May the spirit of His holiday find you with friends, family and my personal favorite; laughter. I hope that the light of love and kindness visits you and that you have peace on this wonderful day.


Thank you for all you are and all that you bring to my life. I treasure them both.


Until we all see each other again,
All my love to those who visit.


Tess

One of my favorites...

This is a great one for me; not just because of tequila either...but it has a lot to do with it.
Have I forgotten you ? Of course not. But we are all feeling a little behind the ball and pressured.  I have four written and simply can't get here to post them! FOUR! Bah!

Tequila Christmas cookies 
 1cup of water
 1tsp baking soda
 1cup of sugar
 1tsp salt
 1cup of brown sugar
 1tbs lemon juice
 4 large eggs
 1cup of nuts
 2 cups of dried fruit
 1 bottle of tequila
 Sample the tequila in a large glass to check quality. Take
 a large bowl, and check the tequila again, to be sure it is
 of the highest quality. Pour one level cup and drink. Turn
 on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large
 fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar, beat again.

At this point ,it's best to make sure the tequila is
 still ok., so try another cup. Turn off the mixerer thingy.
 Break 2 leggs and chuck in the cup of dried fruit . Pick the
 frigging fruit and damn cup off the floor. Mix on the
 turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, just
 pry it loose with a drewscriver. Next sift two cups of
 salt,or something . Check the Tequila. Now shift the lemon
 juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add one spoon of
 sugar, or somefink or whatever you can find. Grease the
 oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall
 over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Put the bowl
 through the window , finish off the booze and make sure to
 put the dirty stove in the dish washer.
CHERRY MISMAS TO ALL!

I know I know You've seen it before but it still makes me laugh.

This week is not good either...I have the remainder of the parties and then the fat man cometh. :) I'm getting really excited even though the kids have dispelled the myth. My son and I were both bleary eyed when I asked him: "Who is Santa" and his lip quivered only a little more than mine when he said "You and Daddy are ...Santa" So I hugged him as if his innocence had spilled onto the floor and said "So are you Boo." So soon? I was hoping we could do this forever... But not to be melancholy. We have tons of wonderful surprises in store for them and each other. It will be a beautiful holiday to be shared with friends and family in the truest spirit; with love. Maybe just maybe I'll sneak outside and jingle the sleigh bells at midnight one last time...for old time's sake. *sniff*

And for those of you following the Clementine battle? Oh yeah, I struck. I cleared all the crap off my desk, put it in a box, covered it with plain brown paper, placed the object of our current obsession right on top and ?

Shipped it to him at the office....using a fake return address and spelling his name: Dr. Richard Skultetz (we always get our name spelled wrong...) Ohhhh it was FABULOUS. He opened it up and bloop! there she was...

Oh mah darlin
oh mah darlin
oh mah darrrrrrlin CLEMENTINE.....

ahhhh good times. but now? I must wait and watch. It's coming. I can feel it; like that moment in a horror movie where the one girl is doing everything she can to stay alive:  peeking around corners, carrying a weapon, (although the only weapon suitable would be a...juicer maybe???) tip toeing, holding her breath...
My laugh is full, loud and hearty as always but let me admit; a little nervous.

So for the next two weeks I will be cooking my fanny off and I'm excited. NYE is coming as are my Yayas.  It will be good. I need my Yayas and my Gumbas.

I miss my friends here and I know we will get back to normalcy soon; relatively speaking.
Love to you all.
Tess

Orange ya glad?

I love this time of year for many reasons; first and foremost: no bees. Secondly, the parties where I get to fuss over my friends and family and lastly: Clementine oranges.  They are the only oranges I eat and so once a year I bulk up enough to avoid scurvy and serious cold/flu symptoms.

Why share this trivial unimportant fact? Because it has brought a war into my life: all out war! And shut up because I KNOW who's in on it.....

For those of you who are joining us late; here's the skinny:

One day I packed my lunch and brought along my favorite fruit of this season: previously mentioned orange: so cute and small; lovely thin skinned; easy to peel and no seeds....ahhhh perfection. So I asked my husband if he wanted some. He said no but that was not the truth...he DID want my perfect produce.  I sighed dramatically and held it out to him.   I gave a remorseful sniff indicating the personal sacrifice about to be made if he took it.

"Nooooo. It's yours." he closed his eyes to shut out the dramatic display. I AM a vision when I wanna be.

I held it out again. "Go ahead." my voice cracked ever so slightly...Tiny Tim would have cowered before my generosity.

"No."
We are both on the brink of the burning nose snort/laugh but continued to speak.  However, I would take moments and hold the orange out to him, raising my eyebrows; sometimes even giving a small squeak.."Hmmm?"  He would shake his head.  He had to go down to the store so he left me...and my orange.  I placed it on his desk and went back to work. 

He returned and puttered around...placing the orange on my chair behind my desk. "How dare he?!" Does no good deed go unpunished? I found it when I had to make a phone call; almost sitting on it. "Very funny Mister Smarty-pants.." I muttered and plopped it into my briefcase and drove home at the end of my day. 

The next morning was chaotic and unfun.  I was frustrated and jacked up.  ( I had to have blood work done sooooo there ya go...My dreams were filled with vomitous visions of a lab where they would say things like: "Sure, we'll take some blood and it won't hurt.  But first we're gonna need to drain some fluid off your eye. Open wiiiiiide" BLAAAAH!" but I digress....ORANGES) So my morning was awful and Cheech needed me to cart some things around.  I snatched my keys and headed out to the truck but not before grabbing? Oh yeah baby...my orange. I pulled the stuff I needed and left my citrussy sphere in? His tool bag.  He uses the damn thing daily then I waited. I went to work and giggled all morning long. I couldn't WAIT...Most of the morning went by before I got the e-mail....the only words were :
GAME ON

My retort was simple: I know nothing of this thing about which you speak so gruffly, but if I DID? Bring it Big Daddy Cuz YOU SO LOSE!

I laughed all day but I was waiting for my just desserts. He did not disappoint.  Oh I know he's told most of you about it and I also know the ideas are REALLY circulating.  How? Well, because I've done it too and it now seems that the entire universe is playing "Where's Waldo" with my Clementine. I confess, this is becoming hilarious.

