What Next?

I’m back home after 7 weeks away, trying to muddle through sleeping unaided, to transition from sleeping alone to sleeping with another human and a dog again, and I’m doing a shit job. After a ten hour drive I crashed early and slept until 10 p.m., and I’ve been awake and in some discomfort from sleeplessness, anxiety and a pulled something in my upper thigh from lifting suitcases (I assume) off-and-on since then (it’s 3:30 a.m. now.) And A has to be up at 4:30 to get ready for work because he’s on 11 hour days for the holiday season so I’m trying not to disturb him…thank god he’s a heavy sleeper.

I feel like some kind of explanation of who and where I am now is in order. There’s been a lot of years, a lot of life, between the “then” of this space before and the “now.” Writing here now – reclaiming this space – feels weird. Uncomfortable in a way, but also comfortably familiar; a dichotomy.

I left here to go to my own, non-Wordpress-hosted blog years ago. Two blogs and an unethical domain host later, another blog started and stopped and a semi-withdrawal from the blogging and social media world after some relationship upheaval and some poor decisions on my part later, and here I am, back where I started. It’s been a long and windy road, to quote someone else.

And here I am, back to writing about my life, my loves, sex and kink and everything in-between. I lost the love of my life, the first subject of this blog. I remain the partner of one who was left behind with me, A, my stalwart, lionhearted lover and companion. Eventually I gained a new partner in kink, though I do not know if I will mention him here, except in passing, as his presence in these and other pages has always been a precursor to my disappearance from blogging again. I have another kink partner, M, my long-distance snowbird, who you will no doubt read about as he does not object to being a character in these pages. And there is always the potential for others, because, in my heart of hearts, I know I seek to find what I had before. Can it be had? I don’t know. But I won’t stop living while I am looking.

It’s been more than 10 years since the previous entries here were written. I am a different woman than I was then. My circumstances so very different. My life was so much bigger and richer and fuller then. I had an entire world to live in, and the expansive love of my two men to bask in. Kink was what we did and who we were; love was also what we did and who we were. The world was ours to mold into exactly the shape we wanted it.

And then W died, and my world crashed down, constricted, became so small I think I lost it for awhile, my world. I think Ad worried he lost me too, as well as W. But I struggled up out of that. And then the next kink relationship I chose narrowed that world down in some ways, squashed the light I had inside me even as it lifted me up out of the dark. I have struggled to find that light again, to find me again. I am surfacing now, finding myself, and part of that self is in the pages of whatever blog I choose to write. As I said, however, this blog won’t be about that relationship, about him, even though he continues to be a large part of my life. I hope to fill this space with musings of my own on the nature of love and sex and kink, not necessarily with, “I did this and that.” But, who knows, that’s the kind of writing I know and prefer, so that may have a place here.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

It was long ago. But not in another galaxy, though really? When I think about it, when I feel it? It does feel like another world.

Hey hello! Here I am, back in the world. The blogging world. I’ve started and stopped so many times in the past 5 years… I need to do this, though. I need to write. I need to write in a place that can be seen. Yeah I don’t know what that says about me. And really, at 55 and feeling like a 30-year-old? I don’t give a flying fuck what that says about me., about the “kind of person” I am. I just want – I just need – to be able to be out here.

Molly’s Daily Kiss’ post about fucking brought out it out in me, the willingness to be out here again. Of course I can’t be out in the usual places, not in my other spaces, in the places I had built and called my own. My kinky homes. So instead, I am back where it all began. Back with W (how I wish that were so. Still. After all these years.) But no, I he is long gone and I am using the space I created for us. I have not one doubt that he would object. In fact, if he’s watching from somewhere, I know he’s raising his fist in celebration. Congratulating me and asking me why it took me so long.

I thought about deleting all the content and starting over, and I may still do that. I believe it deserves a face lift, at least. Maybe. Maybe I will just write here and fuck how it looks, or what’s behind it. As for all of the stories of our life together, of my life…should I erase them in the service of moving forward? …

I don’t think so. We’ll see.

