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Superior Women

You say I'm a bitch as if it were a BAD thing.

Art Thread
Posted:Jan 28, 2017 10:33 am
Last Updated:May 31, 2017 9:13 pm
83068 Views
Pinning this to the top of my blog so we can have an ongoing thread about art.

No rules, per se –
I only ask that you read what is written before commenting. Try to use information such as the title or the artists name when responding (so if the thread gets busy, we will know what others are talking about).

It also will help if a WIP (work in progress) is posted.

If posting/sharing art – do not do more than one at a time so others can have a chance to comment/discuss before moving on to the next. (look at me – all positive it will be a busy thread…)

I might occasionally change this cover photo.
For now – my painting ‘Nevertheless’ 42x60” oil on panel
44 Comments
A really complicated story about a mug
Posted:Jun 16, 2017 11:17 pm
Last Updated:Jun 20, 2017 6:08 pm
2454 Views
I posted a photo of myself drinking out of it back in December.
I bought it for myself.
It says: Male Tears

You know, because I like to hit men.

I forgot to take it out of the cupboard before my 20-year-old son came to visit.
No biggie – I had a cover story ready if anyone asked.

He did ask.
I told him that the husband bought it for me.
As a tease because I am such a feminist.
A funny poke about being a feminazi/man-hater.

He says…really?
Like he doesn’t believe me.

Turns out, according to Urban Dictionary…it means semen.

Now, he is laughing at me and asking why the husband would buy that.
I tell him that he wouldn’t, of course. It was a feminist thing.
He says he has to tell him…laughing.
No, we don’t need to do that, I say.
(Yeah, I know that isn’t going to work)
(in fact, he ran to tell my mother because it was so funny- but also he was shocked and grossed out when he opened the cupboard)

I rush to privately call the husband.
Tell him he has play along that he bought it for me.
Because I started lying and now I have to keep lying and…fuck…. this is so ridiculous.
I explain it all – tell him to act surprised about it meaning semen.
He laughs and says he is going to say he knew what it meant.
Whatever….I rush to get off the phone, I’m dealing with a collector via email, so I am busy (not thinking that through)

So yeah, over dinner.
The kid starts to laugh and tell him…and the husband interrupts him to say:
‘she found out what it means?’

So…hahaha…everyone is laughing.
I’m pretending to glare, but start to really glare because I realize now what I agreed to.
And how is this kid believing any of this in the first place?
(he isn’t the kind of man to play a joke like that on me...at all).
The husband eventually tells him he bought it for the feminazi poke, hoping I wouldn’t find out what the other meaning was. And he is such a bad liar. He should have been twitching for how believable it was.

Jesusfuckingchrist.
I should have just let the kid find out we are kinky.
Would have been a hell of a lot more simple.
Learn from me – if you are going to lie to your kids, think it through all the way.

And now…wtf…I have a mug I bought MYSELF that apparently means/looks like I like to guzzle cum.

Whatever.
I sold a big beautiful painting today.
Because I am talented.
So there.
I can afford a new mug.
One in which I will research very carefully.

Anyone want a slightly ‘used’ jizz cup?

Here is a photo of me stabbing something.
For the purpose of this post – just imagine I am stabbing myself in the foot.
Repeatedly.
10 Comments
Do the scientists...do them all
Posted:Jun 14, 2017 8:47 am
Last Updated:Jun 20, 2017 5:59 pm
3208 Views
My youngest is here for a working-visit.
My mother hired him to do some projects for her & she flew him up.
Awesome for me – I get to hang with him.
I think we are doing a ‘breakout room’ tonight.

Anyway – I described my new ‘big’ idea for a social painting.
I have it in another post, but here is the quick description:

His idea (some of the details mine – a good combo): I may call it ‘Women’s Movement’.
Large, long horizontal painting. Women clustered on the left. All the way to the right is a background that is industrial-looking with poisoned skies. The women are painting over that nightmare, making it beautiful and green (mountains, trees, etc). The farthest on the left is a crone in an old worn shift/burlap and she is sitting on the floor weaving. Then moving right…several women bending and stretching to paint the background over. As we go towards the right, the clothing gets a little more modern. It ends with a small female child (perhaps nude) and you see her fingerprints clearly on the poisoned side, reaching to change it. From the crone, perhaps there is a small ribbon winding its way across the women to the child. All of them are interconnected in their desire to make a better world. Creating & changing it into something more beautiful.


