Sunday, February 1, 2015

I am six weeks away from turning 42. As of right now, I am not enjoying my forties. My thirties were much better. I finally felt good at my job, my kids were both school-age. My sex-drive finally caught up to my husband's. Life was good. The forties? Not so much. It's like some evil dark magic has descended upon me and forced me to look at my own mortality.  Every day there is something new, something different that quietly screams, "Pay attention!  There isn't as much time as you think!"

So I have decided to do just that, pay attention, and use the time that remains fully.

And with that said, here is my list of "50 before I am 50." Fifty things that might make me fall in love with my forties, if I can actually manage to do them before I am fifty.

1. Eat fugu.  I might have to go to Japan to accomplish this one.  I don't know how easy it is to find in the U.S. (Hm, should a list like this be filled with things that are actually doable, or is it okay to think impossibly big? How dissappointed with myself will I be if I don't make it to Japan?)
2. Get my reader's card for the Library of Congress.
3. I suppose go to Washingtin D.C. should be here so that I can accomplish the above idea.
4. And then once I get my reader's card, actually read in the Library of Congress.  (See? This is how you reach fifty items.  You really stretch them out.)
5. And with the idea in mind of stretching this list out, go to Japan in order to accomplish #1.
6. Ride one of these:

From Elliptigo
Seriously, if  I had one of these I wouldn't miss running quite so much.  I miss running, but in my forties my knees have decided to protest the act.  
7. Go white water rafting. Is it okay to have things on your list that you have already done?  I say yes!
8. Finish knitting a sweater for myself. The key is "for myself." Not for one of my kids, not for some child yet to be born, not for the neighbor's dog.  Never for the neighbor's dog.
10. See the Atlantc Ocean.  Notice I said "see," not "swim."  This Pacific Ocean girl has heard all about the warm water of the Atlantic and I want none of it.  Also, see commentary of number 7.
11. See New York City.
12. Finish Lolita, by Nabakhov. I get about 2/3 of the way through the book and I set it aside over and over again.
13. Eat an entire pound of Trader Joe's chocolate by myself.
14. Attend a yoga class with live music.
15. Keep all my teeth.  It sounds strange, but it is amazing to me that I have managed to do this so far.  I am a nighttime teeth grinder.
16. Go hiking by myself.
17. Learn to make eclairs.
18. Attend a show on Broadway.
19. Tour a cheese factory. Random, I know.  I like cheese.
20. Age whiskey at home.
21. Get my eyes fixed so that I am glasses-free, at least for a decade before they change shape again.
22. Tell my sisters what I really think of them.  Wait, that would mean that they could then tell me what they really think of me.  Scractch this one.
22 - revised.  Go on a trip with just my sisters.
23. Get drunk with my sisters, play "Just Dance" on the Wii, and wear A's prom queen/winter formal crowns while doing it.
24. Present at a national conference related to my work. (I am intent on accomplishing these things. I already have a presentation proposal submitted. Wish me luck!)
25. Take a vacation by myself.
26. Take a bath during the above-mentioned vacation by myself.  My bathtub is in the kids' bathroom, and I REFUSE to use it.  They are responsible for the cleaning of it, which makes it rather suspect.
27. Be loud enough during playtime with my husband that the neighbors can actually hear me.
28. Write a five-minute stand-up comedy act.
29. Perform said comedy act.
30. Use my vibrator with an audience (of one - not much of an exhibitionist here) This would totally be out of my comfort zone, and therefore totally worth doing.
31. Go 30 days without sugar just to see what food really tastes like. (Month of January - check! Food is AMAZING)
33. Eat clam chowder in a sourdough bowl while watching the seals off of Pier 39.
34. Write and sing my own blues song.
Half Dome at sunset35. Climb to the top of Half Dome.  Okay, there is a story here. I have trained twice to be able to do this. Twice that goal was thwarted by morning sickness and it didn't happen. Since I am clearly done having kids, I might actually get to the top this time. Deadline goal should be achieved: Summer, 2016.
Hikes ascending the Half Dome cables 

