- I love finding a new blog and discovering that I'm on the blogroll there. It's a weird and wonderful form of internet vanity isn't it? It's like finding yourself quoted in a book or hearing yourself quoted by strangers. It's a nice feeling.
- I love the Harry Potter story, books, movies, concept,and even the butterbeer (omg butterbeer!). It's Harry's birthday today. Happy Birthday Harry. I hope someone makes you a cake. Those books are so popular that I have whole sections of family history built around them, reading them to my kids, my kids learning to read with them, seeing the wonderful magical movies. Mostly pretty good stories and memories, though the visit to Harry Potter World at Universal Studios wasn't entirely without incident.
- I love summer. I know this one isn't good for farmers. But ohhhhh, it's wonderful to me. It's hot, sunny, reliably perfect, day after day. And I love how well ice cream fits into that. Pralines 'n cream. Awesome. Don't you think manna from heaven must have tasted like pralines 'n cream?
- I love nipple clamps. And I still love how unexpected that was for me. C'mon, did you think this was going to be all hearts and flowers and rainbows? Did you think this one was going to be me loving unicorns? I even love the way they look. I think they decorate my nipples and breasts in a beautiful way. And I love the way they make me feel. Submissive and wanting to please and controlled and loving it. Up to the point where I don't anymore.
- And I love my guys. All of them. For a million and one reasons. And because they love me.
- And I love the Olympics. With all the ups and downs and pressures and wonderful stories. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, the controversy, the stories. It's unbeatable and I can't get enough.
carpe diem
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
5 Things About Me - Okay 6 Things
Monday, July 30, 2012
Religious Perspective
So...
In my early 20s all that organized religion meant to me was oppression and patriarchy. I've come a long way from there and see tons of good things too. But still... it seems to me that there's still a lot of truth to this.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Inconsistent as Hell
I've begged him for pain, reminding him that I'm a pain slut because he made me that way, and he likes me that way. I've asked and begged and verged over into nagging I think. (And how sad is that?)
I was trying to put the opportunity in his face, the suggestion in his mind, to turn him on with the possibilities.
I needed it.
I needed the connection that it often brings us.
But I needed the pain itself as well.
I fantasized about the pain. About feeling the bite of it. The idea filled me with desire.
So I asked again. Though honestly, it was humiliating to keep asking and have him explain to me, rationally, why it wasn't possible.
It was all about opportunity. He told me that again and again. And I knew it, in my rational brain.
But it felt a lot like rejection. It felt like I wasn't desirable enough, pretty enough for him to want to hurt.
I tried to wait and be patient, never my best event. I tried to be calm about it, and just know that he loves me and wants me.
And then suddenly the opportunity was there.
And the clamps went on. Once, twice, three times.
With the very first time I started to panic.
Because ....
Because they hurt so much.
Because I had forgotten how much they hurt.
Because I'm out of practice, out of training, neither my body or my mind is ready for this.
Because now I've asked for it, focused his attention, made him want it a lot.
Because it's been a long time for him too.
Because he does want it.
Because he's explicit that he's going to hurt me.
Because he hasn't forgotten anything, including where we left off.
Because he knows I'm scared of it now. And he reminds me that I asked for it. And that he knows it turns me on too, even while I'm begging for it to stop.
Because pain hurts. And what I really wanted was connection. Right?
And now I'm scared spitless. I've woken the sadist. Feels a bit like waking the sleeping dragon.
And now I'm looking for a place to hide from him, a way to divert him, a way to get him off that doesn't include pain.
I have the connection I wanted. Thank you very much and I'm good here.No more pain needed over here.
I know, I know, inconsistent as Hell.
I was trying to put the opportunity in his face, the suggestion in his mind, to turn him on with the possibilities.
I needed it.
I needed the connection that it often brings us.
But I needed the pain itself as well.
I fantasized about the pain. About feeling the bite of it. The idea filled me with desire.
So I asked again. Though honestly, it was humiliating to keep asking and have him explain to me, rationally, why it wasn't possible.
It was all about opportunity. He told me that again and again. And I knew it, in my rational brain.
But it felt a lot like rejection. It felt like I wasn't desirable enough, pretty enough for him to want to hurt.
I tried to wait and be patient, never my best event. I tried to be calm about it, and just know that he loves me and wants me.
And then suddenly the opportunity was there.
And the clamps went on. Once, twice, three times.
With the very first time I started to panic.
Because ....
Because they hurt so much.
Because I had forgotten how much they hurt.
Because I'm out of practice, out of training, neither my body or my mind is ready for this.
Because now I've asked for it, focused his attention, made him want it a lot.
Because it's been a long time for him too.
Because he does want it.
Because he's explicit that he's going to hurt me.
Because he hasn't forgotten anything, including where we left off.
Because he knows I'm scared of it now. And he reminds me that I asked for it. And that he knows it turns me on too, even while I'm begging for it to stop.
Because pain hurts. And what I really wanted was connection. Right?
And now I'm scared spitless. I've woken the sadist. Feels a bit like waking the sleeping dragon.
And now I'm looking for a place to hide from him, a way to divert him, a way to get him off that doesn't include pain.
I have the connection I wanted. Thank you very much and I'm good here.No more pain needed over here.
I know, I know, inconsistent as Hell.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Munich Moment
There's a groundswell of petitions and Facebook events and news stories about the Munich Moment.
This Olympics is the 40th anniversary of the murder of 11 Israeli athletes in the Munich Olympic Village in 1972 by Palestinian terrorists.
There has never been an Olympic commemoration of this event.
The OIC says that they don't want to politicize the Olympics.
I agree. The Olympics is supposed to be about the purity of sport. Just the purity of the individual or team effort. The culmination of training and fitness and talent and effort.
It's not supposed to be about politics. It's supposed to be a coming together of nations that ignores politics and strife. It's supposed to be above all that.
How is it politicizing the Olympics to recognize the tragedy of an event that happened at the Olympics?
The organizers are petitioning the IOC to observe a moment of silence in at the beginning of this Olympics and at every one after this, to honour the memory of the loss of these athletes. The one minute will be at 11 London time, on Friday July 27, 2012.
According to the petitioners, "Silence is a fitting tribute for athletes who lost their lives on the Olympic stage. Silence contains no statements, assumptions or beliefs and requires no understanding of language to interpret."
Why do I care? Because it's wrong not to allow it. Frankly, I think it's anti-Semitic not to allow it. If the murdered athletes were Americans or Canadians or Zambians there would have been that moment of silence years ago.
http://www.change.org/petitions/international-olympic-committee-minute-of-silence-at-the-2012-london-olympics#
This Olympics is the 40th anniversary of the murder of 11 Israeli athletes in the Munich Olympic Village in 1972 by Palestinian terrorists.
There has never been an Olympic commemoration of this event.
The OIC says that they don't want to politicize the Olympics.
I agree. The Olympics is supposed to be about the purity of sport. Just the purity of the individual or team effort. The culmination of training and fitness and talent and effort.
It's not supposed to be about politics. It's supposed to be a coming together of nations that ignores politics and strife. It's supposed to be above all that.
How is it politicizing the Olympics to recognize the tragedy of an event that happened at the Olympics?
The organizers are petitioning the IOC to observe a moment of silence in at the beginning of this Olympics and at every one after this, to honour the memory of the loss of these athletes. The one minute will be at 11 London time, on Friday July 27, 2012.
According to the petitioners, "Silence is a fitting tribute for athletes who lost their lives on the Olympic stage. Silence contains no statements, assumptions or beliefs and requires no understanding of language to interpret."
Why do I care? Because it's wrong not to allow it. Frankly, I think it's anti-Semitic not to allow it. If the murdered athletes were Americans or Canadians or Zambians there would have been that moment of silence years ago.
http://www.change.org/petitions/international-olympic-committee-minute-of-silence-at-the-2012-london-olympics#
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
The Gates of Hell
I was reading a piece last night on one of the interesting new blogs on my radar (and sidebar). The blog belongs to Ms. Constance, a Domme and a bit of a sadist. She's... interesting. I love the info from the dominant perspective, and find her interesting and different.
Yesterday she had a post on teaching a course on toys, and was talking about the toys she had brought to show/demo.
Well so that's interesting. And she had tons of canes and paddles, which I don't know much about, and nipples clamps which I do know about, and then a reference to the gates of hell, which I'd never heard of. So umm, I wondered if this was some kind of nipple clamps, and googled it.
And found this. Yikes. I mean obviously I don't have the equipment for that. But yikes. But kind of hot too. In a yikes kind of way.
And this. Which is funny as hell, but kind of judge-y, right? Got a fave? I know we are all accepting of everything, right? but number 4, the gas mask, just slays me.
(Btw, I have a story about the Baby J butt plug. Not sure if I've told it here before, but that's for another day.)
So... that's all. Don't you just love the magic of the interweb? You really can find anything!
-sin
Yesterday she had a post on teaching a course on toys, and was talking about the toys she had brought to show/demo.
Well so that's interesting. And she had tons of canes and paddles, which I don't know much about, and nipples clamps which I do know about, and then a reference to the gates of hell, which I'd never heard of. So umm, I wondered if this was some kind of nipple clamps, and googled it.
And found this. Yikes. I mean obviously I don't have the equipment for that. But yikes. But kind of hot too. In a yikes kind of way.
And this. Which is funny as hell, but kind of judge-y, right? Got a fave? I know we are all accepting of everything, right? but number 4, the gas mask, just slays me.