Now, what I found interesting is that my son wanted me to put the older women nearer to the poisoned part. He explained that the older generation was ruining the world for the younger by not taking care of the earth….in so many ways.

I will not take his suggestion because it dilutes the meaning of this particular painting.
This one is just about the creative/healing/wonderful aspects of women.
But – that is an idea for another.
The feelings of the younger generation - concerning how we are ruining it for them (and they need the older ones to die off in order to save the planet – or maybe that is too harsh…lol). Is this the way every generation feels, I wonder?
This would not have occurred to me. If placing blame, I would place it at the feet of greedy politicians, most especially the modern Republicans. Although I have been known to think that these old white men trying to pass health laws about women’s bodies need to shut the fuck up permanently.

Now…how to illustrate the disillusion/anger that the younger generation (who understand there IS no debate on climate change) has towards the older generation? I don’t have a clue yet. But I like the idea of this as a subject.

__________________________________________

On another note- the slave and I saw Neil deGrasse Tyson last night. He was far funnier than I expected. And being in a room of over 2500 other people who appreciate intelligence, learning, science and disgust for the current ruling political party. To see a scientist reach this kind of status and have people pay near $100 to hear him lecture for 2 hours…is encouraging.

On another side note – I clearly have a fetish for smarts. The slave was blathering on about calculus, I think it was. I was not pretending to be interested, I really am – but I don’t necessarily understand it...well. But his passion shines through. I found my pussy getting wet when thinking about how intelligent he is. I am clearly a fan-girl to the geeks/nerds/brainiacs.

(and I managed to take his smart talk and turn it dirty by telling him if NDT sees me in the audience and wants me, I am duty-bound to go fuck him. He is a bit pouchy now, but used to be hot - but the smart-talk and rock-star-scientist-status means it would be a possible bragging point. Never mind famous bands, this fan-girl would do the scientists. He laughed and asked if he could stand over us chanting equations). YesSSsssssssss
9 Comments
I'm calling it my 'House Bra'
Posted:Jun 11, 2017 9:56 pm
Last Updated:Jun 16, 2017 10:17 pm
4293 Views
You ladies know what I’m talking about.
Not supportive enough to go in public, but soft and comfy and perfect for at home (when you are not letting them run free).

I love it.
I tend to have a couple sexy big-cleavage bras (that my bra-obsessed friend bought me) and several basic minimizer bras. My cleavage-obsessed friend doesn’t understand the minimizers…..’flaunt it’, she says.
(and I am thinking: but, I'm just going to the grocery store - who the hell am I trying to impress there)?

I remember it like it was yesterday.
Running track, leaping the hurdles, playing basketball…the high jump.
Then overnight it seemed....they got in the way (both the breasts and the boys who magically appeared).
I thought I looked fat suddenly.
I still associate large breasts as ‘being fat’ when it comes to myself.
I tend to gain and lose there first when my weight changes.

Don’t get me wrong. In the right circumstances, flaunting it is all good.
I am not shy about showing my shape.
I just….prefer that shape be more lean on most days.
I like to keep them close and have that freedom of movement.

You just never know when you might have to jump over something, (or on someone)…or dodge out of the way. Safety first.

The slave likes it. Probably because I think it is pretty enough that I’ve been walking around with my shirt off for the past few days. He is partially color-blind, so not sure the cute blue color is what he has noticed.
8 Comments
It turned into a Manifesto
Posted:Jun 8, 2017 9:47 am
Last Updated:Jun 21, 2017 8:39 am
5421 Views
It’s been years.
I am pretty sure I used to write often about how we ‘did’ our M/s, or D/s…all that business.
Now mostly I tell (what I think are) funny stories.
Time to update the Manifesto – and tell you people how it is done.
Bow to the motherfucking wisdom! (or don’t, because this got quite long)

Do you know why I call myself ‘dominant’?
Because I like it.
I enjoy ‘being’ dominant. It feels delicious to be pushy and aggressive.
I like making the decisions. I like being in charge. I like taking what I want.
I like the small acts that we might refer to as ‘worship’.
Do either of us really think I am a Goddess?
Lol. Yeah, right.
He might take that a tiny bit more seriously than I do. Perhaps when his head is all buried in my pussy. Because my pussy is magical, of course.
But damn, it is a turn on to be treated like one.
And it is a turn on to expect that treatment.
It is a turn on to NOT be disappointed.