36. Assist on a paleontology dig. There is one nearby of a woolly mammoth that if I would just remember to sign up I could have this one accomplished any weekend in the year 2015.
37. Sleep in one morning and only leave the bed to pee. This has to happen because I want it to, not because I am sick or recovering from surgery, just because I am lazy.
38. Earn my black belt in Taekwondo. I have my red belt. I am only 8 months away from having that sucker. The problem is, I have been 8 months away for about 3 years. I just can't coordinate a schedule to get there and train sufficiently to test. But it will happen before I am fifty.
39. Read at least 20 of the books that I have bought for myself over the years and then never gotten around to reading. Seriously, I have a problem. I have an entire bookcase of books that I have intended to read and haven't done so.
40. Find a place that sells Charleston Chews. Split the box with a friend, just like when I was a kid.
41. Grow my hair out past my shoulders. It's never been longer than my collar bone. Working on this one now.
42. Go roller skating on my 42nd birthday. Have my friends go roller skating on my 42nd birthday. Okay, the ones over 50 can pass if they are worried about falling and breaking something, but they should still show up and eat pizza with me.

Hm, I seem to have run out of steam here. 42nd birthday, 42 things. So I didn't quite make it to 50. I think I have enough here to keep my going for a while. Besides, there should always be some room for spontaneity. So that will be my last 8 items - spontaneous things that totally ROCK!



Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Fifth Great Online Cookie Exchange Extravaganza, Hosted by Jz

Diabetic Coma Cookie



Warning: I would not recommend making these unless you have teenagers in the house with metabolisms like the Flash. The name is accurate. Even they can't eat more that one or two at a time. 

You know how you make a batch of cookies and they are gone in two days? How you get home from work and all you want is one of those chocolate chip cookies stored on top of the refrigerator only to find someone beat you to it? And then you are yelling at the top of your lungs, "Who took my cookie? I was saving that!" Well, Diabetic Coma Cookies are the answer to that little problem. A batch of these babies will last over a week in my house. Nobody can eat more than two at a time.

I can't claim creation of these little devils. I found them on a blog: http://insidebrucrewlife.com/. I feel okay reposting my variation of the recipe because after poking around online I found at least a dozen similar recipes.


Ingredients:
1 box white cake mix (15.25 oz.)(I use Pillsbury)
1 stick butter, melted (8 Tbsp.)
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 cup Oreo cookie chunks
1 cup Andes Peppermint Crunch pieces
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips

Instructions:

This is cheaper than anger management classes or therapy for agressive tendencies. Put the Andes in a ziploc bag. Leave the bag with a tiny opening for the air to escape. Picture in your mind someone you just can't see eye-to-eye with, take out a rolling pin, and beat the crap out of those little candies until they are bite sized. Of course, if you don't have any aggravations in your life and you are just sailing along blissfully, you can buy the candy pre-chopped for baking.

Repeat the process with the Oreos.

In keeping with the therapy theme, I tend to mix by hand but there is no reason why you couldn't mix with an electric mixer. Combine the cake mix, melted butter, egg,and extracts in a bowl. When it all looks incorportated, mix in the cream cheese. Then fold in the Oreos, Andes Peppermint Crunch, and chocolate chips.

Refrigerate for about an hour.

Preheat the oven to 350. Roll into small balls and place dough onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet. I actually can't stand this part so I use a small ice cream scooper, the kind that has the scrape mechanism to release the dough.  Keeps them all roughly the same size and it is less messy.

Bake for about 9-10 minutes. The tops will look underdone, but check the bottoms. They have a tendency to brown fast.

Gently press down with the spatula to even them out.  If they are on parchment paper, you can lift the entire parchment to the counter to let them cool completely. If they are not on parchment, try letting them cool partially on the sheet and then sliding them off. They are really chewy and have a tendency to fall apart if they are moved before cooling.

 I have actually been contemplating extending the cook time and flipping them about halfway through.

Variations: You can change the candy and extracts to whatever flavor you would like.


Check out some of the other treats from Jz's Cookie Exchange. Happy Holidays!

