Swamp Donkey

Women. I can and will only speak for myself. A couple topics came up recently with my Huck that involved a short and quick, though funny, conversation about why women wear makeup. The first event involved why I was all made up for a "date night" which, to me, is just a standard title for spending time with your forever-after love once a week. Of course, I use this phrase loosely since there really isn't a term or phrase or title to describe what Huck and I have. We just...are. There isn't a title that can describe the love we share. We love each other with great depth and need. And desire. Not that kind of desire though that happens too but the kind of need and desire you have for the one person in your life you want to share each and every moment with, share each and every thought with, and share each and every everything with. And Sugar, I only use titles because I don't have other words to describe what we have and what we are.  Stop checking your pulse. But I enjoyed your reaction to an obvious dislike for my choice of words and I love you still :)

It has been my past experience when a man comments on something you do, wear, or change isn't always a compliment. On the contrary. The comment is usually his polite way of saying, "um yeah I'm not digging it." So date night. I love eye shadow. I love to wear eye shadow. I have brown eyes. How effing boring is that? So on occasion I wear my eye makeup to be sultry, inviting, sexy. Maybe this is a bit off but the smokey bedroom eye has caught many eyes. In the past. So on date night I decided to make my eyes up. I figured poor Huck was in need of a change. He couldn't be content to see me all natural and plain all the time. I changed things up and did the half smokey, half bedroom eyes thing. I thought I did a decent job. After all, I was once a professional make up artist for Estee Lauder. Then I hear, "Your eyes look different." LOL! I guess my effort was more for me. Its true. We do wear make up for ourselves mostly. Oh well. 

Then there is this day that is particularly warm and all the time I spent on making myself up was wasted. I was perspiring. Ok, I was sweating. Beads of sweat proceeded to pop up on my forehead, brow, nose, and upper lip. The light dusting of expensive powder was melting. I would touch my face and a milky makeup residue appeared on my hand or fingers. While I was disgusted with the wasted attempt at being presentable I comment audibly, more to myself, why did I bother? Huck had an instant opinion which was pretty spot on. Women wear makeup for other women. Yeah. I agree. We want other women to recognize our beauty. I'm not afraid to say it. My take? I must expand. I wear make up for other women, yes. But not why you think. I wear makeup and dress nicely (usually) as a reflection of my man. I want other women to look at my Huck and see a gorgeous, well kept woman on his arm. I don't want them to see a handsome, successful man with a swamp donkey.  

Home. Sweet. Home.

I arrived home from the windy city very late and very tired. I was exhausted and couldn't wait to see my puppy girls. As I arrived at home and began the trudge to my door I imagined the happy wagging tails and the general hello excitement only dog owners understand.  I turn the key in the lock and the sweetest faces panting with enthusiastic joy of my return greeted me.  Anyone that says diamonds are a girls best friend never knew the warm fuzzy feeling the unconditional love of a dog brings.  Or dogs in my case.

As soon as I walked in the door my first thought was, "Why the fuck is it so hot in here?" Then that thought was followed up with actually asking that question out loud. I was puzzled...did I turn up the AC before I left? No. Maybe my dog sitter thought she'd help me out and did it for me. No. Why would she do that? She'd take a bullet for one of my girls...why on earth would she make it so warm knowing they'd be inside in the stagnant warm air? My initial thoughts kept moving away from the obvious problem. The AC is broken. It was late and there was nothing I could do but to suffer through the discomfort of sleeping in the heat. It was 88 degrees upstairs. I opened the windows, turned on the fans, and took a cool shower washing my hair. Wet hair was always my remedy as a kid to help me stay cool enough to fall asleep.  It helped but I think I got four solid hours of sleep. I woke up sweating and continued to sweat until the AC was finally fixed last night. 