I also like the switching of ‘classic’ gender roles.
There is something hot about making more money than he does.
(that one is a clear ‘learned response’ because in my first marriage I was powerless in that regard. Never again)
I used to drive everywhere we went. For years.
It felt…controlling.
That faded because I discovered I liked relaxing when going somewhere instead. And it gives me time to put on lipstick.
(And all those times he was grabbing the dash when I drove was starting to piss me off).

I find it hot that he does all the laundry.
Not a dominant thing though – it was a service thing on his part.
When he first moved here 10 years ago, I mentioned how much I hated it.
I have hardly done any since then. I don’t think I asked or demanded that he do laundry.
He did let me down in the cooking department, I will admit.
No one is perfect.
Chicken Cordon Bleu, he said.
My ass.
I’m still waiting for that, 10 years later.

You know what I don’t mind?
Dishes. For some reason I do not mind doing dishes. There is something zen about it.

I love not having expectations (of me).
I mean, there are the regular ones. We are married, so there is faithfulness, honesty, respect and other things. But, daily routines….nope…that is all my choice. If I cook or shop or whatever. I choose. I make my own schedule. When it comes to ‘doing’ anything, I am free as a bird.
He likes having expectations (of him).
He likes doing for me. He likes getting a ‘To Do List’
(I have found that letting him handle the To Do List in his own way, is far better than micro-managing though. I liked standing over him to make sure he did something MY way in the beginning, but that got old fast for both of us).
If he handed me a list, I’d likely make him eat it.
(that is not to say he doesn’t occasionally ask me for a favor).
It makes my day when I remember the expectations I had heaped on me before I met him – and how being with him feels so free. Like who I am – not a wife (although I am proud to be married to him) – not a role, not the cook, etc. Just me. And he thinks just me is great. He never criticizes me. Unless it is something to do with how I am treating him….(we have been together 10 years now…it happens).
But just…criticizing me…like seeing something I have done or not done and complaining? Nope.

Only in his sleep. He will argue with me about who is hogging the covers when he is sleeping or half-asleep. I’m pretty sure he has mumbled complaints at me then.

I’ve gotten caught up in painting and left the dishes to pile up before (that is not usual). He was busy or he would have done them. Do you think he ever said a word to me? Nope. He doesn’t have expectations like that. He knows I don’t leave all the shit to him. He knows I will get to it when I can, or he will. And he will sincerely try to if I am busy. I know this…and let me tell you, that is awesome. To trust and believe that he is trying his best. To know that I have his trust that I won’t expect more than he can do as well. There is freedom between us to just be able to fucking relax when needed as well, even if shit gets left for later.

I got off subject.
You know what we don’t have? Those discussions that go on endlessly about where to eat dinner. Because I like to decide. If he has a request – great. I’ll go with it, because most of the time I decide and he doesn’t care.

In the beginning, I may have had a thing for ‘obedience’. I suspect, as a leftover from my previous life that perhaps I felt without a clearly defined ‘you must obey’ rule, I would not get what I want or be in control. I may have even tried a punishment dynamic. Fuck that. Fuck that real quick. It isn’t about obedience between us. It is trust. I trust he wants to make me happy and will do all he can to do so. He has proven this over and over. It is such a nice relaxing contented feeling. And punishment? Oh, fuck that harder. I’m not his goddamn mother and I do not want to be. It really is true that the worst punishment for him is for me to be disappointed. (and that is just us – if it turns YOU on to punish or get punished, more power to you)

That is not to say I don’t ‘demand’…oh, I do lots of that…lol. Sometimes, if I ask nicely for something, he says ‘no’ just to get me to turn around and glare and say…’excuse me, bitch…?!’ (because it is hot)

