A New Do

I don't really know what sparked this...

But, I want a hair cut.

Like, one with bangs and shorter than my shoulders. Something new and frisky and different.

I don't even know which kind.

I may want to color my hair, too.

Maybe red. I've gone strawberryish red before--I'm naturally a brunette.

I don't like myself blonde, but I think red--not like a fire engine...more of an auburn, I suppose--could be good.

What do you think?

(Minus the slightly druggie look)

(I THINK she has clothes on. If not, well, then, rate this post R. )

Still And Quiet

Firstly, I want to say that I appreciate all the comments and care and concern. I don't want to seem ungrateful, or bull-headed, or anything of the sort--but trust me, this is definitely a day-by-day thing--this processing of my life.

I've been crazy busy the past few days--when I finish this week, I'll have clocked over ninety hours at the hospital. A very good friend of mine had her baby--the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life. :) I get to meet her tomorrow morning--I'm super psyched. Plus, I had my nursing entrance exam this afternoon.

Stupidly, I planned that well before I started working night shift, and this whole sleep in the day time thing meant it felt like I was waking up at midnight to take a test.

So. Yeah, it's definitely been a week of it.

Some days, I really feel like I'm ok. I laugh and goof off and go about my day like I did before. Perfectly fine; I change the cat litter, feed the dogs, do laundry.

And some days..well, some days are a little rougher. Today, I spent a good hour or so on the phone with my best friend. I've mentioned her in passing on here before--her husband is his best friend. Normally, she's all about pulling for us.

Today, she said she was really struggling with being furious at him. She said when her husband talked about him, it made her angry. That she felt I was being very manipulated. She wants me to leave...like, told me she'd hold her peace until I was ready, but she was watching the clock. It makes me feel very burdened somehow. Dead tired.

I know how you all feel, but I want this to work. I know it seems silly, stupid, at this point, but I want it so badly I can taste it.

And, yet--I asked him if he'd spoken with her again. He said no, that he'd deleted the number.

I believe that.

But, I believe it was the name he deleted. I think they still talk.

I feel paranoid.

And my best friend wants me to bail.

And you guys agree.

And, I don't want to.

And, I know I should.

He says I'm not being myself tonight. He says that I'm not being playful. He keeps asking me what's wrong.

I don't have anything to say.

I want to be still and quiet--this is a feeling I've not had since I was a very little girl. Since my first step-dad. When he'd get angry, or he'd cheat on my mom, or anything, Mom always told me to be very still and very quiet, and maybe it would go away.

I always went to the shower to do that. To sit under water hot enough to scald, and let it make all the noise for me.

He's been sweet today. Very nice. Very affectionate. Very teasing, and very like it was before.

And, all I want is to hide in the shower.

Fool Me Once, Shame on You...Fool Me Twice..

Shame on me.

Trick me three times...I'm a fool.

And, I'm still here.

More the fool.

I keep holding onto this dream that I should have let go months and months ago. The first time he cheated, I should have said goodbye. The second time, I should have had him out that door.

Now...God, what else is there? It's too much to leave, it hurts too bad to stay. He was sick, so sick. A fever well over one hundred. His phone buzzed--he was expecting a work related text, and I didn't want to wake him unless it was important.

I checked it.

It wasn't work. But, when I clicked out of that text and all the recents came up--a girl's name. One I recognized from May. One that, when I'd asked him about her then, was assured didn't exist. I was stupid. I believed him. On a whim, I clicked into the thread. Texts upon texts, some as recent as two days ago. And not "hey how are ya" texts, either.

He says he's sorry.

I say I've heard it all before.

Some time ago, I was waiting on a table. They were discussing cheating and what the best thing to do when it occured was. The woman was all bluster. "Oh, buddy, I find out you cheated on me, I'm gone. Just like that. Gone, gone."

The man looked at her, dead in the eyes. Then, they slid over to mine. His stare was scary intense; my eyes dropped.

"She says that," he said quietly, sure as sunrise, "But I own her. Body. Heart. Mind. Soul. All of it. She's mine." When I glanced back up, her face had flushed, but she'd fallen silent. "And, think of this--everyone has a reason for all that they do. And, you think you want to leave? Imagine the next morning. And the one after that. When there's no one to hold you. No one to love you. When you're all alone. Was it worth not just sticking through it? No. If you stay, even once, he owns you. Sure as I own her. You belong to him. Don't forget it."

I stayed once. I love him. I hate him. I hate the insecurity of it. I hate that they have something that I don't. I can't keep his attention, and since I'm the one fool enough to stay, time after time, maybe that's what I deserve. I stayed twice.

I woke up this morning, spitting, cussing mad. I pushed him, I screamed, I cried. "We were doing so well! So much better! Why?"

There was quiet. He kept trying to touch me, to hold me...what kind of safe place is that? One that finds his comfort, his fun, someplace else. I finally caved, falling into the only place I know, that soft spot right between his arms. Fell into that familiar "dance" as Rogue calls it.

"Text me," I pleaded before I left for work. Too needy, too close to the floor. Too weak to stand on my own.

He did. To tell me he found the gun he wanted. That the pawn store puts it on lay away; that maybe the check after next we can get it. So confident I'll still be here.

Probably because I will be.

And, more than him, I hate myself for that.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, three times....

Leave Work....At Work

My restaurant is a training store. Every manager anywhere close to my area comes to train through us. Some are fantastic and very popular with the staff. Some, not as well liked. And, then there are those that are universally loathed by the other managers, the servers, the hosts, the bartenders--everybody.

Many months ago, we had one; his name was Ry. He was definitely one of the latter. In addition to treating his employees like something the cat drug in--after it swam through a muddy river and rolled it in dog poo--he refused to go to bat for them at all. If there was mistake at a table, he pinned it firmly on the server's head. There was no discounts given, no excuses, no apologies.

He was rude to the guests and appalling to his servers.

Last night, he was transferred in to our store as a legitimate manager. I know of three servers who are not returning, simply because he's our manager now. I had thought that perhaps now, since he wasn't in training--he'd get off his little power trip, and maybe he'd be something I could deal with.

Last night alone, we had three hot run-ins. I said some things that were definitely NOT good ideas to throw up at your boss.

He  told me some incredibly rude, atrocious things also.

By the time that I left, I was smoking mad. Unfortunately, I carried that over into mine and Steven's trip to the grocery store. And, I carried all that disrespect home and dumped it right in his lap. I was angry--not so much at him, but more at my day in general--but there's no question that I took it out on him.

And, there's no question that he took his not-gonna-be-treated-that-way out on my backside. But, I fought him. Physically-I stood up, put my hand back, kicked up my feet. Verbally--I cussed him up one side and down the other, flatly told him no...

And mentally--I shut down.

For my trouble, I wound up with the worst kind of spanking. The kind that starts in the corner and ends OTK, not being allowed to say one word or so much as twitch like I'm going to protect my bottom or stop him from hitting right where he aims.

Afterwards, though, I can admit--I feel much quieter, in my heart and in my mind. I feel an easy sort of peace that, unfortunately, really only comes at the expense of my backside.

Hopefully, this will stay with me...long after I can sit comfortably again!

Update

Ok, so as ungrateful and blicky as my last post was--it shouldn't be hard to beat with positivity now.

Firstly, let me warn you guys--this could be a lengthy post...or, I could succumb to my body's demands to get my little butt back to bed. You see, I went in to work yesterday(I work at a hospital), and they immediately handed me a mask. "You sound awful. You can't go into patients' rooms until we're sure you don't have something. Like the flu. Cuz, geez, you look like you have it. EOH opens soon, and you need to go get swabbed."

I had only  a low-grade to non-existent fever, so I expected the test to come back negative. No such luck. I was sent home with orders not to come back until I was fever free for twenty-four hours.

Not happened yet.



But, that brings me  back around to the positivity. Steven read my last post. Naturally, he says, even though I was surprised. And, like seems to be the trend around here, it sparked meaningful, heart-felt, much-needed conversation.