I slept like a rock. It was cool enough to fall asleep last night but not cool enough to get under the covers. I turned out the lights and I got comfy on top of my bedspread after the ritual goodnight "I love you" to my Huck and finally drifted off to sleep. Sweet splendid sleep. I knew I had dreams. Don't remember them all too much but they were active. I woke to my alarm, sorta. I heard it. Then I ignored it. I finally decided it was time to turn over and realized I wasn't alone in the bed. And I was rolled up like a burrito in the comforter. I'm not normally a deep sleeper so sounds and movement wake me up enough to make me aware. My Sunshine was curled up behind my knees and I never knew she hopped in the bed. I must have gotten cold and pulled the comforter over me but I remember none of this. She must have gotten cold enough to be a normal dog and snuggle with her mistress instead of stand over me and pant her hot breath in my face. 

Oh, yeah. Stepping on one of these barefoot sucks. 

I don't know why, but...

I'm butt ass tired. I love to travel. I love to visit new places. I love experiencing life as a local in a strange city. I'm in Chicago for the first time in my life and there is so much great architecture. I'm in a great hotel on the water and the view couldn't be more amazing. I have a view of the water and that makes me happy. I love the water. Just to see it. To be near it. To be on it. I may have been a pirate in a past life. Aside from some great meals (and drinks, can't forget the drinks) with my great co-workers and boss-men I've been exploring on my own. I'm in awe of the architecture and the hustle of the city. Seeing such beautiful buildings makes my life so much more complete. I made my way to the Hersey store this morning and lost my mind completely. I'm not kidding y'all. $100 in chocolate. I can't explain what happened to me!

My flight here was delayed, delayed some more, and delayed again so they put me on a different flight. The flight I was originally supposed to be on ended up leaving Ft. Lauderdale 30 minutes before the flight I was switched to. Gee, thanks Southwest. The flight was uneventful but I swear the pilot wanted to make sure the tires stuck to the runway on landing. We hit so hard I think my left kidney is still lodged in my lungs. I had the opportunity to sit next to a "dead-head" once many years ago. He explained pilots who land that hard are normally retired naval pilots used to landing on aircraft carriers. Ok, I can see that but he may have been trying to feed me a line, too.

It's Friday night and I'm so tired I'm wired. I miss my doggies. I miss my Huck and can't wait to spend time with him. I miss my own bed and pillows. I don't pack enough clothes. Actually, I packed plenty but not a large variety. I guess every trip that has a bonus has a not so bonus. I have a long busy day ahead of me tomorrow. I'm excited to be here to work. It's an amazing experience and love that I've met so many of our great students. Even had some pictures made! Also ran in to some wonderful people I don't get to work with everyday. All in all I think this trip is turning out quite nice. Can't wait for some real free time to really explore!

And I have the most humongous, painful zit on my face. I thought by my age this would be over. I noticed as I get older the zits I get take on a life of their own. Why did this friggin' thing end up by my nose? Why hasn't it erupted yet? Why does it hurt so much? I think I've had more zits as an adult than I did as a teenager. I always had clear skin growing up. What the eff? Oh. And my dear, lovely work-friend noticed I was having a hot flash today. She says, "seems you are beginning to experience your own personal summers." Well that's one way to put it. She could have easily said, "Bitch you are getting old." Gah!

I need to turn it all off. G'night!

Just a peek...

Bikini tops. Strapless dresses. Sexy, lacy lingerie. Pretty bras. Halter tops. Sweaters that button. Tube tops. Strapless anything. Jumping rope. Jogging. Being jostled in anyway.

Pssshh. I could go on. 

These are all the things I miss out on or become instantly self conscious because I have a rack.  I haven't been able to wear a sexy, strappy bikini top since I was a teenager. Even then I was a moving violation. Strapless dresses or tops? Please...and forget about trying to button anything. Clothes hang differently. Always awkward and twisted. Certain styles make me look like I'm packing balloons. I try hard to dress so I don't look sloppy. Not easy with extra large fun bags.  Bras suck. Even when fitted with expensive designer bras they still dig and bind and don't fit quite right. And geez they are ugly. Not to mention the constant shoulder and neck pain from hoisting the extra weight. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about my endowments. It is what it sounds like though, huh?