Do you know what happens when he asserts himself in the bedroom?
It’s hot. That’s what happens.
It turns into a sexy fucking wrestling match. And it is so fucking HOT.
I love a good tussle. I enjoy when he gets like that. Sometimes I push him there.
It isn’t what you would think of as ‘switching’ – no type of thinking that he is ‘in charge’ for that night. And he knows me. He checks with me, without saying the words. He can read me. If I am not into it, he doesn’t. Apparently, my eyebrows are expressive – and it is often told in the way I approach him. And he isn’t being less submissive, at all. And it isn’t me being less dominant…hell, I’m a tiger. The difference is that during those times I may ‘lose’ at the tussle and get my ass thrown on the bed. That is not a loss for anyone. You know why he likes these times? Because apparently, my face lights up and my eyes get all sparkly and my grin is a turn-on. I dig ‘fighting’.

Actually, now that I think about it – it isn’t that unusual for us. I LOVE for him to fight back. Not always, of course…sometimes it is all serious and sexy and M/s-like. But damn, having him tied up with his hands over head and having to dodge his kicks to flog him….it is so freaking fun.

We both end up bruised at times. Although – he always has it worse.
See, that is the unspoken agreement. I always win.
Of course it has to be an agreement – he is physically stronger than I am.
Bummer. I’d like to be as strong as a man for once. Although, I have to say…I’m kind of used to being able to really go to town. Having to check myself might put a damper on things. I don’t have to be as controlled as a male dom playing with a smaller female. I can get all crazy.

And I don’t think I have a submissive bone in my body. I enjoy doing special things for him, but when I choose. Sexually, I like the fight, but any real serious over-powering that I didn’t give permission for…would piss me off in a very ugly way. Not acceptable. I do not like any confinement, even tight sheets when I sleep. I don’t want to be hit or hurt in any way. I do not like being told what to do – at all. From anyone. I won’t accept it. There are areas I have to be in control of (or it makes me itchy). There are plenty of areas I don’t care about controlling as well.

One of my biggest kinks is ‘unfairness’.
It’s a thing with us – he will say: ‘that is not fair…’
And I will reply ‘when has anything ever been fair between us?’ – and we will both laugh.
I like the tilt of the relationship to favor me. I’m selfish like that.
It is totally unfair. That turns me on. It turns him on.
He likes the unfairness, but more than that, I think…he just seems to like that it turns me on.
I’m all excited when I can point out something supremely unfair.
Sometimes it just means our jobs. He is tired, got up early, dealt with shit…and I will sympathize and then rub it in how I got to work from home, blog on ALT, rub one out, etc. He always ends up smiling when he hears me bragging about how good I have it (part of that is because of him…so he takes pride in that).

The other important thing is the trust – he is confident in who we are. If something unfair actually bothered him, he knows I would deal with it. He has nothing to prove – and there is nothing in all our play/teasing/relationship that is ‘demeaning’. I suppose some of the acts we do might seem that way to vanilla folk, but they are not. It is never about putting him down, but it can often be about raising me up…which is an important distinction. He is one supremely self-confident and prideful submissive man – and it is so very very attractive. He is smart, strong, accomplished - him being submissive to me is because he loves it and it feels natural - not because he couldn't 'be' dominant. (I've seen him 'being' dominant in situations, and he can be an impressively scary dude) He knows his worth – and on the rare occasion in the beginning….that perhaps I had forgotten, he has reminded me. Now that I think about it - that IS an expectation – to appreciate him. He deserves no less.

Here is the thing.
This kink business.
It is a hell of a lot of fun.
If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be doing it.

That’s the important part. It is fun.
I take it so much less seriously than I used to.
It used to be so important to me to have ALL that I wanted.
I wasn’t going to compromise on a single solitary thing.
I don’t think I compromise now much, but perhaps at times I’m more lenient towards his moods when it comes to deciding what we are doing. There isn’t the frenzy any longer of having to have it all. I got it all and I’m still getting it all and will continue to…so that means I can relax a bit. If I perhaps had a chip on my shoulder in the beginning…worried that I wouldn’t get everything I wanted, it is long gone now. It also means I trust that he will give it all to me in the future – so again, not always in a hurry or uptight any longer.

