All Over the Map

It’s been quite a week. I have been at the heights of joy, in the pits of sadness, and boiling over with frustration and anger. Because everything has felt so random and crazy, I think I’ll just list things in no particular order. That way, people can read, pick and choose what they relate to, and ignore the rest.

I watched a special on ABC last night: “Eyewitness to the Death of John Lennon.” It was first aired in December 2020, marking the 40-year anniversary of John Lennon’s murder. Jeezus, forty years. And just like that, all the feels and the tears came rushing back. Guns and crazy people then; guns and crazy people now. What’s changed? What’s gotten better? Broke my heart all over again.

Here in Southern CA, Orange County specifically, there is an Italian restaurant who — yes, you are reading correctly — will not allow people to wear masks inside and who demands proof of NON-vaccination before you’re allowed to dine there. (How the hell do you show proof of that, anyway?) The owner is self-righteous and smug and militant about his stance; I watched part of an interview with him and he was so belligerent that the newscaster cut it short and said, on the air, “You sound like an idiot.” Last Tuesday night, I saw a tweet about an article that stated the owner was getting a huge kick out of the anger over this and he’d said he was “enjoying watching people’s head explode.”

So, Miss Mouth here tweeted: “What an asshole. I hope HIS head explodes when his restaurant is shut down due to massive Covid infection.”

Y’all know I didn’t mean that literally, right? You know it’s a figure of speech? Of course you do. Well, apparently Twitter didn’t. They locked down my account for a week. Said I violated their policy about “abuse and harassment.” Seriously?? Unbelievable. I saw many tweets that were a great deal worse than what I’d said; Twitter is so damn arbitrary. Oh well. I do have an alternate account for these instances, so I’ve kept up. Oh, and just for grins, I went and checked out the restaurant’s Yelp page. The place was bombarded with so many one-star angry reviews that Yelp temporarily disabled all the reviews and comments. Good. Fuck that guy. It’s too bad, though. It would have been fun to post a review along the lines of “Be sure to try the special: Roast Leg of Lambda with a side of Covidini. Better yet, stay the hell away from this Petri dish.”

On the good news front: Guess who is coming back to CA to visit me? C from Oregon! I can’t believe he is making that long trip again, and just for one day this time, but I’m thrilled that he wants to. I am seeing him two weeks from Monday and I can’t wait. Also, I heard from Mr. Woodland and he wants to play again soon too. Ah, this makes me happy.

And it helps make up for the fact that the man I played with a week ago Tuesday has seemingly dropped off the planet. Never heard another word from him — no email, no text, nothing. No feedback on our play. No check-in. Radio silence. I thought he enjoyed himself — I guess I was mistaken. Fortunately, I had no emotional investment this time.

Covid is on the rise again, escalating rapidly, with the Delta variant taking over. Breakthrough cases in people who are fully vaxxed are increasing. First they said the cases were 99% unvaxxed people; the latest I read is that the new cases are 86% unvaxxed. The numbers are going in the wrong direction. And guess where the latest really bad red zone is? Yup. Las Vegas.

Where we’re supposed to be headed in a month.

Our tickets are purchased, our hotel room is booked. I am craving this party with all my heart and soul. Not just because of the play — that’s actually secondary. I want to see our friends. I want hugs, lots and lots and lots of hugs. Jay, my sweet, wonderful Sister In Spirit is coming — this is her first SL. And it would be our first time meeting in person. We have been online friends for seven years, shared a million emails and texts, exchanged many presents… but I’ve never gotten to look her in the face, throw my arms around her.

But I have to face reality. It might not be safe to go. Yes, everyone at the party will be vaxxed. But we’ll be all over the hotel. Hallways, restaurants, elevators. Constant exposure. Tons of people — it’s a holiday weekend. And even vaxxed people can carry and transmit the Delta variant. Yes, the vaccine helps. Yes, even if we got Covid, it would most likely be a mild case. I’m not concerned about myself.

But John is another story. He is high-risk. He is compromised.

I’m seeing the writing on the wall. He’s already saying things like “Well, we’ll have to spend more time in our room, take more breaks,” “We can bring more snacks and eat in our room more,” “We’ll have to keep our masks on even in the party rooms,” “Maybe we can just stay for a couple of days instead of all four,” and so on. It sounds like if we go, we’re going to be uptight and preoccupied about the specter of Covid every damn minute. And what fun is that? People are coming from all over, bringing who knows what. And, as mentioned, Vegas is a hot spot now.