Saturday night was a melancholy night.  We ate with wonderful friends but it was a farewell party since one couple in the group must move to Europe.  There was a lot of laughter, story telling and a few tears. So anyway, it was time to cut the cake and make our toasts.  It was a beautiful cake and we all eyed it as if we'd been starved instead of stuffed all night long. I sat to the far end so I was last to be served.  Of course this lead to jokes of no dessert at all, having to lick the knife clean of cake boogies, etc...my host finally gets to my piece and runs out of forks.  NOW I am told I must eat it without ANY utensils; including digits.  He returns with my plate a fork and? Yep that DAMN orange smooshed into my dessert. 

Well you never HEARD such roaring and saw such back slapping...I laughed until I cried. 

So it is my turn. The ball is in my court. I have it planned actually, I have the next three planned.  This is gonna get GOOD.  If you have suggestions, I welcome them.  Please send them via e-mail to

gigglinginthedark@gmail.com

Thanks for playing along. I will keep you posted with pix and updates. Orange you glad you stopped by? I am. I always am.

Have a wonderful night and great start to the week.

Hey! Flames of romance

Cheech and I both love to cook.  Now when we were dating and learning to be married (all that compromising, sensitive stuff) it was our biggest source for arguments: who was to use the stove, who needed the mixer and where the HELL was the cinnamon I just bought...oh here....heehee?

But having been together just shy of twenty, we are smooooooth in the kitchen. We work it baby. Here's an example:

Last weekend we were up north and had a great dinner with some friends. I made a fresh pineapple upside down cake and we stuffed our piggy faces with veal osso bucco. Life was good. We were catching up and they told us they had to leave very early in the morning.  Being good friends, we said:

"Hey! Come for breakfast. Then you don't have to worry."

They said : "Hey! Yeah. We like it. What are we having?"

We said: "Hey! It's a surprise!" which is code for I have no firetrucking clue and I hope I don't have to go out to get it; but ....Hey! no worries.

So morning comes and we roll outta bed to begin our breakfast surprise.  The weather was nippy to say the least so a fire was in order. He loaded up the kindling and got things started in the fireplace.  I was busy mixing. Now as a digression, I had a lil cake mishap the night before when my caramel sauce bubbled over while baking my cake. I gave it a swipe and really just kept moving. I regret this.

Cheech fired up the oven to a hot n sassy 425 as we began to make scones: peach and orange.  I was futzing around with something else; maybe making coffee and I noticed a little bit of smoke choo choo-ing out of the vent. 

"Remind me to wipe the oven again Cheech. There's some sugar left."

"Yep. Got it."

He came over and kissed the back of my neck.  I giggled and flipped some preserves his way.

"Hey." he said quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too. " I smiled.  I love his Sunday morning sexy look; especially when we're cooking.

  He went back to scones.  I sighed and coughed. Man it was smokey. Stupid sugar.  Cheech turned up the music and then I heard the oven door.

"Hey. We have a fire." his voice was so calm that I assumed he meant the one in the fireplace had caught and we were set.  He knows I love to watch it...I looked up and in the reflection of the window saw flames, dancing and laughing at the morning.   "It's a beautiful fire....." and then I realized....

"IT"S IN MY OVEN!!!! CLOSE IT UP! HOLY SHIT!"

And at this moment the detectors began to shriek all over the house.  There was thick, sweet smoke farting out of my wonderful antique oven and hot orange spikes stabbing their way from the seams in the door.  I dove for the windows tearing them open. Cheech jumped over, grabbed the extinguisher; yanked the ring and foofed it at the flames. They died as quickly as they came.  Our fire alarms still howling, we fanned the stinking clouds of dessert gone by and wiped up extinguisher poop.  Thank God I had a liner in the oven.  I simply pulled out my "boo boo" of sugar and butter setting it on the porch to crust outside; alone and cold like the naughty bakery scab it was.  We let things cool and started again.  You know the tough part? Neither the kids nor the dogs reacted.  Nobody moved. Well Winston came down and begged for a treat.  I can only assume it was in celebration of surviving breakfast.  So our neighbors came.  Not being ones to let a good one go...they brought their extinguisher (having heard the alarms and seen the smoke) and some English muffins...JUST IN CASE.  But for the record, the scones were perfect: sweet, light, crunchy...delish. No residue OR smoke.

All's well.

Thanks for coming. I know I've been lagging behind but ...we're all a little busy right now, aren't we?  I'm really glad we got these few moments together. You're such good company.

Sing along

Sorry I have been away so long, simply caught up in the holi-daze. :)
Let's hum a few of these together, shall we?

See you soon. Miss you.




   CHRISTMAS CAROLS FOR THE MENTALLY DISTURBED
 
*1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?
 
*2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are
 
*3. Dementia --- I'll be Home for Christmas, if I can find it.
 
*4. Narcissism --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me
 
* 5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and ...
 
*6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me
 
*7. Borderline Personality Disorder ---Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire
 
*8. Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why
 
*9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent  night, Holy oooh look at the Froggy - can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away ?
 
*10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle,Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
 w of these  together shall we?

Try that again

She sat quietly at the bar.  Although she rarely started conversation, she enjoyed it when prompted. She was polite, friendly; good company.  Eric tended bar and knew all these things; never minding the slow Wednesday shift because of Maura. Often, she stayed late; laughing and flirting. It only took Eric a few weeks to realize he was only half kidding.


The door opened to let in the stranger.  He was glad to be out of the miserable winter weather. He stopped short hearing her unmistakable laugh. Scanning the bar, he laid eyes on her laughing with the bar tender. Considering a quick exit, he instead found himself pulling up the stool next to her, ordering his usual drink for them both.


She ignored the man at first, taking no notice of him and preferring Eric's company.  He was cute and fun She got a kick out of their innuendos, knowing full well in her heart, she was only half kidding. Eric poured another drink, setting it down in front of her.  She snorted softly into her glass and tapped the bar. 


"Eric, please. I need to get down the street in a straight line. What happened to our two drink max? I may become leery of your intentions ... or hopeful " she sorted through her money and began to push it forward.  The stranger covered her hand startling her.


"My treat." he said quietly. His eyes sparkled  seeing see her face register recognition.


Maura recoiled. Her cheeks burned as her stomach tightened hotly.


"Thank you. No."


"I insist." he touched her arm; spinning in his seat so that it appeared she was sitting in his lap. She shifted, focusing too intently on the tumbler in front of her.