(Btw, I have a story about the Baby J butt plug. Not sure if I've told it here before, but that's for another day.)
So... that's all. Don't you just love the magic of the interweb? You really can find anything!
-sin
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Ten Minutes of Pain
I started off asking, then backing off a little.
Eventually asking again. And a little hint. And another. And then backing off again.
And then talking about the asking. And why I couldn't have it.
He affirmed that he liked it.
He'd like me to beg.
But to me it feels a lot like nagging.
Except that he affirms that it's what he wants in this case.
He wants me to ask for pain. He wants me to need it. He's trained me to need it.
He wants me to tell the world I need it.
He limits the supply. I can only get it from him. I think he kind of likes that I'm in a crisis about it.
Yesterday he gave me a little taste of it.
He gave me a task, a pain task. With clamps. Like I had needed, wanted asked for. 10 minutes. I was to put them on for 10 minutes. Then take them off and tell him about it.
Only 10 minutes. A little task. Just a taste of what I need.
I put them on last night, as ordered.
And gasped as I closed them gently onto my nipples. It's been a long long time.
Nothing like this for months.
Pain. Overwhelming physical pain.
My eyes, shadowed with pain. My face tense with it. My spirit overcome with the first hit of it.
And all the complications of that.
Pain. Power. A hint of humiliation.
The timed task was only 10 minutes.
But the pain was all that I remembered and more.
Thank you Sir.
Eventually asking again. And a little hint. And another. And then backing off again.
And then talking about the asking. And why I couldn't have it.
He affirmed that he liked it.
He'd like me to beg.
But to me it feels a lot like nagging.
Except that he affirms that it's what he wants in this case.
He wants me to ask for pain. He wants me to need it. He's trained me to need it.
He wants me to tell the world I need it.
He limits the supply. I can only get it from him. I think he kind of likes that I'm in a crisis about it.
Yesterday he gave me a little taste of it.
He gave me a task, a pain task. With clamps. Like I had needed, wanted asked for. 10 minutes. I was to put them on for 10 minutes. Then take them off and tell him about it.
Only 10 minutes. A little task. Just a taste of what I need.
I put them on last night, as ordered.
And gasped as I closed them gently onto my nipples. It's been a long long time.
Nothing like this for months.
Pain. Overwhelming physical pain.
My eyes, shadowed with pain. My face tense with it. My spirit overcome with the first hit of it.
And all the complications of that.
Pain. Power. A hint of humiliation.
The timed task was only 10 minutes.
But the pain was all that I remembered and more.
Thank you Sir.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Words 2
It's not the things you do or have done that make me love you. It's not about success, though it's there. But that's not the thing I love in you.
It's not the things you've created, though I might admire them.
It's not the things you've accumulated in your home or the brand of value of your car. It's not your bank account.
It's not the way you look that makes me love you. It's not your eyes or your smile or your body or your hands. Though all those things are lovely to me and I treasure them.
It's not your clothes or your hair.
It's not the way you move, though I do love that sometimes.
It's not your taste, or your smell.
It's your words that make you special to me. It's the reflection of your mind in your words that make you who you are, especially to me. It's your words that tell me what you think, what you want, what I am to you. It's your words that will endure to show what our relationship was.
It's your words that express the sharpness of your mind, the creativity of you. They are your sense of humour, your dominance, your demands, your brilliance.
It's your words I treasure most.
I do love you. And your words are the reasons why.
It's not the things you've created, though I might admire them.
It's not the things you've accumulated in your home or the brand of value of your car. It's not your bank account.
It's not the way you look that makes me love you. It's not your eyes or your smile or your body or your hands. Though all those things are lovely to me and I treasure them.
It's not your clothes or your hair.
It's not the way you move, though I do love that sometimes.
It's not your taste, or your smell.
It's your words that make you special to me. It's the reflection of your mind in your words that make you who you are, especially to me. It's your words that tell me what you think, what you want, what I am to you. It's your words that will endure to show what our relationship was.
It's your words that express the sharpness of your mind, the creativity of you. They are your sense of humour, your dominance, your demands, your brilliance.
It's your words I treasure most.
I do love you. And your words are the reasons why.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Asking Isn't Getting
It's been ages since there was any rough stuff.
I miss it.
I crave the pain.
I'm addicted I guess. And it's been too long.
And the connection with him too of course. I've said a hundred times that the pain is about connection and that I love that. And it's all true, really, the pain does make connection tighter, closer, more passionate or fervent or something. Both during and after.
When it sweeps past what I want, what I can take and ends with me in tears, all messed up and he loves me afterward. Then it's about connection.
And sometimes it's about sex. The way it feeds into desire and sex and creates the most spectacular orgasm ever.
But sometimes it's just about the pain.
The purity of it. The clarity of it.
I've asked for it.
Which is rare for me.
I've asked for it several times recently.
I've hinted at it even more.
He...
Sometimes he acknowledges my requests.
Sometimes he plays with them, sliding into them, offering me naughty scenarios, as if he's going to do me that way. Talking about clamps, different pairs. But it doesn't come to anything.
Sometimes he ignores it. And I wonder if he's heard me. But I think he has.
One day, this past week, he explained to me why it wasn't practical, why logistics didn't lend themselves to it. Humiliating discussion there.
But I need it.Crave it. I imagine the feel of the clamps going on my nipples. I imagine him putting them on me, watching me, drinking me in.
I imagine him making me do it while he's not around. I know that it wouldn't be as good, but better than nothing.
I imagine other people, other Doms or Dommes doing me, hurting me, with clamps or other implements. I imagine being beaten on ass or tits or pussy. I fantasize stories or accompanying humiliation or just the pain.
He's made me want this. Need it.
We've even talked about how hard it is for me to ask and be refused or denied or ignored. And still, no pain on the horizon.
Yesterday I suggested that maybe I'd stop asking.
He said that I better not stop asking. Unless I didn't want it. Said with more than a hint of threat in his voice. The threat is that if I stop asking I will be even less likely to get it.
So... possible strategies to get what I need here? Yeah, I know, topping from the bottom.
I miss it.
I crave the pain.
I'm addicted I guess. And it's been too long.
And the connection with him too of course. I've said a hundred times that the pain is about connection and that I love that. And it's all true, really, the pain does make connection tighter, closer, more passionate or fervent or something. Both during and after.
When it sweeps past what I want, what I can take and ends with me in tears, all messed up and he loves me afterward. Then it's about connection.
And sometimes it's about sex. The way it feeds into desire and sex and creates the most spectacular orgasm ever.
But sometimes it's just about the pain.
The purity of it. The clarity of it.
I've asked for it.
Which is rare for me.
I've asked for it several times recently.
I've hinted at it even more.
He...
Sometimes he acknowledges my requests.
Sometimes he plays with them, sliding into them, offering me naughty scenarios, as if he's going to do me that way. Talking about clamps, different pairs. But it doesn't come to anything.
Sometimes he ignores it. And I wonder if he's heard me. But I think he has.
One day, this past week, he explained to me why it wasn't practical, why logistics didn't lend themselves to it. Humiliating discussion there.
But I need it.Crave it. I imagine the feel of the clamps going on my nipples. I imagine him putting them on me, watching me, drinking me in.
I imagine him making me do it while he's not around. I know that it wouldn't be as good, but better than nothing.
I imagine other people, other Doms or Dommes doing me, hurting me, with clamps or other implements. I imagine being beaten on ass or tits or pussy. I fantasize stories or accompanying humiliation or just the pain.
He's made me want this. Need it.
We've even talked about how hard it is for me to ask and be refused or denied or ignored. And still, no pain on the horizon.
Yesterday I suggested that maybe I'd stop asking.
He said that I better not stop asking. Unless I didn't want it. Said with more than a hint of threat in his voice. The threat is that if I stop asking I will be even less likely to get it.
So... possible strategies to get what I need here? Yeah, I know, topping from the bottom.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Difficult?
I was surfing blogs (do we still "surf" things on the internet or should I be performing some other action verb I wonder?) and I came across a description that caught my eye.
"... a difficult slave, serving a dominant owner"
Am I difficult?
Umm...
I don't think I am as a person. Not really. My family thinks I'm bossy and that I nag. My kids say that my superpower is the power of nag. Of course if I don't nag, nothing every gets accomplished. I would say I remind, rather than nag. Doesn't that sound nicer? I remind them to bring down their laundry and put their plates in the sink and brush their teeth.
Oooops, I'm digressing.
At work I'm a dominant person with tons of experience and lots of opinions on how things should be done. That doesn't always make me right, but, I usually have an opinion. And really, my way is the better way. Can't we just do it my way from the start?
As a sub, I'm probably not easy. I'm well intentioned, and I do truly love making him happy, but I'm stubborn, I'm full of righteousness, and sense of entitlement.
Does that make me difficult. Maybe.
If I'm stubborn he is more stubborn.
When we are good, I think of it as strong. He's stronger than I am. More determined. He's stubborner too. I've never won a fight with him. Yeah do NOT tell me that it's not about winning. That's crap. Sometimes when you are into it with someone, it's all about winning. I've never won. In fact, he wins and I lose.
I'm righteous. I have an idea of how the world should work, how my relationships should work. I have firm ideas of what's right and wrong, fair and unfair. I can be pretty black and white about it. If something is wrong or dishonest, you shouldn't do it, and I don't approve. I'm not perfect in thought, word or deed. And I don't expect anyone else to be either. But... I hate dishonesty and meanness and bullying passionately. So occasionally I have odd causes. I'm a crusader for fairness and against bullying.