Conversation that discussed his fears regarding marriage, my hang-ups and insecurities regarding NOT being married, and the simple base need for us both to feel wanted by the other. My constant push for more, more, more brought him to the conclusion that he wasn't enough, that he wasn't my "White Knight"...a by-product of my actions and complaints that I'd never considered. At one point, I made the comment,

"I feel, sometimes, like you don't have passion for me. Like, maybe you would be happier with someone different, someone who, at least figuratively 'sweeps you off your feet'. That you can't wait to be with, to sleep with, to see, to talk to."

There was a half beat of silence.

"Do you mean I'd be happier with someone else...or that YOU would?"

It was a turning point in our discussion for sure. At any rate, we talked about how to make each other feel more wanted, more desired, more cherished. I said that I was a total girl; I missed the romance of the early relationship, and that I didn't want to lose that spark that reminds us everyday just WHY we're with who we're with.

He said, he didn't want to hear that he wasn't enough.

Simple, huh? I felt horrible. No, those words never left my mouth, never flipped off my tongue, but the gist was clearly spelled out in my tears and my actions, and my bitter recriminations, both on here, and with him, when I discussed T and L. (The cousins, the one with the baby, and the one with the engagement ring, respectively.)

I've made myself a little vow to do everything in my power to keep him from feeling like that ever. Ever.

Since that chat, we've both been very affectionate--as affectionate as we can be, of course, with me feeling like I'm going to die from this flu bug. They even put me on a inhaler, for crying out loud! And, he's been phenomenal, quite the tender.


Which, speaking of, he's bringing breakfast, so I'm gonna wrap this up.

Basically, I don't regret posting what I did before.I think that this is my space to "let it all go". But, I'm so pleased that, in two short days, my opinion and mindset has changed so drastically.

With that being said--it's time to eat!

:)

The Ugly Inside

This post is going to seem super ungrateful, I think, especially since the last one was on Thanksgiving. I hate that, though, I really do, because I don't want to come across that way. I just need to spit some things out, and I think I'll feel much better, seeing all my thoughts in stark black and white. Maybe they'll make more sense that way.

It's strange how you can be having a great day, and one little thing can flip it all around, and send you spiraling into a thoughtful, moody sort of day instead. Today was a little like that.

Steven and I had a splendid afternoon together.  We already have our tree up, but we didn't have any outside Christmas decorations, and I really want my "tradition" to be going all out. I love Christmas, and since this is the first one that we've lived together for, I want to go ahead and get a jump-start on what I hope is tradition for many years to come. So, this morning, we loaded up together and picked out lights to decorate the front with. As we pulled into our driveway, our neighbors came outside and we introduced them to our newest addition: a beautiful little Yorkie puppy my Dad gave us. The five of us chatted for quite some time, and then my Dad came over to help Steven hang the lights.

I stayed inside, doing dishes, laundry, making tea, and the like. Steven did a lovely job--I can't say that Dad helped much, lol. He mostly comes over to chat, I think.

Anyway, when Steven left for work, Dad went home to check on his own dogs. He was supposed to come back and watch the Grinch with me. He didn't. Instead, I sat on the computer and looked up Christmas-y songs. I decided I might want to interpret one, so I was flipping through lyrics and such, until Facebook distracted me.

Once on there, I saw an old friend of mine's pictures. She was with a man; I pulled up  her page to Facebook stalk. They've only been in a relationship for a week, and I found myself snorting at the sheer number of pictures they had plastered everywhere. You'd think they'd been together for ages, all posts about "I'm blown away by your affection, beautiful" and sugary sweetness. She did look beautiful, thin and fit and happy.

And, a very ugly, jealousy emotion reared its head. I'm gaining weight, because I have some kind of allergy no one can fix that leaves me in hives after I work out. And, I want that perfect, cheery looking kind of relationship that comes at the first week of relationships, before there are any problems at all. Don't get me wrong, Steven is a wonderful man. He's so, so good to me. And, this is me being just a silly girl, but I want pictures and to flout our relationship. Really, and truthfully, I want to be married. That's the real thing. I've paid the "boyfriend" dues, I feel like. We've been together well over two years, and I so want the ring and the certificate and to feel like everything is right, and if we WANTED, we could have kids people would approve of. I want my family to not have to stumble over the words "daughter and son-in-law", because they feel like we're "practically married" anyway, but we're NOT. And I wish we were.

I have these two cousins; neither of them really have very steady jobs. One lives with an aunt of ours, nursing her new, beautiful baby boy--a child that has no daddy. At least not one that Mommy really knows who is. And the other? She snuck out in the middle of the night one night, leaving her ex-boyfriend living with her mother, to high-tail it to the other end of the US, and live with another computer boyfriend. Guess what. They're engaged. It's been less than a month.

I know that it's dumb to feel so super jealous about all of that, because both of them are doing something remarkably stupid. And, yet....I am. The one has asked me to be her maid of honor. Naturally, I said yes, and told her how thrilled I was for her.

But, I don't feel thrilled. I feel dark and ugly inside, and jealous, and wistful.

And, I know Steven. This is not something to bring up. He doesn't want to be married right now. And, it's not really a fair thing to fight about, because, seriously, who wants to marry someone they have to beg to pop the question?

I know he loves me. I know I'm just feeling morose. I know that it's about that time of month. I'm sure that's a contributing factor.

But, today?

Ew.

Thanksgiving Cheer!

I don't have long this morning--Steven and I have about a million different segments of our two families to visit today, and it seems like every dinner is about an hour apart. We'll be 1,000 lbs a piece by the time we finish this day!! :) Fortunately, everyone can cook. And I mean, COOK.

But, I wanted to pop on here super quick and tell everyone to have a very Merry Thanksgiving, and keeping in the spirit of things---

I am exceedingly thankful for my life, for my dogs, for my cat, for my man. For his patience, and for the strength shown these past few, rather tumultuous months. I am thankful for our little family, and for the fun and the laughs and the putting up our very first Christmas tree together last night.

Thankful that Steven is letting me keep one of my dad's little yorkie puppies--his name is Merlin Templar, and he comes home next week. :)

I am thankful that I finished making all of our stockings and never have to wield a glitter pen in that manner again--my goodness, what a mess!!

Super thankful that Steven does the cooking. (Remind me later, I'll tell you guys--our stove exploded this past Friday. It's been an eventful week, lol.)

I am thankful for all of you guys, my blogger friends, for your following and support and comments and all that comes with it! Thank you all for showing interest in our little corner of the world, and for opening yourselves up in your blogs and letting me share in yours.

Also---

I'm thankful for turkey. :) Good, dry white meat, with a side of broccoli casserole and mashed potatoes, with a pumpkin pie slice, no whipped cream, waiting for me at the end.

Merry Thanksgiving, guys, I'm off to the table!

LOL Day!!

Ahem. 

Dear Lurkers--

Once upon a time, 

Eh--around a year ago,

I was surfin' the net--

And oh my, oh oh!! 

What did I find

But a DD blog! 

The idea stunned me

Oh, shock, oh awe!

And, for hours I read,

A lump on a log. 

I cruised through Stormy's,

Then read Clint's blog,

Browsed Christina's, 

And Rogue's, and Bonnie's,

Onto Kay's and then

Found Blondie's! 

I read on and found

Clint's wife, Chelsea,

And, beyond, onto

My dear Jillian Bea. 

There were more,

So many I read--

I loved hearing about

What's inside their heads. 

Then, I started DD and 

My own blog, too...

But still didn't comment

On all the People's I knew. 

Though I'd read their lives,

I'd nothing to say,

Despite sharing their 

Laughs and all their bad days. 

Then Bonnie called out

To lurkers near and far

To speak up, speak out

And it wasn't that hard!

I chose a blog and

With tremblin' fingers

Posted hello, and for

A moment, I lingered. 

Then onto the button

It said, "Submit"

(Word's a tad 

Ironic, now, isn't it?)

But, anyway, 

That's not the point;

I hit it, and the author

Didn't disappoint...