"Then- just thank you."  her voice had lost its warmth and strength.  Eric hovered over his glasses watching her closely. He could feel sadness wrap around her, drenching the bar. 


"How've you been Maura? You look great." the man breathed deeply, remembering her perfume.  He inched in, closing the gap between them, brushing her thigh with his hand. Her body stiffened.


Eric bristled feeling Maura's discomfort.


"Fine. You?" she felt naked despite the heavy sweater as his eyes roamed her body.


"No complaints." he chirped beginning ramble about himself. 


To Eric, it looked as if Maura were undergoing a root canal sans anesthesia.  Her eyes drooped; her mouth turned down. She fiddled dryly with her drink. The stranger bought her another.  The bar keep set it down knowing she wouldn't touch it. She looked up and smiled weakly at him. He touched her hand softly. The man grinned mistaking her look as an invitation. He leaned in, draping his arm across the back of her chair, whispered against her neck and attempted to kiss her.  Before Eric could react, Maura  snatched up her glass and dumped it in his lap.  She sat stoically, staring at him with disdain.


 "I don't think so. Not ever again, you presumptuous ass."


Eric tossed a towel in the direction of the stranger wordlessly who wiped his crotch. "No wonder you're alone. You bitch." he growled and reached over to polish off the drink he'd purchased.  The man angrily flounced out back into the wintry storm finding it offered a warmer reception.


Maura turned, blinking quickly. Eric noticed the tiny splashes on the bar.
 "Who was that?" he asked.


"No one now." she sighed raggedly and wiped her eyes.  "There was a time when I would have sold my soul to have him touch me, want me...now I ..."


"Don't worry about it." Eric waved and for the first time came around the bar.  He sat next to the leggy blond he admired from afar. "He's not here and he's nothing. "


Glancing at the clock,  he stood, and switched off the lights.

'What are you doing?" she asked quietly.


"It's slow and I'm tired." He tossed nonchalantly. "Grab your coat. I'll walk you home."


She dabbed her eyes again "You don't have to. I'll be fine."


He held the door. "Not negotiable." He motioned for her.
She permitted him to usher her out the door, down the street in comfortable silence.  At her door she turned; the snow glistened and blew around them.


"Thanks." she smiled


"Any time.  I'm sorry."


"Don't be. It wasn't you. I could have handled it better, but after all this time, I was really just in shock to see him."


"He made an ass of himself tonight."


"He's very smart and nice; as long as you have something he needs or wants.  He's manipulative and loves the power behind a well-told half-truth."


"Charming."


" I used to think that. Everyone makes mistakes. I loved a man that never existed. I'm alone because of him."


"No.  You're alone because you don't yet see I'm perfect for you.  Once you do, you will throw yourself at my feet." She smiled brightly.


"S'at so? And you will realize you don't want to live without me and will beg to be at my side for all time?" her grin was lop sided; sexy. He smiled at the warmth it stirred deep inside.


 "Yes. I will Maura." His hand wiped away the last of the tears. Leaning in not much differently than the unwanted stranger, Maura did not pull away.  She lifted her chin and for the first time in a long time, felt the warmth of a gentle kiss. The shiver began at the top of her head, warmly rushing down her spine.  She felt his hands around her waist and thought that her clothing was incredibly bulky.  Her veins sizzled as he softly traced her mouth with his, then kissed her cheek, pulling her to him; hugging her.  She thought he was shaking too. 


"Oh my." she said softly.


"Yes. Oh my."


She pulled away slightly, despite his hold on her.  He was afraid to lose this moment, but she took his hand, pulling him along as she jingled her keys to open the door. He followed behind her, his heart pounding.


She laid the keys on the side table. "Try that again." she said softly

He leaned forward and kissed her fully; his mouth warm and sweet. His hands slowly pulled at the buttons on her coat. Deciding that he was not moving fast enough, she peeled out of it returning to pull at his jacket and shirt. Quickly, her fingers wrenched the buttons free. Her mouth became hungry and searching. He took her lead, beginning to paw at her, his hands roaming roughly the seams of her clothes, craving the feel of her body against his. He muffled her name against her hair and shoulder as the last of the cloth was shoved to the floor.


Now there was skin and caution. For a minute, Maura hesitated but Eric had slowed his frantic pace, taking the time to appreciate her body and what she was giving to him.  His fingertips trailed along her arms causing goose  bumps to race him to her hips. He gently rolled his hands back behind her to pull her to him. He barely kissed her as he scooped her up to carry her down the hall. She wrapped her legs around him, giggling as he cupped her backside


"Where?" he asked quietly.


"Down the hall to the right." she whispered showering his face and neck with fiery, promising kisses.


He found her room and lay her gently on the bed, standing in his white shirt, hastily untucked and jeans. He leaned above her nuzzling her chin and throat. He felt her belly flutter as his hands explored more patiently the curves of her hips and lines of her panties. He kissed her slowly where ever he touched her; loving the sound of his name as she whispered it, doing as she asked. Her body was warm and sweet, stronger than he'd thought.  His touch was slow; careful even when she had almost begged him with a purring "please".


"Not yet..." he'd teased. His tongue and mouth not through exploring her shape; her most intimate places.
She rose up to his touch, her breath a small but sensual gasp. Maura clutched the sheets and moaned. Desire burned through her body. Her lip quivered and her mouth was dry. She had quite forgotten what it was to want.  Rolling away from him when her body could take no more, she knelt on the bed looking at his beautiful tender face.  She pulled his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. Slowly she tugged at his belt, pushing his jeans over his hips hearing them clunk to the floor. Her breath feathered along his flesh; her kiss, soft but eager.  She felt his body tighten as she gently explored him, raking his hands through her hair, watching as she savored the taste of his excitement. He groaned at the warmth of her mouth and softness of her skin. Slowly she pulled away making room for him in the blankets.


He stretched out above her in almost push-up position; his knees nestling inside hers. She kissed the hollow of his shoulder, nibbled at his ear and whispered how she needed him. Her nails snaked along his biceps, across his shoulders to pull him down slowly on top of her. He felt her legs encircle him, inviting him closer; her hips tilting enough to leave no question of her desire for him.