And I have a sense of entitlement. I have a sense of what I think I deserve. I think it's a sense of what I feel I've earned. I think that's mostly about self-respect. But it shades over into entitlement sometimes. I have lines you can't cross.
I'm also loving, friendly, outgoing, lots of fun at parties (really!). I love to make people laugh, I love to please people. I'm generous and I'm inclusive.
How can that be difficult?
As a submissive? I can be demanding. Don't roll your eyes. Okay, I am demanding, but not all the time. And I'm smart, and argumentative and jealous sometimes, and ... but that doesn't make me difficult, does it?
I think it makes me challenging. I think it makes me worth having. See? I'm not difficult, I'm challenging. That's right next to exciting.
Anything worth having is worth working for, right?
Don't feel sorry for him. He's strong enough to be up to the task. Though he does get tired some days.
"... a difficult slave, serving a dominant owner"
Am I difficult?
Umm...
I don't think I am as a person. Not really. My family thinks I'm bossy and that I nag. My kids say that my superpower is the power of nag. Of course if I don't nag, nothing every gets accomplished. I would say I remind, rather than nag. Doesn't that sound nicer? I remind them to bring down their laundry and put their plates in the sink and brush their teeth.
Oooops, I'm digressing.
At work I'm a dominant person with tons of experience and lots of opinions on how things should be done. That doesn't always make me right, but, I usually have an opinion. And really, my way is the better way. Can't we just do it my way from the start?
As a sub, I'm probably not easy. I'm well intentioned, and I do truly love making him happy, but I'm stubborn, I'm full of righteousness, and sense of entitlement.
Does that make me difficult. Maybe.
If I'm stubborn he is more stubborn.
When we are good, I think of it as strong. He's stronger than I am. More determined. He's stubborner too. I've never won a fight with him. Yeah do NOT tell me that it's not about winning. That's crap. Sometimes when you are into it with someone, it's all about winning. I've never won. In fact, he wins and I lose.
I'm righteous. I have an idea of how the world should work, how my relationships should work. I have firm ideas of what's right and wrong, fair and unfair. I can be pretty black and white about it. If something is wrong or dishonest, you shouldn't do it, and I don't approve. I'm not perfect in thought, word or deed. And I don't expect anyone else to be either. But... I hate dishonesty and meanness and bullying passionately. So occasionally I have odd causes. I'm a crusader for fairness and against bullying.
And I have a sense of entitlement. I have a sense of what I think I deserve. I think it's a sense of what I feel I've earned. I think that's mostly about self-respect. But it shades over into entitlement sometimes. I have lines you can't cross.
I'm also loving, friendly, outgoing, lots of fun at parties (really!). I love to make people laugh, I love to please people. I'm generous and I'm inclusive.
How can that be difficult?
As a submissive? I can be demanding. Don't roll your eyes. Okay, I am demanding, but not all the time. And I'm smart, and argumentative and jealous sometimes, and ... but that doesn't make me difficult, does it?
I think it makes me challenging. I think it makes me worth having. See? I'm not difficult, I'm challenging. That's right next to exciting.
Anything worth having is worth working for, right?
Don't feel sorry for him. He's strong enough to be up to the task. Though he does get tired some days.
Friday, July 20, 2012
One of THOSE Days
You know how sometimes you have one of those days that starts off all nice and sunshiny and happy. And you expect, that because it's Friday, it's going to be peachy and everything will go well.
And then suddenly, without warning, or without much warning at least, everything goes bad.
It's work which is sucking. It's been sucking for ages, but then this week it looked like it would be better. But today, suddenly it went bad again.
It's personal, where a the ups and downs of a friend is impacting me and I feel... tired of it.
My kids are teenagers and cranky and pissy and I'm tired of it. They spend the day in front of a screen, accomplishing nothing. I'm supposed to spend today and the rest of the weekend helping them do things and they are ungrateful and whiny and reluctant and I'm soooo not interested.
And my house is a mess. Full of dirty dishes and things that haven't been picked up for ages. See above entry on teenagers.
And I get that ... my problems are small when compared to the problems of the world.
But all I want right now is the comfort of cake and ice cream and my Dom. Who wouldn't approve of the cake and ice cream btw.
I guess I'll go read a book for a bit and then maybe clean the kitchen for the 87th time this week.
And then suddenly, without warning, or without much warning at least, everything goes bad.
It's work which is sucking. It's been sucking for ages, but then this week it looked like it would be better. But today, suddenly it went bad again.
It's personal, where a the ups and downs of a friend is impacting me and I feel... tired of it.
My kids are teenagers and cranky and pissy and I'm tired of it. They spend the day in front of a screen, accomplishing nothing. I'm supposed to spend today and the rest of the weekend helping them do things and they are ungrateful and whiny and reluctant and I'm soooo not interested.
And my house is a mess. Full of dirty dishes and things that haven't been picked up for ages. See above entry on teenagers.
And I get that ... my problems are small when compared to the problems of the world.
But all I want right now is the comfort of cake and ice cream and my Dom. Who wouldn't approve of the cake and ice cream btw.
I guess I'll go read a book for a bit and then maybe clean the kitchen for the 87th time this week.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Parking
He says...
that it's my blog and I can do what I like with it, including writing or not, and vanilla or not. But... that said, he also says that he loves it and hopes that I continue with it.
And he says...
that I could write more about D/s than I do. He says that I could write about yesterday for example.
Yeah, he has a point. I think I focus on not having as much of it anymore, where I could/should focus on what I do have.
So ... okay.
Yesterday we had phone sex with me in my car.
Kind of sordid, kind of naughty. Definitely on the slutty side.
No privacy at my house yesterday, it was crawling with teenagers on summer vacation.
So I went out in my car and he called me.
I parked at a community centre, with a huge parking lot. The parking lot isn't empty but most of the people park near the building, rather than near the forest. But there are running and dog walking paths through the forest so some people park there sometimes. Anyway, it doesn't look "wrong" or suspicious.
So I parked. Opened my windows cause it was okay temperature wise to do that.
I was wearing a tankini and a fairly skimpy-on-the-top wrap around dress as a cover-up. He had me lift the dress above my breasts, pull the tankini top down enough to pull my tits out the top, and then drop the dress down again covering my tits.
So there's that period of exposure in the parking lot. There's no one there. But I have time to reflect on a couple of things:
a) should I really do it? Answer, yes of course. He wouldn't know if I didn't but, I'd know. And our relationship is all built on trust, right? And you know... the risk and the badness of it is hot for me. Which I don't really realize til later, but still.
b) I wonder if there are cameras in this parking lot and if so where they are and whether I'm in them, and whether anyone is watching and whether they'll run out and stop me and arrest me for public indecency or just call over a friend and watch him do me.
c) How long is he going to leave me exposed? Yesterday it was actually fairly brief. One day not long ago it was ages!
He pulls my top down and starts playing roughly with my tits. At this point my nipples are such a trigger for turning me on. I guess he has trained me that way, cause honestly they never really were before.
This time, while I was turning on, I was also thinking of wanting more. Wanting pain. I know that the masochist part is kind of crazy anyway. But imagine wanting him to put clamps on me in a parking lot. And... I did want that. It's been ages.
He knows I want it too. I've told him. He knows.
So I didn't ask again that day. It was pretty fast and furious, and of course I want him to just know that I want pain, without me asking. He likes to decide of course. But he also likes for me to ask for it. Whether he gives it or not.
So he plays with my tits, and eventually lets me squirm in my seat. I'm close to cumming just from this. Crazy huh? Who does this? Who can get that turned on just from phone sex in a car and touching their nipples?
But it's his voice. His orders. Him calling me names. Talking about what he's doing to me.
He makes me admit that I'm a whore, his whore. And that I need this, that I love it. Makes me tell him over and over again. His voice gets more demanding, his language gets cruder and rougher, and then, kind of unexpectedly, for me at least, he cums.
Which I freakin love. Even though it surprised me. It makes me feel desired. Pleasing. Which is everything, right?
And then after a slight pause while he figures out how to breathe again, he focuses back on me.
He allows me to rub my pussy through the bathing suit. Oh yesssss. It's awesome. And yet I want more. More More.
Eventually he lets me put my hands in my bathing suit and touch myself.
He tells me he's going to let me cum.
And I can't quite get there. I try and I try. I start to despair. I think for sure he will change his mind or lose interest or that we'll get interrupted before I can get there.
I'm sure he loves the insecurity of that. He loves how he has all the control and I have none. He loves that I don't really know the outcome.
Eventually, after much effort I manage to cum.
It's spectacular. Despite the sluttyness of the parking lot. Or perhaps because of it. I cum hard and pretty noisily, and then kind of sprawl there in my front seat and recover and look around and wonder about parking lot cams again.
A little sex. A little exhibitionism. A little D/s. A nice combination for us.
that it's my blog and I can do what I like with it, including writing or not, and vanilla or not. But... that said, he also says that he loves it and hopes that I continue with it.
And he says...
that I could write more about D/s than I do. He says that I could write about yesterday for example.
Yeah, he has a point. I think I focus on not having as much of it anymore, where I could/should focus on what I do have.
So ... okay.
Yesterday we had phone sex with me in my car.
Kind of sordid, kind of naughty. Definitely on the slutty side.
No privacy at my house yesterday, it was crawling with teenagers on summer vacation.
So I went out in my car and he called me.
I parked at a community centre, with a huge parking lot. The parking lot isn't empty but most of the people park near the building, rather than near the forest. But there are running and dog walking paths through the forest so some people park there sometimes. Anyway, it doesn't look "wrong" or suspicious.
