Thursday, February 28, 2013

Here’s an interesting thought. What if the things we obtained—good, bad or indifferent—were based solely on what we deserved? What if it had nothing to do with what we wanted? Could purchase? Afford or manipulate our way to getting? What if the only things that came our way were a direct result of what we’d done to deserve them?

Interesting premise….

Take a moment to imagine the world that would create….

If we could only be recipients of those things we directly deserved, I believe folks would handle themselves on a different plane. They’d be more cognizant of how they treated others. What they said. Did. And as a result, their entire way of thinking would shift…perhaps for the better.

This premise supersedes one being judged for their thoughts and behavior—a method of behavior control that has proven ineffective through history. Instead, it would feed on what tends to drive folks, well, not all but a good many, to do the things they do, say or think. I’m referring to how the media, society and other influences attempt to convince us that we should have all that we desire.

As a direct result, many find it hard to avoid the temptation to go to great lengths to obtain what they want. Never mind that the means used aren’t the most pragmatic, honorable, thoughtful or humane. No, what we’re told time and time again is that we should do whatever it takes to get what we want.

For the sake of this blog, I’ll assume that most would avoid breaking laws to obtain what they want. But aside from that, I’m surprised at how many individuals justify what they do, say or think to get what they want, as if they’re deserving, simply because they want said end goal.

But what if we stopped focusing on what we want and shifted our gaze to how we conducted ourselves? Seems to me doing so would alleviate a lot of self-inflicted stress. Think of it this way. If we refused to buy into the notion that we just need one more thing, relationship or whatever to make us happy, we could spend our time not only being happy but also trying to brighten the lives of others. And really, what’s so terrible about that? Oh, I know. It’s not all chic and cool—least not as far as the media, society and other influences are concerned. But who cares? I, for one would like to see that world we envisioned earlier actualized—the one where the only things that came our way were a direct result of what we’d done to deserve them. 

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Times change. Circumstances change. Needs change.

I suppose one of the biggest reasons a writer contributes a blog is for connecting with their readers. For feedback. For feeling like what they’re doing is worthwhile. Making a difference—no matter how small. That what they say might make one person view the world a little differently than if they had remained silent. Least that’s why I’ve been doing a daily blog for the past five years.

But times change. Circumstances change. Needs change. As such, folks don’t seem to be tuning in as frequently or as in as great a volume as they once did. No biggie. I get it. Folks are busy. Lives get complicated—know mine sure did!

As a writer, I need to take cues provided by my readership. I’ve been doing that, noting that the number of viewership fell, along with it the number of those taking time to enter comments. So I revamped my blog. Tried to spice things up. Take various paths I hadn’t up till then. But that has proven fruitless. Again, no big deal. I just need to adjust. And so I am.

Effective today, I will no longer contribute a daily blog. Doesn’t seem to be a need and when I began this, five years ago—a daily blog—my fellow writer friends thought I was insane to try to keep up that pace. Not that I had a shortage of things to say. I didn’t. But readers have indicated that they no longer have time for my daily blogs.

I’m okay with that. So, beginning today, I will only make one blog entry per week—on Thursdays. I’ll try that for a while and see how it goes. If the reception is good, then I’ll continue. If not, then I’ll reassess how, when and if there is a need for my blogging to continue.  

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Expectations…is it better to have them…or not? Human nature is such that we tend to hold silent expectations of others. That they’ll do, say or acknowledge something. Then, when that poor unsuspecting soul fails to deliver upon our secretly kept expectation of them, we have the audacity to get upset. Or feel hurt. Or worse, we don’t react at all other than to hold a grudge.

Not sure about others, but I’ve been guilty of this irrational behavior a time or two. And each time I find myself ensnared in this web, I scramble to extricate myself, vowing that I’ll not hold others to standards of behavior or actions—my expectations of them—in the future…unless…I’ve made clear those expectations ahead of time and they’ve been agreed upon.

So this brings me to wonder. Is it better to float our way through life, expecting little and being pleasantly surprised when things happen our way? This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t strive for the things we want or need. Or that we shouldn’t set goals to live by. Just that perhaps, life might be easier, certainly a lot less stressful, if we don’t harbor ill will towards those poor unsuspecting souls who don’t manage to deliver upon our silently kept expectations of them. And the best way I know of to avoid falling into this pitfall is to not hold expectations in the first place.    