Their movement was slow at first but quickly, Maura's rhythm became more steady, urgent. Her breath was ragged. Her grip tight and insistent. She was losing control. Eric gladly joined her. His mouth crushed hers hungrily. She gasped and grabbed him, her body shaking with her final throws of passion. He pushed hard against her as his own body climaxed, growling her name.  Panting heavily, their kisses and surprised half laughs interrupting the breathy words of  "Oh my God." , "Yes" or "Please."


He rolled to her side and stroked the flat of her stomach. He could still feel her shaking as she brushed his dark hair from his face. Her smile was sweet and sleepy. He kissed her forehead and grinned as she spooned against him. She pulled his hand up and held it between her breasts, kissing it tenderly.


"You just let me know." she giggled, wiggling against him.


"Know what?" he asked softly nuzzling her ear inhaling deeply the smell of her; relaxed and sensuous.


"When you're ready to try that again..." and she reached for him.



Not a bad way to begin the week, right? Ha. I hope that you had a wonderful holiday. I have a couple I need to "marinate" and post, so let's hope this week is easy and I can get them here soon.  Come back and see me soon. I like it.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

I hope that if you travel, you are safe. I wish you a wonderful day filled with laughter, memories both new and old, friendship and comfort. I want you to relax and enjoy everyone in your life and celebrate who you are. I will be thankful for all of these moments as I move through my busy day and I will be grateful for you my friends.

Warmest hugs, loving thoughts and tender kisses for you as the holiday season begins.
Tess

The Smell of it

Catchy huh?
Well my husband has said it for years as have my friends. "You're words can ruin anything."
I am sometimes embarrassed by that, more often than not, I'm proud.
Today it was necessary.

As you know I have tucked myself away at Promises alone for a week. It has been the best therapy a mortgage could buy.  The moon has been full playing across the lake at night, the weather has been fantastic and warm. I even drove through the mountains topless. I spent a day at my favorite spa up here and left so happy and relaxed I could have cried, but with my new look, I'd have been FABULOUS doing it. Life is good; better still, so am I.

I ventured in to town to do some Christmas shopping; vowing to myself that I can and WILL enjoy this holiday season; no PES (Pissy Elf Syndrome) here. Taking my time, I wandered into a perfume shop because my daughter wants some.  She is old enough and we have practiced at great lengths how to do it.

Sprrrray ONCE. step through. May repeat ONE time if you go in the wrong direction BUT NOT if you shoot yourself in the face because the nozzle was pointed wrong. This is a valuable lesson. Perfume is sexy to me.I love it and I love to smell it BUT (and that is one BIG BUT), it is intended for intimate or close contact.  I think it's sexy when you are up close and get a  whiff...soft, sublte. Don't smack me in the face and yell
"I SMELL LIKE FLOWERS!!!! PRET-TY PRET-TY FLOWERS" Good God that just makes me wince and sparks a headache. of mammoth proportions. And no I DON"T want to smell it from my car behind you at the stoplight because your window is down. Everyone knows you smoke you idiot! Elizabeth Arden would slam that Red Door in your face if she knew you were using that instead of the ugly pine tree or cardboard dolphin..And for the love of Chloe DON'T I repeat DON'T apply so firetrucking much that it attaches itself to MY coat allowing me to think you are inside it with me two weeks from now. Less is more. Whoa...did I type that out loud? hmmm...sorry

Let's seee...ah! Sprrrray ONCE. Step through. Got it.
So I take a deep breath and rush in. These Perfume places can kill you.
"Iwantobuysomeperfumeformydaughter...."pssshwaaaaah my breath explodes from my face. I breathe in. Nothing. No burning lungs. No headache. Just air. I smile. Christmas shopping is fun.

The old woman glowers over her glasses and juts her chin to the other associate who smiles and steps up.
"Let's seeee How old is she?"
"Thirteen."
"hmmmm that's tough." the battle axe who didn't want to wait on me mutters.
I stop to think if you need a license to buy perfume...IS she too young? "I'd like something light and clean."  I chirp, deciding she is not.

"Well How about something by Britney Spears? That's very popular."

My face falls. "No." I say flatly.
She furrows her brow a bit. "Okay then well, how about Paris Hilton?"

My teeth come together firmly in an audible "click" "OH no." I shake my head and frown.

"Well those are the most popular for girls that age." the red headed Christmas gargoyle snaps from behind a stack of perfume cards. "I don't know of other things designed for..." She sprays them thickly on to the cards and wafts them at me. Her voice is ripping the cilia from my ear canal. I feel my lip pull in....it's too late for her. I have reached three. Screw one and two.

I step back and look at the FOUR WALLS crammed with hundreds of bottles; placing my hands gently on the counter I thoughtfully scan the shelves:

"Really? The ONLY ones? That's funny. Now, I don't know much about either of those little girls except what gets splashed all over the Internet. Let's see, lovely little Britney is surely a trend setter when it comes to motherhood, childcare, relationships and HAIRSTYLES. Then we have Paris. Miss Hilton if you recall just got a teensy bit embarrassed by having some cocaine on her person." I titter and put three fingers up to my mouth.  "So I guess I'm wondering actually why I WOULD spend any money for their product for my teenage daughter. I certainly know that I don't want my child to smell like one of their nights out....WOULD You? Have a whiff..." I shake the card back at her and breathe in through my mouth with a big huff. "Smells like...shame and poor judgement. So what else do you have???" and a smile that reads "Kiss my ass on THAT" pops up across my sweet blinking face.

The gargoyle slouches and sneers. She sniffs and wipes her nose but retreats to the shelves. I thought I heard her gag but maybe that is wishful thinking

The woman who was originally helping me steps in. "I have this..." she sprays once and waves the card through and hands it to me.

"Yes. This is very nice. I like it. What else do you think ..." and we stroll away leaving the gargoyle to grouse and imagine my face on the bottom of each item she is thwacking with her pricing gun.

So I had success. I bought my daughter some lovely perfume that in no way makes me think of the dirty,  unstable mom and Mouse-ka-teer or the over used,  under dressed, mentally void heiress. To give those girls' perfumes as gifts lends a whole new meaning to "Ho Ho Ho".



Thanks for stopping by. I hope we can sit and visit again soon.

Roll with it

This is about who knows you best, their understanding of what you need, and their loving you enough to bring you back from the rockiest of ledges. I have been struggling with some painful issues, realizations and disappointments. This sadness has made me question so many things. So many people. Cheech has been forced to sit back and watch me run in this mud for too long. He hates it. He gets frustrated because this isn't who I am. I enjoy people, laughing and good things. Life is too short to be anchored down by miserable experiences. Learn from the bad times sure, but live for and live IN the good ones. All right, off my soap box. So I tell you, this man knows me better than I know myself. He understood exactly what I needed and I'm going to share it with you; I needed to laugh. Really laugh to regain perspective.

