Kitten’s Mewlings

Go ahead and blame me, I’m used to it. She wanted to have the talk, you demanded that we talk, and once we do, the end result is all my fault.

I’m a cold heartless bitch. What else can I be?

My only words to her were a request for the affectionate displays in front of me to be cut back and to "keep in mind, that one day the physical portion of your relationship must end." I told her I don’t mind if you two are friends or if you two hang out, but to please try to cut back on that one thing in front of me and not to forget the other.

What I want to know is where did she get the idea that it would go on forever? "I know you two are talking about marriage and kids, but that won’t change anything." That sounds oddly familiar to your statement that the only way it would stop would be if we moved. When I told you that hurt, you claimed to have never said those words - then you said that if you had said them, you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Right now, it seems to me that the two of you had similar ideas of about my relationship with you.

Her response to me telling her the above two requests was tears. Her tears were accompanied by words claiming that I didn’t think of your feelings in all of this. "Well, it wasn’t supposed to be a forever thing from the beginning. It wasn’t even supposed to be more than a few weeks."  "I know that, but I can’t help it if we fell in love, if we developed feelings for each other." Cue the stab to the heart.

Though I felt betrayed, I did not push her to end things with you. Blame me for my little statement if you want. It’s nothing new, everything is my fault. It’s always my fault.

When she asked how I thought you would feel if the two of you ended things, I told her the truth - "I don’t know how he would feel, but it’s not like it’s the end of the world because it would just be the end of the physical fun. You two could still be friends and hang out, just nothing extra." "It would make him unhappy and upset. If he asks me to leave, then I will leave." "If it makes him happier to be with you, then I will leave. I will leave the two of you to it. I can’t and I won’t share him forever." A hard solution, but a solution I could live with. She called it harsh, the words "cold heartless bitch" were never said, but they were implied. Maybe that’s true, I mean, it is all my fault, isn’t it?

I don’t want her actions and lack of willingness to deal with my statements to affect us. If you lost a friend, it was not because I told her to keep in mind that one day the friends-with-benefits would end. I agreed with her that we could be great friends, I thought of her as a friend-in-the-making, we just needed to hang out a little more to learn each other’s quirks. But apparently what I said affected her too greatly to continue with you. I can apologize from now until forever, but you won’t listen. You will continue to blame me for her response. And why shouldn’t you? It’s all my fault. It will always be all my fault.

I love you. I agreed to a threesome as a way to spice things up. You seemed to really want it, and I wanted to see you happy. I’m sorry that I said yes. This is where I went wrong, because if I had never said yes, you would not be hurting right now. The two of you would still be friends, I would not have been swayed back into another man’s bed, and everything we fight about, all the answers you demand that I don’t have, would never have come to pass. I truly am sorry. You are right - it really is all my fault.

And forgive me for wanting to be selfish for once. I didn’t know it was such a crime to want to have the husband and kids without the mistress-claiming-to-be-the-unseen-girlfriend along for the ride. "Why should it bother you? You have everything: you get to live with him, you two will be married, you will have his children; I don’t get any of that. Hell, he won’t even tell his parents about me!" Isn’t that what friends-with-benefits is? A temporary thing? If you two truly did fall in love and you can’t live with being friends without the benefits, then by all means, enjoy the fun. I won’t stop you. I will require it to stop in the event that we do get married. If you refuse this one request, if you still want to keep your friend, all benefits included, then I will leave you to it.

Triple Tryst
Two on one are not fair odds,
But this is not a fight -
It is a dance.
A triple person tango,
Wrapped in black silk and lace,
One and one and one,
Tangled sensually, bound by touch.

Mouths lock on skin,
Teeth nip at flesh,
Fingers clasp, nails dig in.
Three become one,
Inseparable in the night.
One claims two,
Two claim one.

~by me

Recently I have been having issues with my current relationship. Not bad issues, no, we do not argue, we do not fight, we are not in danger of breaking up. Then what kind of issues you ask? Well, see, there is this other woman….

Every party and dinner I host, I have at least one person tell me, out of earshot of the rest of the guests, that one woman in particular is looking at my man with eyes that should only be reserved for the one dating him. I play naive and ask what they think I should do, how I should approach the issue, and listen intently to their advice. Oh how little they know….

You see, this other woman has become a fun component in my solid relationship with Big Ed. From my point of view, she has earned the right to look at him that way.