I suppose I could go by myself, take John out of possible harm’s way. But the thought of that is nearly as unbearable as not going at all. I’ve never gone to a party without John, not once in 25 years. I can’t imagine being there without him. Yeah, I’d have lots of people to hang with. But I’d feel like I was missing a limb.

So. There isn’t a blessed thing I can do at this point. All I can do is watch and wait, and hope. Maybe things will improve in Vegas over the next month.

Or maybe things will get so bad that we’ll all get locked down again. Who knows. It’s unthinkable. But then again, having this pandemic go on and on like it has is unthinkable as well.

Here is where I could go on a long, expletive-filled rant about what I think of anti-vaxxers and Covid deniers. But I won’t. Y’all know me. You can well imagine what I’m thinking and feeling right now about these people with their willful ignorance and utter selfishness.

Perhaps this says it all.

So yeah. I’m all over the place. Oh, and did I mention that John’s and my 25th anniversary is at the end of August? SL was going to be our celebration getaway. Hopefully it still will be. Only time will tell.

How are you doing? Come talk to me. Stay safe, everyone. ♥

♪ Vaccinated and it feels so good… ♫

Look, look! Here I am in all my bare-faced, I-haven’t-worn-makeup-in-fourteen-months glory, after receiving Moderna vaccine #2.

So hey, now besides having a chip on my shoulder, I have a chip IN my shoulder as well! (snicker) Still waiting for the 5G to kick in, though.

Side effects report: Last night was a bit rough. Woke up in the middle of the night with a fever and aching all over. But after a Tylenol/Advil combo, that settled a bit and I was able to get a little more sleep. Today… sooooo sleepy. Having a hard time focusing. But no more fever or pain. Quite worth it, I’d say.

I got lectured on Twitter for talking about the side effects, saying it would discourage people on the fence about the vaccines. Oh, please. Seems to me people should know what to expect — and to know it’s all temporary and they will be just fine. Also, the high of knowing this is done supersedes the discomfort.

I sent this picture to my friend in Oregon, saying mission accomplished, I’m vaccinated. He replied with this:

Two weeks and you get to bury your face in a pillow while I remind your bottom what a good spanking feels like!

Oh my God. This is really happening. I’m going to play for the first time since February 2020. (The light playful stuff with John doesn’t count.)

I would imagine the nerves are going to set in, big time, as it gets closer. I know I’ll be in good hands, but damn, it’s been so long! How will my body react? Will I have any tolerance? This is the longest I’ve gone without playing, by far, since I first got into spanking 25 years ago.

And even more concerning… after over a year of basically sitting on my ass and watching time tick by, what is said ass going to look like from a top’s view? Granted, I’ve never stopped exercising. But still, working out at home doesn’t replace the gym. I’m still not willing to go back to mine, though. So, along with the building’s treadmill and my weights and bands, I treated myself to a piece of exercise equipment. It’s called The DB Method, came highly rated online, and is essentially a squat machine.

DB stands for Dream Butt. One can hope.

In other play news, it looks like Shadow Lodge over Labor Day weekend in Vegas is a go. It’s being capped at 200 and Joe is asking people to be fully vaccinated. I hope people will bring their vaccination cards, because I for one will want to see them. I’m certainly bringing mine. It’s a bit scary, the thought of being around so many people in a small space after all this time of isolation, but hopefully things will feel a lot safer in four months.

Honestly? I am in no hurry to go back to being among people. My reclusive tendencies really took over in this past year. But I need to play. I need to feel those feelings again. I need that connection, that release. I’ve missed it so very much. I’m hoping that I can find someone local once again. But first things first — gotta get back in the saddle, so to speak. Less than two weeks… !!

The Seinfeld of Spanko Blogs… a post about nothing

Blech. Every day, I look at how long it’s been since I posted something, and I think I really should come up with an entry. And then every day, I got nothing. I really admire people who are faithfully coming up with regular entries in this time of Covid. I don’t seem to be able to. All I can do is toss in a brief update or two and essentially restate the same crap over and over. It’s now been a year since I last played. You can’t really keep up a spanking blog when there’s no spanking.

All we have right now is correspondence. And lest you all think everything I receive is CHoS material, fortunately, that’s not the case. It’s amazing how a well timed email can perk up my day. Like this one, out of nowhere, from my friend in Oregon who wants to come here when it’s safe. Who the hell knows when that will be… but at least it’s on his mind.