We had been up at Promises with some friends and had a much needed blow out good time.  The kids played, Yayas were together and got to talk some..there was bbq so HOW could anything be amiss? It wasn't, not really. (some things nagged at me in the back of my mind, but over all? It was great) The only downfall? I had to change the toilet paper in every bathroom in the house at some point during the weekend.  Again; it's no big deal, just toilet paper. Best to do it now than get "stuck" having to have someone save you at that moment when you most want to be alone.

So the weekend was good.  I came home after a long arduous drive and popped in to the downstairs bathroom...had to change the roll. Crap! No pun intended.  I didin't mind. *sigh* and the night went on.  We got ready for school and Monday.  Cheech and I snuck in to the kitchen for our top secret ice cream extravaganza (It just means we eat ice cream and don't share it with the kids... a small but giggly victory nonetheless) then headed up for bed.  Making my last pit stop before hitting it, guess what? Yep. Damn paper. But I refused to sit quietly by...that doesn't sound right...let me clarify:  I announced "I have had to change every roll of toilet paper in every bathroom in every house we own!" I punctuated it with a slam of the cupboard door and a bent out of shape huff.

Lights out. Sweet dreams. The Charmin bears were chasing me, poking my ass with sticks. Wonder why?

Monday came whether I wanted it to or not. I got up and started the NASCAR event that zooms around our house known as "morning". Everyone out the door, to the bus....I headed upstairs for one last venture AND? SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! The roll is firetrucking EMPTY!

How can this BE? Are those nasty little bears eating it like pasta? Has my daughter begun to stuff her bra? I stood up and hobbled over to get what I needed, muttering like the crazy people who sleep under the interstate; only a few  intelligible words seeping out ...."AGAIN!. mmmgmmmffrrmmmm ANYMORE! mmmfmffffmfmfmf NOT ME!!!"

And I unhappily went about my day. I steered clear of the bathroom at work becasue I felt that the Charmin bears were plotting against me but by lunch I needed to go. I peeped in like Nancy Drew and noticed "Aha!" the roll was in decent shape so I rushed in.

My day improved and I survived the night.
Tuesday swept in. Routines run, I brushed my teeth and had to go. I sat down AND? Shock of shocks the friggin roll had just enough to force me to get up.

And it dawned on me.  He'd pulled enough off the full roll and rewrapped the empty tube in the bathrooms so I would have to change it. He'd been doing this for two days.

I laughed so hard I ...well, was in the right place at the right time.
I love you Cheech. Thank you for making me laugh, for taking the time to show me what I need to do; roll with it.

But game on.....seriously bub...you're done.




Just getting back to me; slowly but surely I will get there. Thanks for toughing it out. Better days. I hope you smiled along with me. It feels better when we do. See you soon.

I'm sure you're getting tired of excuses. I'm sure tired of not being here.
Things have taken a very complicated, painful turn for me lately; forcing me to make decisions I never thought I'd have to make.  I'm trying to regain some ground and hope that next week will bring renewed energy, perspective and enthusiasm.

I apologize. I will have a week alone in the woods to get my head, heart and thoughts together in a better place.  Please don't give up. I haven't. I'm too stubborn.

Have you ever been here? It's not fun. I can't stay but I'm struggling to get out.

Better days my Lovely friends. Sooner rather than later I hope.
Thanks for all the warm thoughts, encouraging  words and treasured friendships...no matter how far.
Love,
Tess

Well, I didn't mean NEXT week but that is what it has turned into.  My week has been horrible but there is a bright side. 

My daughter will be inducted into the Yayas this weekend (as will another Petite) This has been a busy week getting the right tiaras, bracelets, chalices and rest of the "gear". Their ceremony will be Saturday night. We've enjoyed planning each girl's induction but when it is your own daughter...well it becomes ...frightening, exciting and the happiest sadness I've ever known.

It's recognition of her growing up. I'm acknowledging her maturity. I'm giving up control (yeahhhh figuratively as we ALL know heehee) and letting go just a little more. That's scary.

Where is the little girl who thought I was a genius when I sewed the eye back on "nightmare Bear"?  What happened to the look of wonderment when I KNEW exactly which cake she wanted for her birthday?

And what about the comfort and innocence of the naps we used to take together snuggled in bed, reading our stories?

They were replaced:

with an incredible sense of humor, a beautiful caring nature and a sharp fast intellect.

She is amazing, beautiful and filled with curiosity, laughter and love of adventure. I love watching her change, hate butting heads and despise that sometimes? She is right.

Here is her induction speech:

Yaya Xoia,

Xoia is Galician for jewel.  You are a jewel of the yayas.  You are strong, lovely, and precious.  As your mother, I wish only success in your life, happiness, love and PEACE.  This can never happen but as a yaya, I hope you understand the SERENITY of knowing that joy is stronger than sorrow, laughter is more lovely than tears and friendship more precious than anger or hate.

Your DESTINY is to LIVE LIFE to the fullest. Experience all the fantastic opportunities offered to you and learn from those you relish as well as those that hurt. Know that we will always catch you when you fall; and you will. Understand that there are friendships without end, without condition, without distance; filled with acceptance, tolerance and patience.  These are yayas. May you find yours and always feel at home with ours.

Discover those things in yourself.  Expect them of those with whom you choose to share your life.

I welcome you Yaya Xoia. I love you Madeline Grace.

Always and forever.

 Your Mom/ Contessa

What a wonderful weekend this will be. I am misty in anticipation. My baby girl...

Thanks for stopping in. I do have some work and I will try to get it posted. Thanks for hanging in with me and sharing in this great  time my friends.

Bah! I'm home MUCH later than I anticipated, but had such a great weekend, it doesn't matter.  Sorry guys. I'll post late Monday or Tuesday morning; not even the extra hour will help me out.

Hope you had lots of fun and thanks for popping in.  I'm looking forward to our next chance to be together.

