Tuesday, June 9, 2009


DH hasn't been posting lately...nor sending me picture that turn him on...nor posting on his other blog. I have asked him what his deal is and why he is being distant, but he insists it's my perception and nothing is amiss.

That's not what my chart says, but it has been a particularly busy time of year.

So I will contribute the TMI this week...

1. had sex with someone ten years older or younger than you?
Nope! The biggest stretch was when I was 14 (or so) and I attempted to have sex with someone who was 21. I say attempted because I was a little bitty thing, and he was a big big guy and things just didn't fit! Ouch! He was very gentle and caring though, and did not force anything. But whew!

2. drawn from a nude model or been a nude model?
Obviously, DH has photographed me, but that is it!

3. had sex at a company Christmas party?
Nope! But I did work at a country club once, and after the party we snuck back in and had sex under the ginormous Christmas tree!

4. had a blind date?
No! I don’t know that I would trust anyone enough to set me up on a blind date.

5. slept with a teacher?
No, though I have slept with a couple of men who have really taught me a lot about myself!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Five Things I Like About Date Night

1. We get to be relaxed with no rushing!

2. We end up talking for hours and hours. Just talking! About nothing. And everything. And I am reminded how witty, smart, and fun my husband is.

3. We get to go to grown up places to eat instead of Red Robin! And have a plethora of adult beverages!

4. We both get off work pretty early, so we sometimes pass the time by taking a stroll though the bookstore, or Costco, or no where in particular.

5. Sometimes, if the evening has gone just right, and we aren't too full or too drunk, if we don't get home too late, and we haven't argued about anything, we sometimes wind up having really great sex.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Growing Old...

First, in reading DH's previous posts, I am struck but what a good writer he is. Very articulate. I never seem to write what I mean to say, or else I end up writing something I didn't mean to say! But he can do it and I appreciate that it in him.

This particular sentence really sums him up in so many ways:

...it’s just that, when I’m not in the mood for it, I’m really not in the mood for it, and I react to those who are pretty much the way my father would react to them.
I love this blogging thing, because we are able to communicate things we might not have stopped to talk about. And this particular post makes me feel better about "us."

In yet another display of our incompatibility, I usually have a pie in the sky kind of mentality. I like to feel the joy and I try to find it. But, if DH knows I am excited about something, having fun with something, or even just happy thinking about something, he has a way of cutting through the joy to pull at my heartstrings to bring me back down to earth. Sometimes, I think he does this just to frustrate me or "burst my bubble" as I often say. What I didn't realize is that being with a bubble burster is frustrating enough, but BEING the bubble burster is probably equally, if not more, frustrating!

I found this quote that really resonates with me:

Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.

-Oliver Wendell Holmes
I believe aging affects us in two ways: physically and mentally. There isn't a whole lot you can do about the physical. You can work out, eat right, get rest, but eventually it will catch up to you. I get that.

But the mental...the mental is definitely a state of mind. I believe we all have a choice here. You can choose to "be old." Be crotchety. Turn your nose up at behavior you perceive to be immature.

Or you can choose to be happy. Be curious. Be bold. Be adventurous. Be accepting that others have perspectives. You can believe the best is yet to come. You can accept that work is a necessity, but you don't have to make that work your life or let it negatively affect your every waking moment.

I think every experience is what you make of it. In fact, life is what you make of it.

Disclaimer: This post is in no way a criticism of critique of DH, it is simply random thoughts his post generated.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Friday Fill-In

And...here we go!

1. If we had no winter there would be no spring or fall.

2. The driving skills of the average American is a perpetual astonishment.

3. If I had my life to live over I’d strive to end up just where I am, but I’d make some different decisions along the way.

4. Live every day inside of four and twenty hours.

5. If you've never been thrilled ride a roller coaster.

6. To be interested in the changing seasons is to be engaged in the natural world.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to relaxing, tomorrow my plans include getting a lot of projects done and Sunday, I want to meet my wife at the movies!

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Reacting Mature

While trying to assess the sexual differences between the ‘younger me’ and the ‘older me,’ it occurred to me that, logically, the older I get, the more open I should be to these explorations, and the less embarrassed I should be about pursuing them. With my self-esteem generally better and my relationship entirely secure, I should feel greater confidence in broadening my sexual horizons… and, in fact, I would say these things are ultimately true. That may seem like a lie in light of some previous posts, and my usual behavior, but I definitely feel less embarrassed, more open, and more confident than I used to… but I still find myself reacting to novel situations with resistance.

I think it’s possible my negative reactions when faced with novel opportunities might have something to do with an “over-mature” approach to the world.

