feeling well and hasn't given it back, so he has lost some weight.  And his junk does look bigger!  


I sleep with no panties on, it's a thing for us, and I like to be fresh when I crawl into bed.  Well, today, I was sick and I didn't know if I was going to have to use the bathroom again at night or what, so I told him I needed to sleep with my panties on because I don't want to wash up yet because my tummy might have to suddenly poop.  He said that was just fine, but, "Try to make it out of bed first." 


Storm's family calls lounge pant or pajama pants, "moo-moo's."  Many of the men in the family get at least one pair from somebody at Christmas or Father's  Day.   Well, I have always loved Storm's round athletic butt, so throughout our marriage, I will pull his moo moo's partially down to expose a little as I am walking by him or if he bends over in front of me.  So one time recently, I pulled them down far on purpose and his dick was flopping around.  He stood up, looked down, and said, "If you're going to show it, you have to blow it!"  


We were discussing that Storm should get a vasectomy, but during Covid with no vaccines yet, wasn't a good idea.  He said he would have to wear a mask over his face, and one on his penis to protect his dickhole.  I'm not sure that's how one catches it, but neither of us want him to find out.  


I was expected in the bedroom one evening for a spanking -- imagine that!  I arrived in the bedroom and Storm said, "Why are you frowning?"   (Last time I got in trouble for pouting right beforehand.) 
Me, "I'm getting a spanking, do you think I am going to happily SKIP in here to the side of the bed?"
He just looks at me.  "We're having spanking time, you should be happy."
I just look at him.  "Seriously?  Happy?"
Him, "Well, you're UNhappy when you don't get a spanking.  Doesn't this make you happy?"
Me, "No, the spanking itself does not make me happy!  The after affects of it all makes me happy and then toward the end of a spanking, then we often get sexy."
Him, "Bend over the bed."   He swings and connects.  "Be happy!"

Well, that's it for the challenge.  I did it!  I want to thank you all for coming here to my blog a lot this month to support me, join in the fun, and gather around for the tougher and more intimate kind of reads.  I have never blogged 13 times in any month, not even at the height of my newbie blogging frenzy back in 2018 when I was so jazzed up that I was sleeping about 4 hours a night and writing my brains out.   I'm not a daily blogger and I don't normally put up short posts for some reason, which is probably what this challenge should have looked like.  Perhaps I'll do that next year, but I feel that it is a lot to ask of my fellow bloggers and readers to come here every day and read something long so I tried to combine the letters as creatively as I could.   Thank you for the time you have invested here with me this month and for making this challenge possible for me..... if I don't have readers, I wouldn't write. I need you. I appreciate you all.   Thank you!  Love, Windy 

P.S.  I'd like to say a great big thank you to the blogger, Mrs. Fever, from Temperature's Rising.  She posted and invited everyone to join in the Challenge this year, thus making me aware of it.  Then she visited here every time I had a new entry.  Thank you for the support, Mrs. Fever, and for the fun comments on my blog and yours.  Everybody, please check out her blog sometime soon if you haven't already.  She is an excellent writer and covers many diverse topics, she's smart, compassionate, kinky like us, and funny!  Her link is in my blog roll.  


Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Your Wooden Spoon

 I really enjoy cooking especially just for Storm and me because if we're having company then I have to do all the house cleaning and that stuff, whereas just everyday life here at home with Storm allows me to cook when I'm feeling well.  Storm is just such a good sport; he's never refused to eat anything unless I announce that it is awful and we're not eating it.  He loves when I experiment which puts me at ease in the kitchen. 

 My favorite part of cooking is the food preparation, especially chopping up various vegetables and herbs and spices.  My next favorite thing is stir frying with my nonstick pan and a wooden spoon.  I am in need of some new silicone cooking utensils and some wooden spoons to go along with my new non-stick pans, so I went looking online and found these...........

To say that I would not be able to concentrate in my kitchen with these things hanging around in plain sight is an understatement.  I'd be burning everything and then patient Storm might not be so understanding and might handily burn my ass with those paddle looking spoons. Then I wondered what you gals/guys would think, which in turn, led me to wondering if we all could have one saying on our own individual wooden spoon, what would yours say? 

I didn't mean to stir the pot?

Things are getting spicy in here?

Feeling saucy?  

If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen.

Spoon me in the kitchen then fork me in the bedroom.

*Warning of icky medical picture below, and no it is not my clit or my tit*.  

My favorite thing is NOT slicing a bagel because this happened and I had to go to the ER....during the height of Covid in my state......... 5 stitches and a tetanus shot.   The adult daughter took out my stitches for me 8 days later so that I wouldn't have to go back into the ER a second time.  No, she is not a nurse, but she is a science gal, so I figured if the rednecks on YouTube could do it, so could she! 

Warning, here it comes:  Scroll down to the comment section if you don't want to look! 

All better!

So what would your wooden spoon say?



Is it hugs and kisses or kisses and hugs?  The X could be a hug because it is the crossing of arms, but it also might be the kiss because of how our lips wrinkle up like little stars when we kiss.  The O could be the hug since we wrap our arms around one another, but it might also be how we shape our mouths into tight little round shapes when we kiss.  Which is it? 

I sign my posts and comments "Hugs, Windy," but in real life, I am not much of a hugger.  Of course, I hug my parents, and my daughter,  but the most oxytocin producing hugs are the ones I have with Storm because they last more than 20 seconds.  Close physical touch among friends, lovers, and animals can naturally reduce pain and calm anxiety.  Storm and I  hug many times throughout the day.  In the past, a friend of mine pointed out that we're always touching one another and it's true.  I like to have a connection with Storm whether we're watching television on the couch, riding in the car, or making love, the last of which we did not do in front of the friend, obviously.  Maybe we'd have more friends if we did?  Woo! Woo! 

Kissing releases hormones, too, and one of the health effects is better blood flow.  Therefore, according to one place I was reading, kissing can help cramps.  Laughing.  Good luck to any person trying to relieve his/her partner's cramps by kissing them away.  One might get his/her head bitten off in the process!  The article also said that you could burn 2 to 26 calories per minute depending on how intensely you kiss.  Uhhh.... are the 26'ers riding an exercise bike while they're kissing?  Maybe I would let Storm make out with me after all when I am crabby and bloated with my period if it burns that many calories!  Otherwise, I'll stick with the ibuprofen and the heating pad.

I'm not currently a big kisser.  Storm and I kissed for hours when were dating because as young Evangelicals that is all we were allowed to do. Pfft.  Sometimes in our married life, I do think we skimp on the foreplay and go right for the main goods too quickly, but I am not blaming Storm.  I'm actually more impatient about that than he is.  But when the mood is right, then the kissing is right, which makes it a wonderfully intimate part of our foreplay......... that is some good stuff.  I've noticed this happens more often after some intense spanking/submissive nekkidness.  

So how is it for you?  Do you really enjoy kissing or is it something you kind of skip over?  And do you think the X is a hug or a kiss?  And what about the O?