Heading Home

This one is my late LATE ghost story. It's dark and creepy and it made me look over my shoulder more than once while typing it. I don't know what that says when you can scare the shit out of yourself. It stemmed from one of my partner's wonderful pictures. I had originally titled it "Ain't right." but I thought that was too....self descript. ;) Anyway, I hope it gets ya even if just a little.  Thank you as always for stopping by.  I really enjoy your visits.  For those of you who steer clear of my horror works, I have something softer in mind for next time. Please come by again and stay a while.  Let's see each other early next week. Deal?

Jack hated these nights as a cop. He despised driving through the fog around the mazes of forgotten roads thick with underbrush and menacing shadows.  He would be glad when his shift was over and he could head home. With a heavy, bored sigh, he turned down Panther's Lane. It was a township road only in theory.  They recognized it by throwing cinders on it every couple of years. There were no lights or houses anymore; not since the Mardock place was torched. Now all that remained were the shell of the house, a ghost story and a few traces of teenagers; beer cans,  old camp fires, the works. 

The story was told that the Mardock boy was a bad seed.  Anyone who grew up with him back in the 80's knew that.  He was weird from the start; always talking to himself and loving it (even laughing at his private jokes and gestures) Then pets began to go missing in the neighborhood and reappearing dead, mangled or in the case of Kerri Johnson's dog pureed in gallon bags.  The town's stomach churned on that one. So they went to his Mom, Alida. Now she was no pillar of sanity either but she was reasonable and knew right from wrong.  She tried. She tried to help him and when that failed, she tried to get him help. The kid was sick but smart.  He waltzed right through their tests and therapies.  He learned to smile the right way; at the correct time. Swearing he'd been cured and would NEVER hurt anything again, the town opened their hearts and doors. Especially Kerri Johnson. She opened her door.  He defiled her body and laughed all the way to the nuthouse.  Alida begged for mercy, wanting him to be released to her custody, but since Kerri was found in her home (well, what was left of Kerri not to mention a few other missing pets) the town decided to save a little tax money, burning the place with "Lida" in it. He could still remember the sounds of her screaming "This ain't RIGHT!"  and the sweet sickening smell of burning skin.Now her ghost supposedly rummaged through the woods searching for those who did her wrong. A chill raced along the back of his neck.  He shook the memory loose and continued on patrol.

He saw the old Corolla pulled off to the side. Having to make this round twice nightly, he knew right away what it was. Kids.  The windows were fogged and streaked with finger marks. It rocked gently in the night.  He considered bothering them and making them get out of the car; smiling to himself at the thought of naked, embarrassed teenagers. He rolled down the window and tossed his head out to shout a warning.  A smear of flesh thumped heavily, hungrily against the glass.  He heard a soft moan and panting as the car continued to shift gently with their movements.  Then he dragged the spotlight along the ground and up the shape of the car.  There was a startled head that popped into view; a male; young, dark hair. The rocking stopped and things settled.  It was like when you caught little kids in hide and seek. They thought if they closed their eyes you couldn't see them.  He smiled to himself feeling generous and moved along; leaving the couple to do their thing.  Not tonight.  He'd cut 'em a break.

Donnie stomped his heavy boot to the floor and rested his knee on her chest.  He tore at her clothes and ripped her flesh.  Her screams were loud at first. Her arms and legs kicking or punching to free herself from the mess she'd gotten in.  Donnie fixed this with several blows to her head and face.  He broke her nose and laughed at the sound; like a chip bag being crinkled. She was wavering in and out of consciousness, soft cries and moans bubbling from her swelling lips. She wouldn't stop pushing him, yelling at him, calling him names. His knee quieted her but the knife made her silent.  He winced sadly.  He yanked at her shirt to see her perfect, though lifeless, body. He flipped her over and tugged at what he had cut; propping her up so he could finish the task at hand.  He panted excitedly as she limply agreed to his advances and love making.  The only warmth left in her was residual, but he explored her eagerly, wrapping her around him, hugging her. Her gouged naked shoulder whumped against the glass; leaving a n ugly smear.  He moaned against her, kissing her hair and whispering to her how beautiful she was...was.  Then there was the light; brilliant and accusing. SHIT! Someone came up on him.  He pushed her away and scrambled for his clothes, hiking his pants up quickly and zipping part of himself up into his Levis. He bit his lip and growled at the pain.  His eyes darted back to the light.  It traced the outline of the car and seemed to highlight his panicky face.  But then it faded and the cop car pulled away. He was left alone with his girlfriend. Spit dripped from his mouth onto the dead girl beneath him as he giggled. New want surged through him.  He raised her head and kissed her.

Desire fulfilled, Donnie opened the door and stepped out.  The night closed in around him to see what he'd done.  Pulling his shirt back on he reached in and began to drag his girlfriend from the car down into the woods.  She was much heavier now that she was dead. Donnie began to breathe heavily almost tasting the nutty decaying leaves around him.  He kicked them over her to hide her.

The footsteps were soft and slow but unmistakable.  He quickly squatted next to the girl, taking her hand in his. "Don't be afraid. I gotcha" He whispered.  Donnie gripped the knife and flicked his thumb across the blade. He smelled copper and sweat. It  looked like a woman. The robe or coat was long and the frame seemed narrow. Donnie smiled at the prospect of two girlfriends. She wandered slowly down the road. Her breath trailing the night sky in little puffs. 

Donnie stood and stepped into the road.  "Hey Sweetheart. You need help?" his voice was polite and gentle.  Always a good way to start.

The figure stopped and turned slightly to study the new obstacle in the road. The puffs of mist melted into the night. A lifetime of seconds slipped by and for a moment, Donnie's knees went weak. His ass puckered and the hairs on his arms flipped up. His church goin smile drew in to a small "o" as it began to move toward him.  He was no longer certain it was a woman.  Its gate seemed disjointed and stiff.  There was a raspy giggle rushing from the hood as it lined up for the young man.  The sounds became more animal and gruff as it picked up its pace now at a brisk walk. Donnie took the first step back almost tripping himself.  He turned and headed back for his car encouraging himself to jog.  It too rushed forward and before the bend in the road Donnie was at a dead sprint toward the Corolla.  He swiped the handle and yanked.  It ignored him.  "DAMMIT" he yelped as the hooded fiend swooshed closer; its garbled chokes sounding more like hunger and mind numbing torture than the delicate female laughter he'd thought he'd heard.  The car door gave and he slipped in yanking it shut and slamming the lock.  He fumbled for the keys and over cranked the engine. His screams and whacks at the steering wheel joining the rhythm of the engine as it st-st-stumbled to life.