I think my main kink over the years has become ‘playfulness’

Which doesn’t mean anything deep.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t my slave – he is.
Hell, it is tattooed above his dick.
Stuck with it…suckaaaaaa….
It doesn’t mean that I don’t think I’m the shit.
Because I am. I am the fucking dominant SHIT.
It just means…this is fun stuff.

But taking ourselves too seriously?
Nah.
Life is too short to not laugh at yourself and each other at every opportunity.
Some of this stuff we do – is just plain ridiculous.
Hot as all fuck, (no plans to stop) but still ridiculous.
5 Comments
Drowning with dolphins
Posted:Jun 7, 2017 10:01 am
Last Updated:Jun 11, 2017 7:07 am
5714 Views
This trip his parents are taking us on….

They are well-traveled, having been of the age/job situations where they both had pensions (and they planned well). They have been…pretty much everywhere.
They wanted us to travel with them once before they were too old – anywhere in the world, they told us.

(which, having grown up poor & untraveled…made me gasp…anywhere!?)

My dream trip has always been Italy, but I really imagine that as a more romantic trip, not one with the parents. I think he told me his is Greece. His whole family is from Norway, so they have been there many times. The Forbidden City of China! ooooOOO…Paris! Lots of our ideas were more active than we could do with them (they are in fairly good shape for 73, but both have had open-heart-surgeries).

So, we opted for Hawaii as most of the activities would be good for them (and we have never been and they had said how much they loved it).

We opted for a cruise ship, after a couple of days on the beach…so we can get off at places and not have to pack/re-pack to fly to different islands (I’ve never been on a cruise ship either).

Then came the ‘activities’ – they wanted us to choose.
We tried several times to ask them to do it…because fuck if we know. We haven’t been there before and there is some kind of schedule, so how are we supposed to know?
They insisted. So we spent a night pouring over the choices. The kayaking into some caves – you bet! The helicopter ride over a volcano…holy shit, yay! A so-called-real-Polynesian Luau…sounds fun!

Swimming with dolphins!? Oh man, yes!!!
Oh wait, it says here you have to be intermediate or experienced at snorkeling.
So, we left that one off.

I can swim. I just can’t….control my breathing well. I was afraid of the water when I was a child, but finally learned how to hold my breath enough to dive when I was at summer camp one year (maybe I was 12). I basically swim with my head out of the water. None of that controlled breathing business. If I go down a water slide, I put my hand up and hold my nose because if I don’t I will swallow a gallon when landing. Because, apparently…I breathe in when I should breathe out…always. I still can get a bit of panic on if someone even playfully tries to hold me under water.

So, considering all this…we left the snorkeling off. Which was disappointing since swimming with dolphins sounds like the coolest thing ever. But I can picture it – if I am using a snorkel and go under (so, don’t breathe, dumbass)….I wont be able to swim around because I will be frozen in place trying not to breathe. To me, it’s like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time….if needing to ‘not breathe’…I can’t think of anything else.

When the kids were little, I took them to swimming lessons. And I do mean little – they were infants. I was determined they would be safer than I am. And they are – they are like fish.

Anyway. His mother doesn’t know any of this. She decided that we can’t miss the dolphins, even though it wasn’t on our list.

So, you know….if this is goodbye and I drown trying to pet a dolphin….it’s been real.

Because I don’t care if it makes me nervous or I swallow some ocean and choke/cough - now that it is scheduled, this woman will be swimming (and/or drowning) with dolphins soon. I am ridiculously excited.

Look at that face.
He is telling me that it is safe. He is flirting and wanting me to come into the nice warm water. He wouldn’t let me drown. I trust him.
6 Comments
I am not a drunk
Posted:Jun 6, 2017 2:00 pm
Last Updated:Jun 23, 2017 6:50 am
6042 Views
I’m mulling over something.

I’m trying to decide if I might get eye surgery.
In my mid-30’s I started to notice one eye lid would droop on rare occasions.
I figured it was allergies at first.
I eventually saw a doctor who checked a couple things and basically shrugged.
But, he mostly concentrated on my regular eye because he thought it might be bulging out a bit, which is a sign of a tumor. It wasn’t and I knew this…explaining that I’ve always had a bit of the big-eyed thing going on. You should have seen him flip out though – his hands starting shaking and he dashed out to get other doctors to do the test. Not freaky at all.