/end of scary exploration of putting myself out here in the world again

Is there more to come?

PS This is mostly just a test, to see what happens when I post something here…

I’m such a tease…

Molly and I over at Molly’s Daily Kiss are cooking up something fun, so I had to pop on here and off “hiatus” just to tell you about it.

Or NOT tell you.

Because I’m not.

Telling you.

I’m just…teasin’ ya a bit.

You’re gonna have to wait for it, but it’ll be worth it. A special present from me to you. ;-)

Meanwhile, go take a gander at Molly’s Advent Calendar to get some Christmas kink – er, cheer – while I’m on hiatus. And check back around the holiday!

Hiatus

As those of you who know me in “real life” know, I work in marketing, media & public relations. So my initial instinct when composing this post was to “spin” it in as palatable a way as possible. To couch it in terms of needing time to work on the blog redesign that I have been contemplating for so long, and make promises to come back with something new and cool “very soon!

And that may be true. I might finally do the redesign. I might come back and move this space to my own domain, as I have wanted to do for a very long time. But honestly? I’m just tired right now. Tired and interneted-out and I need a serious break. I’ve been doing this consistently for more than four years, and prior to that for several more.

I need some space. Some quiet.  A break.  This isn’t melodrama. This is just me, honoring my self, and recognizing my need for space from the world as-it-exists-from-behind-this-keyboard for a while. I am sure it won’t be long. It’s hard for me to leave this for long, I know that. Or it could be a while.  I am planning on a month. But who can say?  I don’t want to make any promises, or place any obligations on myself, because that will create more stress, and right now? I have enough of that, thankyouverymuch.

So…for the next little while…I am on hiatus, at least in this space. You may still see me around Fetlife a bit, and probably Facebook now and again, but for the next month or so, I am in hibernation mode.

Feel free to subscribe if you’d like to get notified of when I’m back.

750 MORE Words. Actually 1300+.

Okay, I’m not going to do this every day. You won’t have to put up with my 750 rambling words all the time. But every so often, they aren’t bad words, or I write stuff that should go here rather than just live in their little 750 word website space, or that I will put in a story, as I did last night. So…feel free to read or skip. ;-)

I don’t know if I’ve ever stuck to anything this long. Eight whole days (nine now)! Maybe this is a new me.

Hah.

I was about to say to myself, “That ain’t bad, considering I don’t have any stick-to-it-iveness.” That same tired old tape that my Ex’s mother started playing in my head so long ago, and that I have internalized and kept running for 25 years. Amazing, isn’t it, the mindfucks we play on ourselves? How we damage ourselves, cripple and wound ourselves, over and over, with a will and determination and lack of compassion that we wouldn’t display to any other human being.

I find it hard to even turn that comment around into a confirmation though. As much as I know the psychology behind my negative self-talk, as much as I know how untrue it is…I don’t really believe its opposite. I don’t really believe  the untruth of it.  I could point to instances where I’ve finished what I started. Where I’ve stuck it out, where I’ve persevered, but even in those instances, even as I am thinking them, I am denying their validity as true examples.

They are the exception that prove the rule.

I still don’t know that this exercise – what I started this 750 words thing to practice for, NaoNoWriMo – will prove anything. Well, it will, if I can actually do it, if I can write for 30 days in a row. But THAT (NaNo) is 1667 words a day, more than twice what this is, and THAT is on a whole novel. Do I even have a whole novel’s worth of cohesive thoughts, a narrative of 50,000, words in me? I’m capable of 3,000, I’ve seen that and shown that. I’m capable of short stories, and apparently more than one or two. But a novel??? I have ideas. But do I actually have an entire novel inside myself.  That’s the question. And if I write every day, but it’s not a novel, if I write 50,000 words of short stories, will I then tell myself I have failed, that I didn’t REALLY do it? I don’t know.