"HA! Bitch!" he shouted triumphantly and he finally glanced at the road. He'd simply drive away.

The road was empty. Donnie's mouth hung open for a second wondering where she'd gone before he realized he'd left the rear door open to drag his girlfriend out.  The shadow pounced. The gurgling and flailing looked less passionate and intimate now.  The movement of the car was abrupt and violent. 

The figure got out and reached in to turn off the engine.  It pulled Donnie out and back down the path next to his girlfriend. Gently, it pulled the muck from the girl's smashed face; studying it. It poked at the wounds made by the dead boy next to her.

"This ain't right" Lida's son said quietly and pulling his own knife from his coat where he proceeded to return Donnie's horrific favor.  Jack Mardock covered them when he was finished exploring and walked slowly back to his patrol car. He'd be glad to head home after work.

Feeling unispired and blue, I've not been able to put pen to paper at all. I have several ideas and they simply don't flesh out.
*sigh*
I had my partner help me some last night with an idea I want to work on, but forgive me.  I'm really struggling.

I hope your days are better (mine too) and with an up coming long weekend at Promises, I am looking forward to a good one or two.  Who knows, as my friend says, I may be inspired. 

At this phase of the game, all good ideas are welcome.
:)

See you soon in better spirits.
Tess

WAITING FOR LILLIAN

This began with some photos my partner took quite a while ago.  I began to poke around and discovered quite a few ship wrecks had occured in the region due to a  horrendous storm in 1913. I researched several of the wrecks' histories and picked the one most mysterious.  This has been a fun project.  It took longer than I anticipated to get everything mashed together, but here she is; please enjoy 

Waiting for Lillian

They stood at the cliff; him so strong and brave, her frail and small. The wind and waves roared, attempting to distract them from their last few moments together. He reached for her and stroked her hair tenderly as he sucked from his pipe and thought about the journey she could not take with him. They had not been apart for a long time.

“Please don’t go.” Lucy clung to him, relishing the smell of salt and the scratch of his wool jacket against her cheek

“Lucy, you’re being silly. Summer’s gone and I must get the harvest to Midland. You will stay with Ms. Boyd and the rest. Learn a lot. Do your best.” His voice was tough and clipped but inside he felt the heavy tug of sadness at having to leave his daughter for this trip. They had no choice if they wanted to survive the winter months.

“-But Papa…” her voice was small and although he wasn’t looking, he could feel her tears warmly soaking his trousers.

He winced as she hugged him tightly and shook with the sobs of a frightened little girl. With her momma, Alice, gone, he had to rely on the kindness of Ms. Boyd, the school teacher at the old lighthouse to take care of his precious cargo while he boarded the SS James Carruthers and headed down Lake Superior through the Soo to Georgian Bay. John Thompson had done a good job of raising young Lucy al one after Alice had passed. Childbirth was just too much for the beautiful, gentle woman that he had persuaded to be his wife. He was permitted one angel at a time and Lucy was it. She was a wonderful gift though he still missed his wife. He sat at night watching Lucy sleep or sew, recognizing Alice’s features and manners flutter through her daughter like a butterfly through a meadow. It always caused that hollowness, heaviness of empty arms. Even now, he ached for his lovely Alice. He sighed and draped his arm around his daughter’s shoulder, rocking softly with the swell of the water below. Somehow it soothed them. The mist flecked their faces as if it knew how hard this would be and was crying with them.

“I’ll be home before you know it.” he dragged sullenly.

“Promise?” she sniffed, wiping her nose along her shawl; inhaling deeply the scent of his tobacco.

“Like to bet on it little Miss?” he grinned around his pipe at the tiniest note of hope in her voice.

“Yes SIR! A picture show?” her teeth gleamed in a sweet smile at the prospect.

“Pricey request, my Dear but I could be talked out of a nickel for your wonderful smile and the sound of your laugh.”

“Mothering Heart with Lillian Gish! OHHH Papa!” the little girl’s trouble seemed to melt away and the excitement in her tiny hands could have lifted him off the ground. He laughed and swirled her around.

“Lillian Gish it is” and in her hand he placed a nickel. “Now don’t lose this or we can’t go.” He teased.

“Oh thank you Papa! It will be the bee’s knees!”

The water approved with roaring waves of applause. He kissed her hair and hugged her tight enough to last the whole voyage and John Thompson walked along the path heading for his ship. She watched him haul his gear, feeling proud of him. He was stronger than any papa there ever was and he knew more about these lakes than anyone. Wiping the last tears away, tucking in her mind the wonderful moving picture she would see in just a short while and the joy of holding his rough hand as he guided her into the bijou to see Lillian Gish. LILLIAN GISH!!! Seven year old Lucy waved and shouted “I love you!” to his back. She remained at the rocks watching her father’s ship push toward the locks. Today was the sixth of November. Soon he’d be home.

Ms. Boyd rang the clunky bell and the straggling children sauntered in for lessons. They were immersed in the lighthouse where their days would be filled with studies and chores. If Lucy wasn’t carrying wood for cooking and baths, she could help in the kitchen with meals and preserves or her favorite; sewing in the upper landing where she could watch for her father’s ship; waiting. As her nimble fingers graced needle and thread, she clutched the nickel her papa had given as a reminder that it was only for a while. An afternoon with her papa and the moving picture show were close at hand. It filled her with warmth.

The weather began to look grey and menacing. By Saturday the eighth, things looked very bad. Lucy hoped that Papa had made it through the locks and was well on his way to port as the wind began to howl and sway the lighthouse. The window sashes rattled as the storm gathered anger and shoved through the Soo toward Huron. Lucy sat in the rocking chair mending and stared out at the raising swells. The surges of water seemed to swallow the huge jagged rocks below and the wind growled around the skinny schoolhouse. Rain smacked their home so hard they could barely see across the water and the night was so mean it seemed to the children that it wanted nothing more than to gobble them right up. Lucy kept sewing and rocking. Lillian Gish was waiting.

She continued when Evelyn’s paw came home on the Midland Prince after the skies had cleared. Albert squealed like a stuck pig when the JH Sheadle docked. There was always so much to celebrate when the men came home; especially since “The Great White Hurricane” had turned torn through the region. So many had to be accounted for; both men and cargo. Everyone feared the price that had been paid.