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Yesterday, I began telling how my older sister and I loved to catch and play with itty-bitty frogs when we were little girls. After we’d catch them in the wastebasket we’d snatched from inside the house, here’s what would happen.

Let me tell you. There are few things more satisfying than hearing the click-clomp-thump of little frogs as they hop against the inside of a wastebasket.

My sister and I were always careful to take good care of the frogs, never hurting them and being sure to return them to where we’d originally gotten them. But while we had them in our charge, there was something magical about scooping up the little frogs and feeling them tickle the palms of our hands as we’d giggle and laugh, trying our hardest to hold onto them and not let them escape due to how much their little clingy feet tickled us.

One of the other things we enjoyed doing with the frogs was to pet their backs—ever so gently—with one of our fingers. Why? Well, for some reason, this tended to put the frogs in some sort of trance. My sister and I laughed as the frogs went all loosey-goosey on us, their legs spaying this way and that, them appearing to fall asleep as we rubbed them. But they weren’t—asleep that is. As soon as we stopped stroking their backs, the little frogs would literally spring back to life, hopping this way and that, making that delightful click-clomp-thump sound that got my sister and I to laughing.

Our frog play always took place during late spring on through summer, bringing smiles and giggles to two little girls who strove to find simple things in life with which to amuse themselves.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

When I was a little girl, my older sister and I had a favorite pastime. Course, we couldn’t do it year round. Circumstances just didn’t allow for that. So what did we enjoy doing? Catching and playing with the most adorable little frogs. None were any bigger than the size of an adult male’s thumbnail.

My stepfather took great pride in maintaining near perfect St. Augustine lawn. No, he wasn’t super Nazi, not allowing us to play on it or stuff like that. In fact, he encouraged us, along with the scores of neighborhood kids, to play, roll, somersault and cartwheel our way across our lovely lawns.

To ensure a nice thick hatch, he watered regularly, deep watering when needed, and fertilized the lawns twice a year. Now he didn’t use any of the fancy chemical-based fertilizers we have nowadays. No. What my stepfather used was good old-fashioned fertilizer. To this day, whenever I catch a whiff of natural fertilizer, I have fond memories of my step dad’s lawn and the frogs it allowed my older sister and I to catch and play with.

So how could a super healthy St. Augustine lawn, complete with a thick hatch provide the ideal living conditions for the tiny frogs we loved to gather? Simple. Since the hatch was so thick, and my stepfather maintained a perfectly edged lawn, an inch laying between the edge of the lawn and concrete back patio, the frogs would burrow their way under the patio by way of hopping down into the edged lawn trough my step dad created.

So how did my sis and I go about catching said little frogs? We’d get a small wastebasket from in the house. Then, armed with that and nothing else, our fun would begin. Our escapades always had to begin shortly before the sun would set, for that’s when the little frogs tended to emerge from deep under the patio. Tapping along the edge of the patio, close to the edged lawn crevice, my sister and I would encourage the little fellas to hop out of their hiding places. When they did, we were quick to shoo them into the awaiting wastebasket.

Success!

Tune in tomorrow to find out what my sister and I would do with the frogs once they were caught.

Monday, February 11, 2013

For the past twelve years, I’ve looked forward to seeing “my” hummingbirds up-close-and-personal each and every day. How up close have they been? Well, for those who have followed my blog for any length of time, you’ll probably recall my postings on how mommy hummingbirds feel safe enough to build their nests right next to my windows so that I get to watch the whole process of them laying eggs—always two at a time—the attentive mommy keeping the eggs warm, the eggs hatching, babies growing and eventually flying off to begin their own lives, though never far from my windows.

When I moved, I was excited to learn that a mommy hummingbird had taken up residence the previous year on my property as evidenced by her now vacant nest. I’d see her flitting from flower to flower in my yard and would smile. Though I usually don’t disturb existing nests, hers from last year had to be removed, for it was a mere two and a half feet off the ground at one end of my dog run. No way my dogs would’ve left the nest, mommy and babies alone.

So, I removed the vacant nest back in September, hoping that the mommy would decide to build this year’s nest again on my property. Much to my delight, she did, two months later. Then came her laying two tiny eggs. I was so excited I could hardly stand it, delighted that again I’d get to watch to wonder of baby hummingbirds hatch out right before my eyes.