The "girls" are an extension of my personality. I do not wish to jinx their very much appreciated existence. I only want you to understand my life blessed with twin peaks. I'm leered at by indecent men. Horn taps and cat calls are part of my daily outings. Some men, and women too, have a difficult time making eye contact with me because I decided it was a good idea to wear cleavage. Even my gays love my rack!  Look, there are most definitely larger racks out there. I am not saying my rack is the best or largest. It's definitely natural! I'm just acknowledging I have one and am darn proud of it. But you there.  You. The guy that thinks it's appropriate to follow the thick chick with a large rack around Publix while drooling...I could hear your neanderthal grunts of approval and heavy breathing. Dude. Go buy a magazine or something. Sheesh!

Love never fails, this is true...but...have I gone off the deep end?

I poured an extra tall vodka and juice in my Huck's sippy cup, a 60/40 split.  Ok, so maybe the vodka and juice to start the weekend after a stressful week wasn't such a great idea. I don't really know what got in to me and why I'm an emotional basket case right now. The week has passed quickly which means, in my mind, it was busy. And it was. I spent work hours trying to catch up with my own tasks and keep my buddies tasks afloat. I tried to be a buffer against the not so brilliant cast of the inept and dull-witted tools I work with.  The rest of my time was immersed in school and home obligations. Not that I want to talk shop...no I don't want to talk shop. But. I have my work, keeping up with my buddy's work, and trying to keep my boss-man stress free about an out of state work event has been a challenge and a half.  Throw in study time and time with my Punk...I needed a daggum drink. At least I thought I did. I spread my self to thin this week. And no Huck to boot! Woe-is-me! Someone call the Wambulance!

The drink is long finished and there is not even a buzz. Not even an inkling of a buzz. What the hec? Instead, I feel down. Blue. Glum. Morose. Dejected. I don't know where I belong. I don't even want to sleep another night alone in my bed. As a matter of fact I may just sleep on the couch tonight I'm that despondent. Of course I'll go to bed, I'm just being contemptuous. I'm having the most intense emotional moment and I don't know what to do with myself.  It's past that time of month. OMG it must be the raging hormones of the "change." I so want that part of being a woman over and done with. I swear if I could talk a doctor into removing a perfectly healthy uterus...Whatever it is I'm stuck in this tear producing, snot sucking, red-rimmed eyed vortex. Yeah, I know. Alcohol is a depressant. The events of the week haven't been the best and has certainly been compounded with throwing some alcohol on it. What a dumbass. Never claimed to be a genius.

Yeah, baby, yeah!

Please don't misunderstand. I like being busy. I like not having too much time to think. It keeps me from going bat shit crazy. Especially at work. Especially at home. If I'm busy then I can't dwell on being alone. And lonely. Staying busy doesn't allow the time to over think my position and circumstance. Being alone isn't the problem. It's an abstract concept for the gal that has never lived alone before but being lonely, that's where I fail. Aside from my fur babies my nest is empty. And there I go again with the water works...what the shit!?! And it sucks I hate telling people I need them.

I try so hard to live each moment with love. I truly believe our positive thoughts and action attract same. So what gives? Why am I having such a negative day? I really don't know where this came from because I was fine this afternoon. It's time to stop whining and get busy again. There are plenty of things for me to do...just do it.

Lust and heavy breathers...

The biggest trip of my life was also the best trip of my life. It's amazing how compatible Huck and I are, even while traveling. It was relaxing and stress free. We share many of the same travel philosophies. One  being we like having a plan but we are ok going with whatever pops up. I enjoy doing as the locals do, such as visiting their watering holes and eating at their favorite restaurants. I think he likes doing that too. I also like going off the beaten path. Adventure is everywhere and it doesn't always require a parachute or bungee cord. Sometimes a good pair of sneakers (even thought I hate wearing sneakers) helps you beat the best path in places you've never visited. Ultimately, our time together was easy, full of love, and greatly cherished. It's a magical thing being loved by such an incredible man. 