Monday, April 26, 2021

When...... (Storm and Windy play "He Said, She Said")

One day a long time ago, I was waiting for an appointment in the waiting room and I was feeling a little antsy and impatient, so I whipped out my phone and learned how to use the notes/memo app.   Because blogging is never far from my mind, I thought about what alternate names I could give my blog title to reflect different scenarios that go on in my mind and in our home.  I saved these and forgot about it for about 2 years!  Having recently discovered the list, I asked Storm if he could read it and then respond to each one.  He said, "Yes!"  Yay!   The next day,  we passed the computer back and forth to add a little more fun.  Storm's comments are in orange.  Mine are in blue. 

1. When The Wind Yells at the Storm

That’s when the Storm whispers to the Wind.   *oooh, shivers*  Good one, Babe!  *Storm whispers* Come closer, I'll warm you up.

2. When the Wind feels pressure from her own blog.

She sometimes needs to take a minute to decompress.   A stress spanking might help? *hint* *hint*  *Storm, gathering assorted utensils* Help is on the way!

3. When I want to go fishing but it is too dang cold.

I just Netflix and chill with Storm instead.  Which is why we have blown through all of Netflix and we are watching series in Spanish with English subtitles.  (Although, we haven't watched Bridgerton yet.  I met author Julia Quinn at a RWA conference about 10 to 15 years ago, got her autograph and picture with her and got to tell her that I loved her Bridgerton series!  Now it's on Netflix?!  I heard it's reeeally kind of sexy.)  *... adding to My List*

4. When I think it is Thursday but it's really Sunday

Then when it’s Thursday, it will feel like Monday.   I just laughed at this one.  Maybe life is one big Spirograph and you're the pen.

5. When I have to pee, but I just got warm in bed and I don't want to get up.

I start calculating how long it will take to replace my lost heat when I put my coldest parts on Storm’s warmest parts.  Not the warmest parts.  I'd get in trouble if I tried to put my cold feet on your warm balls.  Maybe not, if we can find a warm spot for them afterward.

6 When you thought you were doing ttwd but you aren't.

Then you’re actually doing ttw(don’t)d.  Bummer.  Definitely.  But each day brings a new opportunity to move in a better direction.

7. When the Storm breaks wind.

It's  usually more than a whisper.  Well at least you go in the other room and let them rip.  Remember that one time you set off the gas detector though?  Freaking hilarious!  It was impressive, if I do say so myself!

8.  When the Wind echoes to the Storm take me fishing ......

The Storm echoes back grab your gear.  And the Wind says make sure you grab your fancy satchel for your books and snacks and try not to fall through the camping chair (again).   Yes, I would rather not peel my balls off my chin again.

9. When Storm whispers back Blow Me

He’s only half-joking.  She's more than half-interested.  Which makes him more than half-aroused.

10. This Wind is never as calm as the eye of the Storm.

But nothing calms this Storm like his Wind.   You have a very steady hand, Honey.  And it helps calm my ass!  A hand on the ass is worth two in the bush.  (That took an unexpected turn.  But at least I didn't say hand in the ass.)

11. You cannot have a Storm without the Wind.

Nor would you want to.   Okay that was just really sweet.  You make me a better Storm, Windy.


Saturday, April 24, 2021

Unmentionable Vignettes

I've been blogging a few years now and my perspective on my experience has changed here and there.   Of course, when I was new, I had some misconceptions that got in my way.  I had a couple events that tried to get in my way as well here and there which surprised me.  A couple of gals showed me the ropes, some have traveled the entire path with me, and I have picked up some good friends along the way. 

I don't think any of us ever intend to upset others with what we blog, but it happens nonetheless.  There is power in the written word and mostly I hope we have all used that for the greater good, but we know how one person interprets something she has read does not mean that is the way another person will nor necessarily the way the author intended.  But here are a couple of conundrums I found myself in a time or two:

1.  When you write a post thinking it's really going to resonate.  

Commenters:  We have no idea what the flip you're talking about here.

Me:  Can you just say you were confused without insulting me?  Thx. 

2.  The opposite of #1.  When you write a post, but think it sucks. 

Commenters:  We love this! 

3.  Person 1:  You're such a great writer.

     Person 2 :  You apparently did not have the same 12th grade English teacher that I did. 

     Me:  Here's a twist:  Person 1 and Person 2 was the same person.  Welcome to my blogging experience! I wanted to say that my 12th Grade English teacher didn't teach us how to put a stick up our asses! LOL 

4.   Blogger 1:  You comment too quickly and invite too much conversation on your blog comments.  You should wait 24 hours before you reply. 

Me:   This seemed counter-intuitive to me because while the main purpose of my blog is for me to write, it's usually to write something that will generate some conversation among whomever wants to join in the comment section so we can learn from one another.

     Blogger 2:  You wait too long to answer your comments. 

         Me:  That's because I was worried about what Blogger 1 thought!   I just went with what I was doing early and followed my natural inclination of answering comments after a few come in and then do that throughout the day as others arrive.  

      Blogger 1:  You didn't follow the 24 hour rule. 

     Me:  I don't remember agreeing to it or signing a contract!  What the hell have I gotten myself into here?!  LMAO

5.   Blogger 1:  Don't email too much with people.  Let them get to know you through your blog.  You should blog every few days.

     Me blogging every few days.

    Blogger 1:   You blog too much.  I can't keep up.  

6.   Blogger 1:  We're the best of friends.

       Me as a new blogger reading in blog land, I kept laughing and saying to myself, "There is no way Person A and Person B could even remotely be friends, let alone Group A and Group B........ 

Me 3 years later:  FRAUD!  You personally chased away 5 bloggers THAT I KNOW OF.   LOL! 

7.  The standard "She said, she said."  The what?  You know....... 

"You said she said that--"

"No, I didn't say she said it." 

"Oh, so she didn't say that."

"Well, yeah, she said it, but I didn't say she said it."

Me:  Etc..... So, it's more like    I said she said you said she didn't say, no one said it, but it's true!

8.  Deciding whether or not the person who has emailed you is who she says she is ......... 

Me:  thankfully, it has always been true for me so far.  Not that I wasn't suspicious especially at first, me being a  scaredy cat 'n all regarding the big bad interwebs!  

    Example A:  I truly thought that all bloggers and readers were anonymous and that even emailing they would stick with their blog names forever.  I quickly learned otherwise!  

Anyway some of this stuff occurred because I was new, afraid, intimidated, and naive.  Much of this kind of thing happens in "real life," too.  Wherever there are women, there will be great friendships.  And wherever there are women there will be clashes of personalities and ideas.  May we all be gentle with one another. :)    


Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Reminiscent of Sunday Times 1979

1979 - Windy, age 10. On families that attend church.