So… I want you over my knee! Nice slow warm-up…then hard hand, leather, wood, maybe cane.

Oh, yeah? I wrote back, “Wood belongs in the fireplace.”

To which he replied: Wood belongs across your bare bottom.

Oh, my. And then last week I woke up to this:

I think that an early morning, good hard spanking would be the best way to start your day!  Hard hand spanking, then a morning of no panties or pants allowed.

(sigh) I said that coffee and cereal sounded so mundane after that. However, I’ll pass on that last part — it’s too cold! Yes, even in CA, it’s too cold to sit around half naked.

From another periodic correspondent, a local one:

So when you get your vaccine, may I beat you?

Why yes, yes, you may. (Oh, and before people complain about the word choice, he and I established long ago that “beat” is his preferred word for “spank” and he would refrain from using it if it bothered me. I told him it didn’t.) This man remains one of my biggest frustrations. We met for coffee at the end of 2019, hit it off, thought something really good was going to come of it. But as timing would have it, he had a family situation come up at the holidays and went back East to stay for a couple of months… and then Covid hit, pretty much putting the kibosh on everything.

So it seems that the future holds some play for me. But how far in the future, who the hell knows. I am not high on any of the priority lists for vaccination. And since I’ve come this far being able to stay well due to diligent observation of safety precautions, I don’t want to get careless now. So far this year, the national parties are being canceled once again. I’m wondering what kind of long-term effects Covid is going to have on these gatherings. Therefore, it’s looking more and more like I need to find a local partner or two, because I don’t think I’m going to be able to see my scene friends again anytime soon. I’m kind of out of the loop these days anyway… have lost touch with many of them.

Haven’t lost touch with Jillian Keenan though — she included me in another one of her multi-part group videos! I love participating in these. This time, she asked several people to talk about their favorite implements. Part 1 is Jillian herself, then the incomparable Ariel Andersen, talking about about leather belts (yum), and then yours truly. If you’re so inclined, you can see it here.

In other news… there isn’t any. I had a bit of a scare a couple of weeks ago when I got a callback on a routine mammogram. I had to go back for a second mammogram and an ultrasound; that’s never happened before. I was told repeatedly that this was common, but guess what… I was still scared out of my mind. And I had to wait a week between the time I got the call to when I could get an appointment for the repeat procedures. However, the good news was that I got the results immediately — tiny cyst. That’s it. I made it back to my car and then broke down and cried, I was so relieved. After that, hell, I’ll take dullness and routine, y’all.

How is everyone doing? ♥

Time flies…

On August 30, 1996, John and I met for the first time after he answered my ad. And the rest is twenty-four years of a whole lot of history.

Unfortunately, we don’t really get to celebrate in the traditional sense this year. We normally do two things at this time of year — go out for a special dinner, and go to the Labor Day weekend party in Vegas. In the clusterfuck that is 2020, we can do neither.

To add insult to injury, or vice versa, on Friday, John had an abscessed tooth extracted. It had gotten to be an emergency because of problems getting in to see a dentist/specialist due to Covid. I was terrified that the infection would spread, but it seems it didn’t. Still, having a tooth pulled is no fun. I couldn’t even bake him anniversary brownies, since he couldn’t eat them.

We did order take-out brunch yesterday. Then I discovered my order was screwed up when we got home.

Happy anniversary!! massive eye roll

And of course, all weekend we were bombarded with bad news about Portland, Kenosha, Hurricane Laura, and so forth. I confiscated the remote and told John CNN was off the table. (I believe my actual words were, “We are not watching this shit.”) I was worried about two dear friends, both in unpleasant circumstances, and could do nothing for either one.

Powerlessness. Acceptance. Keep on carrying on.

So, feeling nostalgic, and because I’ve been going through and deleting old files (which I really should have done before I got the new computer, but oh well), I came across some fun pictures John and I took early in our relationship. I think this was before Erica Scott came to be.

One day, John brought home a very cool new toy from his work so that we could play with it over the weekend. It was the latest in high tech.

A digital camera.

For those of you who don’t remember the joys of having film developed at Fotomat and having to wait to discover 3/4 of your pictures turned out crappy, blurry, or had a thumb stuck in them, you can’t possibly imagine the thrill of the digital camera. Pre-Smart phones, they were the latest and greatest. But the early ones were laughably clunky, even though they were cutting edge at the time. This contraption John brought home was rather large, and — get this — you actually inserted a diskette. You shot your pictures, then then took out the diskette, popped it into your computer drive, and uploaded your pictures.