Sunday, October 19, 2014

True Sunday Dilemma

Ambivalence (n): the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas

Ms. Ambivalence's alarm woke her up Sunday morning while it was still dark out. She stretched her arms over her head, mentally made a list of everything that needed to be accomplished that day, and then promptly closed her eyes and started the debate: get started on the day's chores or go back to sleep?

That tiny bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs (I always laugh when I read sentences like that in romance novels) felt a little tingly, and so another pair of options presented themselves. Should I wake him up and ask for sex or should I make myself a cup of tea and sneakily enjoy the last four chocolate chip cookies?

Hm...
Last night he offered to lick my pussy when he came to bed. That didn't happen, so maybe I should ask for it now, she thought. Then again, if I don't get to those four cookies now they won't be there when I do get up. Yes, Ms. Ambivalence was having a tough time making a decision...

The cookies won.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

Playing Hookie To-Do List

1. Sleep in.
2. Take a long shower.
3. Shave all the little bits.
4. Towel-dry the hair and body.
5. Brush teeth.
6. Crawl back into bed.
7. Present botton for a nice "pinking."
8. Spread legs and welcome a tongue.
9. Meditate while sucking on cock.
10. Fuck and fuck and fuck.
11. Doze.
12. Get dressed.
13. Attempt to make the hair look less "freshly fucked."
14. Go out to lunch with husband.
15. Wait for the next date I can "call in sick."

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Friends Don't Let Friends Have Bad Sex

At least, that's what the invitation said. I found it on my desk when I returned from lunch one day:



It's the latest variation in suburban tupperware, I guess.  I've been invited to jewelry parties, candle parties, cooking parties, even one party that you brought babies to and you made cutsey wall prints out of their handprints and footprints. I guess it was only a matter of time before I was invited to an adult toy party. (I've been giggling and saying "dildo party" to myself all week. I am so mature.)

I was a little wary to accept the invitation. These were my coworkers after all. How much did I want them knowing about me?  Would I have to sit there tight-lipped for fear of revaling too much? What if one of them held something up and asked what it was for and I piped up? Would I forever be known as the kinky one who knows what a cock ring is for? Plus, I didn't want to feel forced into making an obligatory purchase.  So I almost didn't go.

But then I thought about how little writing I do here, and I should go, because there was bound to be a story at the end of it.

So I went. And there wasn't. But I'll tell you about my experience anyway.

There were eight of us there. Six were coworkers. The other two were adult daughters brought by their mothers. Mothers/daughters? Good for them. My mother, despite her pseudo-hippy ways, despite the fact that at one point she sat in a circle of women and held a mirror between her legs, would never be comfortable at an event like this. I could possibly imagine doing this with sisters, but they live pretty far away.

So there we are, in a horseshoe around a presenter who has a little black bag with her. Before she starts she wants us all to choose a "diva name." Something that makes us feel sexy and that we will use for th rest of the night. She wants it to begin with the same letter as our first names, you know, one of those icebreaker things you do in elementary school.  We all sit there in stupefied silence. Then we introduce ourselves. But each and every one of us foregoes the diva name. So she gives us each one. And none of them have to do with sex. They all sound like generic adjectives from a Little House on the Prairie episode: "kind, jolly, beautiful, careful."  Well that was a lost opportunity to loosen the crowd up.

She starts with the simple, socially innocuous stuff- lotions and lubes and candles that are lotions and lubes and candles and candles that are really lotions and lubes(that wasn't convoluted at all). She dabs them on our wrists so that we can feel them. She keeps the right wrist for general demonstration, the left wrist for the "lickable" items.  Those were disgusting. After the first one I quietly took a tissue out of my purse and wiped them off.  You won't find strawberry-flavored massage oil in my bedroom.

It's almost as though she is guaging her audience. How much can she show us? What direction will this group go? Is this a vanilla group and lotions and lubes are as much as they can handle? Can she mention anal at all?

Her next item was a lube and tube combo. Basically, it was a fleshlight and lube, but god forbid you call it a fleshlight.  It would scare away your clientele. No, it had to be called a "passion sleeve" or at one point she referred to it as "your helping hand." Her main selling point? It should be your go-to assistant if a hand job is taking too long and you want to speed it up.  My mind instantly goes to the party invitation. So much for "friends don't let friends have bad sex." I am on the verge of piping up and saying, "Or you could just put your mouth on him and then everybody's happy." I choose to hold my tongue.