Last night I was supposed to have gotten started on another major undertaking, my newest/latest/last(?) tattoo. It’s been a bumpy road getting here…but perhaps not so much. I mean, it’s a large one, from my left shoulder clear down my back and across to my right hip and around to the front, where I have my scar and where my poor bear got cut in half by my surgery and now looks like a lump in the sand. (I teasingly say he’s a bear with his head in the sand.) But every time I look at him I am sad, because he is so reduced, and because living with one’s head in the sand is NOT me, not who I want to be, not what I want for myself. So in a way I feel that having that symbolism on my body is a wrongness that needs to be rectified, and now, finally, I am doing that. He will be reborn as a flower: delicate, beautiful, opening, filled with praise and joy and the promise of growth and life.

Anyway, what I meant by a bumpy road is that I have made my appointment and had to reschedule it several times, due to several factors, mostly me trying to settle on a cohesive idea for the tattoo. That was why I said that it is perhaps not so much a “bumpy road” as exactly the process I should be taking, since it such a major piece of art, and something I will live with for the rest of my life. I think, finally, though, that we have a plan, and that the first part of it – my chopped-off-bear-covering-flower – will be created this afternoon. I’m very excited.

I have three other tattoos, as I have mentioned and as I am sure you have seen in my pictures. Each has its own story and meaning to me, and as I was writing this I realized that my lizard’s story is one that I gloss over in that exact way that I mentioned above: not giving myself credit where credit (is possibly) due.

I got my lizard right after I came back from my first trip to the Grand Canyon. Without ever having hiked that much before, except in a desultory way a few miles here and there, I decided to do a hiking and backpacking trip with a local university group from the South Rim down the Bright Angel to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon and back up. It was an amazing trip, but grueling, and far more of a challenge than I had anticipated. But beautiful…god the beauty I experienced on that trip was more than I have words to express and sometimes – seriously – still brings tears to my eyes and fills me with an awe that leaves me speechless and my heart pounding. Something changed fundamentally in me that trip, though I am not sure how to describe what it was that had changed. I just felt myself…blossoming. Growing and transforming on the inside in a way that has defined and informed who I am now.

My lizard is a symbol of that transformation.

But something else happened on that trip, and which is the thing that I thought about when I was thinking about stick-to-it-iveness up there. It was the very end of the hike, the fourth grueling, exhausting day. We were heading back up the Bright Angel, and were on the last half mile. Ad was with me (he had taken the trip with me, although we were only friends then, not yet lovers), and we were really struggling. Novices that we were, our packs were 50 lbs each, and I just can’t describe how miserable that last part was.

A few of the leaders of our group, skilled hiker/backpackers all, had reached the top and come back down to assist any stragglers (there was us two and several others, maybe four or five, behind us.) One of the leaders offered to take Ad’s backpack the rest of the way, which he willingly relinquished.

But I would not give mine up.  No matter how they implored me (and assured me that it didn’t mean I had failed.) I may have actually growled a response as I hefted that fucker back onto my back, strapped it on, gritted my teeth and put my head down…and then I bulled my way up that fucking trail with a single-minded focus and at a pace that Ad later said he could barely keep up with, without his pack. I don’t think I saw or heard a thing for that last half mile. I just lived in this bubble of determination, of misery and perseverance, that blotted out everything else. In fact when I reached the top, and made that first step onto the rim to the accompaniment of claps and cheers and shouts from those that had watched my progress that last bit, I almost fell on my ass, I was so startled that it was finally over, that I didn’t have to walk anymore.

I had an odd moment of deja-vu in that moment actually, that I haven’t shared with anyone else before. When I was ten years old my Dad and I did the March of Dimes in Berkeley, CA. It was a TWENTY MILE walk. Participants got pledges for a certain amount per mile that they completed. I had pledges for over a hundred dollars, if I walked the full twenty.

No one expected me to. I was ten years old, after all.