It started with small glances. She would come visit late hours, after her children were placated and fed, and she would stay until the early morning. Drinks would be mixed, and while I would usually go to bed around ten or eleven, she and my boyfriend would stay up watching random BBC shows, talk about the joys of working in different buildings and departments at the same company, and whatnot. She was worried at first about pissing me off; pillows would always be piled between her and him on the couch, even when I was in the room, creating a small wall that would seem endless with the more she drank.

Then one night, I somehow managed to stay awake until after she left. That was the night she had enough liquor in her system to get up the nerve to ask me if she could borrow him. She is divorced, her oldest of two daughters is a year younger than I, she has one unsteady (read: barely there) fuck-buddy, and has had no release in weeks. I giggled and let her know I’d think about it. If only she knew what thoughts had been going through my head all night!

You see, I have had the pleasure of being the center of attention in a three-way, where I was the only female, but never have I had the pleasure of joining alongside another woman in an attempt to spoil my boyfriend. She elicited such thoughts in my head, but it was not in me to admit to this quite yet. I played it out, teasing and taunting my boyfriend with thoughts of what could happen. When he pushed a date one night after work, I hesitatingly agreed. This, from me at least, is normal - I need a little nudge now and then, and especially with this. I was excited. I was nervous. My nerves overrode the excitement. A little vodka can do wonders to calm nerves. And an exhibitionist boyfriend can help a lot as well.

The first time was incredible. The quickie that it was (she had a deadline to go pick up her daughter from a volleyball game) started before she arrived. I needed something to do to help the vodka get my mind off the nerves, so Big Ed, sitting in his over sized, nearly love-seat sized chair, with his legs up on the massive ottoman) pulled me on top of him. I was still fully clothed, he was still in his workout shorts and tank. He ran his hands through my hair, whispering reassurances to me, kissing me gently, and asking again if I was sure about this. I cracked a joke (a bad habit I picked up from my ex) and made mention of the last time I was part of an attempt at this kind of thing (the girlfriend freaked out and yelled and cried hysterically). I brought up a point he had not thought of, and it sobered him up a bit, made him nervous for a change. It was my turn to calm him down - Had I ever freaked out over anything? Have I ever given cause to think I may be that fragile? More kisses followed, and soon the bra had to come out from under the shirt. The first orgasm of many was the next thing on the list. Big Ed enjoys the fact that he can get me off so easily.

Not even five minutes later, while I was still atop Big Ed, straddling and kissing, the lady in question knocked on the door. We shall call her Willow - it is such a pretty name and bears no resemblance to the real name, but does bear a striking resemblance to her body type: tall and thin and graceful (though realistically she is quite prone to accidents and spills…not really all that graceful…like me!). I was recovering from my orgasm, so Big Ed said hello and prompted me to do the same. Big Ed is such a playful guy, he really helped break any tension by getting straight to the point, "Willow, she’s already one up on you! Would you like to even the score?" I rolled off, sat on the floor, and let her straddle him and come the same way I had.

I had not told him of the rules. I had parameters set in my head, but had not been able to sort through them, and when he had asked before, I simply told him that I would be clear if something was about to happen that I did not want happening. This left a lot open to his imagination and bought me time to sort through how far I was willing to let this go. Seemed fair to me.

Once we were all comfortable and us ladies had been relaxed a little at the hands of Big Ed, Willow and I traded off straddling him and rubbing his back with our bare chests.

Oh dear, I seemed to have skipped a space! In the course of swapping positions, Big Ed coaxed me out of my shirt, and Willow followed lead. While I, still in jeans, rode his still covered cock, Willow crawled up behind him and started rubbing his back and head with her nails. We both decided he should join us, and there we sat, all three of us topless. There, we are now back on track!

There was much timid exploring on my part, but with Willow’s ‘out there’ attitude, her explorations were much more demanding. For one on the outside, it would not appear this was her first time as well, would it?

Time draws fuzzy at this point. How long we swapped places, getting off, and teasing Big Ed…It could not have been long, but it was quite a few orgasms for both of us.

Willow and I then decided it was his turn, to which he objected. It seems he was having more than enough fun seeing us squirm and get off. We promised not to be gentle, but only if he would take his shorts off. I let Willow get acquainted with her new toy while I leaned up and kissed my boyfriend. Oh the look in his eyes!

She and I switched every few minutes, varying the techniques, speeds, pressures, sensations. We weren’t aiming to get him off quite yet, we wanted to drag out as much pleasure as possible in our limited time slot.