She does eventually get to the vibrators.  These are the sleekest toys I have ever seen.  All feminine colors and clean lines, multiple settings. They don't look anything like the novelty vibrators and dildos that I am used to seeing. (As an aside, I learned why a lot of adult toys have themes like rabbits and dolphins on them.  Since so many places around the world have restrictive laws and regulations when it comes to sex, these little endearing animals make the sex toy a novelty item and it can get around various codes and regulations.) And they are rechargeable.

I have to hand it to the marketing team for this one. The color and name speak for themselves:

Displaying image.jpg


This is "Audrey." As in:

 I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.

 - Audrey Hepburn


And that's when it finally hits me. Yeah, I am slow on the uptake. This is about the suburban housewife who would never be caught dead in a sex shop. This is about the stereotyped image of darkened windows that you can't see in, toys in front, adult theatre and fetish room in the back. This is about making sex as clean as possible with the adage that everybody does it. Because "Audrey?" She's the "boy band" of sex toys.  She's as stage-ready as it gets, nice too look at, puts on a good show, and is safe enough to appeal to almost everyone. Not that any of that is a bad thing. It's not. It's just my observation at this point.  

Once the presenter does her spiel about each toy, she passes them around the room for each of us to hold. When they get to me, I turn them on, find a vibration setting that I like, then pass it to the next person, still on. I thought we needed to loosen things up a little bit. Everybody was so serious. There wasn't a single question or wisecrack.  At least the person next to me smirked a little. But she turned it off before passing it to the next person, so my sense of humor never made it around the room.

The presenter went through multiple vibrators and stopped there.  I guess she figured that was a far as she could go with this group.  She then passed out the brochures with product descriptions and prices. Holy Hell! You need to have a lot of loose change around to afford these toys!  There was one that was a cock ring and vibrator. It was over a hundred dollars. I can't help thinking that if I drove down the street to the local adult store I could find a similar device for around forty bucks.  But then, that's part of this.  Nobody in this room would be caught dead pulling into a strip mall that has a shop like that (except me - my son's guitar lessons are next door to one. Not gonna lie, my eyes wander as we walk up the sidewalk.)

The brochure does have a section with some more taboo items in there, but even those are pretty tame. Way at the back of the catalogue there were swings and anal plugs and ben wa balls and paddles. But I have no desire to be spanked with a paddle that has pink satin ribbons going up the side.  If I want my ass spanked, I want his hand, calluses and all.

The purchasing stage was interesting, too. each person making a purchase went into a seperate room and made their selections privately.  I have to hand it to them, this organization knows thier clients and markets well to them.

And that is all. At the moment I can't think of anything else to add about my experience. 




Thursday, September 4, 2014

Secrets

Now if that's not a title to catch you attention, I don't know what is.

Secrets.  We all have them.  Dirty secrets. Shameful secrets. Family secrets. Silly secrets. Sexy secrets. Several of mine have deliberately been shared on this blog. Others have subtly made their way into an FFF post. And even more are still tucked away, maybe to be shared and maybe not.

I recently learned about a new social media platform that let's you share your secrets anonymously among your circle of contacts. It is called Secret.ly.  As far as I can tell, it's an app you can download from GooglePlay or the Apple Store, or you can sign up and access it from the website that I already linked to in this post.

When you sign up, the site looks through your contacts to see which of them might also be on Secret.ly. But since this is supposed to be anonymous secret sharing, you won't know who from your contacts are signed up. The site will tell you how many, "Five of your contacts use Secret.ly," but not who those contacts are.  When you post a secret, those contacts can "Like," "Love," or even "Comment" on your secret. If they "Love" your secret it might travel outside of the circle of your contacts and into the realm of your contacts' contacts, but it will no longer be available for commentary in that sector. Confused? I am. For the sake of clarity I suggest you go to their FAQ page.  They do a better job of explaining their own set up than I ever could.

I don't see myself using this.  My "contacts" list is pretty meager and I would constantly feel paranoid about someone figuring out who I was.  But even so, I have a few thoughts about this.