I never met an early Sunday morning that I didn’t dread. The entire family was always acting cranky to one another with all the rushing around the house and getting all dressed up for God as if He doesn’t already know what we all look like in our birthday suits. My mother was busy selecting 4 sets of clothes, including my father's. He'd dress himself, but then she'd tell him he did it wrong - right down to a mismatched belt and shoes. I found this humorous. Then she had to iron several items and prep dinner for Sunday afternoon. Whether it was a roast in the crock pot or one in the pressure cooker was directly related to the amount of time my mom was working with that morning. I found the latter fascinating and I enjoyed listening to its rhythm ...something very specific about the sound of its fast hiss, hiss, hiss as it fired its steam up into the kitchen air with scents of promises of what was to come this afternoon.

My mother would interrupt her own getting ready for church, come down into the kitchen and  announce to me, “Let me do something with that hair,” as if it was greasy or flying all over the place. I was even less thrilled at the prospect of being on the receiving end of getting prepped for Sunday School hair. But, my mom was a fan of curls and not strings, so I stood in front of the kitchen stove and waited for my beauty work.

I don’t know what happened to the curler set where 3 different sized rollers securely sat on slightly larger or smaller heated metal poles, and then the whole thing closed nicely in some sort of plastic case while everything heated up.  That was long gone, but somehow the spiky curlers remained. Those suckers were boiled in hot water against their will and the manufacturer's warranty, and then rolled into my hair against mine.  My mother jammed each one up against my face and the back of my neck  and snapped them securely. I would move my head around as they were cooling and it would look, feel, and sound like I had a half dozen hard boiled eggs all trapped in my hair.  When they were cooled off enough, I was allowed to remove them myself and then my mom would comb it just right. I didn't need to look in the mirror to know that I looked like a blonde mushroom, but at least my mother no longer thought I resembled a Muppet.

Meanwhile, my dad was always on the verge of being mad that we were going to be late for Sunday School, but he had only himself to get ready and his black shoes to shine. I can still smell the tangy sharpness of the shoe polish and see him propping his feet up one at a time on his wooden shoe shining kit.  A white rag turned grey with black smudges would shuffle smoothly and quickly back and forth when he shined the tops. Once he decided he looked spiffy, he was usually the first one to be ready and he would threaten to walk to church, which wasn’t a big deal when we lived less than a mile away. He followed through on this often.  Sometimes my sister and I were ready early and we'd walk with him. But, when we moved 12 miles away, his threat became ridiculous and especially so the few times that he actually did start walking.  By this point, my mom was madder than a wet hen because she had too much to do to get everybody ready and she didn’t need his rooster beak pecking at her neck.  So off my father would go and I didn’t know if we’d ever see him again or not, but I anxiously kept a close eye out of the car windows for him as my little teary eyes fought the blur to discover him on the sides of the roads, parking lots, fast food places, and various business as we drove on by. I'd look out the front windows, the sides windows and the rear windows just in case we missed him. I remember frantically asking, "Are we going to pick up Dad? Are we going to find him?" I learned that my mother wasn't necessarily looking.

I remember her stopping the car along the way to pick my father up beside the highway. I also recall  her blowing right by him at 45 miles an hour and not picking him up at all. Even as a ten-year-old, I knew this was counter-intuitive. We were going to worship God and learn how to apply the bible to our lives, but my mom and dad are fighting or ignoring one another on the way there? God really does miracles because my dad somehow showed up at church anyhow. I realized our neighbors spotted him on their way to the same church and must have picked him up. What in the world kind of explanation did my father give to them as to why he was walking to church from so far away? He would have missed the entire services by the time he showed up however many hours later with blisters on his heals from his thin nylon dress socks and shoes had they not picked him up in their car. Then we all had to stand next to one another in the pews like one big happy family that had dysfunctionally survived the morning and arrived to sit and stand and sing happy songs at the top of our lungs together.  I would peer up my father who always sang this way no matter what.  Then I would steal a glance at my mother who was still very perturbed, but trying to hide it and herself behind her ruffled feathers. I didn't yet know about statistics, but I knew there was a good chance that at some point in the service we would all be asked to join hands.  This wasn’t a problem if I was sitting in between my folks because I was their safe connection.  Otherwise, I worried that they wouldn’t join hands and they would get a divorce. This made the communion cracker sit dryly in my throat. One swipe of the tongue's worth of grape juice in those tiny glasses wasn't going to wash down anything other than one sin at a time.

Then there was the whole “Did you read your Bible today?” thing that happened on any day of the week other than Sundays because, of course, that was taken care of when we were at church. “Are you reading your bible every day?” mostly by my father.  Or when my mother thought I was acting up, “Have you been reading your Bible?  I notice a difference in you.” That wasn’t meant in a positive light.  Really?  I was like 11.  I wanted to ask her plenty of times if she read hers and if so I wanted to know which verses to cross out  because they apparently weren’t working because I thought she was quite irritable a time or ten.  However, I obviously valued my hair even in naivete that it was curled to resemble the head of a man's penis, and I didn't want it yanked out or my mouth slapped, so I didn’t say such a thing.  Guiltily, but not sure exactly why, just being born into sin, I guessed, I would trudge up the orange carpeted stairs to my Holly Hobby bedroom and locate the shortest Psalm in the bible I could find. I might as well see what old David was up to, which was mostly singing and dancing, killing a giant, playing the harp, watching a naked lady bathe, and having her husband killed in battle so he could marry her himself.  How he was considered “A man after God’s own heart,” while I never stole a cookie let alone anyone’s husband or wife, but was still a sinner, I had no idea.  I was, however, grateful that I was born after the New Testament times and not during the Old Testament times or as comedian Kathleen Madigan calls it, “The Bad Bible.” 

Speaking of the Old Testament being the scarier part of the bible because God was often so angry, I did not like the story of Lot’s wife.  I never viewed a salt shaker the same way again and I am afraid to buy salt in bulk, not that I need to, but I don’t want a pillar of any kind in my house.  God turned the woman into salt!  Why salt?  Why not just strike her dead?   Were their children with them?  Bet they never salted a dog gone thing in their lives again after that either.  I am sure their blood pressure was high as adults, but I guarantee you it was from seeing their mother turn into a pillar of salt and not from eating salt themselves ever again. 

My father would be considered a man that knows how to pray, but he would never say or think that about himself.  But, he had this certain boldness about him that puzzled me.  We’d just be sitting around doing whatever and he’d get up from his chair and say, “Praise the Living God!”  As a child, this is just startling and confusing.  I’m just sitting here eating my HoneyComb cereal,  we already prayed for our meal, what is he talking about and why?  We learned that the bible says even the rocks will cry out and worship God if we didn’t or something like that. I never looked at a nice sized rock the same way again and I often wondered if one was going to start talking to me and what kind of voice it would have? A man's? A woman's? The devil's? Kermit the frog's? Was I going to walk by a big boulder one day and have it shout at me, “Praise the Lord!” all of a sudden and then roll over on me if I didn’t join in?  No wonder why I was near paranoid and afraid of things that non-church-going children probably weren't.