Willow’s daughter called, breaking the moment. Not too much of a break, though. We were then coaxed out of our jeans and panties and instructed to sit side-by-side on the couch. To be honest, I’m not a big fan of cunnilingus; it has more to do with not really being used to it because my ex, a boyfriend of nearly four years, refused to do it. Big Ed is slowly working me over and helping me, mainly because it is one of his most favorite acts. And here he had two women, very very wet, propped up on the couch in front of him - what more could he ask for?

Willow is a dry crier. When she comes, she whimpers, curls, and makes short crying sounds. Compared to my violent screaming spasms, I am sure Big Ed preferred going down on her. She had quite a questioning look on her face when he switched from her to me. With her, his face was buried and both his hands were traveling between me and her breasts, but when he moved over to me, both his arms were circling my thighs. Why, might you ask? Did you not read "violent screaming spasms"? On various occasions I have nearly suffocated him, and once, very nearly snapped his neck. I may be small and compact, but I have thighs of steel. Hearing the explanation, Willow smiled knowingly and once he started, she let her hands and mouth wander for him. After a few small orgasms, Big Ed was not satisfied, and began biting on my inner thighs. I have never had a more explosive orgasm! I vaguely remember almost nothing other than the swirling colors that overtook the room.

When I came to, my legs were quite weak. So weak, they wouldn’t move. That signals a wonderful time has been had. I was asked if it would be alright for him to actually fuck her. Little did they know I had already imagined that and the thought excited me quite a bit. While still limply lying on the couch, I watched her climb atop him in his chair. I love my uber comfy furniture! Every piece is just big enough to be a small bed! Big Ed, however, had drooped a little while working us over. I was asked if I could move just enough to come over and help him up. Have you ever tried crawling across a room when your legs are very nearly nonexistent? It seemed to take forever! But the reward at the end of the long journey…!

I love sucking cock. I will get that out in the open right now. I’m not very good at it (at least I think so), but I love it, and I firmly believe that until my experience and expertise increases, my love and joy and enthusiasm will help hide a few of my faults. And sometimes, it helps to have a small-ish mouth. With my mouth, tongue, and fingernails at work, and with Willow getting off on his hand while kissing her, it didn’t take too long to get a rise out of him. I was a little reluctant to move, but when I did, I only went so far as the arm of the chair. Mmmm, I had a great view of her face, his face, and I could drag my nails up and down his chest. She enjoyed a few wonderful orgasms (and the back cushion on the chair shows it with new creases where her hands balled into fists). After she was well taken care of, and after another few missed phone calls, and after a quick glance at a watch, it was decided it was time for the treat.

I like to think of myself as a great hostess. And as hostess for the evening, I had already promised Willow the chance to swallow Big Ed’s load, should she want to. She was shocked but readily accepted. The only problem was, Big Ed had gone a little limp again, seems disuse had gotten the better of him again (she had gotten up to walk across the room to get her phone, again). Big Ed never has such a problem, so I threw the explanation under nerves. Yes he had two beautiful women at his disposal, but I’m sure he was just waiting for me to freak out, and he may have also been dreading the minutes to hours after Willow left - he does not like it when women friends in his life do not like each other, and I am quite sure he was worried about how I would feel afterwards.

I was asked to wake him up again while Willow looked around the room for her clothes. I have never tasted anyone on my boyfriend’s cock except me, so I was curious how I would react; would I love it? Would I hate it? Would I freak out? OMG she was sweet! I cannot describe how sweet! It was like sucking down a hunk of sausage that had been dipped in a tropical syrup that had been mixed with a lot of powdered sugar, but still even sweeter than that! Again, I was reluctant to move, but shifted out of the way only after she had her clothes on and I had licked her juices clean off of him. Big Ed then took over, pumping himself to orgasm, with her mouth hovering over his hand, anticipating the treat, while her hands drug her nails up his thighs, while my mouth locked on his neck, and while my nails raked across his chest.

It was almost too much for him. He orgasmed, but he did not come. It was a long orgasm, almost as long as mine or Willow’s. A dazed and heavenly look overtook his face, his entire body pulsed and convulsed. Willow and I simply smiled at him, happy to have worked him over. I was a little disappointed Willow had not gotten her treat, so was Big Ed - when he could talk without stuttering again. She kept saying not to worry about it, but I am sure she was disappointed at least a little, too.

We all kissed and said our goodbyes, her all dressed, grabbing her phone and purse, while Big Ed and I still sprawled naked on the chair. Big Ed pulled me to him, softly kissed me, and told me again how I had earned massive good girlfriend points, putting me at or above "greatest girlfriend ever". I curled into him, rested my head on his shoulders, and purred. It may have been a silent purr, audible only to my own mind, but it was a purr nonetheless! Again, he voiced his concern for not giving Willow the treat she deserved, to which I replied: "Don’t worry about it. She’ll get it next time."