All had been going well…until…this past weekend. Mommy hummingbird was diligent, attending to her unhatched eggs, keeping them just the right temperature. But then, one morning, I noticed that Mommy hummingbird hadn’t returned.

At first, I wasn’t too worried, as she would sit on her nest all night to keep the eggs warm, only to set out once daylight broke and temperatures began to warm, to get food for herself. But hour after hour passed. And with each hour punctuated by no Mommy hummingbird, I began to fear the worst.

Three days have passed now, each night dipping into super low temperatures. There’s been no sign of Mommy hummingbird to roost on her eggs. So, I fear, this year won’t be celebrated by the wonderment of baby hummingbirds hatching out on my property.

So sad….

Hopefully, the unborn babies didn’t suffer too much and another mommy hummingbird will opt to make my property her home—next nesting season. 

Friday, February 8, 2013

Without further delay, I’ll continue on with my latest story, Learning Lea.

Learning Lea (entry 13)

They remained like that for a few moments, Carl buried deep within Lea’s throat, him going soft, Lea remaining still, aware that to do anything more—to further stimulate Carl—would be too much. Lea took pride in how Carl experienced his strongest orgasms when she went down on him. How, when he did finally lose control, his pleasure rippled through his body, overtaking every inch of him, making each nerve ending hyper sensitive, almost to the point of being painful. So, lips held delicately, yet securely, around the base of Carl’s shaft, Lea waited, basking in the taste of him, the effects of her own orgasm still warming her body.        

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Back to my latest story, Learning Lea….

Learning Lea (entry 12)

Lea relaxed into the restrictive hold, intent to not gag. Her body reacted. Her pleasure soared. Lea felt her orgasm build. Carl unwrapped his legs from around her head, allowing Lea to stroke the full length of him with her mouth. Each time the head of him pressed and then slipped past the back of her throat, Lea’s orgasm built until one final swallow caused her to cry out her orgasm, her body quivering in response.

Carl’s breathing became harder. He was losing control. His orgasm built until in one mighty jerk, he thrust himself further down Lea’s throat. As his orgasm overtook his body, he made guttural sounds. Indistinguishable, they mimicked no known language. What spilled from Carl’s mouth were animalistic sounds cast by one overcome with sheer pleasure. There were grunts and moans interspersed with what, to the unaware, might have sounded like anguished cries, as Carl fought to regain control, freezing mid-motion.

Stay tuned to see what happens next….

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Taking a break from posting more of my latest story, Learning Lea.

There are reasons we follow our inner promptings. Why we strive to achieve our goals. Follow our dreams…wherever they may lead us…. Today reminded me of that in big band, techni-color brilliance that had me smiling the remainder of the day.

It began with something simple. I needed to find a notary. Not something one needs every day. But when needed, it cannot be avoided. So I searched my brain for where I’d seen one located—a little postal shop that’s been able to serve my needs since I moved here.

When I arrived, there was a person in front of me. Came my turn, and I inquired if they had a notary on premises. The woman I asked, smiled and pointed to the man—the owner—standing beside her, who was helping another customer. I’d seen this man and he’d helped me on numerous occasions. Pleasant, easy-going and eager to help, he looked up at me and said, “I’ll be with you in three minutes and half a beer.”

My brain spun out at the half a beer comment, but recovering quickly, I joked, “It takes you a whole three minutes to down half a beer?”

The owner didn’t miss a beat and shot back, “No, three minutes to finish with this customer than thirty seconds to throw back half the beer.”

I laughed, knowing I’d been outwitted. A second later, another employee came out holding two longneck bottled beers, each in an insulator sleeve. He looked at me and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “Can I get you one?”

At this point, I just burst out laughing, thrilled at having followed my instincts to move here—to my unique locale that closely mimics a tropical paradise mentality.

For the past thirty years, I’ve wanted to live in this area. Why? Simple. Today’s experience reminded me that one a person could go back in time—to simpler times. Ones where folks take care of one another. Appreciate their neighbors. Enjoy life and just plain don’t allow the every day hustle and bustle to get to them. Ya know…the way it used to be—thirty years or so ago.

LOL.

Who would’ve thought that places like this still existed—in Southern California? I would, cause I’ve spent every available amount of time I could visiting up here for just the very reason that I like how things used to be. When things were simpler. Folks cared about one another. Enjoyed life. Meant and did what they said. Ya, know…when folks could be counted on.