So, anyway…the droopy eyelid has gotten worse over the years. That eye feels tired all the time. At this point, I can’t remember the last time I had a day when it was not drooping.

Doing my own research, I know I need to be checked for a particular neurological disease which weakens the muscles in the eyes and face (and can move to the lungs). I’m going to just assume at this point I don’t have it (because that would suck). I’ll get checked of course, I just don’t want to think the worst at the moment. And I don’t have most of the symptoms.

So, there is a name for this and it is: Ptosis. Just a weak muscle that controls the eyelid.
And looking all this up also brought up all sorts of celebrity photos with it. For the most part, this was encouraging as I didn’t feel so weird. Except this first guy – because while he is a character and cool…I don’t want to look like that. I think I might already.
(and don’t even mention Kellyanne Conway…that slag has it as well).

Mostly – I think it makes me look like I’m a drunk.
Or crazy, because my other eye is so big.
I really do not want to look drunk or crazy.
(have you ever noticed that on South Park, any drunk character has one eye drawn half closed)?

My slave says he thinks it is sexy. I love him and his opinion matters…a lot…but, he is love-blind.

So, I’m considering surgery. It is simple and outpatient and the photos I have seen of results look great. I have to go through testing and see if I am a candidate and all that. Then find out the cost, but from what I read online it isn’t that bad at all (keeping fingers crossed).

I’m not needing/looking for compliments. You can be self-confident and also know your quirks or …(for lack of a better term)…lesser qualities. And I have to admit, I like the look of people who have odd parts at times. Perfection is boring. I’ve painted enough of it to know. I have plenty of other odd/less than perfect parts…so I don’t need the added ‘character’. I don’t think the droop makes me horrid or anything….I just don’t like it. I’ve become weird about photos like I never have been before. The uneven eyes are all I can see when I look at any photo of myself now. So, just need to decide if it is worth the cost.

It feels like a big decision though. Because it is strictly shallow. It’s not like when I needed my jaw/teeth fixed or rotator cuff surgery. This is simply for my appearance. So it feels like a decision about values. Like if I do it, I’m admitting to myself how very shallow I really am. I almost think the husband might be disappointed in me if I do it. He hasn’t said that – I am just feeling it (and could be projecting). I think I can handle knowing I have this as a fault. I don’t relish the thought of him realizing I am that shallow though.

Apparently, I do not mind if you people know I’m shallow…
(whatcha gonna do, judge me? Pppfffttt….judge away)

I think I am mostly mad at myself that this bothers me as much as it does.

Goddamn, people are exhausting (meaning myself in particular, today at least).


8 Comments
Liberal Feminist Tourettes Syndrome
Posted:Jun 4, 2017 7:31 pm
Last Updated:Jun 11, 2017 10:04 pm
6602 Views
We had 2 other couples over last night.
People we know and like that we met within the local kink community.
And it was really fun.
Great excuse to deep clean the house (because I do need an excuse).
And I cooked a bit as well. I don’t do that often any more. Too many home-cooked meals for the kids when they were little….I lost interest.

Anyway…we got lit.
Our guests came by Uber up here in the mountains.
I was all impressed by that.
I suppose I had assumed they wouldn’t come up here (especially late at night up winding mountain roads).

We all kind of casually agreed not to talk politics.
We have done it before with one of the couples who we do not share views with – it was fine and polite and respectful (although, frustrating/perplexing), but really just not what you want to do on a Saturday night when trying to relax.

I can not for the life of me remember why, but something was said and I responded with: ‘oh, that is your white privilege’.
Something else was said and I said it again.
And yet again.
And discussing it for a few minutes, whatever it was.
Neither me or my slave can remember the actual conversation, but we know it was all good humored and smiles, but I clearly recall thinking to myself to stop saying the term ‘white privilege’…..and yet I couldn’t seem to stop.

It was like some kind of drunken ‘Liberal Feminist Tourettes Syndrome’ or something.

We were laughing today; he was making fun of me….doing an impression of Tourette’s syndrome, but instead of curse words, stammering out liberal/feminist slogans.