I never considered not walking the full twenty. Not because I was so badass, but because I just thought that was what I was supposed to do. I didn’t know I could quit. I remember plodding along beside my father in that last mile or so, misery in every step, the sun going down and the organizers checking up on us and the other stragglers. And I remember stumbling across the finish line, to the cheers of the few people left to see us, and lifting my head in surprise and shock that I was done, in exactly the same way I had that day at the Grand Canyon.

I still don’t think any of this translates to stick-to-ive-ness though. It translates to a weird stubbornness in the moment, perhaps, a transitory ability to simply put my head down and bull my way to the end.

But maybe that will be good enough, this time, for NaNo. I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.

Awesomeness

It has been an incredibly productive few days. I guess my little overloaded brain decided to kick in gear, after my pity-party “I can’t get it all done!” post. I still feel like I don’t have enough time to do it all, but…I am getting some of it done.

I have:

  • Written at least 750 words daily, for 5 days in a row, and many days many more
  • Started the true sex essay I want to submit
  • Calendared my blog posts for November while I’m doing NaNoWriMo
  • Written and scheduled 5 more of those posts for November (out of a total 26)
  • Written another post that had nothing to do with November
  • Gotten myself scheduled for the Cheeky Spanking Stories Fantabulous Blog Tour – AND written the piece for it already!
  • Planned three Halloween costumes for me and the Guys (none of which will be worn on Halloween, go figure)
  • Made some headway in pre-cruise online connections
  • Shopped for the cruise and for the costumes
  • Made appointments for hair, nails and waxing pre-cruise
  • Practiced yoga every day (twice yesterday!) for the past five days
  • Made a decision on my tattoo and scheduled the appointment (Monday!)
  • Went to two Nano meetings & downloaded software for it

We have a Halloween play party tomorrow night, I have a massage Sunday and then my tattoo Monday; next Saturday we have another party and then the weekend after that – CRUISE!  Still have LOTS of planning & packing to do for the cruise, and actually putting together the costumes for the parties as well as various accessories for the cruise, and god knows I haven’t even looked at my crochet list, and (eek!) I haven’t worked on my novel outline at ALL for NaNo, but…hell.  I’m feeling pretty darn good right now.

Awesome, even.

And check it out. Downward Dog tonight. Heels almost all the way to the floor, something I have never been able to do.

What’s NOT to feel awesome about??

There’s just never enough hours in the day…

I’m laying here in bed writing this on my phone because I want to get it down before I lose it and before the rest of my day begins.

I also want to avoid the multitude of distractions and responsibilities that I will face once I get on the computer.

I jokingly wrote a post once about “not being able to do everything.” It was written tongue-in-cheek, but it’s the bald truth…there just aren’t enough hours in the day for everything I want to do. Or rather, I’m not awake enough hours. If I didn’t need sleep…

I always feel like I haven’t done enough, I always go to bed thinking about all the things I didn’t get accomplished and the things still out there to do, nagging at the corner of my mind, or sitting on my desktop or my phone screen, a reminder that the half hour I wasted playing around on Fetlife (which doesn’t feel like wasted time because I enjoy the social interaction and sometimes feel I legitimately have something valuable to contribute) or poking around on Pinterest or playing Words with Friends or taking a ten minute break on the couch or whatever really was just that: wasted time. I should have been: crocheting, writing this post, working on a new piece of erotica, paying my bills, taking care of a work thing that came up or a myriad of other tasks that just didn’t get done by the time (an hour and a half later than I wanted to) I finally let myself crawl into bed.

Yesterday I:

Met with my tattooist
Decided on a design
Got tied up
Did yoga
Finished two blog posts
Started another
Listened in a half-ass way to the debate
Hung out with Ana
Got her on 750 words
Wrote 750 words
Updated my Kinky Bucket List page

What I didn’t get done was:

Crochet
Beading project
New blog format
Finish or (even start) two (or three, or four) other blog posts
Work on new story
Pay a bill
Pay attention to the debate
Post Z pics
Edit Z pics
Do bread and butter notes from party
Write about the party
List my latest book on my blog

Or any of the other multitudinous, mundane household tasks, such as laundry, vacuuming or combing my hair. Seriously, thank GOD for ponytail bands.