So I parked. Opened my windows cause it was okay temperature wise to do that.
I was wearing a tankini and a fairly skimpy-on-the-top wrap around dress as a cover-up. He had me lift the dress above my breasts, pull the tankini top down enough to pull my tits out the top, and then drop the dress down again covering my tits.
So there's that period of exposure in the parking lot. There's no one there. But I have time to reflect on a couple of things:
a) should I really do it? Answer, yes of course. He wouldn't know if I didn't but, I'd know. And our relationship is all built on trust, right? And you know... the risk and the badness of it is hot for me. Which I don't really realize til later, but still.
b) I wonder if there are cameras in this parking lot and if so where they are and whether I'm in them, and whether anyone is watching and whether they'll run out and stop me and arrest me for public indecency or just call over a friend and watch him do me.
c) How long is he going to leave me exposed? Yesterday it was actually fairly brief. One day not long ago it was ages!
He pulls my top down and starts playing roughly with my tits. At this point my nipples are such a trigger for turning me on. I guess he has trained me that way, cause honestly they never really were before.
This time, while I was turning on, I was also thinking of wanting more. Wanting pain. I know that the masochist part is kind of crazy anyway. But imagine wanting him to put clamps on me in a parking lot. And... I did want that. It's been ages.
He knows I want it too. I've told him. He knows.
So I didn't ask again that day. It was pretty fast and furious, and of course I want him to just know that I want pain, without me asking. He likes to decide of course. But he also likes for me to ask for it. Whether he gives it or not.
So he plays with my tits, and eventually lets me squirm in my seat. I'm close to cumming just from this. Crazy huh? Who does this? Who can get that turned on just from phone sex in a car and touching their nipples?
But it's his voice. His orders. Him calling me names. Talking about what he's doing to me.
He makes me admit that I'm a whore, his whore. And that I need this, that I love it. Makes me tell him over and over again. His voice gets more demanding, his language gets cruder and rougher, and then, kind of unexpectedly, for me at least, he cums.
Which I freakin love. Even though it surprised me. It makes me feel desired. Pleasing. Which is everything, right?
And then after a slight pause while he figures out how to breathe again, he focuses back on me.
He allows me to rub my pussy through the bathing suit. Oh yesssss. It's awesome. And yet I want more. More More.
Eventually he lets me put my hands in my bathing suit and touch myself.
He tells me he's going to let me cum.
And I can't quite get there. I try and I try. I start to despair. I think for sure he will change his mind or lose interest or that we'll get interrupted before I can get there.
I'm sure he loves the insecurity of that. He loves how he has all the control and I have none. He loves that I don't really know the outcome.
Eventually, after much effort I manage to cum.
It's spectacular. Despite the sluttyness of the parking lot. Or perhaps because of it. I cum hard and pretty noisily, and then kind of sprawl there in my front seat and recover and look around and wonder about parking lot cams again.
A little sex. A little exhibitionism. A little D/s. A nice combination for us.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Changes?
I'm thinking of moving to a new blog. This one started mostly as a D/s sex blog,
But has kind of moved more and more to vanilla.
It seems like I've run out of things to say to the world.
Would I have more to say on a different platform?
What's making the difference?
Changes in my relationship?
Or maybe I've just said everything I had to say?
Maybe.
But has kind of moved more and more to vanilla.
It seems like I've run out of things to say to the world.
Would I have more to say on a different platform?
What's making the difference?
Changes in my relationship?
Or maybe I've just said everything I had to say?
Maybe.
Turf Wars
We have this crazy neighbour. He's obsessive compulsive about a lot of things, one of which is his lawn and garden. We're having a drought here and all the lawns are crispy and yellow except his which is lush and green and beautiful.
He waters, morning and evening, his lawn and garden are a thing of beauty. Really. but it's a little compulsive. Okay totally compulsive.
Last night he shows up at our door, at 11:45 p.m. to complain that my niece is parked in front of his house, on his grass. He rants and raves about how hard he works to nurture his lawn. He says how he hates when she parks there, how she is on his grass, ruining it.
She is. I went out to confirm this morning. Her front wheel is indeed touching his grass, she is covering a strip about 1" x 8".
He put up a metal rod about a month ago to ensure that this couldn't happen. He is despairing now, and angry, doesn't now where to turn or what else to do. So angry he rushes over from next door to complain.
And, oh yes, he was definitely drunk. Hostile, belligerent, drunk.
It wasn't me he talked to last night. I was asleep and missed the whole thing.
Sigh. Dude needs to get a life. And she needs to park somewhere else. We are not going to start a Hatfields and McCoys thing here.
Edit: She is escalating things. "He wants a fight? Bring it! I'll show him!"
No concept of compromise. Maybe cause she's young. Maybe cause she's been brought up that way. Maybe it's me that's out of step thinking the rest of them are crazy?
He waters, morning and evening, his lawn and garden are a thing of beauty. Really. but it's a little compulsive. Okay totally compulsive.
Last night he shows up at our door, at 11:45 p.m. to complain that my niece is parked in front of his house, on his grass. He rants and raves about how hard he works to nurture his lawn. He says how he hates when she parks there, how she is on his grass, ruining it.
She is. I went out to confirm this morning. Her front wheel is indeed touching his grass, she is covering a strip about 1" x 8".
He put up a metal rod about a month ago to ensure that this couldn't happen. He is despairing now, and angry, doesn't now where to turn or what else to do. So angry he rushes over from next door to complain.
And, oh yes, he was definitely drunk. Hostile, belligerent, drunk.
It wasn't me he talked to last night. I was asleep and missed the whole thing.
Sigh. Dude needs to get a life. And she needs to park somewhere else. We are not going to start a Hatfields and McCoys thing here.
Edit: She is escalating things. "He wants a fight? Bring it! I'll show him!"
No concept of compromise. Maybe cause she's young. Maybe cause she's been brought up that way. Maybe it's me that's out of step thinking the rest of them are crazy?
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Pervert
So we're talking about humiliation. About whether humiliation is a form of sadism. I say absolutely yes. Any dissenters out there?
And I say that I would never have realized that I liked it or that I would miss having it if it wasn't for him.
And then we talk about the line between where I like it and where I don't. And he announces that he knows where it is. So I say where? And he says that if he calls me a cunt during a session I like it. And if he called me a sack of shit I wouldn't. Well yeah, that's certainly true.
And then we talk about how the line moves over time.
And he says that it moved a lot once I realized that he loved me and respected me and would keep respecting me even though he humiliated me, and even though he knew I liked it. Um. Yes.
And that sometimes I like it more than other times.
And that I need aftercare afterward.
We didn't really talk about those things. I just wanted to throw them in.
And then we discuss that I like humiliation much darker in my porn than I like in real life. And he says but then I'm always careful to note that I don't want this in real life. And look, here I am doing it again.
And then he wants to talk about piss, cause he's like that, and he knows that it's something I'm prissy about. And it's something that once was a limit and now isn't and he likes that.
And then we talk about the fact that there are lots of humiliating things I don't mind as long as I know that he wants them. He has to want them, and preferably he has to demand them. So that even if I want them too, I can still pin the doing of them on him.
Because it has to be him that wants those humiliating dirty things or it's me that's the pervert, right?
He laughs and says he doesn't think that's an issue we need to worry about.
Is that why I adore him?
And I say that I would never have realized that I liked it or that I would miss having it if it wasn't for him.
And then we talk about the line between where I like it and where I don't. And he announces that he knows where it is. So I say where? And he says that if he calls me a cunt during a session I like it. And if he called me a sack of shit I wouldn't. Well yeah, that's certainly true.
And then we talk about how the line moves over time.
And he says that it moved a lot once I realized that he loved me and respected me and would keep respecting me even though he humiliated me, and even though he knew I liked it. Um. Yes.
And that sometimes I like it more than other times.
And that I need aftercare afterward.
We didn't really talk about those things. I just wanted to throw them in.
And then we discuss that I like humiliation much darker in my porn than I like in real life. And he says but then I'm always careful to note that I don't want this in real life. And look, here I am doing it again.
And then he wants to talk about piss, cause he's like that, and he knows that it's something I'm prissy about. And it's something that once was a limit and now isn't and he likes that.
And then we talk about the fact that there are lots of humiliating things I don't mind as long as I know that he wants them. He has to want them, and preferably he has to demand them. So that even if I want them too, I can still pin the doing of them on him.
Because it has to be him that wants those humiliating dirty things or it's me that's the pervert, right?
He laughs and says he doesn't think that's an issue we need to worry about.
Is that why I adore him?
Monday, July 16, 2012
With A Glad Heart
There's a new blog I found, a friend of a friend, who writes from a Domme's point of view. Her name is Ms. Constance and I like her style.A lot. Go have a look. It's so rare that anyone writes from a Dominant's point of view and she's very well written.
In browsing through her blog, I found a post on doing things with a glad heart. It was and is timely for me.
Not doing this is one of my fatal flaws; I sulk.
I always obey, but not always with a glad heart.
I sulk and do things grudgingly. How fucking annoying is that?
So... I'll try to do better. I'll respond consciously, and try to do better.
Lighter... I think that's what I'm aiming for.
Thanks for the insights Ms. Constance!
-sin
In browsing through her blog, I found a post on doing things with a glad heart. It was and is timely for me.
Not doing this is one of my fatal flaws; I sulk.
I always obey, but not always with a glad heart.
I sulk and do things grudgingly. How fucking annoying is that?