Wh-wh-wh-white privilege! Privilege!
Ma-ma-ma-mansplaining!
Do-do-do-down with the Pa-pa-pa-patriarchy!


[I]*My sincere apologies to any who have Tourette’s. I am sure it is a rough thing. But damn, his teasing/imitation of me was so funny I was cry-laughing….*

Anyway – fun night, despite my affliction.

It can be fun around here.
(old photo)
14 Comments
Ho-Look-up
Posted:May 31, 2017 9:52 pm
Last Updated:Jun 5, 2017 9:29 pm
7408 Views
I had a flashback to the past today.
Got a text from a woman I haven’t talked to in maybe 17 years.
She didn’t say it was her, but asked if this was the number for Kim.
I did a search on the number before I answered.
The first google answer was her name.
The second google answer was her name at someplace called ho-look-up.
I kid you not.
I’m thinking her ex-husband might have something to do with that ho-look-up thing.
I said as little as possible to let her know that no, I was not interested in ‘catching up’.
Just remembering her and those people from back then….*shudder*
I was such a different person.
Today, I wouldn’t spend 2 minutes on people like that.
Just really awful human beings when it comes down to it….in the way they interacted & treated others.
Shallow and mean and materialistic. That’s it. No more depth than that. Except the joy of conniving to cause chaos and putting others down in a sly way.

What a cast of characters though. Small Texas town: the goofy sheriff, the whoring sheriff’s wife who was so mean and two-faced, the doctor who got the younger nurse pregnant, the younger nurse who was apparently addicted to drugs and ran down the street screaming at midnight in a bikini one night at a get-together we had, the minister who brewed his own beer, the ministers wife who hated sex and could only have it when he angrily yelled at her that he loved her, and a bunch more couples who all seemed to be having badly hidden affairs.

They may have been assholes, but I do admit they were entertaining.

All of them ended up divorced. No surprise there. What did come as a surprise is that each and every one of the husbands reached out to me when they divorced…just trying to find out if I was single. Apparently, that is a thing….go through the old address book when you divorce?

Images:

*latest completed painting: ‘Birds of a Feather‘, 24x24”

*screen shot from a company that sells this print on pj’s, sheets, etc. (and other prints) – I think the company is called ‘Sin in Linen’

13 Comments
who is a lucky bitch?
Posted:May 29, 2017 6:40 am
Last Updated:Jun 14, 2017 7:57 am
7980 Views
I seriously have the best partner in life.

Never mind that we both loved spending this long weekend out in the yard clearing an area we hadn’t touched yet. Burnt up, scratched, bitten and exhausted – we loved it. Something about not owning property until being older makes us so happy to make it ‘ours’ and improve it any chance we can.

(and we managed some fine-as-fuck sexy time, some burgers on the grill and lots of laughter)

What makes me say he is the best is the way we sat in a diner Friday night and I said to him that I needed to come up with my next ‘big’ idea to paint. Sure, I have 3 in progress at the moment…fine paintings. But – what is the next big one? I mentioned some ‘themes’ I am interest in.

His idea (some of the details mine – a good combo): I may call it ‘Women’s Movement’.
Large, long horizontal painting. Women clustered on the left. All the way to the right is a background that is industrial-looking with poisoned skies. The women are painting over that nightmare, making it beautiful and green (mountains, trees, etc). The farthest on the left is a crone in an old worn shift/burlap and she is sitting on the floor weaving. Then moving right…several women bending and stretching to paint the background over. As we go towards the right, the clothing gets a little more modern. It ends with a small female child (perhaps nude) and you see her fingerprints clearly on the poisoned side, reaching to change it. From the crone, perhaps there is a small ribbon winding its way across the women to the child. All of them are interconnected in their desire to make a better world. Creating & changing it into something more beautiful.

We have both worked on quick sketches and I am already gathering/thinking about models and props and lighting. I’m very excited.

He literally popped that idea out of his head in moments. There is such a benefit to him knowing me as well as he does. Knowing what I want to say and how I am.

Dude has brain/creative skills. I am so keeping him around.
Besides, he put my initial above the Norse gods.
Got to keep dedication like that.
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