Sigh.

Okay. Enough of this. Because you know, this post isn’t getting done any of the other dozens of tasks I need to get done this morning, before my day even really starts.

An Update

I’m just not cut out for “normal” life.  This past weekend I spent two-and-a-half days with my mom. Who I love very, very much. But who drove me batshit crazy.  After only two days.  (I had taken her on a road trip to Wichita – seven-and-a-half hours in a car with just her! – to visit my eldest son, his wife and their baby.) It was delightful in some ways, but seriously? I couldn’t wait to get home. To get back to my “normal.” How W survived eight days of “normal” life with his ex and family while he was in NY I’ll never know, although prior to this past weekend I don’t think I was as sympathetic to his plight as I now am.

It’d been a long, long time since I was around “normal” people.  Give me back my loony perverts now, okay?

I’ve been back three days now, though, and though I am around my very own beloved pervs (Ad and W) I’m still in “normal” land. Working. Being a mom. Doing yoga and bike riding and reading and crocheting and planning trips and going to bed early.  Being a vanilla girlfriend. (Without even the vanilla sex part!) Oh, we talk about anything we want, so there’s that, but as for doing anything kinky (or even sexy)…  Not so much. Weird when you consider that we spent all day with W Monday, then he stayed over here last night and worked at home with me today, and is staying here tonight. But we’ve been (aside from looking at kinky pictures of past playdates and some minimal discussion of kink-in-the-future) pretty damn vanilla.

I don’t mind.

Much.

Okay, I do mind, goddamn it! I am long overdue for some serious kink.

All right, all right, it was my fault I didn’t get my ass whipped the last time I was at W’s. The night before I left to head up to Wichita with my lil ole Mommy, W and I had a lovely, romantic evening together. A very romantic vanilla evening, because I said I was just in the mood to snuggle. Which I was…and which was really wonderful.

But…sometimes…I wish he would be in the mood for kink – and nevermind what I was in the mood for or not!

Sigh.  As soon as I say “I’m too tired,” or “I just feel like (not playing),” I want to stuff a rag in my mouth and take it back. Because I always regret it later. Especially when I end up not getting to play for weeks and weeks after. Okay, not weeks and weeks. It’s only been…uh…

Hell, it has been two weeks! No wonder I am getting my stompy-feet, I-wanna-play, pissy-pants on.

Anyway. It looks like we may have the opportunity for some play coming up. We have a friend coming over to W’s Friday (actually this is the friend-that-is-turning-into-a-possible-play-partner) to have a drink, talk, and check out how we play. W always likes abusing me in front of people. And Saturday we are going to a swinger party with a completely new group of people, at a brand-new venue. That won’t be kink play, though maybe we will find a way to get our kink on “on the down-low.” (Is that the right way to use that phrase?) ;-) At least (if Lil Sister doesn’t decide to be a bitch) we’ll get some sex play. And if she is, I’ll get to dress up slutty and maybe dance a bit, maybe get semi-naked, maybe flirt a bit, and at least meet some new folks. Could be fun? Or could be a bust. If it’s a bust, maybe I can get W to beat the hell outta me. You know, as punishment. Or something.

The following weekend is our kink group’s annual Halloween party. That’s always a good time, though not always the best venue for play, as it is usually very crowded. This year I think we may be bringing Topaz, my wild-pony persona. Topaz doesn’t get out much and will need her Guys to wrangle her. Remember this scene? So…it could be a bit of fun. The weekend after that we have been invited to yet another new party venue, a kinky one this time, and then the following weekend we leave for the cruise! An entire week of sea, sun, kink, sex and partying bracketed by two weekends of traveling to and from Florida, in which I hope the guys will be very proactive in getting started with our fun early, and keeping it going until the last possible moment.  Then after we get back, I have family-time again: taking my daughter on our annual mom/daughter retreat, which has moved from the summer to Thanksgiving vacation somehow, and turned into our own little NaNoWriMo retreat. Because, yes, in case I didn’t mention it, we’re participating in that craziness again. (I think I did mention it, actually. I must be getting old – I’m starting to repeat myself!)