Within a day,

They'd responded--

I had a new friend

We're now correspondents! 

So I said all that

Just to say

That today's your chance!

It's again LOL day! 

I've been there before,

I've lurked too--

But as a blog author,

I'd LOVE to hear from you. 

             Ok, so mostly I'm  just feeling goofy, but I'm serious about leaving me a comment!! Would LOVE to meet you guys and gals!! 

And, again thanks to Bonnie, for her sponsoring of Love Our Lurkers day. :) :)

The Scavenger Hunt

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but Steven and I have decided, mutually, that we don't want to continue with sex before marriage. 

In theory, this was a grand plan. 

In reality, I have something to an addiction to sex with him. It's...just...shudderingly delicious, and I've really struggled with quitting. Now, Steven, he's done pretty well. In fact, it's been over a month since we've slept together. 

Our church life has dramatically increased. 

My quiet times have been splendid. 

For his tremendous efforts(successful, I might add) in telling me no, that we had chosen this and we weren't backing down, my respect for him has grown.

Unfortunately, the longer I do without, the more another factor increases:

My attitude. 

This means the frequency of spankings have soared, right through the top of the charts and up to the ceiling. 

He's started doing "timed" spankings also, so there's no breaks, no arguing, no NOTHING. 

He's also restarted maintenance. 

I'm sure all of you remember how I feel about the M word. 

*******Now, quick little sidenote: he's not spanked me one time that I haven't deserved. In fact, I took off and turned my phone off for a while the other night. I've certainly been no misjudged angel in all of this. 

However, as a second little additive here, can I just say his implement list has grown? 

He's added a hanger(Sort of...he broke it off till it's like a thick, plastic switch, really), a paint stick, the bath brush, the spoon, the belt, the hand....it's been rough on my poor, tender backside. 

SOoooooo, this morning, with the idea of maintenance looming ahead, I decided to dispose of the above listed items. 

Not permanently, of course. That would be like signing my own death warrant, right?

The bath brush took a nap underneath some old scrap-booking equipment at the top of our closet. 

The belt, I didn't dare touch. His pants have to stay up somehow, right?

And the hanger and the paint stick? I opened the window and carefully laid them, together, exactly where the window itself would cover it when closed. 

Perfect, Kypr, ever my inner imp, gloated as I shut the window. 

And, then, I went back out to have breakfast and watch Nikita. Great show, if you haven't seen it! It was an hour or more before he decided to dish out some M. 

And, when he went to grab the paint stick(the traditional M implement), lo and behold, it was gone! 

Eureka!! 

Next, he opened the drawer, searching for the bath brush or spoon. Both, gone! And the hanger. 

"Well, shoot, babe. Maybe just your hand then?" 

"Where are they, Grace?"

"I just don't know, dear. Crying shame they got lost, though." I shook my head sadly. 

Yeah...that worked SOO well for me, as I'm  sure you could guess. 

Instead, it was hand WARM-UP, then belt until I confessed. Trouble waaay over my head, that's for sure. 

I'll admit. That confession took some time. First, I informed him that they were all in the room with him. (Save for the spoon, but that's still...well, conveniently misplaced, I'm afraid. :P ) "But," I added, "If you can't even find them, do you really deserve to use them?"

Ahem. Yeah. Great move. 

After he found them, I still took a pretty thorough thrashing for the hiding. And the lying. 

I was nearing sniffles when that paint stick finished it's fourth set. Steven paused. 

"You planning on hiding anything from me?" 

Of course, that was a time for a definite no. 

"Alright then. Just maintenance left."

....I wish I was kidding. 

Lesson learned?

ONLY hide the things you REALLY hate. 

Boyfriends don't care for scavenger hunts. 

"Til My Arm Gets Tired!"

I don't know about you guys--but, I loathe the morning. I simply detest it. And, since due to some allergy problems, I can't have coffee or caffeine...

Mornings=Ew.

Period.

Especially when you fail to get out of bed when the first(two) alarm(s) go off.

Definitely when you're jarred to consciousness by a quick flurry of painful swats, pushing you out of bed and out the door.

And, then, you know what makes mornings even worse?....

When you're on your way home from an errand at about 9 am. You've only recently come to the sad realization that there will be no slipping back in bed for a minute or two before work....

I was on the phone with Steven, carefully cataloging my list of things to get accomplished today, when my car, Tennessee, hiccuped. There was a momentary lull, during which I closed my eyes briefly and prayed she wouldn't stall.

She didn't. So, assuming that, like always, I have a few deaths left in her before she completely quit on me and made it clear she REALLY wasn't going any place else without more gas--I passed a gas station on my right.

I cruised right on past the point of no return, and into an intersection, where all my prayers on the subject became moot.

She died.

Not, the first death of four, kind of death either.

The I'm-not-moving-again-till-I-get-a-little-sip-of-gasoline kind of dead.Horns blasted, I tried to hang up the phone but didn't get it completely hung up.  Lights flashed. Some instinct urged me to hit my emergency flashers.

And, there I sat, dead middle of the intersection. Slowly, I picked the phone back up out of my lap.

"Eh, hem. Steven?"

"Yeah?"

"My car died. In this intersection...what should I do?"

A quick muffled growl and terse instructions.

And, waiting.

A threat that I would be spanked till his arm got tired.

More waiting.

Finally, a nice gentlemen and his wife pulled over and helped me push my car back out of the road. They also, bless their sweet hearts, took my gas jug(I carry one just in case) and filled it up.

I made it home.

And, while I didn't get spanked till his arm was tired....

It was more than enough!

Boo Mornings.

No Longer Grounded!

I'm finally un-grounded!!! Yayayah!! And, just in time...because, I'm telling you guys...we had, quite probably one of the only...I think...three? Screaming matches in our entire relationship, since beginning DD.

It was huge.

And, over marriage and church. Ironically enough.

And, probably tomorrow, I will post about it...

But, for today...we have his entire family coming over for dinner, and I'm prepping the house...big stuff!

So, see ya tomorrow! 

Medium Steak Might cause Spankings

Just a quick little...actually, you know what? He's in the shower, and he DID give me permission to tell you guys I was grounded before I just vanished. So. I'm going with the whole story. So there. (Clearly, I'm feeling just peachy about this, oh most hated of punishments.)

I was working the other night at the restaurant. We were DEAD. I mean, dead dead. Like $100 hours to split between seven servers. And, this guy came in with his wife and sat in my section. Long story short, he ordered a very pricey steak, medium. It came out still partially frozen. Mortified, I took it back and told my cook to please deal with that. He fried it. I mean burnt the crap out of it.
(Only this guy did NOT say well done...)

Anywho, this led to a horrible, loud argument between myself and another server, because my manager refused to just recook a steak without trying to serve this twice-wrong steak, and I refused to run it. This girl felt it was her job to correct me. I didn't agree.

By the time I left, I was in tears. I called Steven. His response at the end of my story? "You really do need to work on your flare-ups at work."

Livid, despite the fact I was pulling into our driveway, I hung up on him. Then, I whipped the car around, and went for a bit of a drive, hanging up every time he called. Probably fifteen minutes later, I finally answered.

I was informed that I needed to stop the car right where it was and wait.

(He's getting out, so here's the end of it!)

Long story short, I have been both spanked and grounded...

See ya in a week or so!!

The Newest Family Member

Maybe some of you remember---

I have a thing for animals.

I like to bring them home and love them and cuddle them and make them stockings(yes, I start in October), and call them my very own. :)

The trouble? Well, firstly, Steven is allergic. And secondly, he seems to think that one 10 month old boxer and one Great Dane is enough....

SURELY not.

So, the other day, I was craigslisting.


And I stumbled upon this ad for the cutest little kittens ever! And, for free!! Steven was already in class, and since I was at school, I was only a measely little 15 minutes away...

So,  I told some friends I'd be right back, and I called the ones who put up the ad. Just to be on the safe side, since Steven's so picky, I asked and made sure they weren't the Craigslist Killer. Not that they'd tell me, but at least I could say I'd ASKED.