1. I would imagine that sex is talked about a lot on this forum. It's just not something our society can talk openly and honestly about. Anonymous sharing, much like we do in the blog world, can be a really good, cathartic thing.

2. If anonymity opens up the door for sharing and talking about subjects that are taboo or just plain awkward and uncomfortable, wouldn't it also be the siren's call for cruelty and heckling? Call me a cynic, but I can't help thinking that potential trolls would love the idea of not getting called out on their commentary. I read the site's guidelines. They seem well-structured. It looks like they have protocol for handling that sort of thing. But you can't prevent it completely.

3. I really want to know which of my friends secretly wish to be spanked. Or has a crush on another friend's husband. I'd be heart-broken to discover that one of them drinks every night to numb herself. Or that another feels unable to connect with his child.  In the former cases, I would want to know because I am nosey. In the latter, I would want to know so that I could help in some way.

Thoughts from all of you?

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Panic Attack? Or Something Else?

Warning: This isn't pretty or sexy.  Perplexing is what this is.

In the middle of the night H woke me up. Wonderful.  Long, drawn-out nipple play. Heaven. Went on for quite a while until I was good and ready and asking for more,more,more.

So he switched things around.  I was still on my back but now he was kneeling by my my face. I sucked his cock while he played with my pussy.  Then he changed it up and moved us into a 69, me on bottom.

Normally I love this position.  He can thrust into my mouth but not go all the way back to my throat.  And having his tongue on me is always welcome. It's a win-win. He feels like he's getting the rough play that he likes and I am not gagging and gasping.  Even the fact that I am pretty immobile doesn't bother me because his hands aren't what is holding me in place.

It started out fine. I was pretty content. He was definitely content. And then, out of nowhere, anxiety hit me like semi. The only thing my body and mind were saying repeatedly was "Trapped! Trapped! Trapped!" I screamed with his cock in my mouth and flailed about like I was having a seizure. He pulled back immediately and asked, "You okay?" I sat up and asked him to give me a minute. My heart was racing. He tried to rub my back, but even that touch sent panic coursing through me.  It took a few minutes, but I got it under control.  So what do I do? Stupid me. I lie down and beckon him to lie back down on top. He had been so close to coming when I lost it. It wasn't fair. I wanted to be able to get him back there.

So I talked myself back into that place of focus, focus on him, focus on us. I'm calm. This is familiar.  This is good. I will myself to shut out what happened earlier and just feel. Enjoy. Let go.

Let go of thought, of worry. Just feel. Two minutes. That's how long I lasted before every fiber in my body tensed and screamed, "Trapped! Trapped! Trapped"  This time, the scream was silent. It got stuck somewhere just behind my breastbone and wouldn't escape. He didn't know. The fear deepened and came close to strangling me. I somehow wrenched my mind away from "trapped" and siezed on "Kick! Kick! Kick!"

He stopped with lightning responses and pulled my up into his arms.  I wanted none of that. I just wanted space. A lot of space. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away, but I did curl myself around his arm, giving him at least that much contact. Deep breaths calmed me. I was okay. I was safe. I was in control. This was my partner of the last 22 years.  There was no reason for any of this. Well, there was, but that was 24 years ago and had no business touching me now and here.

What the fuck? Poor man. He had been right on the edge again when I lost it for the second time. So this time I pushed him back onto the pillows and settled between his legs.  But I was no longer with him. Not really. I was quick and efficient and I jumped right up afterwards and went to the bathroom.

When I came back to bed, of course he wanted to help me find my own release. I would have none of it.  The last thing I wanted was more touching, even with him. What I needed more than anything at the moment was control of my thoughts, my body, my surroundings. I know he wanted to talk about what happened, but I couldn't.  To talk about it would bring it back into the room with me, and I wasn't strong enough to do that for a third time. He understood and asked to hold me instead. Even that was invasive. I had him turn with his back to me and I held him. He fell asleep pretty quickly. I, on the other hand, was up for the rest of the night.

Now I am sitting here, drinking my tea while the rest of the house sleeps,  trying to make sense of it all. And I can't.