A good example of what I’m referring to was our visit to the swingers club. I blogged about this briefly in the past – that on it’s face, a visit like that should have been right in line with what my interests (the possibility of a threesome, voyeurism, etc.)... and yet I didn’t enjoy the experience. The evening (and the club) can be divided into two distinct parts. Downstairs, where there was socializing, dinner, drinks, and the like. There, we met some good people… interesting, fun to talk to, engaging. Upstairs was all about the sex. And, upstairs, I found myself thinking ‘why would I want to hang around these people?’

My reaction was similar to the way I’d feel if I’d met a guy in a bar, a stranger met by chance. We chat about sports, share a few jokes, have a few laughs, and I begin to think I wouldn’t mind sharing a beer or two with this guy every now and then. Then the drinks hit him; in a heartbeat he turns drunk and starts acting stereotypically soused. He staggers through the room, slightly belligerent, and obnoxiously fires cheesy (and somewhat offensive) pick-up lines at every woman in view, leaving me at the bar, disappointed, shaking my head and thinking (sadly, not angrily), “I can’t believe this schmuck… maybe someday the idiot will grow up, and we can actually be friends.”

Keeping with the example… it’s not that I’m not open to the idea of getting a little buzzed… it’s just that, when I’m not in the mood for it, I’m really not in the mood for it, and I react to those who are pretty much the way my father would react to them.

I find that upsetting; I have no interest in embracing my father’s limited life. But there it is.

In the club, downstairs, it was great conversation. Upstairs, in a way, I felt this same sadness and disappointment, like I was too grown up to be interested in such shenanigans. I felt the way I’d feel if I were in a room with a bunch of buzzed 20-year-olds exchanging fart jokes… an eye roll and a sarcastic “oh, great… this is going to be fun!”

At the same time, It didn’t seem erotic at all… it just seemed… juvenile. It was a group of people older than I am trying to mimic the partying teens they’d seen on Dateline last week. It was a live version of low-budget 1970’s porn. I felt the way a woman might feel if she were on a date with a man… she has a great time… invites him up for a drink… and even before she slips off her jacket and turns on the lights, he strips naked in the middle of the living room and says (in a semi-bored voice) “So… you wanna do it on the sofa, or the floor?”

Downstairs, it was a great date. Upstairs… not even a HINT of romance. And therein lies the difference: when I was younger, I probably would have been fine with that, but now… I need a little romance. A little convincing. A touch more class in the ambiance. Otherwise, I just feel old.

Every now and then, I revisit the notion that we ought to give the swingers club a second try (we still have a gift certificate for dinner for two)… and I’m tempted by the idea, then decide I’m not interested.

With strip clubs, there’s been two types… the really classy places, and those “others.” I’ve always known ahead of time which I was going to, and had my expectations set accordingly. I don’t know what a stereotypical swingers club is like, but I might have felt differently if the one we’d gone to had been a little more… um… upscale is the word that comes to mind, or if I’d had a better understanding of what I should expect, and settled into the proper mindset for it. It’s possible I set myself to expect that the swingers club would be classier, and less “other” (it was nice, just not… elegant).

But part of me also wonders if I really am just too old.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


In the past, I’ve lamented on the thrill-less nature of getting older, and the way I feel the energy of youth slipping away, but that’s only a small part of the “getting older” syndrome. The past couple lists I’ve posted and the most recent TMI got me thinking back to my youth… and I’ve realized there are other changes that have occurred. Somewhere along the way, I grew up, and started sounding and acting in ways FAR too similar to my father to make me happy. Whether it’s genetics or environment doesn’t matter… I’ve matured, and the changes occurred subtly, without notice:

I used to try hard to ensure that I had something to do every Friday and Saturday night… and every night during school vacations! Now, I’d be happy taking a week off work, just to do nothing at all.

I used to love to travel – it was an irresistible burning desire that hit me every time I got on the highway to go to work – the urge to just keep driving, and visit someplace new. It caused me to take off four or five times a year, to pick a spot on the map, and just drive. Now, I commute on the expressway every day, and feel no such need. I like to think that means I’m happy where I am, but I do miss that call of the road.

I used drink three “Double Gulps” (from 7-Eleven) of Mountain Dew between breakfast and 4pm (and it wasn’t until after 4pm that my REAL caffeine consumption began!), now, a cup of coffee in the morning, and another after lunch, is more than enough to get me through the day.

Often, that Mountain Dew would be seasoned with SoCo (Southern Comfort) or Blueberry Schnapps – a pint over the school day, a fifth if it was the weekend. Now, a glass of wine at dinner is enough to leave me loopy enough to worry about the drive home.

And, of course, there’s the dietary changes. I eat healthier, and keep the calorie intake to what’s reasonable.

There are many other changes I could probably point to without difficulty, but those are the most obvious to me, and most of them I really don’t miss at all. Plus, none of these things are changes for the worse, and I don’t claim them to be. What’s interesting to me is that none of these changes were really a conscious choice I made. The closest to that would be the eating healthy thing, with was Dee’s doing, really, and I simply found myself along for the ride.