And…that’s all I got for now. Wish me luck in having something awful get done to me, okay?

An Update

On Day 4 of the cleanse, and thought I’d poke my head in here and give an update. :-) Also, cuz I know you are all dying to know, an update on how I’m surviving without W here.

And the answer is: I’m doing surprisingly well, on both counts.

Oh, I miss him, and I miss ice cream, and I miss CAFFEINE(!)…maybe caffeine most of all…

No, no, just kidding, of course I miss W more than caffeine. Sort of. Maybe. Heh.

Actually I think giving up the caffeine wasn’t as hard as I thought. I usually only drink a half-to-one-full cup in the morning anyway, and drinking anything hot (I’ve been drinking herbal tea) seems to work well enough. Now the taste of all that sweet flavored creamer…that’s another thing.  I dreamed about drinking an eggnog latte the other day.

I also dreamed about W fucking me in my peehole. Hmm, wonder which dream is going to come true first? Since the aborted sounding scene some time ago I’ve been fantasizing an awful lot about it.

And oddly enough, now I am suddenly missing W acutely. No, not because of that bit of kinkiness I just wrote, but in an utterly vanilla way. I just changed my profile pic and cover photo on my vanilla FB, and in doing so I scrolled through the photos that I uploaded from our almost-totally-vanilla NY trip. It was over the Christmas holiday of last year, if you’ll recall. Coincidentally, my workplace just announced our holiday office closing for this year (about the same as last year, when we did our NY trip), and he is in NY right now with his family, which (sigh) includes his EX wife and not me.  So…yeah. I am missing him and the trip we took there, and (if I am to be honest) feeling…a bit left out and excluded. That he hadn’t even considered bringing me was…a blow. In reality it was not what it felt like emotionally…it was not a trip that he was particularly looking forward to (kind of a command performance by his ex for his granddaughter’s birthday, planned by her, traveling with her and even staying with her there) and so he didn’t think I’d have any interest in going, but sometimes…I see how chained he still is to her in some ways and I wonder if he will ever pull himself loose. When will I ever be part of his family?  When will I naturally fill that space in his mind (I know I fill that space in his heart.) But the reality is that mentally…it is still he and she that is “the family” when it comes to his kids. Not him-and-his-partner.  And so I feel relegated to “kinky girlfriend” status, and…it stings. Even if he really doesn’t feel that way about me.

Oh dear, apparently this cleanse is cleaning a bit of toxicity of another sort out of me. :-(

Bah. Let’s move on to better stuff. Because I have been having a lovely time the last two days with Ad, and with my own family, and not feeling all this resentment.

In particular I have been enjoying doing the yoga sessions with Ad. We have done them three days out of the four so far, and only didn’t the one day because I came down with a migraine. (That was a bad day.) We decided not to only use the Yoga Journal detox recipes (I just couldn’t choke the stuff down anymore) and so we looked up other detox/cleanse recipes, and have had an enjoyable time creating a menu, shopping for it, and cooking together. Right now he is upstairs making Spiced Butternut Squash and Apple Soup for our lunches tomorrow, as a matter of fact, a dish that I am quite looking forward to. In fact all the dishes, such as Roasted Winter Vegetables & Cannellini Beans, sound intriguing to me, and I even enjoyed the cod and herbs that he made the other night. Whole, simple foods taste clean and clear, and if I let myself sit for a while after eating, I feel satisfied, and not like I am missing out on the fats, sugars and processed foods I am accustomed to.  I don’t think I want to do this for longer than 7 days, but I do think I am going to try to incorporate more fruits and vegetables and less of the bad stuff into my meals.

Maybe.