So on a beautiful sunny Saturday, John and I went to a hiking area off Mulholland Drive, and spent a couple of hours walking and taking various pictures.

This is a rare sighting of me outdoors, folks.

We found a little hidden alcove and no one else was around, so of course this happened:

Look at my handsome man. ♥

But then, of course, I could only take so much sunlight, and we came home. And then experimented with a different kind of picture.

You know, the sort of pictures of me that are all over the net now… but certainly weren’t then. I think this might be the first time I’d been shot naked since I was a baby. (Please disregard John’s hideous old couch. He and I both have what he likes to call “dead grandma furniture.”)

I had a lot to learn about posing then. But I did have the leg and pointed toe thing going on. 😀

So many experiences in twenty-four years. So many milestones and memories.

People are wishing us well, and some have said, “May you have another twenty-four years.” But honestly? I don’t want another twenty-four years if they’re going to be like 2020. This needs to end. So many friends I know and love have had their worst year ever. I’m trying to hold on to a positive thought, but the damned abyss of depression waits at my feet. So I keep on working, keep on plugging each day, and hope for the best.

Today would have been my brother’s birthday. Of course, that gets all the feels going too. Ugh. But I have to look forward, not back.

Remembering something Jay sent me a while back — I am brave. We all are brave. We are survivors.

And hey! A week from Tuesday, I get to have my hair cut and colored. Hair salons are back open as of today. Then I can video chat with pretty hair. Because yes, I’m that vain.

Take care, everyone. Be kind.

Life

I have a confession: I still buy a paper wall calendar every year. It’s not because I am anti-technology. But I have a perfect spot on the wall just outside my kitchen, and I like having the month laid out before me, being able to quickly note the dates, see my appointments, etc. I enjoy flipping a new page each month. And I like choosing something fun each December. For a long time, I got Beatles calendars. For a while it was Big Bang Theory. This year, I went with “The B Word,” which is basically women snarking in a dry and delightful way. Resonates with me for some reason…

Anyway, when I flipped July’s page, the cartoon of the month seemed to sum up life as of late. Although some days it seems that “some shit in the middle” would be an improvement.

Such strange times. I want to post. I want to connect with readers and entertain. But I don’t have anything. I thought about recycling old classic posts, some stories, etc., but I really don’t want to do that. So… I don’t post at all, which sucks.

And who do we talk to? Everyone is suffering to some degree. Everyone is afraid/angry/nervous to some degree. Some of my friends are going through unspeakably awful things — deaths, illness, financial ruin, losses. How can we comfort one another when we’re all at the breaking point? And we can’t even give each other hugs, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to complain to people who are already struggling. So… I keep to myself for the most part. At least I get to see John once a week. I get a respite.

I work. Basically, that’s it. I get up in the morning, I get dressed. I eat breakfast. Then I sit at my computer all day, working on and off, interspersed with bouts of social media. I have correspondence with a couple of dear friends. But even with them, I run out of things to say. Today, for most working folks in the U.S., is a day off. My friend asked me if I was working today. I said yes… because, really, what else is there to do?? You can only watch so much TV, or read so much. I work out to blow off stress. I keep up with bills and laundry and other necessities. But otherwise, life has just… stopped. Frozen.

I haven’t played since February. We haven’t been to a restaurant in months. I haven’t even petted a dog for several months. I did get a haircut, as did John, finally. I got my teeth cleaned. But I can’t go to my chiropractor, and my back has been hurting every day. My gym is back open, but damned if I’m going there. Fortunately, I’ve managed to keep in shape working out here. (Haven’t gained the Covid 19, as they say — a play on the Freshman 15.)

Besides a pandemic, as if that weren’t bad enough, we have police brutality, racism, protesting (not that protesting is bad, but I worry about the viral spread), rioting. U.S. has the highest rate of cases, and we’re practically the only country still going up, still spiking that first wave, while others have gone down. Why? Because we have a madman at the helm who is denying it all. And there isn’t a fucking thing we can do about it until November. Even then… I fear corruption, cheating, voter suppression, Russian interference, etc., just like we had in 2016. There is no guarantee there will be an end to this apocalypse. Meanwhile, we’re being banned entry into other countries. How far we’ve fallen. And yet we still have ignorant idiots who refuse to do a simple thing like wear a mask. We have people throwing tantrums in public places when asked to wear one. Yup. We are officially a shithole country now, to use the Orange Menace’s terminology. I’m ashamed to live here. I never thought I’d feel like that.