LMAO! Ok...so a couple things come to mind that made me laugh out loud just now. We stayed at this gorgeous inn nestled in a darling little town our second night. We arrived to town early and checked in early but hit the trails right off. I was wearing my sneakers. You know. The ones I decided on after trying on a hundred thousand pairs? Yeah, those sneakers. As you've all gathered  from previous writings, I hate my feet confined in shoes. I wore these buggers all day. All day. I mean from morning to evening all day. Anywho. It was nearing dinner time and I was ready for a shower. We hadn't yet seen our room and I was anxious to get my dang shoes off. We found our way upstairs to our - whoa! Amazing room! The inn was a surprise to begin with and walking in to our room took my breath away. My first thought? Huck is getting lucky tonight! While taking in the amenities of our room we find the bathroom is outfitted with a spa bath. Hot diggity! 

I took off my shoes finally and did this funny little shuffle. What? It felt so good to feel the carpet under my naked feet! Um, forgot I had an audience though. He actually tipped his head at me like a puzzled puppy. I was mortified! The other thing that makes me laugh? The spa bath. I could not figure out how to turn the dang shower on. I had to come out and ask my very understanding man to do it for me. What took me 15 minutes of fiddling around took him less then 30 seconds to figure it out. Oh goodness. Still shaking my head over that one. So now I had to wait 30 minutes for the tub to fill. I decided it was time to give my man man a shoulder massage. It was the first time he let me do that (seriously...never met anyone so ticklish he flinches when I lightly touch his back let alone rub a shoulder) but I was drunk with the smell of his cologne and Hawkins...

My dogs are strange.

Well, maybe not so strange but I've not had other dogs that do some of the things they do. Sunshine is afraid of thunder. She flinches and flees when she hears thunder rolling. If this happens in the middle of the night she's immediately in the bed with me. It's not a normal, I feel safe to be close my mistress and snuggle, normal. It's more of a, I'm panicking so I'll stand over my mistress and pant my hot breath on her face, strangeness. If I'm not home she will occasionally manage to shut herself in my closet, bathroom, or bedroom because she is trying to hide behind doors. Sunshine likes to, what I call, "scrub" her nails on the carpet in various corners. I am not sure why she does this. I always thought it was to "make her bed" but sometimes she goes at it hard then leaves the spot disgusted. She also does this nail scrubbing in the closet or by my bed when she's frisky and has shit on the brain (running around like a nut job trying to rile Annie or just up to normal shenanigans).  She also rubs against the walls or the side of my bed or the couch on occasion. This activity is usually the precursor to shit on the brain. 

Annie did something the other day I see regular but Huck caught for the first time. While I was in the bathroom she decided it was an appropriate time to start erasing the bedroom carpet. With her bum. Shit ball knew I couldn't see her to yell at her to stop so took advantage. Ok, so most of us dog folk know why our fur babies scoot their butts on the carpet, grass, wherever. It's not the strangest thing Annie does but I was tickled by the fact Huck never saw a dog do what she did, well, not in full action before his eyes anyway. Annie has severe allergies of pretty much everything. She is constantly itchy. She is constantly scratching. She is constantly rolling around trying to rub spots she can't reach. Annie's ears have been in sad shape since I adopted her and for relief she will rub her head at all sides on the carpet, tile floor, grass (which she is allergic too).  While she does this head rubbing she is normally on her back and you can see her trying to bend in such a way so her hind leg comes close to her ear. Then she starts air scratching. Her hind paw curls and she begins to kick in short rapid strokes like she's reached the sweet spot but is only getting air. Then she moans in ecstasy. Sometimes she does this air scratching while she's upright and walking.