But the days dragged on and there was no word about the Carruthers. Albert’s dad had said he’d seen it just ahead of them on the St. Mary’s river. He’d waved as it stopped for coal and headed for Duck Island. Still, no one had seen her and Lucy sat alone in the tower.

At last the bodies began to appear as did the smashed and broken wreckage of Canada’s largest steamer of the day; her once sturdy steel hull now appearing flimsy and frail, twisted and sick. Most of the news was coming from Point Clark, almost seventy miles south of their final destination. They sent word that Captain Wright was discovered as were most of the other crew members dressed in their heavy coats and life jackets. They had all known fear and doom. They had no choice but to let it wash over them.

Lucy was inconsolable. Her sorrow compared to the storm’s ten to twelve foot waves; heavy and crashing through her small frame. Her eyes rained like the torrent that stole her father from her and the sobs were deep and filled with fear. Ms. Boyd held her and rocked back and forth. Through Lucy’s quivering lips came three confusing stuttered words: “Way-haaayyting….ffffor Li-lil LILLIAN!” and the painful tempest would surge again. Sleep came reluctantly in the tower in her chair. The teacher stroked the newly orphaned child’s hair and felt her body tremble with sadness even when there should have been peace.

Lucy floated through her days, silent and wispy like the ghost her father had become. Ms. Boyd kept her rather than turn her to the state orphan home. Lucy didn’t want to leave the lighthouse or her perch on the landing where she sewed, daydreaming of her father’s calloused hand and the bijou. When the time came, it made sense that the lighthouse become Lucy’s and took over as headmistress. The children loved her. She was tough and fair, expecting nothing less than their best. “Learn a lot. Do your best.” She would say clanking the heavy bell to summon her “brood” of students.

After harvest, when she had the most children with her and their papas were all on the water, Lucy would take them up the seventy-two steps to the landing where they would read and finish lessons. She would rock and sew, searching the dark unforgiving water for her father, a nickel pinched tightly in her last two fingers of her left hand.

It has been a labor of love. Thank you for stopping by to share it with me. I'm glad you came.




Research via
Taless of the Sea: Great Lakes Storm
Guillermao Shaer, Buenos AIres, Argentina
Google:
Wikipedia: films in 1913
ImDB: most popular films of 1913
Filmsite.org

Come with me

I couldn't go with him. I had too much to do. I hate that. Well at least I thought I did.


Cheech had to have some tests done. Nothing major, no worries, we are all healthy as horses.  This was simply a test to monitor the progression of a condition he's had (as most of us do) for a long time: carpal tunnel.  I knew someone who had the surgery but it didn't turn out to be of any benefit. To me that's like a "Carrot Top Face lift"...check for the photos; it's a scary SCARY thing.


So he decided to tell me about it. AAAAAALLLLL about it. I suppose it's payback. Having been married to me for all these years I've more than ruined a food, a place or a smell with my colorful wording. He got me good.


He walked in and shook Doc's hand.  "We'll see if you want to be so friendly after this is all said and done." he grinned.  Cheech hesitated.


"Oh?" he smiled and waited politely.
"Yes. This is going to hurt."


Let us pause briefly.  How many times have you had your doctor say this to you outright? Me neither. I've heard: "You'll feel a little pressure, a prick (my favorite because I ALWAYS reapply that word as a proper noun), slight discomfort..." you get the picture.


Then he got out the needles. Another pause is due simply because of what I just wrote:
It's going to hurt
He got out the needles.


For those of you who need a bigger picture: I am spinning. The nausea is sweeping through me and the sweat has pricked my skin just in my attempts to type what I was told.


"He place one in my arm. "My dreamboat tells me. I close my eyes trying to find a happier place while he begins to tell a tale straight from the bowels of Hell.


"Then another. and some more"
I nod like a pensive monk in prayer, closing my eyes tighter.


"Then he got some electrodes out and the little wire."


I stop nodding and feel a sick tingling begin in my elbows and radiate out toward my hands and armpits. My knees begin to quake. My husband waits for it.


"And he turned on the machine." his voice is soft and velvety; almost apologetic.


I feel my soul begins to wilt and I sink in my seat. My head bobbles like a toy and my mouth is full of scream, thick and dark. This is a nightmare for me and I'm not anywhere NEAR this. It is simply his memory, but my mind has decided to participate and treat it as current. (no pun intended)


"My arm flew up and almost off the table. The pain was hot...My eyes would have watered had I not been afraid to electrocute myself."


Can you hear my face? Feel my shriek? One thing he's learned being married to a writer is the importance of conveying feeling with words.  He's gotten very good at it. I may have competition.


"I was shocked."
"So am I. Did you tell him to stop?"
"No. I couldn't and then he moved the needles."
"He moved...he he WHAT?" I was wailing and shaking my hands as if they were wet. "NOOO! He MOVED them? Where? To someone ELSE I hope! I..I..." my life energy was close to puddling on the floor.


Cheech was nodding slowly devouring each expression and emotion as it marched through, leaving me a little more weak and less human.  I was rapidly approaching the Jell-o phase of existence.


"Yes.  He moved them. Up and down my arm. And each time, he had to do it all again." this factoid rushed from him almost in childish giggles. He was enjoying this.


"Plug you in?" I asked timidly. My mouth was turned down and pinched. I had managed to somehow blink my eyelashes into my socket and I wondered briefly if the numbness that had soaked up my body would ever subside.


"And then..."
"NO! NO THEN. NO MORE. I GIVE!" My breath somehow shoved the words in an angry whisper. I collapsed in my chair with an exasperated puff. My hair was damp along the back of my neck. My armpits were sticky with panic. "no. more." I whimpered.


He dove in next to me and tickled me, complete with "BZZZZ-aaappp" noises. I was utterly defenseless.


"So how was YOUR day?" he laughed and hugged me. When he was satisfied that I truly WOULD pee in my pants.


"Draining. Are you okay? Really. Are you?" I truly wanted to know because I couldn't imagine how he had survived such a horrific torture. I touched his arm and saw the beginnings of the bruises.


"Awww. I'm sorry. It wasn't so bad." he kissed my head. "Next time, come with me." and he pulled me in.


I once again thought of the sharp verb that I could use as a proper noun.





Nothing too glamorous. Just wanted to share. I am glad you came. I enjoy our time together.