Maybe I’ll just go back to doing and eating what I did before, and chalk this up to an “experience.” We’ll see. ;-)

There have been failures. The ginger/tumeric tea, while delicious for the first cup, soon made me want to vomit, as did the basmati rice and mung bean main dish that Yoga Journal was so fond of. I discovered that I like basmati and brown rice in general quite a bit though, so that was a positive. And the grapefruit/carrot/ginger smoothie was horrific – I HATE grapefruit and should have known it wouldn’t work, but I hoped that the sweetness of the carrots would cover the bitterness that I dislike.

Not so much.

On the good side, though, I made the aforementioned discovery that it’s a hot liquid that I actually crave in the AM, not so much the coffee. And I love oatmeal with a spoonful of raw honey, cinnamon, pecans and berries! These are all positive, lovely surprises.

So yeah, after yoga yesterday morning I set off to my Mom’s to have a belated birthday lunch with my sister. (I brought Jilly’s cupcakes. SO not on the detox diet, and I am sure it set me back, but it was necessary. And oh-so-freaking-good!) On the way I dropped my son off at work. He and I have been having a some difficulties lately. Mostly normal stuff, I believe, and probably having to do with a young male needing to assert his independence and separation from his mother, but still. Sometimes he can be a challenge. This trip was very pleasant though, and we had a spirited discussion about humankind’s responsibility to our environment and other such topics, and then he surprised me speechless by leaning over and hugging me tightly as he got out of the car. “I love you, Mom,” he said. “You’re an amazing mom. And an amazing person.” It made me feel like there is hope that we’ll survive this current upheaval whole and happy and connected.

After I dropped the BoyChild off at work, I drove over to our house on Castleman. It saddens me that it is standing empty, when I so want to live there again. Driving around my old neighborhood though, missing it and remembering all the things I had loved about living there, the trees in fall, the old houses, the city, being able to walk everywhere, the park, and the house itself, I decided to talk to Ad about creating a space of my own there, and using it as a personal retreat occasionally. At least until he rents it out or sells it (which doesn’t seem likely to happen in the next decade.)

And then it was out to my Mom’s house. The Boychild’s and my current struggles did give me some insight and (possibly) some helpful advice for my sister tho, when she told me all about the struggles she has been having with her own (21 year old) son. In many ways I believe that she has brought much of their conflict on herself, but I could see much of his behavior echoed in my own (16 year old) son’s, and tried to help her to see that perhaps he’s not just an “ungrateful, spoiled little self-centered shit” and that much of what he is going through is pretty normal and not a deliberate attack on her; in fact much of it probably has nothing to do with her at all, but with his own fears, insecurities, etc. It’s hard as a parent to accept when our children start having lives, hopes and desires that have nothing to do with us though, especially if they have been the center of our universes for so long. I don’t know how much it helped…she has a lot of anger and bitterness to dig through and discard.

But lunch was actually quite pleasant, even with all that, and just being able to talk about our lives as women – not just as family – was refreshing.  I felt very connected to my mom and sister both as a family and as women, something I haven’t felt in a while.

When I got back from lunch, Ad and I had a date night.  It was relaxing and fun, and we talked about lots and lots of things. I also remembered to talk to him about the Castleman house, and he agreed that I could create a studio there, though somewhat reluctantly. He likes things just the way they are, and me being gone more isn’t an idea he is keen on. I also think he is worried that I’ll just slowly move over there, bit by bit.

He could be right.

Today we left the house right after yoga so that I could go see someone about a Secret Project I have in the works. I had hoped to actually have part of it done by the time W got back from NY, but we can’t start until the 22nd. But that’s okay, it is now in planning mode, and he doesn’t have to come home to some strange thing I have done every time he goes away. I fact I may not even do a thing at his house this time (I am sure it will be quite a shock to his system.) Knowing it is in the works is enough for now. ;-)

And now, Ad is calling me to dinner. Salmon with lemon and herbs and fresh green beans. Yumm.