My father would go door to door witnessing and often took me or my sister with him.  I didn’t like it.  I didn’t trust the dogs.  I certainly didn’t trust the people opening their doors.  If an older lady answered the door with a lit cigarette, I knew she was going to invite us in.  I was allergic to her dog and her smoke. First, I'd try not to look at the spot common to all elderly lifetime smokers -- that dried out wrinkled space above her lips but below her nose. I’d watch that cigarette teeter around between her lips, travel east and west as she still somehow managed to talk while smoking it, hands free, smoke rising right back up into her eyes as she squinted to keep it out. The better the person was at mouth mashing that cigarette, the more I knew she needed Jesus in her heart to help her stop that smoking.  

In Sunday School, we were taught how the bible characters lived, mostly right like Moses with his dusty walking in the desert sandals trying to tell God's people what to do, but they wouldn't listen and roamed around for 40 years because of it. Then there were tortured souls like King Saul, sacrificial fellas like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace where a figure with God’s image  appeared just in time to lower the heat several hundred degrees. 

Speaking of hot ovens, regardless of what happened before church or during church service, the absolute best part of Sunday for me was not long off. My father never threatened to walk back home, somehow God fixed everything between us all, so we road mostly in peace and we were hungry. I will forever remember my parents parking our car in our driveway and as my sister and I walked around the sidewalk toward our front door, we could smell the roast from 15 feet away! Returning home to the smell of rump roast was heavenly! At last, the morning was over and hello Sunday afternoon! Now, please pass the mashed potatoes, but hold the salt.

What were/are Sundays like at your house?



Tuesday, April 20, 2021

The Quandary of Illness and How It Changed Me

The following is an email that I wrote to a friend who I knew wasn't making time for me in 2019.  I am sharing this because this is my heart.  It is slightly edited for privacy and clarification. 

Many times during our first year of getting to know each other, you have expressed the point to me that travel changes you.  I believed you the first time you said it to me, but through the sharing of your travel stories, I have come to see that all those experiences have really shaped who you are and that's an amazing thing.   But, just as travel can change a person, so does illness.  And so, for the past 25 years, that is what a lot of what my life has been shaped around.  The sky is not the limit with me, physically.   I have had to learn to live within major limits.  And any time that I put myself out there with any kind of new relationship whether personal, religious, or educational, I eventually run into some sort of difficulty.  I have to take many different sorts and lengths of breaks until I recover enough to pick my life back up again. 

Many people don't know what to do with their friends that face physical and or mental struggles and most drop off like flies.  (As would the recipient of this email 1 year later, ironically. ) At first, they try, but when things don't get better, they become distant.   The second I started picking up on that, I shut them out.  I had the heart to carry a friendship, but I didn't have the strength to be the one to make the plans, drive, etc., like I would normally do.  So I just withdrew from almost everyone for a very long time and they let me. The one exception to this is my immediate family.  

So many of my days are not about, "Oh, I have a calendar full of things that I need and want to do......." but rather, "If I take it easy this week, then maybe on Saturday, I can do this, or if I sleep well for a couple nights in a row, then maybe I can go fishing with my dad."  And then when things would get a bit better, I'd think about returning to college,  just taking one class at a time to try to finish my nearly completed degree.  With a  little more strength and a little less fear, but the same illness, I did earn my B.S. and taught a combination of 5 different preps every day....... pre-algebra, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, economics, computer programming, and calculus.  And then I coached and ran summer sports camps........   and I did it all sick.  Eventually, it all caught up to me and I would have major relapses with my equilibrium disorder, the worst of it being vertigo......... and that signals the end of driving for a while so then end of all of the above once again.  Stop and start ad nauseam.   

At the very beginning of all of this, I became a reader and that is what got me through most days -- Temporary mental escape from persistent physical problems.  And then I was doing so much reading that for the first time in my life, I wondered if I could try writing.  I did both of those things and little else when my illness was the most challenging.  At that time, I was writing fiction, not writing reflective pieces on my life like I do now. (That was also before we started dabbling much into D/s.  After about five years of this, I wrote to no one, for no one, and not even myself after that  for almost 20 years ...... and picked it back up again when I found blog land in 2018.)

I discovered that writing is a lifeline and it's one of my love languages that I share in various forms with just a few treasured people.  It means a lot to me and it is why I do not want to waste my time with how's the weather type emails and conversations with anyone.  Those kind of words and relationships are shallow and I do not do shallow very well.  (It takes a lot out of me to "do deep" so I make sure I have only a few of those going relationships going on at one time as well.)  

While I have the actual time to do many things in my day, I most often cannot.  So, I try to get some sleep via a nap if I didn't get any the night before.  I do the basics of housekeeping when I can....I definitely cook when I a feeling well enough because I enjoy that for the most part.  I read things that are meaningful and worthy of my attention.   I do physical exercise when my body allows it, which isn't all that often, but I'm working on it.  So often, my day literally consists of who is important to me in my life and  what can I do to enrich that relationship instead of being about all the things that I should be doing around the house ........... with you, it often means I write and I share my most protected thoughts, ideas, and silly sense of humor.   And despite our major differences in experience and background and even education and geography, I feel drawn to you as a treasured friend.  

And so for you, for now, you don't write.  You go live.  Go travel, visit, experience the physical beauty of our world and its people when many of those in our country are so ugly.  You go do.  You be you.  And I will be here waiting for you to share all that you want upon your return.  And when you read, you share that with me, too,  so in that special way where words unite us, I can join in and be a part of your world.  You seem to wonder sometimes why things mean so much to me, why I am interested in your books and what  is cooking for dinner.  It's because my participating in those things makes me feel like you are a part of my day.  (No, I don't regret the time I put into this relationship because it's who I am when I truly care, and I'm fine with that and the fact that it ceased to be a while ago.) 

I did not address where D/s and DD entered my relationship with Storm in this letter to my friend.  But, my chronic illnesses obviously has made it nearly impossible to keep it going consistently for any extended periods of time.  However, we keep trying because it is important to both of us.  Lots of stops and starts.  Lots of hurt feelings  as to why we didn't use the time that I am feeling well to do our ttwd thing because I know it's not going to be too long where I am illness free ....... that is something we're struggling with the past couple of months as I have been again having chronic health issues.  I'm exhausted.  It's challenging to even write something interesting and has taken a lot for me to do so.  I understand that others may think blogging is easy or that it isn't that big of a deal so why worry about it, but those are not things that I feel.  The writing that I share with others is always important to me. 

Willie mentioned illness in a recent post and it gave me the idea to share the letter above, along with some edits, like I said.    From Willie's post --   Her:   On the flipside, my neediness when being ill can actually bring me closer to my core. I think it is more due to sheer exhaustion and not having the real ability to keep up walls during those times.

I responded in the comment section to her like this: 

Due to experience, illness absolutely pulls me closer to submission (core?) and I am very clingy to Storm. It's weird because I am anxious about the illness, but I am just softer toward him during these times. I agree that our walls come down or in the very least we cannot build new ones due to exhaustion and just flat out need for our best human to be right there for us. And they are. And we want to be in their arms, yes. I'm commenting on this illness issue because I've never read anybody say it the way that you did and be accurate about how it feels. Interesting.