{} SubmissiveKitten {}

At my age, most people are finishing college, maybe dating between party hook-ups, and holding quite an unsteady temp job.

Or they are working full time, not caring about school, enjoying their weekends with millions of friends, living the single life or shacked up with their unmarried significant other.

Or they are like all of my close friends: community college flunkies, getting knocked up, getting married but still living at home with mom, working odd night-time jobs, scrounging up every last penny, but completely <em>happy</em>.

Which leaves me where? Sitting at home, working full time to afford to attend night, weekend, and online courses at the local community college, renting a small house with my boyfriend, literally miles away from everyone I know, taking care of two cats…I have everything my friends are lacking - the house, the job, the security of the two combined - while they have everything I want - the joy, the husband, the close family, the children…the garanteed future.

I know life isn’t fair. But…does it have to be rubbed it in my face?

Dreams. That is where the future begins. Without dreams, there is no ambition to move forward, to excel, to create, in essence there is no future.

As children, people dream of what could be, what might be, and on some subconscious level, plan how to achieve the possibilities floating in their minds. As the children grow up, some dreams are realized solely as dreams, fantasy, while others are known to be physical truths to be one day touched. When children become young adults, the future seems endless, realities just out of reach. Some dreams become entangled between multiple people, companies are formed, partnerships make money and products easily accessible to many, and couples come together for a shared dream. Other dreams hit roadblocks, walls, and barriers, sometimes crushed underneath another person’s demanding fist of power, or set aside to allow another safe passage alongside. It is conceivable the day people stop dreaming is the day they stop living.

I have written before of my dreams of becoming a loving mother, devoted wife, and dedicated employee. This dream is still with me, though it saddens me to see so much going right for others and having to constantly stop my day to congratulate another on stepping stones and even milestones of their dreams becoming a reality while I am stumbling over a blade of grass on my way to my next stone.

Ignoring the age factor, although that does play a small role in my sadness, I figured that by now I’d be at the very least happily engaged. I honestly do not like the fact that my dreams depend on another person’s dreams, but sometimes, that is how life is. With my ex, I was happy. It was plausible that we could have taken our relationship anywhere. However, when presented with a chance to change things for the better, I suggested moving in together, and suddenly my life was crushed. It seems that although we had spent four years together, he was quite uncomfortable with our relationship being taken to a higher level. He did not know when he would be comfortable with such an action, and we parted ways. Four years of a dream crushed and I was forced to start anew. Then I met TJ. It was all just a romp in the hay; he was not the settling-down type. I was sad to part ways with him, I try to keep in touch; even though he is completely wrong for me, he is fun to hang out with. But parting ways with him landed me in the arms of Big Ed.

Big Ed is recently divorced. I am fine with this. He doesn’t want to rush into things. I completely understand. He wants children, just not right now. I agree.

So why am I having issues with our relationship as it stands right now? Because I am beginning to fear that he will string me along and allow our relationship to coast rather than move forward. Quite honestly, I’m tired of hearing "it’s possible" and the like. Forgive me for sounding like a spoiled child but, I want it NOW! Seriously, though, I know these things take time. I would prefer, however, to not allow my hopes up too high with "it’s possible" only to have them crushed in the future with some lame excuse. I understand men are men and I understand that a man could get accustomed to the sex. I am not deluding myself, in fact I firmly believe that is what happened with my ex. I do not fear this of Big Ed, but there are times when I wonder if he is not ready to move beyond where we are.

It was quite a step from having me move in to us renting an actual house together. Then there was the purchasing of objects that will need custody disputes in the event we split up - a complete living room set, a complete bedroom set, and a complete home theater system. What else says "I plan to keep you around" better than going into debt with another person? It makes a great joke, but in all seriousness, this is a big step, a small stepping stone, perhaps, in reaching the end of my seemingly elusive dream.

A coworker has recently admitted to us his girlfriend and her child. They are adorable together, really, but they have been together only a few months and he is purchasing a promise ring - a symbol of a promise to do no wrong and signifies they will, one day, quite possibly be engaged. Some couples are like that; they meet and there is an instant inseparable quality to their relationship. It hurts to see these real life "love at first sight" kind of relationships. They are a depressing reminder that some of us either had that and did not know it and/or lost it or that we may never have that chance. This is not a bash against the lucky, it is simply a depressed sigh of envy.