So... I'll try to do better. I'll respond consciously, and try to do better.
Lighter... I think that's what I'm aiming for.
Thanks for the insights Ms. Constance!
-sin
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Compersion
Compersion is the feeling of happiness or joy that your lover is enjoying another relationship.
I've had some of that lately.
Yay!
Big Bad has another girl. And I like her.
I've always liked the idea of my guy having another girl. I find the idea of it exciting.You'll note the phrasing, as sometimes I'm better with the idea of something than the reality of the thing. And sometimes I've struggled with the reality.
The reality of poly is that sometimes you feel left out. Which leads to fear and jealousy and ... ooops. This isn't that post.
Sometimes... the reality of poly is that it can be very sweet.
Last night they had a date.
I've complained about how limited his time is. I think she gets even less of it. Mostly without complaining about it btw. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm spoiled. I know you are thinking that Mick.
So where was I?
Oh yes, they had a date planned. I don't know exactly what he had told her to plan. But I do know it was planned in advance.
I was pleased for her and for him. Happy for both of them that they would get some private time together. Maybe even some extended private time. I like for him that he's getting what he wants (a big motivator for me) and I like that she's getting what she wants (cause she's so delighted).
I like that she wants him. That she finds him sexy. That the things that turn me on turn her on too.
I like being able to talk to her about stuff. I like that she said to me that the was excited and terrified before the date. I totally get that. I felt the same way in the beginning, and still do sometimes.
I love that she, like me, feels the push and pull of the positive and negative. She wants and fears. Some of that is nerves about any girl dressing for any boy in the early stages of a relationship. Some of it is unique to anticipating a date with a sadist.
But I love that she can share the uncertainties and some of her hopes and desires with me. That's pretty special I think, and I feel honoured to be the recipient of some of those confidences.
Talking to her about him, about her feelings brings so much of my own history with him to the surface. It makes me think about dressing for him, desiring him, wanting him, wanting to face the sadist and be swept before him. Fearing it too. The excitement. The terror. And yes, I still feel it.
Knowing that she wants him makes me want the same things from him. Knowing how he is with her, how he treats her, what he does with her, makes me want the same things with him. All that is steamy.
I think the thing that makes me want to blog, sharing my relationship and my ideas about D/s, the good feedback and validation is even greater when it's about the same man. That's awesome. And that's whether the ideas are positive or negative, she's a mirror, reflecting that back at me. She's not me, she's very different in some ways, but she's like me in some too. I like that.
She's so good about answering my questions. I do ask tons of questions, always, of everyone. I like knowing what makes people tick. I'm just curious, or okay, call it nosy.
And if I am honest, and here's a less nice side of me, I often feel a bit entitled to ask, to know what's going on between him and his girl. "You have to tell me because I allow(!) this to happen" And I try to keep that side tamped down firmly. And it is tamped down right now. I get that entitled isn't attractive. But I think it goes with the territory a bit.
She's so good about answering my questions. When I talk to her, I feel like her confidante, her girlfriend, as much as his. She makes me feel like she wants to tell me, to confide in me. I feel like she gets the same things from talking to me.
She could make me feel like his jealous girlfriend, but she doesn't. I never get the sense of her feeling me "entitled" or jealous. Maybe she thinks that but is sweet enough to mask it. She could make me feel she was pumping me for information, and she doesn't.
I'm sure she is hesitant sometimes, not wanting to say something that might hurt me, not wanting to "out" him to me if there's something he does that she isn't sure I know, something that maybe he hasn't told me for whatever reason. I'm sure she walks a bit of a tightrope at times.
I feel like we are friends. And feel that she is someone I turn to when I need an ear or a shoulder.I believe I'm that for her too.
And it's just nice when your friends are happy in their love lives, right?
I've had some of that lately.
Yay!
Big Bad has another girl. And I like her.
I've always liked the idea of my guy having another girl. I find the idea of it exciting.You'll note the phrasing, as sometimes I'm better with the idea of something than the reality of the thing. And sometimes I've struggled with the reality.
The reality of poly is that sometimes you feel left out. Which leads to fear and jealousy and ... ooops. This isn't that post.
Sometimes... the reality of poly is that it can be very sweet.
Last night they had a date.
I've complained about how limited his time is. I think she gets even less of it. Mostly without complaining about it btw. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm spoiled. I know you are thinking that Mick.
So where was I?
Oh yes, they had a date planned. I don't know exactly what he had told her to plan. But I do know it was planned in advance.
I was pleased for her and for him. Happy for both of them that they would get some private time together. Maybe even some extended private time. I like for him that he's getting what he wants (a big motivator for me) and I like that she's getting what she wants (cause she's so delighted).
I like that she wants him. That she finds him sexy. That the things that turn me on turn her on too.
I like being able to talk to her about stuff. I like that she said to me that the was excited and terrified before the date. I totally get that. I felt the same way in the beginning, and still do sometimes.
I love that she, like me, feels the push and pull of the positive and negative. She wants and fears. Some of that is nerves about any girl dressing for any boy in the early stages of a relationship. Some of it is unique to anticipating a date with a sadist.
But I love that she can share the uncertainties and some of her hopes and desires with me. That's pretty special I think, and I feel honoured to be the recipient of some of those confidences.
Talking to her about him, about her feelings brings so much of my own history with him to the surface. It makes me think about dressing for him, desiring him, wanting him, wanting to face the sadist and be swept before him. Fearing it too. The excitement. The terror. And yes, I still feel it.
Knowing that she wants him makes me want the same things from him. Knowing how he is with her, how he treats her, what he does with her, makes me want the same things with him. All that is steamy.
I think the thing that makes me want to blog, sharing my relationship and my ideas about D/s, the good feedback and validation is even greater when it's about the same man. That's awesome. And that's whether the ideas are positive or negative, she's a mirror, reflecting that back at me. She's not me, she's very different in some ways, but she's like me in some too. I like that.
She's so good about answering my questions. I do ask tons of questions, always, of everyone. I like knowing what makes people tick. I'm just curious, or okay, call it nosy.
And if I am honest, and here's a less nice side of me, I often feel a bit entitled to ask, to know what's going on between him and his girl. "You have to tell me because I allow(!) this to happen" And I try to keep that side tamped down firmly. And it is tamped down right now. I get that entitled isn't attractive. But I think it goes with the territory a bit.
She's so good about answering my questions. When I talk to her, I feel like her confidante, her girlfriend, as much as his. She makes me feel like she wants to tell me, to confide in me. I feel like she gets the same things from talking to me.
She could make me feel like his jealous girlfriend, but she doesn't. I never get the sense of her feeling me "entitled" or jealous. Maybe she thinks that but is sweet enough to mask it. She could make me feel she was pumping me for information, and she doesn't.
I'm sure she is hesitant sometimes, not wanting to say something that might hurt me, not wanting to "out" him to me if there's something he does that she isn't sure I know, something that maybe he hasn't told me for whatever reason. I'm sure she walks a bit of a tightrope at times.
I feel like we are friends. And feel that she is someone I turn to when I need an ear or a shoulder.I believe I'm that for her too.
And it's just nice when your friends are happy in their love lives, right?
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Online Submissive
"If we lived together," he began, "would you be happy if I had an online submissive?"
I said "Ignore". I was being funny. Like kids do on facebook. Meaning that I was ignoring the question, pretending he hadn't asked it.
He persisted a little. "No, I don't want you to ignore it." Meaning he wouldn't want me to ignore such a relationship.
The question was a little disconcerting in a way. He's always had other girls. I think he always will. But we were kind of spinning this fantasy of perfect D/s life together.
And in his perfect life was... well... it included another girl or girls, right from the beginning.
So I think he asked me to be provocative. To point out to me that he'd always have other girls. Or just to warn me or put me on notice or something.
Yeah I know it.
I said that I knew he'd always have other girls, and that if I felt secure I'd probably be fine with it, and that if I felt threatened I'd probably be a pain.
And he, kind of adoringly said (and gosh don't I love when he's like that!), something like "I wouldn't want you any different than you are today!"
.... awww.
And then I said, cause I'm provocative sometimes, "maybe I'd get an online Dom". Thinking... yeah, if you let me. Or for however long you let me. Cause it if bugged him at all, that online Dom would be all over for me.
He ignored that comment btw.
And it occurred to me later, that the real answer should have been, "how would you want me to be about your online subgirl, Sir?"
I wonder if I'll ever figure out that whole "sweetly submissive" thing?
I said "Ignore". I was being funny. Like kids do on facebook. Meaning that I was ignoring the question, pretending he hadn't asked it.
He persisted a little. "No, I don't want you to ignore it." Meaning he wouldn't want me to ignore such a relationship.
The question was a little disconcerting in a way. He's always had other girls. I think he always will. But we were kind of spinning this fantasy of perfect D/s life together.
And in his perfect life was... well... it included another girl or girls, right from the beginning.
So I think he asked me to be provocative. To point out to me that he'd always have other girls. Or just to warn me or put me on notice or something.
Yeah I know it.
I said that I knew he'd always have other girls, and that if I felt secure I'd probably be fine with it, and that if I felt threatened I'd probably be a pain.
And he, kind of adoringly said (and gosh don't I love when he's like that!), something like "I wouldn't want you any different than you are today!"
.... awww.
And then I said, cause I'm provocative sometimes, "maybe I'd get an online Dom". Thinking... yeah, if you let me. Or for however long you let me. Cause it if bugged him at all, that online Dom would be all over for me.
He ignored that comment btw.