Smiling and appreciative, I turned down the beer I’d been offered. And for the next half hour, I had the most enjoyable time, joking and laughing with the storeowner, his two employees and the other customer—also a published author—who was an absolute hoot.

Just goes to show. If one follows their inner promptings and strives remain true to their goals, things tend to be a heck of a lot more enjoyable—even the simpler ones, like getting a legal document notarized.  

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Without further delay….

Learning Lea (entry 11)

It was easy for Lea to fit all of Carl into her mouth while he was still partially soft. She liked that—the sensation of all of him in her mouth yet not filling it. Lea caressed him, using her lips, tongue and the slightest pressure with her teeth. Carl’s body reacted. He grew to fill Lea’s mouth, his head pressing the back of Lea’s throat. She began to gag and pull back, but his grip on her hair held her in place.

Lea could sense rather than see the smile on Carl’s face as he pressed her down further on him. To some, it might appear that what Carl was doing was solely to please himself. But Lea knew better. This is what she liked best. It’s what she craved—Carl taking charge and using her. Lea’s excitement grew, allowing her to relax. She swallowed and felt Carl slip past the back of her throat. The sensation was almost hypnotic, causing her to relax further. Carl moaned and then wrapped his legs around Lea’s head, holding it in place, him buried deep within her throat.

I hope you’ll tune in tomorrow to see what happens next.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Today, I’ll catch readers up with where I left off with my latest story, Learning Lea. Here’s what’s happened thus far.

The story began with Lea, morphing from one form back to her human one. Her nails, once razor sharp enough to shred the sheets of the bed she lay upon, began to recede. Her flawless alabaster skin shredded all traces of the spots and fur that had appeared. She viewed her sleeping boyfriend, Carl, as he lay unaware beside her. Things began to stir deep within Lea.

It appeared as if Carl sensed her transformation, as he reached out to lovingly caress her, his mind still trapped between sleep and being awake. The moment Lea felt his gentle caress, something deep within her stirred. Images of the things she craved—and had done—filled her psyche, making her feel unworthy of Carl’s kindness.

But despite her feelings of unworthiness, Carl’s touch soothed Lea—the beast within her—the one she was trying to put to rest. She fought the urge to pull away and gave into her more primal urges.

Carl, now fully awake, made clear that tonight was to be her night. That her needs would be fulfilled—all of them. True to his word, Carl delivered just what Lea wanted. What she craved most—to have him take charge. Though to some, it may have appeared that Lea was being forced to serve Carl’s desires, it was, in fact, her own primal urgings that were being met, for to Lea, there was no greater satisfaction than to bring Carl while he was in her mouth.

Tune in tomorrow to see where the story leads next.

Friday, February 1, 2013

In life, there are things we’d rather not deal with but must. Sometimes, those occur on a daily basis. Or with individuals we’d rather avoid. But we’re grown ups—least most of the time.

LOL.

With that distinction comes the knowledge there’s no sense losing our cool to insignificant things over which we have no control. Better if we take the mature approach, oft translating to the professional one, to figure the most effective solution with the least collateral damage.

Seems simple enough. And yet, not sure about others, but I routinely find myself marveling over how I struggle with this concept. Not that I don’t get along with folks. I get along just fine. Or that I’m incapable of acting mature. Have been doing so the majority of my life. It’s just that every once in a while my path crosses with an individual or individuals who make me literally take a step back, scratch my head and question, are they for real?

You know the type to whom I’m referring. They’re the ones who make the most ridiculous requests. They can also mishandle professional dealings to such an extent as to make you wonder how the heck they ever got where they are. These are the ones who try our patience. Who make us count to ten while we try to laugh off whatever inanities they’re behind.

And yet, it’s all part of the process. Learning to deal with these difficult individuals is what sets us apart. Show how capable we are of controlling ourselves. It also helps strength our resolve that we can and will manage to muddle our way through trying situations with challenging individuals—one way or another.

Why? Simple. It’s called life and has its price. As with all things, nothing comes free.

So, though there are things we’d rather not deal with, we must. Sometimes, those occur on a daily basis. Or with individuals we’d rather avoid. But we’re grown ups—least most of the time, so we find whatever skills necessary to not only cope but to also see us through. And sometimes…just sometimes, it helps to be reminded that all this is normal.