When I arrived...there was not one kitten left...but TWO! The people giving them away pointed out how sad it would be if they were separated. So, I took both home.

He made me give one away. The second hates our dogs but is seeming to do better with them now.

My backside wishes I'd left well enough alone.

And, I'm banned from Craigslist forever.


And, yet....

I got a kitten! :) 

A Ring On Your Finger

"Wait until I have a ring on your finger, Grace. That's how you, especially, believe, and, with you, I want to do it right!" Steven insisted, pushing away my questing hands.

"You had sex with your OTHER girlfriends, Steven," I pointed out. "It's not fair to not let me give the same thing to you...it makes me feel like I'm cheating you somehow."

"But, you're NOT. I want to do this right with you.."

"Well, you don't believe that way, clearly...and, I'm going to marry you, right? So it's basically like we ARE married."

"No, Grace...and I DO believe that way...don't push me on this.."

That was around March of last year. Obviously, I ended up having my wicked way with him. But, then...then, I was involved in a church, and passionate about the God that, quite literally, hung my moon. I felt such a strong surge of guilt, holding back from Steven...but, he wanted to do right by me. Let's just say, our first sex experience was a loaded gun. All sorts of emotions, bundled into one.

And, we've had our share of bumps and bruises along this particular relationship path. But, after last post, I felt so heavy, so ruined and wasted and hurt...I honestly felt there was only one place to go. It had to be God.

Now, Steven has a friend, M. M has a wife, J. They started about a year ago, going back to church together. They've been pushing us to do the same. So, with a 'what-do-we-have-to-lose' attitude, we started back to church with them...

And, I know that everyone doesn't believe the same as we do. I'm not asking that you do, or criticizing if you don't. I'm just spilling my story. Or, at least, this chapter of it. It's been tough, this honesty, so demanding...and, stopping the sex has been rough. M and J being involved in our lives so completely, asking questions, checking in, helping out, cooking dinner, has been so helpful.

But, we're back to waiting on that ring. I'm nervous, more than a little scared. But, for the first time in a while, I can honestly say that I have faith that we're gonna come out on the other side of this.

(Tomorrow, I have a much less serious post, about our new little family member. :) But, I have GOT to do some housework, lol...so, off I go! Missed you guys!)

A Finger Food Or A Forever?

 My hair was pulled up into a messy bun of sorts, tucked away as neatly as possible into my hairnet. I bent over the fryer, filtering the dirty oil and replacing it with clean.

"Love monkey!" my cousin's voice was, as it is most of the time, pretty cheerful. Now, let me go ahead and point out that T is...well, she's like a sister to me. We were, quite literally, raised together. Her own parents kind of bailed when she was about five and she's lived with me, off and on, for the last fifteen or so years. But, she's pregnant, and I don't feel like she's ready. It terrifies me when I think of her, out on her own, with a bitty baby to tend. I've seen how she treats her dogs, and it just scares me to death. She tries, but she has no real role-model, and, God, I hate to watch her struggle. Usually, I try and fix whatever mess she's made. This isn't something I can do for her, becoming a mother. So, we've had more fights in the last several months than we have in the last several years....

And, yet, she knows me. I turned to face her. 

"Shit, you look rough. What's the matter?"

"Nothing big," I sighed. "Just, Steven hurt my feelings a little bit. We were supposed to spend time together--only like a half hour--before I came to work, but his friend came over and he bailed out. I think I'm probably just blowing it out of proportion. I didn't tell you, but he cheated not long ago, and I think I'm just still trying to work through it." 

"Oh, God! You found out?? That's fantastic! No offense, or anything, but I've had pictures of his profile on POF on my phone for AGES. I couldn't decide whether it was best to tell you, or just let you stay...you know...blissfully ignorant." My heart sunk and met my stomach somewhere down in the area of my toes. 

"POF? What's...I don't know what that is." And she told me--it was another dating site, "Plenty of Fish". And she showed me pictures. It was the correct age, it was from about two months ago. He listed under pets our dogs, and under marital status, it read single. He was looking for "A woman" for "Dating, but nothing serious." 

I felt the lump building in my throat, and fled to the bathroom after making some excuses to my co-workers. I called, and he said he didn't even remember making it. The account had already been deleted, (I checked before I called him), but just the knowledge that he was out on multiple sites looking for someone that was more than me...

I cried. For the whole rest of the shift and into today. I told him to pack his things, and to leave. Or to stay, but he could sleep on the futon, and that we weren't together. He told me not to talk like that, that we weren't broken up, that we couldn't be. 

I don't know what we are. I felt some better this morning, but this is like any other stage of grief: it comes in its waves. Sometimes, my heart feels so full I want to burst. I want to take that pain out somewhere, to pour it out into water and watch it rush away. I find that I want to hurt him back. I want him to feel what I'm feeling, to hurt like I'm hurting. 

I want to know how you can love someone, and still be looking, always looking. 

But, I know we don't do well separate. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to leave. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to stay. I just want to curl up into a ball someplace quiet and still and be left alone. 

As Steven pointed out, however, it showed no activity, and it had been deleted. He swore up and down that since I found out about fetlife, he'd been faithful, that it was only me, and it only ever would be me from here on out. He said if he'd remembered about POF, he'd have put it out on the table during the fetlife fiasco and gotten rid of it. 

I'm confused and hurting. I feel like I must just be THAT girl. The one that everyone knows isn't going to be worth it, the one that is someone to come home to, a safe, solid, easy choice. A she'll-never-bail-workaholic that is there for sex when they want it, there for affection if they get the urge, and gone often enough that they can have everyone else they want, too. I feel like a finger food--pawed, handled, passed over in favor of something sweeter. I don't want that: I don't want to be a finger food; I want to be a forever. 

I told him we could staying living together for a while, but he had to prove that he loved me. That he loved only me and would only love me. He assured me that he would do that and then some. I'm too terrified to even hope he's telling the truth. 

I Wrote

You know, they say if you do something for more than 21 days, it becomes an addiction.
This blog must be mine--because every day since that last post, every day since sharing mine and Steven's utter debacle, this blog has crossed my mind. I've considered posting on the days where I've been inconsolable and heart broken.

I've considered blogging on the days that we took a few careful steps in the right direction.

I nearly wrote the night I came home to find a room remodeled completely for me in silent apology.

My fingers were on the keyboard after the following conversation:

"I just don't feel like you can be snappy with me over this, Steven...I didn't do this. I'm not the one that cheated. I'm just hurting. Maybe, sometime down the line, when this is all said and done, and we've moved on, maybe on that day, you can. But, this is the day after. This should...oh, I don't know...be the day of hearts and chocolates and flowers and sorries down on your knees!"(As wrong as that sentence felt. I've been so used to him being the rock, the strong one, the support I hold on to.)

"I am sorry, baby--"

"Don't call me that! I don't feel like your baby!"

"But you *are*. And, like I was saying, I *am* sorry, but I'm not that KIND of sorry."

"Well, you need to find a different way to be sorry, or just leave. I'm not strong enough for this."

That night, I nearly wrote to say I was done.

And, I know that all of you would have continued to be so supportive. I so appreciated all of your comments before.

I wanted to have somewhere to say how I felt when I woke up in the middle of that first night, and I thought it was a nightmare I'd woken from...only to reach out and touch him just in time to remember it was true.

When I realized a good part of my struggle was not only losing that feeling of trust, but also, losing our whole dynamic--we've always been of a DD bent, he's always been the Boss--I wanted to spew my confusion onto someone.

Then, when we had sex for the first time again--Lord, I wanted to write then! But, I feared that you guys would tell me I was crazy. That I should have waited. That I should have left.

One of my managers in training asked me the other day, "If you couldn't keep his attention the first time, what makes you think you're going to cut it now?"
 
I had to pull off the side of the road after work because I couldn't see through the tears. And, confusingly enough--the person I chose to talk to about all of it?