So. Each day, I have to bring it back down to basics. Eat. Drink. Work. Shower. Breathe. Check off the to-do list. Sleep. And do it again.

It’s really not much of a life. But it’s all I have right now. I have a home and a job, and for the moment, I have my health. I have food to eat. I have John. Like I said, basics. Grateful for them. But still depressed, afraid and angry. Because there’s no end in sight. Human beings have to learn to live with a degree of uncertainty and unsolved problems, but this is ridiculous.

My beloved cousin will be 98 this month, and my beloved stepmother turned 89 in April. I don’t know when — or even if — I’ll see them again. I don’t know when I’ll see friends I miss so much. I try to keep up correspondence, but with a couple of exceptions, it’s one-sided. I suppose I should be grateful that I’m an introvert, and I can deal with being alone a lot of the time. I don’t know how extroverts who crave company and stimulation from others are dealing with this.

So. If any of you have any suggestions for posts here, anything you’d like to see or revisit, please let me know. Because otherwise, I’ve got nothing. And I don’t think I’ll have anything for a long time.

In conclusion, one of my dearest old friends summed it all up quite well, saying, “2020 can go fuck itself with a rusty spork up the ass.” I couldn’t agree more.

Please, everyone, take care. ♥

Bittersweet

It’s Memorial Day. Technically for me, being a freelancer, it’s Monday. I’m working today. But really, what else is there to do anyway? I’m not in any hurry to go to the beach. I never wanted to go to the beach before the damn pandemic.

Today we honor the fallen. And in that vein, an extra moment of silence for the nearly 100,000 people in the U.S., and many more globally, who have died from Covid-19. These are scary, uncertain times. Today, I’m grateful to be well and working, even though I feel like there’s a specter over my head, over John’s, over the heads of everyone I love.

Today is also a day of entirely different memories for me. On Memorial Day 1996, I got my very first adult consensual spanking. That one action changed my life. Lifelong fantasies became a reality that was so much better than I could have imagined. I started a new journey that took me to the most amazing places, to meet so many incredible people and have experiences I didn’t even dream of. All from a tall, handsome gentleman, whose last name I never knew, who came briefly into my life and turned my world upside down and inside out. Wherever you are, Paul, thank you. Again. I hope you found what you needed and wanted.

Today I remind everyone out there who is still ashamed, closeted, embarrassed, feeling like there’s something wrong with them — there isn’t. Societal dictates about relationships, sexual activities and fetishes are highly overrated. As long as you are hurting no one, as long as you are safe, sane, consensual and respectful, your desires are part of who you are. Embrace them, and dare I say, enjoy them. Because life is too fucking short not to.

Today, I can’t help comparing Memorial Day twenty-four years ago, when I brought an almost perfect stranger into my home and engaged in highly physical activity, with today, when I can’t even meet someone for a cup of coffee. Recently, a correspondent wrote, “It seems the days of meeting for coffee are behind us.” Oh my god, I hope he’s wrong. Because that is a truly depressing prospect.

Today, I’m dealing with a whole lot of powerlessness. A lot of feelings. Fear, anger, nervousness, sadness, uncertainty. Yesterday, John wasn’t feeling well, and of course, my mind has gone to all the worst possible places, even though it’s probably just a damn headache and perfectly innocuous. This year’s taxes have been postponed, but they are due soon and I owe a ton of money, because my quarterly taxes were underestimated last year and I ended up making more than my accountant and I thought I would. Trying to stay in the moment — it’s hot outside, but my place is nice and cool, I have plenty to eat, I am feeling okay. I can’t think past this moment in time or I’ll drive myself crazy. I’m not alone in this, I know. So in the midst of the craziness, there is gratitude.

Today, I’m grateful for friends, for people who have stayed the course, who are still with me and haven’t disappeared. I hope I get to see some of you in the future when all this is behind us, whenever that may be. ♥

Please take care of yourselves, and be kind. We are all on edge right now. The slightest gesture from another can pull someone back from the ledge… or push them over it. Which one do you want to do?

If you can, go play. And revel in it 100%. Celebrate your kinky wonderful self. Remember those who have gone, and honor them by living your truest life.