I’m not suggesting I want to start re-living my younger days in these ways, either (though I do wonder if I’d feel peppier if I reintroduced myself to Mountain Dew). I’m perfectly satisfied with the way things are, and if I tried to live life differently over this weekend, I’d almost certainly have to take all of next week off to recover, and might even spend the better part of it suffering various forms of misery.

I did, however, want to put these things down, as I think this “growing up” phenomenon (or, how I’ve “personally matured”) has had deep and lasting impacts on how I react and view things in the sexual arena… which I will address in some depth on the ‘morrow…

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

More TMI

My mind is very compartmentalized. I am not a very good multi-tasker. I need to finish one thing before I start on another. Each item I work on has to have my full attention and focus. If I try to start something else, both suffer.

However, while I am working on one thing, my mind can "noodle" several other things in the background. These things simmer without my conscious input. When I am ready to work on them, I pull them to the front burner and turn the heat up. For the most part, the hard work is done and the simmering pays off with richness.

Now, my brain has more than your average four burners. Sometimes, however, there aren't enough burners for all the things that I need to simmer. In which case, I take the highest priority pots, and put them on my burners. Those are typically pots that are obligated to someone else. Depending on the workload, work pots sometimes take up most of the burners. Leaving one or two for the community service activities I perform for the girl in our life. The pots I know I can put off for a while get put back in the fridge until some burners free up.

Every once in a while, when I pull a pot out of the fridge, it just doesn't seem to want to warm up, let alone simmer. I keep it on the burner, and every once in a while, return to stir it. But nothing happens. Eventually, like overcooked fondue, the ingredients will turn into a hard ball of unusable ingredients.

As every good cook knows, and the reason I am not one, is if you allow yourself to be distracted for too long and neglect a simmering pot, your dish has a high probability of being ruined. Setting a timer sometimes works. It redirects your attention to your pot, giving you the opportunity to adjust the heat, put a cover on it, or if it's ready, finish it off. But even the best cooks sometimes have too many timers going off at the same time, and find it impossible to finish all the dishes that need to be finished. When this occurs, the dishes that HAVE to be finished get the attention (the bosses' family, the food critic, the health department inspector), while knowing that some of the dishes will be sacrificed (the employees' meals, the cook's own meal, the kids' meal). Sometimes whipping up some mac and cheese satisfies in the short term, but sometimes even that proves to be too much effort.

All this is to say I do the best I can and sometimes I have the capacity to play, and sometimes I don't. When my efforts are rewarded, I try harder. When my efforts are largely ignored or worse, criticized and retaliated against, I stop trying.

On a happy note, my cock stroking worked it's magic last night and I was rewarded with some very nice kisses.

And if that wasn't enough TMI, here's some more:

1. Which traits from your parents do you see in yourself?

Too many of them for me too. My mother's spendthrift ways, her lack of looking at the future, her focus on instant gratification, her awful mood swings, her short fuse, her problem with impulse control. I see all of these horrible traits in me. I try hard every day to recognize and address them, but fail more often than not.

2. Which traits from you/your partner do you see in your children (if you don't have kids, which would you like to see)?

I was just saying that she is the perfect combination of the two of us. She has DH's quiet introspection, his ability to look at a problem from all angles to find the solution, and his easy going nature. It is rare, if ever, that she gets mad, and when she does it is quickly resolved. She has his beautiful hair and eyes. I think she gets from me a healthy dose of empathy, a strong conviction to community service, and a persistent optimism.

3. How did you get the birds-and-bees talk?

I don't recall ever talking to my mother about the birds and bees. Our school district did require several sex ed classes, which is where I got most of my information.

4. What was your favorite childhood book?

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. It still is one of my favorites, and I have given it to our daughter so that she knows that sometimes we have days like that. Even in Australia.

5. What is your favorite piece of erotic literature?

I have read several erotic books, ranging from XXX to R. I would have to say the most I have recalled being turned on by what I was reading was the Mayfair Witches series by Ann Rice. She also wrote a book under a psuedonym (which I can't remember at the moment) called Belinda and I remember the first time I read it I thought it was HOT. But the second time I didn't.

Bonus: What is the one thing you wish you could go back and tell yourself as a child?

Just be yourself. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks about you. It's what you think of yourself that matters. AND to just let it go. I spent so much of my youth holding onto grudges and hate. Arguing and fighting the same fights over and over. I am trying to teach my daughter that it isn't worth it. And letting someone else's actions ruin your day, week, month, or moment is just NOT worth it!

Double Bonus: If your life were a book or movie, what would the title be?

I would want it to be "Wicked" but it would probably turn out to be more like "Under the Radar."