And then she answered like this:

Thank you. I've mentioned this before, probably on Missy's blog. Though it isn't always because B is taking care of me (lol) that I feel it. I usually feel it long before he knows I am sick. An argument could be made that I know he's going to take care of me I suppose. I think for me personally it lies more in the no defenses left to maintain some imaginary force field I have up that I don't even realize I do at times. Is it Star Trek where they constantly check the health of their shield? Of course in that case it is a good thing.

Gosh darn those walls we put up in our marriages. We think we're protecting ourselves, but I don't think we necessary are. Interesting to see what dynamics occur when the walls come down as we have no choice when it comes to such things as illness ...... my walls with Storm come down and my walls with almost everyone else go up.  The latter didn't use to happen, but illness changed me in more ways than one.  I mostly stay to myself except for writing here.  Sometimes, I decide to take a risk with a friend...... sometimes it works out and others it does not.  And that's okay.  I am fine. 


Friday, April 16, 2021

No, On Peace

From the movie, Miss Congeniality, Sandra Bullock's answer the first time around when the judge asks what she wants, she pretends to be emotional and says, "World peace."  By the end of the movie, she admits with true emotion that she really does want world peace.   

I have just recently figured out my latest defense mechanism that I have been using for a few years.  I realized that I don't want to be the person who has to step in and make peace after a big fight has happened.  Instead, I find myself going through the greatest efforts to prevent the confrontation in the first place.  So instead of playing the peacemaker, I am more of a  peacekeeper.  I'm finding this to be a difficult job!  And, I am currently thinking I don't want to be either one because neither works!  

This is how that is working in our ttwd marriage:   He can handle hearing why I am upset with him.  Am I always calm and nice and patient when I tell him? No.  He is the one exception where I don't feel the need to tip toe and find the exact, least offensive, politically correct, religiously correct way to express why I am upset with him. (Yes, I have many people in my life with whom I absolutely have to do that......unfortunately, it's mostly family.)  One area that I do work on hard with Storm though is the peacekeeper one.  Storm is already a calm, steady guy, thank God, and he is a peaceful man.  But our communication breakdowns are not (on my end.)  There have been a handful of critical situations we found ourselves in through no fault of our own doing or at least things we didn't do purposely in error.  As a result I took the attitude at this particular time to do everything within my power to be on the same page with him......... and it is near devastating for me when it all falls apart anyway or he does the exact opposite of what we agreed upon.  Why do I have such a strong negative reaction? I hate it. 

Because I put the prep work in already to AVOID even the slight appearance of a hiccup.  Double check. Triple check.  Use my words like "I hear you saying......" and repeat what I think he said.  And vice versa.  And then it still all goes down the toilet somehow anyway.  He did whatever he said he wasn't going to do or he didn't do whatever it was he agreed to do with me. Or you both completed a task that you had agreed which one was going to do it.  Why is that problem?  Maybe it's not.  I mean who cares if the dishwasher gets run twice?  Nobody in this house, but who cares if we both wrote a check to the pay the mortgage and mailed it?!!!   EVERYBODY! 

I'm not talking about agreeing on who does the dishes, the laundry, brings in the garbage can type stuff.  I'm talking about things that would include major parenting decisions no matter how young or old our kiddos are.  Love them, but go play or go to work , school, or get married or something.  Jesus, deliver me. 

I recall that back in the day when all the bills were coming in paper form in the mail, we had to remember to order new checks, and pay the bills on time and decide which one of us unlucky souls was  going to be in charge of all that?  You know those days where you'd do it for 3 months then throw the job back at him because you were tired of worrying about money?  Then after him screwing up the checkbook and paying bills late, you yank the job right back again.  Repeat until it's all mostly online these days and Storm is a programmer, so.......  woo hoo!  Not my job anymore!

Specifically during this worldwide pandemic, we have had to maximize our potential for the least amount of exposure to The Crud as possible due to comorbidity that exists in our home.  Because I am the primary grocery shopper, I wanted to somehow maintain this role while staying home.  I discovered a reasonably priced local shopping and delivery service and we have been very blessed with how it has all worked out and kept us safe (and hopefully it kept somebody employed and tipped well during these difficult financial times.) Like many other people, I also did all of my Christmas shopping online last year.  Since I am the online gal regarding those kind of things, I take great care to do everything I can to get FREE SHIPPING, dog gone it! This is not as easy as it sounds and every place doesn't have every thing for delivery....sometimes it is only for pickup, so I might think I found a great price, load up the cart only to discover something is out of stock and it puts me under the total minimum required to earn free shipping.  So I decide how to rearrange the items in my carts in each tab that I have open for say, 3 different stores at one time.  I ask everybody in the house what items they need within the next few days, next week, and stock up for next month.  And I almost always manage to get free shipping.  Then Storm decides to Christmas shop at the last minute or the kid needs tampons IMMEDIATELY, MOM, although it happens every month like it does every month (Thank God!), why are we surprised? ....and guess what that most likely means?  They're paying for shipping!   All my hard work to budget goes down the tube just like that.  

While those are all examples, the root of why I lose my mind is most likely because of how I grew up...... parents fighting and I was the peacemaker.  Ugh.  Then days and days of uncomfortable silence between the adults at home and awkwardness for all of us at church sitting as a supposedly happy family.  I have vivid memories of this since the age of 5.  I can still walk into their house and after months of not seeing them, it's good because we love one another, but I also automatically put my guard up.  I can physically feel through muscle memory the emotional toll it took on us all.   Yes, it was so many years ago, but the longer I am in this life, the more I believe that we are who we have been since our personalities and impressions formed when we were little kids.  Yes, we can educate ourselves, get therapy, reprocess, and work on forgiving, but none of that changes the heart of who I am and the peace that I seek.  It's extremely important to me.  But, when life is challenging as it often is for many of us, it's harder to find and keep that peace with our partners, families, friends and acquaintances.

I had exactly 2 specific very close relationships in the past (as in not recent, in case anyone is wondering) where I let the other person be right, didn't get involved in discussions in which I knew our viewpoints might not be in alignment, didn't get offended when I was told pretty much what my opinion should be or how I should be doing things including how Storm and I run our marriage and parenting our kiddo.  I am so over that noise and although I don't plan on ever steamrolling over someone because their opinion differs from mine, it will be the dang day again when I let anyone else ever treat me the way those specific people did.  My personal peace is now a priority. And might I overreact to protect that?  Ummm, have you met me?  Laughing.  

I am a hundred percent sure that one of the reasons why I wanted to be with Storm for a lifetime even though we were very young when we admitted our feelings to one another was because I felt such peace radiating off of him.  I didn't care if there was some well meaning, but misinformed adults who shared with me, "that there were other fish in the sea."  Yeah, well I'm not interested in carp, so.  He is my emotional and physical place of safety.  And, yes, he is as steady as a rock and just about immovable and that does occasionally (or often) make me want to light a firecracker under his butt, but if I do, he'll start  a fire on my ass!  We always want the tranquil, satiated, content, and peaceful feelings to remain prominent in our relationship.  Passion is nice, too, but not the kind caused by turmoil or conflict. I don't want to fight just to make up. 