Was Steven. He told me I should have told her to go pleasure herself. At my look of confusion, he grinned and explained, "You don't like me to say 'fuck'...I thought you might prefer 'pleasure'." I had to laugh.

It's been a very, very confusing journey, this last week or so. I let him spank me. It felt so normal and right. I don't know how to take that.

He apologized when we had sex again, for being dumb and for not giving me what I needed, and he promised to be there.

And, for all my lack of trust, for all that struggle...

I believe him.

So, I wrote.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1-4u9W-bns

...The Shoe Fell...

Ok, guys. I'm just gonna be honest here. This is going to probably be my last post for a good little while. I'm hurting and confused and just not at all feeling inspired to write.

He cheated. Has been, the whole time we've been together. It's all been online, nothing in person. Just websites and role play and pretend, fantasy sex with other women. But, I've been ignorant of it the whole time. I feel very much like I've been caught with my pants down. And, even though he may not have ever touched another woman, that emotional and mental connection was there.

I'm not going to go into how I found out, or the long hours of tears and panic and that final, horrible confrontation.

The sinking feeling in my gut when I called and he asked what all I had seen.

We've decided to try and work it out; I don't feel strong enough for it, but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't try. I've invested too much to just walk out.

Needless to say, however, DD is out of the picture for the moment. Without that level of trust..I just don't feel it's appropriate. But, I think this can be dealt with. And, I think, if our relationship does survive this particular bitch of a storm, we'll go back to DD at some point.

Maybe that's when I'll write again.

But, for now, goodbye. It's been a pleasure hearing your comments and support and sympathy and even chastisement of sorts for some of my more outlandish stunts. Thank you all. I've so enjoyed your friendship.

--Grace

The Shoe Is Falling! The Shoe is Falling!

Maybe ya'll have heard the old saying, "Waiting for the other shoe to drop"...

(Please ignore any political connotations of this picture...I just feel like the squished people lol.)

I think I live my life that way: just waiting for that other shoe to drop. If we're out on the lake, I'm looking for the rain clouds. If I make fifty bucks, I'm immediately thinking about gas and groceries, and oh, my gosh, we're gonna go broke and whatever will we do?

And, when Steven and I are googly-eyed and happy and lovey-dovey and everything's going swell--I'm fully expecting him to turn to me and say he gives up, sorry, we were a good try...have a good life. (Reminds me of that song '"At A Red Light" by David Nail). And, I'd be left with the biggest ever hole, right where my heart and happiness used to be. I think, sometimes, it's almost worse when we're especially happy, because that's when I'd be the most miserable if he left.That means, after we've had a great little run, I usually start doing some pushing.

If he asks about my day, I give little more than a grunt or a, "It's fine."

If he spanks me, I fight tooth and nail. (Not that that ever helps or anything...just hurts...but, for some reason, I feel compelled to try it.)

When he helps out around the house, I just tell him I would have gotten around to it.


And, I wind up very sore, and with a very confused boyfriend. This past week has definitely been one of those weeks. I think I've been spanked at least once a day for the majority of it.

But, then, the other day, I was at work, musing over my barrage of sharp comments and snappy tones and my very sore bottom, when it struck me.

I was coping.

Ew.

Prepping myself for something that hadn't happened, and wasn't going to happen.

Sabotaging the good that we were having.

Ew.

So, I went home and told him about my little epiphany.

"So, that's why I do that!...I think."

"Mm. I'd noticed it was after a good streak."

"Yep." I'm sure I looked supremely smug with myself. Wonderful deducing skills in action, right here. :)

"Well, now we know, we can work on it." Cue face-fall here. I mean, I discovered the reason...shouldn't that make it fixed??

Nevertheless...

Steven's dictated a fix.

And, I don't want to hurt us, so I'm more than willing to go along.

"Dangerous" Doings Don't Pay

I think I've mentioned before that we live in a rather old house. It has an upstairs, a ground floor, and then an unfinished basement.

Now, as a general rule, we don't really go upstairs. Truthfully(embarrassingly), it kind of freaks me out, so I just leave it to itself. However, there's a large living room/dining room that we want to start utilizing. It has gorgeous woodwork and a stunning fireplace. Buuuutttt....

We've been using it for storage, and the carpet is currently puke-green. (I love my great-grandmother, but she did NOT have good taste). So the job becomes carrying allllll the stuff we've stuffed there upstairs and pulling up the carpet to reveal the hardwood beneath.

This morning, Steven was working on some things on the computer, but I was working on the room. I wanted him to hurry. I went and tried to tell him to hurry. He remained. (Granted, what he was doing was important but still! Patience is not my thing.)

So, I went back and started carrying things up the steps. A box. A box of books. A heater. A fake Christmas tree. (You can see the escalation here?)

Finally, a chair that had been bothering me---well, I tripped over it. In frustration, I hauled it up and started rolling.

I made it to the foot of the stairs and looked up. It was a lonnnnngggg way up. But, I'm a stubborn chick, so I rolled it up the first little bit. Paused to pant. Rolled it up the second little segment. Paused. Panted. Finally, made it to the top.

Unfortunately for me, Steven heard the repetitive thumping, and, when I turned to go back down the stairs, there he was, scowling up at me.

"You do know you're in trouble?"

"For working?" I plastered a quite appalled look on my face.

"For letting your impatience get the better of you, and causing you to do dangerous things." I begged and wheeled, and got off with a lecture. But, I guess he'd been stewing, because my next semi-heavy thing hauled up the steps....

And, I was right back to square one.

He spun me around, and, what can I say? Instinct is to cover and protect. So I did. Fighting any kind of discipline is kind of a no-no, so a few stand-up swats quickly became,

"Didn't we just have this fighting conversation? You can go wait for me in our bedroom."

And, I did.

And, ouch.

And, now, he's gone out to get breakfast. And he's left me some very strict instructions on what I can and cannot do in his absence. Since, apparently, I can't judge what's safe for me to finagle upstairs, rule number one:

Don't take anything upstairs.

I can pick up the trash.

I can do laundry.

Dishes.

Whatever.

Just not what I want to be accomplishing.

The Gas Rule Strikes Again

In my last post, I discussed a new rule that Steven had put into place: the "I can't go below a quarter tank" rule.

Three days ago, I broke it.

In horror, I watched as the little needle slipped further and further down, and finally, dipped below the quarter tank line. Since there is a stricter punishment for dropping below and not mentioning it, I drug myself inside to face the music.

"Babe...."

"Mm?"

"I...wellllll...."

"Gas? Already?"

And, I got spanked. I swore up and down, whilst facing the hardwood, that I'd get gas the next morning, the very first thing, if only he'd stop spanking me.

It took forever, and wasn't based at all on my pleadings, but he stopped.

We went on about our night. And, the next day--

I drove straight to work.

It wasn't until I pulled into our driveway that I noticed--not only had I forgotten to put the gas above a quarter tank, the gas light was actually on!

"Babe......."

"You forgot."

And, the spoon danced again on my backside. (This is getting a bit repetitive, I know...welcome to my butt's world.)

And, then, yesterday--

 I drove straight to work.

We ended up going to my ex-step-dad's, so we left my car at work.

There are no guarantees that when I turn the key, it'll even come on.

And, yep--

I met the spoon again.

Sigh.

SOOO not my favorite rule.

:(

Dah Dah Duuuuuuummm

We have a new rule.

It's a toughie.

And, ya'll may make fun of me for struggling with it.

But, the truth is--the rule was made two days ago, (the night Steven returned from Bristol), and I've already broken it once.

Now, I'm not malicious with the breaking of this rule. I don't MEAN to break it. I just...am not very good with it.

It's the GAS rule.

I can't go below a quarter tank. I know, I know, that sounds stupid.  But, I run out of gas(his definition of running out, not mine) ALL the time.

My definition: My car is stopped dead in the road and will not turn back on or move forward.

His definition: My car hiccups whilst the gauge points to E.

My car will die three times and continue--it's not til the fourth time that the engine cuts out for good.