And it occurred to me later, that the real answer should have been, "how would you want me to be about your online subgirl, Sir?"
I wonder if I'll ever figure out that whole "sweetly submissive" thing?
Friday, July 13, 2012
Tech Fail - Part 2
My e-book isn't loading the trashy romance novel I bought earlier this evening.
I freakin HATE that.
Grrrrr.
So, was it the KOBO upgrade I did earlier today? Or was it the Windows upgrade from earlier today? Or is it some problem with the android app I loaded to be able to see books on my phone.
OR is it some problem with the hardware of my e-reader.
I just wanna read my trashy novel.
Wahhhhh!
And yeah, I get that the problem is because I have an e-reader. But if I didn't I still wouldn't have the new book cause I wouldn't have been able to just download it. But still.
Stupid technology.
I freakin HATE that.
Grrrrr.
So, was it the KOBO upgrade I did earlier today? Or was it the Windows upgrade from earlier today? Or is it some problem with the android app I loaded to be able to see books on my phone.
OR is it some problem with the hardware of my e-reader.
I just wanna read my trashy novel.
Wahhhhh!
And yeah, I get that the problem is because I have an e-reader. But if I didn't I still wouldn't have the new book cause I wouldn't have been able to just download it. But still.
Stupid technology.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Books Everyone Should Read
So I'm short on time and shorting the blog this morning.
So another book post.
I have this neat graphic. And I've read lots but not all of the books.
But I wanted to ask the question as well. What books do you think everyone should read? That's a SHOULD. Interpret it any way you like.
The Torah, Bible or Koran? Harry Potter? The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe? Outlander? Something else? And why, if you like...
My must read book is... honestly, it depends on the day.
Sorry, gotta go.
So another book post.
I have this neat graphic. And I've read lots but not all of the books.
But I wanted to ask the question as well. What books do you think everyone should read? That's a SHOULD. Interpret it any way you like.
The Torah, Bible or Koran? Harry Potter? The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe? Outlander? Something else? And why, if you like...
My must read book is... honestly, it depends on the day.
Sorry, gotta go.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
What To Do With Submission
Swan asks me in a comment on my last post whether submission occurs only as part of a relationship dynamic. Is it really something that can only be done reflexively with a partner who is carrying their part of a tune?
She says she feels she has been doing it "solo" for a good long while now, and suggests that perhaps her submission is different from mine, and indeed different from what hers would have been at one time.
My answer is for me, from me. I think everyone has a different kind of submission, based on what their personality is, what their relationship is, what their history is.
I think I want things fair. I want some input, some effort from him. I don't want to do it all. I say "some" here, but if I'm honest, I'm pretty demanding sometimes. Yeah, don't think I can't see several of you rolling your eyes there. You know who you are.
I think I need feedback, reinforcement, appreciation. I need stroking. I need to feel like he notices, and appreciates. Actually, I want him to adore me. Sometimes he does. Did?
In the rest of my life, I'm not submissive, I'm fairly dominant, fairly controlling. I'm a smart extroverted creative opinionated woman who likes getting her own way.
Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do with submission if I wasn't giving it to him.
It's not like I can bottle the stuff to use later.
Would I give it to my work? That's really not my role there. My role at work is to push things through, not just accept what happens. "Oh, you don't know what to do, well, whatever you want then."
Or my kids? "Sure, spend another day in front of the x-box, whatever you like." You know teenage boys only get up to eat and pee.
I think in the rest of my life it would look like passivity or indifference, or kind of neglectful parenting.
Those aren't my roles in the rest of my life.
Maybe I could make a place for it. I do have places where I submit, let go. Like meditation and yoga and synagogue. But none of those are exactly like the submission he wants from me. I do have friends and we agree on what to do, certainly some of them are more dominant.
I do think that everyone's submission is a bit different, based on what their dominant wants, and what they are able to give to that.
Sometimes in my relationship with him, I've meditated on submission, and written on it. Sometimes he's given me specific meditations or tasks. It probably wouldn't surprise my readers to know that I've written him reams of stuff on submission in the past. And perhaps that's a way of bottling it, to pass on.
I know it would have made him happier to read that I was trying to make myself submissive, than that I was feeling there wasn't much point which was what I wrote in the last post.
But still... eventually, I'd want feedback, I'd need approval.
I'm just not wired to give it that selflessly.
But maybe, eventually, I'd get the approval I needed.
She says she feels she has been doing it "solo" for a good long while now, and suggests that perhaps her submission is different from mine, and indeed different from what hers would have been at one time.
My answer is for me, from me. I think everyone has a different kind of submission, based on what their personality is, what their relationship is, what their history is.
I think I want things fair. I want some input, some effort from him. I don't want to do it all. I say "some" here, but if I'm honest, I'm pretty demanding sometimes. Yeah, don't think I can't see several of you rolling your eyes there. You know who you are.
I think I need feedback, reinforcement, appreciation. I need stroking. I need to feel like he notices, and appreciates. Actually, I want him to adore me. Sometimes he does. Did?
In the rest of my life, I'm not submissive, I'm fairly dominant, fairly controlling. I'm a smart extroverted creative opinionated woman who likes getting her own way.
Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd do with submission if I wasn't giving it to him.
It's not like I can bottle the stuff to use later.
Would I give it to my work? That's really not my role there. My role at work is to push things through, not just accept what happens. "Oh, you don't know what to do, well, whatever you want then."
Or my kids? "Sure, spend another day in front of the x-box, whatever you like." You know teenage boys only get up to eat and pee.
I think in the rest of my life it would look like passivity or indifference, or kind of neglectful parenting.
Those aren't my roles in the rest of my life.
Maybe I could make a place for it. I do have places where I submit, let go. Like meditation and yoga and synagogue. But none of those are exactly like the submission he wants from me. I do have friends and we agree on what to do, certainly some of them are more dominant.
I do think that everyone's submission is a bit different, based on what their dominant wants, and what they are able to give to that.
Sometimes in my relationship with him, I've meditated on submission, and written on it. Sometimes he's given me specific meditations or tasks. It probably wouldn't surprise my readers to know that I've written him reams of stuff on submission in the past. And perhaps that's a way of bottling it, to pass on.
I know it would have made him happier to read that I was trying to make myself submissive, than that I was feeling there wasn't much point which was what I wrote in the last post.
But still... eventually, I'd want feedback, I'd need approval.
I'm just not wired to give it that selflessly.
But maybe, eventually, I'd get the approval I needed.
Making My Own
Can I make my own submission?
Hmmm. I don't know. Why would I want to?
Well, if he wasn't around. Could I then?
Maybe. Maybe I could. Why would I want to again?
Because he'd like it. I guess he would at least. If he noticed.
But if he's not around, would it matter? Would he care that I was submissive?
Yeah a bit maybe. If he noticed.
So I'd get a bit of benefit for maybe a bit more effort?
Maybe.
So how would I do that?
Meditate on submissiveness? Or read some of the things I've written when I feel really submissive?
Okay, I could do that. And it might make me feel more submissive. But then what?
I guess then I'd want him to play along. To take the dominant part.
Ummm.
So no, I guess I won't bother. At least not today.
Hmmm. I don't know. Why would I want to?
Well, if he wasn't around. Could I then?
Maybe. Maybe I could. Why would I want to again?
Because he'd like it. I guess he would at least. If he noticed.
But if he's not around, would it matter? Would he care that I was submissive?
Yeah a bit maybe. If he noticed.
So I'd get a bit of benefit for maybe a bit more effort?
Maybe.
So how would I do that?
Meditate on submissiveness? Or read some of the things I've written when I feel really submissive?
Okay, I could do that. And it might make me feel more submissive. But then what?
I guess then I'd want him to play along. To take the dominant part.
Ummm.
So no, I guess I won't bother. At least not today.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
License Observations
I went to the license bureau today. It's where you go to get licenses and stickers and to do your driving test. You get in line and wait and sit and shuffle around. The line wasn't bad today, I've seen it worse sometimes, mostly when I'm in a terrible hurry though.
So I had time to people watch. Cause what else is there to do?
I watched two old men, in separate incidents, come back from their tests. You have to retest every year or two after you turn 80 years old. Both of them had obviously failed their tests.
The testers brought them back to the main area, and tried to help them process the fact that they'd failed. Which means that they are at the license bureau with a car and no way to get it home. They might be in shock. They're sad. They're feeling their years and a loss of independence. They are humiliated. Obviously the bureau has evolved some processes for dealing with these old people.
But jeez, I wanted to cry for both of them.
The first one was probably right about 80. I think he was astounded that he'd failed. He waved his arms a bit, objecting. He protested, asking what he was going to do with his car. He seemed shocked when they told him he couldn't drive it home.
The second man was older, probably closer to 90. He came out and sat quietly with his hands in his lap, his fingers steepled together. He seemed frail, almost not understanding as the tester called a tow truck to come and get him and his car to take him somewhere. Home? Was he on the verge of tears? Perhaps thinking about what he'd done wrong? Or perhaps thinking about what to do next, explanations, perhaps retesting, though likely not, selling his car? Was he thinking of losing the last of his independence, the last of his mobility? The last of ... something before he is just old forever.
I think it's a good thing to retest older people. I do. But. This was sad. I wanted to drive both of them home. I wanted to ... I guess I don't know what I wanted.
So I had time to people watch. Cause what else is there to do?
I watched two old men, in separate incidents, come back from their tests. You have to retest every year or two after you turn 80 years old. Both of them had obviously failed their tests.