Just the other day I was thinking of a time period where we were struggling with some big things and I was feeling badly as I reflected on how poorly I handled some of that.  Yeesh. We were standing in the kitchen hugging one another when I mentioned it.  As one who does not focus on the negative especially from the past, Storm's response did not surprise me, "We don't want to remember that. I'm sorry, too.  Let's think about the good things.  We're good now."  I don't know why I look behind us sometimes and let myself feel badly over regrets.  I think it might be that I love him so much and when life takes a break from stressing me the heck out, I kind of slip into mindfulness and I am so glad to be in his life and in his arms that I just want to absorb him through my skin.  

Just as I thought I was done with this post and put some of this stuff behind us........ bam!   Major fight about one of the very things I already mentioned above, but not in detail.  Unbelievable.  And we can't really use ttwd to get through it because I have been chronically sick again.  Although we'd have to reverse roles and let me spank him in this case because it was his fault, not mine.  Why should I get spanked when he's wrong?  It's my reaction to it all that gets me in trouble though, if I take a closer look, and the not wanting to sleep in his bed type stuff.  Laughing.  Dang, just when I thought we were there.  Back to work at that flipping c-word, communication.  

As you can see, there was a big fat NO, on the peace for us when this happened the other day.  Thankfully, I calmed down sooner than I usually would have.  As I was sitting on the couch that I was quite prepared to sleep on, and he was sitting next to me telling me I needed to come to bed with him, I had a choice to make.  I thought back to when Storm the Dom made a featured appearance last month or so ago and made me sit in the corner and write lines for the first time ever about not sleeping in his bed and how that is was damaging to our relationship for me to do that.  I didn't want to write that shit again.  Or be paddled for it.  Not sexy stuff.  Later, thinking about it all, it is hot, yes, but not during.  But, mostly I thought I cannot sabotage the progress that we have made, specifically his progress on taking charge.   So, yes, I went to bed with him out of respect for our ttwd.  

Overall in my life, I think it's too stressful for me to try to be a peacekeeper because when that fails and it will, then I have to be a peacemaker anyway and it makes it all doubly worse somehow.  Maybe it doesn't do that to other people, but I honestly just don't deal with it well. 

So where are you at with peace in your life?  Are you a peacemaker or peacekeeper?  Or is everybody worldwide just trying to hang on for dear life right now?  Or finish this A to Z Challenge?  ;) 



Monday, April 12, 2021

Just Keeping my Little Mouth Shut

Naturally, there are many things that we have to open our mouths for  -- the dentist, to sing, to eat, to speak, etc.  Common phrases containing the worth "mouth" are:  word of mouth, mouth of the river, mouth of the cave, melts in your mouth, and what I find interesting is that in all of those cases, the mouth is open, not closed.  I wonder, is there anybody that can keep their mouths shut 100 percent of the time in your life?  I believe I have not met such a person, ever.   Even librarians have to whisper shhh!  I think some people manage it for the most part, but it takes great restraint and practice. Sometimes I think the kind of person that can actually do it almost has to kind of not give a shit and never get pissed off, rarely get their feelings hurt, or take a near sense of complacency.  *Looks at my HOH*  Actually, it is one of our rules now that I am not allowed to say, "You don't care about......." because it isn't true.  I have learned that his silence is not equal to not caring.  He cares very much.  He just has incredible self control over his emotions and actions and his mouth.  I don't know how he does it except that he was taught to suppress his emotions and always put others ahead of himself.  Kind of good thing, but kind of not at the same time. 

So what about no telling secrets, specifically about our ttwd type stuff?  I don't know about you, but I keep my mouth shut about that. I went ten years without telling a soul, that is until I found you loud mouths here in blog land.  Laughing!  

A year ago last October, I posted Jaws and Oral Sex that was about having a jaw problem and I couldn't manage a blow job for Storm.  It took nearly a year for my jaw to mostly heal. Not that I didn't try, but I truly couldn't for a few months because I couldn't open my mouth far enough, (no he doesn't have a chode, but I do enjoy his girth!)  I could only give him some warm up some kisses and then a little later, just partial immersion -- you know, a sprinkle like the Catholics and not a complete dunking like the Baptists.  There was still absolutely no sucking because that hurt me too much still.  I eventually just finished him off with my hands.  Finally the gates loosened up and now he can go all the way through the golden gates and say hello to my uvula once again.  I am learning not to breathe in when he hits the back of my throat. Kkkkuuuuuhhhkkkuuu  is the noise I make when I forget and accidentally almost inhale his dick.  

One good thing that came of the time where I had to take it easy with my jaw  is that he would sometimes stroke his own dick while watching me use the vibrator on myself.  I used to find that, not gross, but not all that enticing, but something has changed.  I love seeing him do that now, especially because he's enjoying the view of what I am doing, too!

How this applies in particular to our dd is this:  I'm trying to give him some space to figure things out, keep my mouth shut and not suggest as much as I normally would, purposely wait for him to say something before I do.  It's a challenge to keep my mouth shut and I'm still working on it. But, he's falling into step with his own dominance and I believe that it is real and not manufactured for my benefit.  I feel it.  As a result, when he spanked me a few weeks ago, I didn't say what I was feeling afterwards.  He just hugged me for a bit.  The spanking in itself was not sexual.  But, because I felt the connection and the genuineness of it, I had such an overwhelming sense of submission that I could physically feel it. I was trembling just a little bit, my muscles felt a little weak, yes, I was turned on, too, but my sexuality wasn't the primary feeling, nor was his, in my mind. I just wanted to drop to my knees and show him how I felt.  But, my inner voice was violently tapping me on the shoulder and the ttwd gods were like shut the fuck up FOR ONCE! Let him do this.  Give him time.  I hesitated....... because what if that isn't what he wanted in that moment?  He probably did, but how could I be sure?  I opened my mouth to tell him what I wanted to do and just before I began to speak, HE spoke up and said he wanted to me to suck his dick now.  And that made me almost immediately want to come to my computer and tell all of you about it like this:  

 I can't tell you how much more this meant because he said it and not me, especially following a spanking.  I was in love with him and his dick. He's lucky that biting and cannibalism isn't part of our D/s otherwise I'd have had his hot dog with a little mustard and onion for lunch. But a sub does not bite, so I don't know quite what to do with that other than express it ........ so I sank to my knees, tucked my lips around my fangs, opened my mouth, but no words came out because they didn't need to! 

How are you with keeping your mouth shut?  


Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Fisher Girl Hooks Inspiration

Imagine how men feel when they visualize women at  a baby shower, or a gaggle of us shopping together, or hear us on the phone (not gossiping -- pfft!)  Well, I along with my only female friend with whom I go fishing, feel just like they do when we're fishing among men.  It's incredible. They never shut up!  There's an old wives (ironic) tale that one is supposed to be quiet when fishing otherwise he might scare the fish away. I have rarely met a quiet fisherman around here. They are jabbering on about everything, but mostly fishing tales.  If a fisherman is telling his pals or his gals fishing  stories, it usually means one of two possibilities:  One, he isn't  currently catching any fish because he wouldn't be yammering if he was, and two, he's exaggerating if not flat out lying about the fish that he says he did catch.

These fishermen's stories and antics are sometimes hilarious out here at the creek. It's especially funny to me because I did not grow up with brothers nor do Storm and I have any sons, so I am not used to the testosterone overload in the air.  The guys greet each other like this, '"Hey, what's up, Dickhead?" That is considered friendly!  They actually do call their wives "old lady."  If you forget a fisherman's name, don't worry, simply call him Joe -- you'll be right about 50 percent of the time.  There's so many Joe's that they've been categorized into Old Joe, Little Joe, Just Joe........And if you are wrong, then try Don, Big Don, and lastly Jim/Jimmy!  

Me, at the top of my favorite creek.

Here in my state, it isn't as common for  women to fish as it is for men, but this is especially true for river fishing for salmon and trout.  We have to wear the cumbersome waders and heavy boots, then stand in the water with the current and it's challenging no matter what gender one is.  We have to be so careful with river fishing because of the huge treble hooks we use.  They come flying out of the water at us when we're fighting in the river against the current and the hooks get snagged (caught) on river rocks, logs and all kinds of stuff.  If we pull on our lines too hard, while we're  trying to yank our hooks free, here comes the heavy metal treble hooks and fishing lines flying right at your face, chest, whatever.  I have been hit, but I have not been hooked. My friend has though and I will spare you the story.  

There are no manners out there whatsoever -- just smoke floating around from the all the chain smokers. What multitaskers!  I was fishing with my gal pal and her husband one day and their friend, Don, showed up to fish alongside us.  They're jabbering and then all of a sudden, a clear plastic jug filled with what looked like apple cider was pulled out of a cooler and it was passed around.  I didn't want to be rude, but come on, man.  Seriously? You guys, it was moonshine!  Laughing!  No thank you. Then another time, 2 guys decided they were going to smoke a joint right behind me. Really? I made it through high school and college and had never seen a joint or smelled one and there I was in my 40's under a bridge.   Had I been at an underage party and somebody pulled out a joint, I'd obviously have left, but I  didn't move because I was FISHING in a really good spot!  

A few fishermen are outright rude when they take another's fishing spot.  One NEVER take another person's spot when he turns his head to get into his tackle box or something.  Fishing etiquette is that we ASK if we can fish next to a person if it's a bit crowded or if he's in a really good spot that kind of takes up the whole creek.  It works out because as a person casts her line upstream and her hook and  bait floats downstream, the gal next to you then does the same thing, so we don't get in one another's way or cross lines which causes a big tangle.  We develop a steady rhythm with that person and it is no problem because we're both actively fishing in a good spot. 

One afternoon, a whole group of guys speaking a different language tried to take over the whole dang creek and since a bunch of us were already there, it was not etiquette for them to do that. (It doesn't matter they weren't speaking English, but they were using it to play dumb like they didn't know any better and couldn't be bothered to ask us. They weren't visitors or vacationers either. They live here.  Just use hand motions to ask. We're not dumb, we'll get it.)  But they all had waders on and just went right into the water and stood right in front of us.  RUDE.

These are BIG fish in the creek, so when a person feels a fish on the line and sets his hook (jerks his line) , he yells, "Fish on!" and everybody else quickly reels their lines out of the water because these salmon/trout are going to give you the fight of their lives and yours  as they zip around the whole dang river  trying to get the hook out of their mouths. So one of the assholes in the group has a fish on.  It's a big one like the one in the picture below.  I then I noticed that when he had cast his line, it went over the tree tops, part of it was still caught there, but the rest of his line landed in the water with the baited hook and a fish hit it and was on th hook.  So this guy is trying to reel in a fish with his line stuck in a tree 20 feet up above.  I laughed my ass off.  He deserved it.  He lost the fish and we were all glad! 
This is a trout that I caught and Storm was preparing to clean it.

There are many parts to this river system that flow into the big lake. It's so interesting because there is one river with a big dam and it's incredible to see the salmon try to make it up that.  However, this area is so trashy in all the ways that term could possibly describe, so I have only been there twice.  I would not be surprised if a dead body came floating by when we were there.  Yeesh. These fisherman dudes look like they walked fresh out of the woods from the movie Deliverance. And if a dead body did come upon my fishing spot, as much as the serial killer stuff interests me in books and movies, pffftttttt.... no way would I hang around for the police. I would take my own advice that I give to any of you if your ttwd  man is mad at ya and has a paddle in his hand :  RUN!!!

More than once, this jerk named Big Don who lied the most about everything, shows up to fish.  And then the DNR (fish and wildlife police) came to check our fishing licenses and Big Don had to show him his permit to open carry because he was wearing a gun!  And this guy is not a nice man. Eek!  Do you see why Storm has to go with me and read his book while I fish? Because it is way too dangerous for a gal to go by herself here. You should see the looks and reactions we get sometimes because I am the wife doing the fishing wearing all my gear standing in waders in the rushing current. Storm is in his camp chair reading computer books or nonfiction whatever. Then the person starts talking to one of us, finds us a complete conundrum, and almost always ask Storm, "You don't fish?"  Interesting that they don't look at me and say, "You don't read?"  (I actually do!) 

This is my favorite creek, the nice one ...... this is my inspiration.  I have fished from light to dark here so many times I've lost count.  We only fish here during the salmon and trout runs, when they're going upriver to spawn so about 2 months out of the year.  

I don't know what some men are thinking when they're jabbering away to me at the creek.  This one older man just assumed I didn't know what I was doing so he was telling me all about how to river fish when I had been there a lot and this was clearly his first time fishing because I had never seen him before and he was standing in one of the worst places of that particular creek to fish because that's not where the salmon gather before they decide to go up the waterfall.  But whatever, I don't care if people talk to me while we fish.  Then he starts talking about his boat and pretty soon I am thinking, dude I am married.....shut the hell up........ but I also thought what if I suddenly found myself on my own, Storm dumped me or something ?  Could I manage to tolerate this kind of older gentleman? .......I came to the conclusion, yeah, if I absolutely had to, I could blow him.  I then walked up the bank and told my only fishing gal pal about my ridiculous thought and she about died laughing with her smoker's cough. She is a really good fisher girl, much better than I am for sure.  She reels the big ones in just as easily as the men. And she's little.  She inspires me when she hooks one!

Do you think men talk as much as women when they're in groups of men?  Or do we as a gaggle of ladies out jabber them all?

#AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter F #AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter G #AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter H #AtoZChallenge 2021 April Blogging from A to Z Challenge letter I

Monday, April 5, 2021

Dishwasher Envy

We've all heard the term penis envy, but it's not just being jealous of someone else's junk.  I honestly forgot that it was a Freudian postulation that females supposedly feel anxious early on in life when we realize that we don't have a penis.  Too bad we weren't taught back then that we're much more powerful with a vagina anyway and that each clitoris has twice the thousands of nerve endings than does the head of a penis.  I'm not so sure we've all been right so far in assuming that it's The Wand that holds all the Magic.  Maybe it's the clit.  No penis envy for me despite that I do remember at age 4 trying to pee standing up/straddling the toilet. I thought it was interesting that boys could do that, but I certainly wasn't anxious about it nor did I feel a sense of loss.  I simply felt a curious difference.  However, had I suddenly grown a penis overnight, that would have made me anxious and I absolutely think that would somehow be Freud's fault! 

Upon my research, I discovered a different kind of Penis Envy that looks like this: 

See source below. 
Yes, it is an actual term for a specific kind of mushroom.  I don't suggest you eat one unless you're ready to take a trip in your mind because you can't take a real one due to Covid.  Or who knows, maybe you smoke this.  I don't suggest this either.  Maybe just eat a real dick instead?  Good luck if you try to smoke one!  Look at these little guys in this photograph.  Storm has always called the head of the penis his "German Army Helmet."  You know each mushroom top is spongy just like a real penis! 

Whatever penis envy is, I don't have it because the only penis I have ever seen (in person) is Storm's anyway. I remember the first time I saw it.  Holy nut sacks!  I didn't even ask to see it!   Pffttt.  Well, okay I sort of did.  Back in our letter mailing days from college, after we got engaged and were less than six months to our wedding date, I asked Storm in a letter what his penis looked like.  And, yes, I am sure I either said penis or wiener.  These days we say wiener at home when talking in general or teasing, penis at the doctor, and all forms of cock, dick, etc. just between the two of us.  Anyway, back in college, much to my surprise,  in the mail I received  a fairly nice drawing of an erect penis from Storm.  Well then, hello to you. I salute you, Sir! Nice to finally meet you.  But then it wasn't, sort of, because......

Over Christmas break, we were in my room at my house, discussing marriage and wedding plans. I had just walked back into the room  and he was lying on the floor where we had been sitting. His shirt was pulled up off his mid section and there was something kind of partially sticking out that I had never seen before.  It scared me because I honestly did not know what I was looking at. Whatever it was looked pissed off!  He didn't have the whole thing or even the head sticking out..... just like the middle of it.  Was it a forearm? A bruised one?  Did someone cut its circulation off? Well, after about 5 seconds of confusion over what red and purple mixed with skin tone body part was I looking at ------- OH MY GOSH!  I think I told him to put it away.

As he and I were laughing the other day reminiscing about this, I was admonishing him about it, current ttwd hierarchy be damned.  I exclaimed, "I didn't even ASK you to show me, you perv!"   He said, "I know, I was naughty, but after that I'm pretty sure you did ask me to see it again." I burst into laughter because he was right!  Dang that thing was interesting looking, so I asked if I could touch it and got the second surprise of the night as I shockingly discovered that it was very warm to the touch.  Did it have a fever?  No, dummy, my brain processed....blood flow......ahhhh...... 

So if it isn't a penis, then what do some of us women truly envy?   A night without the kids? A spanking?  (Yes, please!) Him cooking dinner tonight?  Some D/s fun? Some peace and quiet?    Or is it occasionally just something very vanilla like some major appliance that we're in need of around the house like a dishwasher because who wants or has time to do that crap by hand?  Not to sound all 1950's (unless that's your dynamic and that's great!) but, this day and age all the people in our house pitch in to fill and empty the dishwasher so it is not solely a female role like it used to be.  

Because we did not have a dishwasher in our apartment, during the first several years of our young marriage, we developed a habit of using every dish in the kitchen before washing dishes.  Every? EVERY.  Like using a big spoon instead of the smaller ones to our cereal?  Yep.  Didn't we like almost gag ourselves?  Yep.  So what, we still didn't want to do the dishes that were piled high and covered the entire kitchen cabinet from left to right including both tubs of the sink.  We were young and dumb, but not lazy.  Storm was finishing his math degree full time and teaching part time while I was working full time as a receptionist and coaching a high school girls' basketball team. Also, Storm was teaching me to golf.  Plus, there was newlywed sex to be had.  You know, young people priorities. 

One weekend, we were facing 3 hours of dish washing if Storm was in charge and about half that time if I did them.  We simply didn't feel like it. We were suffering from dishwasher envy.  If only we could do our dishes at my parents' house like we schlepped our laundry baskets to their house every weekend after Sunday church for dinner, but they were out of town this weekend, so we wouldn't be going there for din------- wait a second!!!  Are you thinking what I was thinking? 

We loaded up 2 laundry baskets full of our dishes.  We covered each basket with a blanket to make people think we were transporting laundry and not disgusting dirty dishes.  You know, our neighbors, our landlord, anybody who drove by as we were loading up the car with what looked like the heaviest laundry baskets full of clothes ever. We drove them 10 miles away to my parents' house where I grew up.  We ran the dishwasher twice while we were there and we did the laundry, too.  The inventor of the modern dishwasher, Josephine Cochran, who was a socialite who hated washing dishes after having many guests for dinner, could relate.  She increased her volume of sales when she took her invention to the 1893 World's Fair. "Many potential investors asked Cochran to resign, however, so the company could be sold to a man, according to the Patent and Trademark Office article. She refused and continued to fund the business herself" (Goodrich).  Sounds like those men had a bad case of dishwasher envy to me!

Earlier this year, Storm and I bought a new dishwasher after 14 years of service from our very first one.  We should have known it was going downhill when it started peeing at random all over our kitchen floor.  But, because it is an expensive and pain in the ass item to replace let alone get delivered and installed during a pandemic, we put it off as long as we could. Our version of trying to reboot it five times a day just to get it to run a complete cycle by going out to the circuit breaker box and flipping the switch, waiting one minute or two hours for it to reset and then try again, got old.   When it finally truly gave out, we spent a week or two doing dishes by hand and no, we did not use every dish in the kitchen first.  Gross! It definitely reminded me of the first 16 years of our marriage spent without one --- just like everybody's Granny who happily made due with hand washing and always right after a big family dinner at that.  No dishes left in her sink ever. What a rock star! 

I've never wanted a penis of my own, but I am happy that Storm lets me use his any time I want.  As far as choices go, I would much rather have a decent sized dishwasher over a who knows-what-size-and-shaped-penis that biology ultimately decides to hand out. Unfortunately, you can't pick out your own penis, but you can choose a nice dishwasher! 


Goodrich, Joanna. “Full Page Reload.” IEEE Spectrum: Technology, Engineering, and Science News, 6 Oct. 2020,

Lebowe, Jeff. “Is There a Murderous Conspiracy Behind Penis Envy, World's Trippiest Shroom?” DoubleBlind Mag, DoubleBlind Mag, 12 Mar. 2021,