You can see where we might have a butting of the heads at this.

But, I'm beginning to think he might be serious about it. My reasoning?

I'm serious about this, Grace! It's time you start listening to me about this! If your gas gauge drops below a quarter tank, you may as well stop the car, turn it off, and sit there, because you're in trouble. To you, that quarter marker is as good as dead stop empty. 

Ew.

What else is there to say about that?

Except maybe "ouch".

 

Off To The Races!

And just like that, Steven's off to the races!

He's in Bristol today. And last night. And for a good portion of tonight.

Ya know, I've often read Stormy's posts about missing the Ogre, and thought to myself, "Man. That's really sad. I mean, really, that sucks. I'm sure glad Steven never leaves overnight, I think I'd just hate that."

Well, the votes are in: I do really hate that. It does really suck.

I tossed and turned for a very good portion of the night; which, coincidentally, I stayed with my Mom last night. I was in my old bed, with the dog I was raised with. Tucker must have thought I'd completely lost my mind. Periodically, I'd wake up, grab for my phone, shoot off a text to Steven, and roll back over to try and sleep.

Let's just say--I'm glad he'll be home tonight. I miss him dreadfully; our boys miss him, too. Diesel keeps going to the door and the window and looking out into the driveway. He's traipsed around the house several times since I got home; when he finishes a circuit, he comes back over to me and looks up at me like, "Uhm...isn't someone missing here?"

Blegh.

I think that's all I've got for today, since my mind is preoccupied with his absence. Maybe next post will be cheerier.

An Apple A Day...

Just for the record, and in case you didn't know--

I hate doctors. I absolutely, positively loathe them. They never seem to have good news, you know. And, every time you go, you sit in the waiting room for hours and hours that you COULD have used for something else.

It's been almost two years since I've seen a dentist.(Hey, my mom's a dental assistant--she checks up on me! That's enough...right?)

Longer than that since I've seen my eye doctor(With eyes that went off the 20/800 scale when I was 11...uhm, yah, prolly not my best plan...but, geeeeezzzz....he ALWAYS has something to say!).

And, then...then there's the allergist.

Almost two and a half years ago, I started having a reaction. You'd think two years was enough time to figure out what caused it, right?

'Fraid not. So, as it stands, every time that I get mad, overly excited, hot, stressed, too cold, hot then cold, vice versa, go swimming, go hiking, take the dogs for a walk, go to work, etc....I break out in hives. Back when it first started, it wasn't that big a deal. The breakouts were quite severe, but relatively rare. Now, they're milder, but they happen with alarming frequency.(Read into that: every other day...if I'm super lucky).

Last year, I tried going to the allergist. They refused to do any testing, and, despite the proof of two pee tests and a blood test, remained convinced that I was pregnant(have any of you ever seen me write about a kid? Yeah, that's cuz we don't have one.) So, since then, I've rather thrown "allergist" into the little box in my mind labeled "worthless and inept."

.....Except, Steven wanted me to go back.

For almost a month, he reminded me to make an appointment every couple of days. I always assured him I would--tomorrow.

The funny thing about tomorrow? It never actually gets here.

Until a deadline appears on the horizon.

My deadline was yesterday. Last night, we were laying in bed, when he asked me, "Did you make your appointment today?"

A sinking feeling in the tummy...the kind that wiggles its way all they way down to your toes.

"Mmmhmmmmmhhhmmm..." I hoped it sounded affirmative, without being a lie.

"Uh, huh. For when?"

"The Thursday after the ninth." Bald-faced lie.

"Really. With who." Nope, that wasn't an accident--I didn't put a question mark, because it wasn't actually a question.

Long story short, I didn't get spanked for it. It was a miracle. Instead, he gave me till four today to do it.

I finished it by two. :) And I ate an apple.

Cuz an apple a day may not keep the doctor away...but....

A doctor keeps a spanking away.

I'm Never Gonna Leave This Bed

I have a problem.(You know, admitting it is the first step, or so I've heard...).


I'm a runner. In more ways than one; for the purpose of this post, I'm talking about the emotional kind. If things get rough, I'm inclined to bolt. I'm not fond of hurting, and if I can avoid it, I will. That means, I assume most people are like that. Steven has proven himself time and time again, and yet, my first response is always to head for the door. Over the past week or so, I've been throwing around the "I'm moving out" threat left and right. I've told him we've lost our spark--that we were just in the habit, the rut, of being together. That we didn't have passion for each other or anything else. Our days blended together in a blur of sameness. 

We worked, we saved, we ate a quiet dinner watching Bones, we went to bed. Outside of the nightly cuddle, there was little else going on for us. We were in a rut. The more I felt this, the harder I pushed him to be invested, to respond a certain way to..well, really everything. The more I pushed, the farther away he seemed. The more frustrated. Finally, in a two day long meltdown, most of those feelings came to the surface; and, for the first time in a good while, we actually shared. Not just talked, but openly communicated.  I told him I missed the long drives to just see how fast the car would go, and the trips to little hole in the wall places in the dark to wrestle around and tease. I missed the casual joking and ribbing that kept us both on our toes. He said he missed it, too, but I couldn't force anything. It was either there or not, basically. I felt so depressed, like he was saying he was giving up on us. Fortunately,we didn't end there.

Instead, we decided we were going to make a point to "date" again. Wednesday night, a friend of mine told me about a really good deal she'd gotten: she and her husband were able to go to Chattanooga for a night, get two tickets the aquarium, and two to the IMAX. I called Steven--it was around 11 pm...when I arrived home not long after, he had several packages to show me.

The next day, it was a phones off, just us, adventure to Chattanooga. We visited the aquarium(he had to practically drag me away from the otters--totally my fave!!). He was so affectionate, so right there. The IMAX was depressing--Japanese steakhouse after helped me feel a bit better...but, even more than that...

KRISPY KREME! Heck yes. :) We got a dozen, and we took it back to the hotel. After that, it was an easy afternoon of background TV and cuddles and hot baths and massages and chatting and...general fun, ya know. :P Overall, it was a wonderful, reconnecting, perfect day. I went in to work this morning in the most rested, relaxed mood I've been in, in a long time.

And, I know it can be a little corny to compare to songs and stuff, BUT. This song really, really feels like him to me. He's my rock and my love. He stays and reminds me of why I do.

So you say go, it isn't workin',
And I say, no, it isn't perfect;
So I stay instead,
I'm never going to leave this bed. 


It's not perfect, but it IS working.

So I'll stay instead. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TpuRkGDh8o&feature=channel&list=UL

(Hint: You wanna check that out.)

Gimme Time

I was on such a good streak!! Other than maintenance, I'd been on a pretty even keel. And by that, I mean....

Ahem, this needs a drum roll, thank you...

A NO SPANKING STREAK.

I know, I know. Sounds impossible(at least, does to me, lol), but I was managing it. Granted it could have been a lack of energy to be argumentative or anything of the sort...and Steven was being so helpful, so supportive! So, I guess I thought I was well and truly in the clear.

And, then, Kypr got bored.That's all that I can think. Because I swear, he switched from the angel chilling on my shoulder, to the devil hovering about my ear.

Steven and I got into a rip-snorter of a fight. I'm not going to go completely contrite here and say that I didn't have valid points. However, I'm also going to HAVE to acknowledge that so did he. And he didn't deserve my throwing things, screaming, cussing temper tantrum.

I did deserve the following spanking. (Lord, you know I hate admitting that...ew.) 


He asked me at one point why I wasn't listening to him. Irritated, I answered that I was!

Well, you're not obeying me, then!


Of course not, I responded primly. There's a difference between hearing you and not liking what you're saying. 


In fact, you're doing just the opposite of everything that I say! It's like you're TRYING! 


Don't be ridiculous, I'm not trying to do just the opposite. It's just that the opposite of what you're saying sounds the most appealing. Sorry 'bout that.


And, just like that, we introduced a new implement into his spanking armory: a plastic bath brush. Let me forewarn you, lest you've so far managed to escape that particular item:


It stings like a son of a gun, and weighs a ton, so that you not only are absolutely lit on fire, you feel like you're being bludgeoned to death, too!