The testers brought them back to the main area, and tried to help them process the fact that they'd failed. Which means that they are at the license bureau with a car and no way to get it home. They might be in shock. They're sad. They're feeling their years and a loss of independence. They are humiliated. Obviously the bureau has evolved some processes for dealing with these old people.
But jeez, I wanted to cry for both of them.
The first one was probably right about 80. I think he was astounded that he'd failed. He waved his arms a bit, objecting. He protested, asking what he was going to do with his car. He seemed shocked when they told him he couldn't drive it home.
The second man was older, probably closer to 90. He came out and sat quietly with his hands in his lap, his fingers steepled together. He seemed frail, almost not understanding as the tester called a tow truck to come and get him and his car to take him somewhere. Home? Was he on the verge of tears? Perhaps thinking about what he'd done wrong? Or perhaps thinking about what to do next, explanations, perhaps retesting, though likely not, selling his car? Was he thinking of losing the last of his independence, the last of his mobility? The last of ... something before he is just old forever.
I think it's a good thing to retest older people. I do. But. This was sad. I wanted to drive both of them home. I wanted to ... I guess I don't know what I wanted.
Monday, July 9, 2012
What Spoke to Me
I'm attending a set of seminars this week. And while I don't and won't agree with all I hear, some of it gives me food for thought. And I might be working it out for a while. Others will have taken away completely different things of course, but here's some of what spoke to me:
1. Some elements of organized religion can be a lot of sexist crap. And just because someone wrote something down 3000 years ago that says that girls weren't worth teaching doesn't mean that God said it. I get that if you are going to question that one thing, it might mean you have to question everything else. But still. I'm talking Old Testament here, so it applies to all the People of the Book. And no, this isn't a brand new revelation to me or to any of you, but I did run up against it again today. And it annoys me each time.
2. There were some parts on loving God and meditating on his laws and rules, his commandments and his works in order to understand him. And through this understanding to achieve a feeling of ecstasy. This struck me, sacrilegiously, as akin to the connection we seek in D/s.
3. There was some talk about anger, that a person who is angry is a slave to their anger. Which means that anger, takes us over, owns us, controls us. We feed the anger, rather than letting it go or controlling it. Perhaps we glorify the anger, even idolize it (though this part might be a stretch sometimes!) and give it far too much power over us.
4. One session dealt with self-sacrifice and selfishness and touched on expectations. I think we are all, to some extent, subject to our expectations aren't we? If we have come to expect something, then we base decisions, choices, actions on those expectations. If I have come to expect something, I feel entitled to it, where in reality I am entitled to nothing. Every interaction is unique and I may have to earn things each time.
Which will tell you that I'm a feminist submissive with a bit of religion, who doesn't mind a hint of the sacrilegious sometimes, who has some anger and entitlement issues. But I think you already knew that. (I already had keywords for them and everything!)
Stay tuned for the next gripping installment...
1. Some elements of organized religion can be a lot of sexist crap. And just because someone wrote something down 3000 years ago that says that girls weren't worth teaching doesn't mean that God said it. I get that if you are going to question that one thing, it might mean you have to question everything else. But still. I'm talking Old Testament here, so it applies to all the People of the Book. And no, this isn't a brand new revelation to me or to any of you, but I did run up against it again today. And it annoys me each time.
2. There were some parts on loving God and meditating on his laws and rules, his commandments and his works in order to understand him. And through this understanding to achieve a feeling of ecstasy. This struck me, sacrilegiously, as akin to the connection we seek in D/s.
3. There was some talk about anger, that a person who is angry is a slave to their anger. Which means that anger, takes us over, owns us, controls us. We feed the anger, rather than letting it go or controlling it. Perhaps we glorify the anger, even idolize it (though this part might be a stretch sometimes!) and give it far too much power over us.
4. One session dealt with self-sacrifice and selfishness and touched on expectations. I think we are all, to some extent, subject to our expectations aren't we? If we have come to expect something, then we base decisions, choices, actions on those expectations. If I have come to expect something, I feel entitled to it, where in reality I am entitled to nothing. Every interaction is unique and I may have to earn things each time.
Which will tell you that I'm a feminist submissive with a bit of religion, who doesn't mind a hint of the sacrilegious sometimes, who has some anger and entitlement issues. But I think you already knew that. (I already had keywords for them and everything!)
Stay tuned for the next gripping installment...
Sunday, July 8, 2012
After Happily Ever After...
I have these friends who I love. Both halves of the couple are my best friends and they just happened to fall in love and get married.
And for a while it looked like they were living happily ever after.
And then things started to go wrong for them.
Lots of outside pressures.
And lately when I see them it's horrible. They are horrible to each other.
She's the worst. She's contemptuous and mean.
He is sarcastic and dismissive. But from what I can see, which I get isn't everything, she usually starts it.
I'm sad for them.
It's not gonna be happily ever after and I'm sad for both of them.
I wish I could fix things. I've tried. A little. Gently. To tell them to play nice and be respectful. Like either of them would with anyone else.
But they seem to be past that.
I hope not. But hoping isn't believing.
Bummer, eh?
And for a while it looked like they were living happily ever after.
And then things started to go wrong for them.
Lots of outside pressures.
And lately when I see them it's horrible. They are horrible to each other.
She's the worst. She's contemptuous and mean.
He is sarcastic and dismissive. But from what I can see, which I get isn't everything, she usually starts it.
I'm sad for them.
It's not gonna be happily ever after and I'm sad for both of them.
I wish I could fix things. I've tried. A little. Gently. To tell them to play nice and be respectful. Like either of them would with anyone else.
But they seem to be past that.
I hope not. But hoping isn't believing.
Bummer, eh?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Gun Rant
My Big Bad Dom and his wife (Mrs. BBD) are heading out to buy a gun today. A nice family outing right?
I know most of you are American and have guns anyway. And lots of Canadians do too. And those of you in the rest of the world you all have guns.
Jeez. Maybe it's just me that finds it a little creepy.
What's wrong with it? Umm. Hell I don't know.
Left over stuff from my naive and idealistic youth maybe?
I know there are bad people in the world. I really do. And I'm not suggesting just rolling over and giving them everything they demand. That's why we have police and armies. I think it's pretty rare here in the first world where private citizens actually need a gun for anything but hunting.
Maybe if you need a gun to defend your stuff you have too much stuff. Maybe if you worry so much about the have nots taking your stuff it's because they don't have enough stuff. Maybe if you shared your stuff with the have nots, you wouldn't need to have a gun to defend it.
See, I told you it was naive.
But still. It just seems wrong.
Would you really kill someone to defend stuff? It's just stuff. You can get more.
And how do I feel about Mrs. BBD having a gun? Umm. I'm sure it will be fine. Right?
I know most of you are American and have guns anyway. And lots of Canadians do too. And those of you in the rest of the world you all have guns.
Jeez. Maybe it's just me that finds it a little creepy.
What's wrong with it? Umm. Hell I don't know.
Left over stuff from my naive and idealistic youth maybe?
I know there are bad people in the world. I really do. And I'm not suggesting just rolling over and giving them everything they demand. That's why we have police and armies. I think it's pretty rare here in the first world where private citizens actually need a gun for anything but hunting.
Maybe if you need a gun to defend your stuff you have too much stuff. Maybe if you worry so much about the have nots taking your stuff it's because they don't have enough stuff. Maybe if you shared your stuff with the have nots, you wouldn't need to have a gun to defend it.
See, I told you it was naive.
But still. It just seems wrong.
Would you really kill someone to defend stuff? It's just stuff. You can get more.
And how do I feel about Mrs. BBD having a gun? Umm. I'm sure it will be fine. Right?
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Secret Life of Books
My Mom says that by the time it occurred to them to hide the inappropriate books, it was too late, cause I'd read them.
I read all the books in the house. My parents read a bit, so they had books, but not enough to keep up with me.
I read the backs of cereal boxes and I read toilet paper packages.
I loved Scholastic books. Imagine being able to order books!
And I loved libraries. Free books. All you had to do was show up and pick the ones you wanted. When I found out about libraries, I thought things couldn't get much better. My mom tells a story about me coming home and saying, "Mom, there's such a thing as libraries, and they have free books and I know where one is."
In fact the library turned out to be right next to the grocery store where my Mom bought her groceries. She would shop and I would go to the library, browse the shelves, take out as many books as I was allowed and go sit in the car to start my book feast.
After a while we negotiated with the librarians that I did have her permission to take out adult books as well as kids books. The world was my oyster. Maybe that means that I knew it was full of pearls or something like that? I don't know... what DOES that mean?
I would go and sit in the car with the books all around me. I'd try to choose the best one. Which one would I love the most. I think I was more a greedy kid, wanting the very best first, rather than saving the best for last. I'd sample a couple, and then really dig into one.
I remember my favourite book when I was 9 or 10. It was a book about a little witch who lived on the side of a mountain. I'd re-read favourites sometimes, and I took this one out several times. I remember it was yellow with red on the cover. Sadly I didn't remember the title or the author of the book so I couldn't find it again when we moved. I knew where it was in the library in the little town in Ohio where I grew up, but I couldn't find it in my school or public libraries when we moved here. A lesson learned on knowing the author's name.
And horror of horrors, kids books are often different in different countries.