So, all that to say...I'm ready to hit that no spanking streak stride again!!

Sharing

I told.

Steven didn't OVERLY care, but he would have preferred that I told him that I was going to tell before I...well..you know...*told*.

But, truthfully, I didn't expect to tell myself.

It's just that there is this guy that I work with..let's call him...eh...V, I think.

Anywho, V is married, but I've not heard a good story one come from him. When he first started, he was separated, not even living together. But, recently, they were trying again. He'd moved back home, and, even though he felt the situation looked hopeless, was actively trying to make things work out.

The problem? His woman, she can be M, is feminist, deceptive, and undermining. She has two small children, and actively encourages them to go against what he's told them to do or not to do. She left a note in with his sandwich declaring that she was headed out of town. She texted him while she was gone, saying she was going to bed, and then boasted proudly to their friends about how she'd lied to him and he'd bought it.

He's convinced she out sneaking around, but, if he so much as asks her where she's going, he's "being controlling" and doesn't "need to know my every moment". As I listened to him last night, I felt such a surge of pity.

Make no mistake, I've never cheated on Steven or even given him reason to doubt me--but, I DO remember the days, I'm ashamed to say, of being proud that I'd pulled one over on him. I remember when everything was more than a battle, it was war. The cold silences that followed, the shattered feelings and violent anger. And, I heard in V's voice that same story.

Really, they both believe their marriage is as good as over. But, I felt that I had to share that there was a better way, if they were willing to give it a shot.

And, I told him about DD--or, I feel that, especially in this case, it should be Stormy's name for it--Domestic Harmony.

He wasn't overly willing, though he didn't completely trash the idea. His only concern was her abuse cry; and, honestly, if she's this far away from him emotionally, and, since she has  history of encouraging people to lie to the police and accuse their husbands of abuse anyway--I don't blame him. But, I so think DD would help them..ugh.

Glad Steven was understanding about me sharing our little story, dirty laundry and all...

I Think I See Sunlight!!

Nope! I've not been grounded!...

Nor have I died..

Or even fallen right off the face of the Earth...

I was in a hole. A hole of work and work and house keeping and trying to find a new job and classes to take and money to pay for it all and family issues. 

A hole that my cousin dug a few feet deeper with her problems that I, despite Steven's best advice, just can't seem to steer clear of.

...Let me tell you guys...that's a long story, but the quick gist? T has lived with me off and on for most of our lives. She's more sister than cousin, but her propensities lead her to the biggest possible trouble around. Always. And, me? Even though I know I can't always fix her, I always feel quite obligated to try. Well, she wanted something to "love her unconditionally". I suggested a fish. (The last time she got a dog...well, it didn't go so well. In fact, the Humane Society was called. Yet another long story). Instead, she got pregnant. The daddy has bailed, and she doesn't have money for gas to get to work, much less to buy things for baby. 

Now, don't know how many of you know--but my dream has always been kids. Lots and lots of them. So, that to say, I love children. I know T's mom, who she lives with again, has a serious history of neglect and drug abuse. As much as I love her, I don't feel T has the capacity right now to have a child. In fact, she wants to start school in August, have a C-section over the Thanksgiving holiday, and be back to school by the end of the break. I agreed to watch the baby at least one day a week. Steven says one day only. But, T doesn't have anything for the baby, so we cut a deal: I could buy anything I wanted for C(the baby, it's a boy), IF it doesn't leave my house. 

So, that whole situation has been occupying my time and thoughts. 

Things have been going great with J, so I've been with him a fair bit....

Until Grams started having a worse time with her Alzheimer's. Mom just can't do it herself, so we keep Grammy some, also. And, between that and work(like 70+ hours sometimes), I just haven't had time or energy to blog. 

But, Steven got tired of spanking me for attitude and freak outs(for some reason that I'm not going to try to work with here, maintenance and spanking for stress always chills me right out), so he put a limit on how many hours I could work, and regulates how often we have what family member.

So...I think...I THINK...that I see sunlight! 

And, boy, does it feel good. :) 

It's Official

I've read sooo many blogs who's authors having a no texting and driving rule. For us, it's never really been an issue. I do it, he knows I do it, he does it, though, admittedly, it's more of a rarity for him, and it's never really been a problem.

Until the other night--it was late, dark outside, and we live in the foothills, so all our roads are windy and twisted as a snake. We were on our way home--one of the few times we've driven separately. Normally, he drives and I don't worry about it. In this case, however, he was following me.

So, he saw how I swerved and took over the entire road when I texted. I've never really noticed--and I usually prefer to swerve away from the double yellows...but he definitely had a few things to say on the matter. Not the least of which that now, having seen how texting affects my driving, was that texting while behind the wheel was a definite no-no. Completely off-limits, dire punishment threatening situation...

I made it two days following this new rule:

This time, I managed to send my little Corolla straight off the road and into a nearby yard.

Needless to say, Steven was NOT happy.

I tried to defend it; after all, I was fine. The car was fine. The yard was barely even scuffed. Somehow, my defenses failed to work. Go figure. After all, there are rules and then there are Rules. Like, capital R, endangering your life and others' Rules.

This broke the latter.



This was an unpleasant, his leg holding my legs down(I'm a hopeless wriggler--I consent, but it's way hard for me to hold still on my own), arms stretched out in front of me, wooden spoon horror. It was a steady, constant lecture to underline what he was doing to my backside.

It didn't help that the new rule wasn't the only one I broke.

I smoked.

It's official.

I may never sit again.

And, ya know--he's due home soon...

And with him, comes Maintenance.  

Sigh.

You Want A Piece of This??

There's a little drift that happens sometimes, I find. I go from a loving, wanting to please, trying to be submissive gal to one that wants to fight over every little thing.

I want to "win" every encounter.

I question and challenge everything decision made or action taken.

And THAT takes a toll.

If he has me count during a spanking(thankfully, a rare occurrence), I count as quietly as I can scrape by with.

If he tells me to come to him, I take my time and drag my feet.

The sucky thing is that I can see myself doing it. And, I know it makes us both miserable. And I quietly resolve to fix my inner rebellion....and then, the very next thing out of my mouth is tinged with the same fire.

In the past couple of days, I have been spanked multiple times. I've been grounded. I've written lines.

I've not done anything just openly atrocious...it's all been the attitude. My inner me is just not feeling quiet.

Last night, I was writing lines, one of which commented that if I was feeling unsubmissive, I should be trying to find out the cause and working to get that resolved.

I don't know the cause.

But, Kypr's in hiding....

And, I just feel ready to fight.

Where It Goes From Here

Weellll, I decided to take the advice of a friend:

I called J. My heart felt close to breaking when it rang, and rang, and rang. Finally, a quick, to the point voicemail, in that heart-wrenchingly familiar voice. Since his job is inspecting, there was a snippet in there about that, so, I left him a message.

Uhm. Hey, J. This is Grace. I...uh...I don't need an inspection, but I still would really like to see you. So, if that's still something that maybe you'd be interested in...I miss you...you can give me a call back. I can be reached at (BLANK). Give me a call sometime.....I love you. 

And hung up. Quietly, I laid the phone down on the dresser, went to the couch, called my big Blue-dog to me, and curled up to have myself a good cry. But, the phone rang. I ran to answer, and we had a good thirty minute chat.

We decided to meet this coming Wednesday, and he told me he'd be in touch to pick an exact time and place. I hung up, elated that he called, doubtful he'd call again without prompting(that's just J), and, to my surprise, sad.

I cried the whole morning. I didn't blog about it, because I was, and really, still am, baffled by my response. I've cried, really, most of this week. Poor Steven's probably lost track of the times he's had to answer the "What if he doesn't like me anymore?" question.

But, he called again this morning. We set a concrete time. He gets off at 4--he wants us to meet by 4:30. He seemed eager; proud to tell me that I was in his phone. He was all jokes and "I'm buying" and "Do you still like Roadhouse?".

And, as for me...I'm just confused. I'm excited. I'm scared. I'm sad. I feel like I can't quite get a handle on the flashbacks that bring me joy or the ones that break my heart.

I just don't understand, and I don't know where to go from here, or what I'm expecting.

Yay, JB, for listening to me all week about this and for letting me bounce stuff off her and getting thoughts and opinions. :)

And, yay, Steven, for helping me lay floor(ahem, really, for LAYING floor) and taking such good care of me and our little family. He's in the kitchen, cooking now. He's a good man. :)

So, cross your fingers for me. We'll see where it goes from here.

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

He never called.

J, the suddenly-changed-wants-to-get-to-know-the-older-me-ex-step-dad.

The one who promised when he got back from Yellowstone would give me a call.

He never did.

He's been home two days. Maybe, it's just too early yet.

Maybe work was rough.

I don't know.

I think I was just too excited. That I wanted that relationship again too badly. I think, somewhere where my sub-conscious dreams and fantasizes, was a remembered life of card games and goodnight hugs. Maybe that dream leaked out into my mind, latching into forgotten memories:

One hand on my neck, the other pointed at a huge clock on the mantle. Wide eyes, blue, eager to understand and make him so proud of me. 
 "What number is the V, Grace? Come on, you know this.."
"Uhm..." A quick glance around the face of the clock, counting in my mind...
"Five, Daddy. V means five." His huge hand, clapping me on the shoulder.
"Good job! That's it!" 

The room is dark with candles scattered around, flickering lights on the ivory of each young student's gi, and on every teacher's.  My heart hammers as one finger traces the outline of my white belt. Behind me, my mom and my real dad sit, watching. J--the daddy of my heart, kneels at the front of the room. His gi is spotless white, starched into stiff perfection; his black belt is tied neatly, showing clearly the three little ticks that mark him a true expert. My name is called, and everyone watches me go to him and bow. With quick motions, he divests me of the old belt, and replaces it with the next step up, a yellow. Neither of us speak, but I imagine I see pride gleaming alongside candle lights. 

Quick wind, hair blown back, hot excitement as the the go-cart makes another lap. J..Dad..he's in the driver's seat, while I hold tight to the edge of the passenger's. Another dad and his kid try to pull up beside us, but Daddy throws the pedal down and whips around in front so that they can't pass.
"Haha!" He crows, and I laugh with delight. "You're playing with the big dogs now!" 

"Dad, that's not fair. You can't win every single time," I gripe, throwing my cards down in frustration. 
"Sure, I can," he shrugs. "If you can't beat me, I can win til ya do."
"Some dads let their kids win. I think it's probably in some dad handbook somewhere." 
"But,then, you'd never know if you actually beat me. What's the fun in that?"

Christmas lights, tangled around the perfect pine. Only one small flattened part, where we laid it in the back of the truck, but that part's turned to the corner, so no one can see. It's been four hours since we brought it home, and each ornaments and light string was hung with the utmost care and mutual discussion--lest we hang something wrong. Now, a fire blazes beside, casting faint glows on both the tree and the cream carpet. It's our moment; my favorite of Christmas. He and I--we did that together. 

And, maybe when I woke, I carried those dreams and memories forward, desperate to hope he was going to want to get that back, the same as I did.

Steven's been worried about that--that I'm looking to get my daddy back, and that it won't happen. I think I would have settled for a call of any kind, even one to cancel.

I guess he just forgot.

But, you know--then again...

Maybe work was rough.

Maybe his wife needed to talk to him.

Maybe his flight was delayed, and he's not back yet.

This doesn't mean he WON'T call...just that he hasn't..

After all, there's still a lot of stars for me to count on, outside my window. And, if I just wish hard enough...

Maybe, tomorrow, he'll call.

 










I wish I may
I wish I might
Have this wish
I wish Tonight.. 

NOT One of My Brighter Moments

Has anyone else ever had that MOMENT? You know the one. It's right when you look back on the day, and think, "Oh, crap...SO dead."



Today was one of the moments.

Nope. Not a typo. The whole day was a string of those moments.

Firstly, we had some plans, just he and I. If anyone else has ever been on a family vacation, you know that moments like that are few and far between. In keeping with that tradition, we didn't make it out the door before his 15 year old little brother was back in the room and ready to tag along.

I should have accepted with grace. Instead, I pitched a little fit. I got a nearly-page long line to write, and a deadline to write it in. Instead, I texted my DD friend...who offered me the chance to call. I jumped on it. I waited until Steven stepped out onto the balcony, mentioned to his mom that I was taking a walk(in a city I've never been in before), and beat feet out the door.

Twenty minutes later, I'm still on the phone with her, and he's texting to ask where I'm at. I shot him a quick text telling him I was out for a walk, and then, in the best interests of listening to her, ignored all incoming texts and calls....until I got a string of them.

You. Are. In. The. Biggest.Trouble. Of. Your. Life. Answer. Me. Now. 

I quickly let her know I needed to call him, and I'd text her.

Moment number one: I realized I'd walked out on him, for the second time in as many days; this time, instead of hitting the beach, I'd gone out somewhere I was unfamiliar with. 

He was pissed.

And I was lost.

Ok. So, I finally walked to the restaurant that he and his little brother were eating at. We had a series of looks and quick signs that assured me I was, in fact, toast. And, then, a quick hug and kiss on the head.

"You may die, but I love you, baby."

So, off we went to play frisbee golf. I was grumpy because his brother had used my cherished disks--before I'd even gotten to play with them!--and they were all beat up. I griped.

I had my phone taken.

That was moment number two.

Number three arrived after he'd bought some Capciasin cream. His parents were taking the car...and I grabbed the box, but conveniently dropped the actual cream under the seat. It's gone.

He mentioned me finishing my lines, and I remembered...

I'd ripped up the page long diatribe and flushed it down the toilet to avoid having to write it.

This.

This, here, is moment number three.

The moment where he's waiting for me to finish so he can apply cream and I can finish my lines.

And, this is the oh-crap moment right before he finds out the cream is across town and the line he intends for me to write is in pieces in the sewer.

Awesome. 

Kypr's On Vacay, Too...

No joke. I guess my little butt-to-brain messenger thought he wouldn't be needed...and, I suppose, when he asked if he could take a day or two off, the conversation went a little something like this:

Sooo, Grace.

Sooo, Kypr. What can I do for you?

Well...ya know, you've been on this daily maintenance thing for a week or two now...

Yeah. SO glad Steven decided we didn't need that on vacation. And, when we talked about it, it didn't sound at all like we were starting back up when we got home! Good news!

Sure is! I've been feeling very...I don't know...

Overworked?

Yeah! That's the word! Overworked. So, I was thinking...

Yeah?

Well, if you're going to be on vacation, I thought maybe I could take a lil break myself. You know, lay out, catch some rays.


Sounds fine with me...be careful not to get burnt. Sunscreen's important around here, apparently. Steven been laying it to me. Apparently, I don't know how to put it on...I wind up splotchy. 

Don't worry--I'm sure I have some 50 SPF laying around. See ya in a few days! Behave!

Always...I'm an angel, right?

But...he was gone. And, he's stayed gone...this vacation has not eased up in stress, I'm afraid. Steven now has a full-blown ear infection, and my mom called about the dogs. Apparently, they've torn our house to shreds, and she's concerned about leaving them there. If you remember, they're huge, so it's a bit pricey to board them. And, I'd had a drink already when we were having THAT little conversation..

Then, this morning, Steven made a comment that I found hurtful, though, certainly, that's not how he meant it. I flipped straight back into shut-down, smart-alec, why are you speaking to me mode.

He found a hanger.

And, with Kypr gone---

OUCH.

Unfortunately(fortunately, ahem), his family is sharing a little condo with us, and there wasn't really opportunity to spank.

UNfortunately, he's decided lines will suffice til we get home...

Where spanking will commence, once again..

I hope Kypr finds his way home soon.