I remember reading books that transported me, taking me to places I wanted to be, stories I wanted to be in, about people I wanted to know. I remember reading Narnia and the Black Stallion and Shakespeare (for kids). And all the books my sisters and I brought home from school. Short stories when that's all I could find to feed my addiction. Kipling. Books about Henry VIII and his wives. Or about the French Revolution. The wonderful Little House on the Prairie books. Little Women, Little Men. Anne of Green Gables.The Godfather. Gone With the Wind and romance novels and ... Sometimes if I had a fantastic book, I'd say I was sick so I could stay home and read it.
Friends would come over and I'd want to sneak off and finish my book, or at least my chapter. I'd lock myself in the bathroom and hurry through the pages, occasionally getting caught at this anti-social behaviour. Embarrassing.
I remember traveling with my parents as a young teen. Sleeping in a spare room filled with inappropriate books. I remember staying up all night 3 nights in a row, reading Last of the Red Hot Lovers and The Graduate. And starting Once Is Not Enough. It never occurred to me to ask to borrow the book or even to steal it. I'm sure no one would have noticed, and yet despite wanting the books desperately, I didn't take them. Just gorged while I was there.
When we got to where we were going, my grandparents cottage, there were shelves of shabby old books that no one cared about. I knew enough to keep the books under cover though, realizing that even if my parents didn't mind, my elderly relatives would almost certainly feel some of it inappropriate.
I remember emerging from hours of immersion in my books, kind of surprised that the rest of the world had gone on as usual. Sometimes I still do that.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Forgetfulness
A week ago, give or take, he decided to play with me at my office. I don't love him playing with me at the office. There's always a danger of getting caught of course, and play, especially D/s play, especially D/s play with pain, makes me stupid. And stupid doesn't work well at my office. It clouds my thinking and makes it hard for me to accomplish anything and...
...and yet its exciting. It's attention. It's desire and sex and pain. It's rarely so extreme that it's unmanageable, it's often a precursor to something else.
And it's been ages since he's had time for me. I know he's busy. I do know. And I know he's managing things as well as he can, but still, sometimes I feel like I come at the end of a very long list of obligations. Or at least other calls on his time.
So we're talking and he says to me, do you have your painkit. And I think crap. I don't think I do have it. I'm always supposed to, but he never damn well uses it, never uses me, so I might not. And he's going to be pissed. I say "ummm" stalling for time. He says you're supposed to have it or something like that, kind of benign yet menacing tone, and then tells me that he wants twist ties out of it, to go on my nipples.
He describes how he wants the ties on my nipples. Pretty tight he says, with the nipples bulging out. He's detailed that way. And then he says he wants me to report to him every 15 minutes or so about how they feel.
I'm saved. Because I know I have twist ties at the office. I've scavenged them there before. I might even have some in my purse, there were some loose in there not too long ago, nice fresh ones. And unless he specifically asks me I won't have to say I don't have the painkit. The focus will be on me having the twist ties, rather than on me not having the painkit.
The painkit is a little jewelry bag with things in it that he can use to hurt me. It's got tweezer clamps and elastics and twist ties. Sometimes it has those black bulldog office clamps for attaching lots of papers. Right now it has my clover clamps in there cause I stuck them in one time when I needed somewhere to stash them. And my tiny little finger vibe. And a couple of tampons, sometimes batteries, and some paperclips or change or something just to disguise what it really is. All little tiny things that shouldn't be floating loose in my purse.
And I don't have it in my purse. It's in my backpack lately. I took the painkit out of my purse when I was vacationing. Didn't want to take it through airport security. Nothing in there that's contraband, but I just didn't want to answer questions about it to some smirking guard. And it wound up back in my backpack, which he wouldn't mind as long as I had it with me, which I don't
I usually do have it. I'm conscientious about things like that. I've been caught before and it's not nice getting caught not having the things I'm supposed to have.
But I don't. Because... Well because he never fucking uses it any more. He doesn't have time for me or for play. And so the kit is just an extra thing in my bag, and, and, and ... the fact is that I don't have it.
I didn't say all that, because I'm not an idiot. And there's no point in fighting a battle unless you have to, right? But it did leave me feeling defensive. I knew I had done wrong and wanted him in on sharing the blame for it.
But I had the twist ties, a bunch of about six of them in my purse so it was fine. I put two on as per his order and the lack of the painkit never really came up again. Actually it was totally overtaken by other events. Actually he got distracted by real life while I was wearing the ties and didn't respond to most of my every 15 minute reports. Eventually he came back and took them off me and debriefed and apologized.
Until earlier this week when his other girl got nailed for forgetting hers.
So there's certainly a lesson there for her and for me. Don't forget the stuff he tells you to have with you. And don't get sloppy just cause he doesn't use it. And maybe a message there for him too?
See how classy it was for me to just leave that message to your imagination?
...and yet its exciting. It's attention. It's desire and sex and pain. It's rarely so extreme that it's unmanageable, it's often a precursor to something else.
And it's been ages since he's had time for me. I know he's busy. I do know. And I know he's managing things as well as he can, but still, sometimes I feel like I come at the end of a very long list of obligations. Or at least other calls on his time.
So we're talking and he says to me, do you have your painkit. And I think crap. I don't think I do have it. I'm always supposed to, but he never damn well uses it, never uses me, so I might not. And he's going to be pissed. I say "ummm" stalling for time. He says you're supposed to have it or something like that, kind of benign yet menacing tone, and then tells me that he wants twist ties out of it, to go on my nipples.
He describes how he wants the ties on my nipples. Pretty tight he says, with the nipples bulging out. He's detailed that way. And then he says he wants me to report to him every 15 minutes or so about how they feel.
I'm saved. Because I know I have twist ties at the office. I've scavenged them there before. I might even have some in my purse, there were some loose in there not too long ago, nice fresh ones. And unless he specifically asks me I won't have to say I don't have the painkit. The focus will be on me having the twist ties, rather than on me not having the painkit.
The painkit is a little jewelry bag with things in it that he can use to hurt me. It's got tweezer clamps and elastics and twist ties. Sometimes it has those black bulldog office clamps for attaching lots of papers. Right now it has my clover clamps in there cause I stuck them in one time when I needed somewhere to stash them. And my tiny little finger vibe. And a couple of tampons, sometimes batteries, and some paperclips or change or something just to disguise what it really is. All little tiny things that shouldn't be floating loose in my purse.
And I don't have it in my purse. It's in my backpack lately. I took the painkit out of my purse when I was vacationing. Didn't want to take it through airport security. Nothing in there that's contraband, but I just didn't want to answer questions about it to some smirking guard. And it wound up back in my backpack, which he wouldn't mind as long as I had it with me, which I don't
I usually do have it. I'm conscientious about things like that. I've been caught before and it's not nice getting caught not having the things I'm supposed to have.
But I don't. Because... Well because he never fucking uses it any more. He doesn't have time for me or for play. And so the kit is just an extra thing in my bag, and, and, and ... the fact is that I don't have it.
I didn't say all that, because I'm not an idiot. And there's no point in fighting a battle unless you have to, right? But it did leave me feeling defensive. I knew I had done wrong and wanted him in on sharing the blame for it.
But I had the twist ties, a bunch of about six of them in my purse so it was fine. I put two on as per his order and the lack of the painkit never really came up again. Actually it was totally overtaken by other events. Actually he got distracted by real life while I was wearing the ties and didn't respond to most of my every 15 minute reports. Eventually he came back and took them off me and debriefed and apologized.
Until earlier this week when his other girl got nailed for forgetting hers.
So there's certainly a lesson there for her and for me. Don't forget the stuff he tells you to have with you. And don't get sloppy just cause he doesn't use it. And maybe a message there for him too?
See how classy it was for me to just leave that message to your imagination?
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
The Day After
Today is a holiday here. The day to replace the holiday day that was yesterday. And weirdly, everything was open yesterday, despite the fact that it was Canada Day. And everything is closed today.
And I'm tired.
Not enough sleep here last night, as the teens partied long into the night.
This morning they are all grouchy as they are tired and a bit hungover.
I'm not hungover... but jeez, I am tired after being woken about every hour by the sleepless teens.
There were taxis coming and going. There was what looked like a nasty little exchange (just words with some arm waving) out in the front yard. At about 7:45 this morning one kid got up to drive a friend to work and then came home to go back to sleep.
I'd like a nap.
I'm too old to stay up all night.
Happy day after the holiday day.
And I'm tired.
Not enough sleep here last night, as the teens partied long into the night.
This morning they are all grouchy as they are tired and a bit hungover.
I'm not hungover... but jeez, I am tired after being woken about every hour by the sleepless teens.
There were taxis coming and going. There was what looked like a nasty little exchange (just words with some arm waving) out in the front yard. At about 7:45 this morning one kid got up to drive a friend to work and then came home to go back to sleep.
I'd like a nap.
I'm too old to stay up all night.
Happy day after the holiday day.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Lucky to Be Canadian
Proud to be Canadian. Happy not to be in a tent with a bear.
My recent trip of the north west was all about grizzly bear territory. Everywhere we went there would be signs and pamphlets about grizzlies.
And really, I'm scared as hell of bears. I think my fear of bears (is there a word for this? bear-o-phobia?) became a happy part of everyone's trip. I heard lots of bear jokes. I think it's something everyone I traveled with will remember.
Sigh.
They even bought me a t-shirt. Wasn't that generous? Probably more to come. And no, I haven't worn it.
During my trip someone said to me, looking at mountains and nature and ... wildlife maybe, "does this make you proud to be a Canadian?" My response, "not so much proud, as I feel lucky to be Canadian. Look at all this. "
And still happy not to be meeting up with that bear. I think he's a grizzly. But really, does it really matter what kind of bear is in your tent?
Happy Canada Day!
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