That is what I want. I want to have the kind of relationship that you see in movies; the laughing and rolling in the grass on a bright sunny day, picnicking in the park, skipping stones on the water, photographing random moments, tickle fights, playfully wrestling around on the floor over the remote, earth-shattering love making, candle-lit dinners, holding hands walking down the street, falling asleep in each others arms on the couch, losing time looking in each other’s eyes, carefree kind of relationship. Call me a romantic, it’s true. And quite depressing when slapped with reality.

I enjoy my time with Big Ed. It’s wonderful - aside from the times he chooses to bring my young age into the mix. He claims our being 10years apart does not bother him, but it does. I can see it, even if he cannot. I understand wanting to be with each other for a few years before allowing yourself to contemplate proposing, but waiting until your partner is a certain age? There are times I want to just scream and walk out. But where would that get me? Right back into a world of hurt and wondering how much of a wonderful thing I have thrown away - again.

But looking from the other side of the window, I can understand how, even subconsciously, having a partner at a certain age can affect decisions. Honestly, I can’t. Every example I come up with negates the opening of this paragraph. All equations point to shallow men. My apologies for wasting your time with these sentences.

Big Ed and I joke and dance around the age issue. I find nothing wrong with it; Hell, my parents are 10years apart, but that is nothing when compared to my step-sister’s grandparents - who were 25years apart! Maybe I am simply all wrong and Big Ed, even at his age, is not mature enough to handle such an "issue" in a relationship. Again, this lands me right back at square one.

I cannot talk with him about this, because, as I have said, this is a subconscious happening on his part, and though he will not deny that it is possible, he pushes the subject aside.

I must admit that this is not our only problem, we do argue, but a healthy couple does argue; however what sets a healthy couple apart is the way the argument is handled, how the issue is resolved, and how willing each partner is to compromise. Looking at it this way, a relationship contains a portion of politicking, putting a person’s people-skills to the test. But that is life.

And that is also why I fear I may never have that Hollywood-produced "Heaven-on-Earth" relationship. Who wants to be with someone they agree one hundred percent with, anyway? Does not a high divorce-rate stem from couples becoming bored from having a partner that is too predictable? This endangers the dream of being the forever-married and loving wife, does it not?

 Shattered dreams, where does that leave us? If dreams are the future, what is left when the future is destroyed?

There is no cure for the common male, is there?

Somehow I have landed one so screwed up, it’s not even funny anymore.

He’s "in a funk" and depressed. He sits and he mopes or sits and stares. I can’t do enough to cheer him up. He does get this sad sort of smile on his face and pulls me into a hug, or pets my head, and tells me "even in a funk, I can still love on you," but it still sounds forced. He’s trying too hard to tell me that I’m not at fault for his ‘funk’ and trying a tad too hard to tell me he’s sorry if I feel left out or lonely.

Of course I feel lonely! He’s off learning to be a pilot after work 3 nights a week! Those 3 nights he doesn’t get home until AFTER I have burried my face so far under the covers, I pass out from lack of oxygen! That’s HOURS of boredom (from lack of friends in the area) that I endure so that when he IS home, we can make the best of it. But now? There isn’t even that! He’s in his ‘funk’ right now.

He tries not to show it, but he can’t stand to be touched; he’s tenser when I try to rub his shoulders than he was beforehand, when I sat on the couch.

I can understand a lot, but a depression like this? Dude, please, for my sake, see someone! I can’t stand it for much longer, and if only you knew I was looking for my own apartment, too? What would you do? Would that ‘funk’ get worse? Or would you suddenly become less secretive, less paranoid, less mental, and rebound back to yourself?

What’s the best birthday gift for an 8yo "grown up" girl?

Simple: "Lots of things."

With criteria like that, shopping should be a snap. Right?

**EDIT**
In searching for a gift, I found something I want.

So far, all I’ve found is a UK version, which is, from what I’m told, not compatible with my dvd player…*sigh*…It was an 8-disc collection of all 11 movies and all possible sing-alongs. All I really care about is the first, the original Land Before Time, the only one that really matters.

Yea, I’m a kid at heart, but considering that was MY movie growing up….

If anyone can help me find a version that will play on my dvd player….I would be soooo grateful!

Oh, and any DVD’s of Dink, too. I was/am a sucker for dinosaur movies…

****edit:
my dvd player plays dvd’s region-rated "1" and "all"…does that include "multi"? Cuz that’s what that dvd set is rated…… (yes, this is one of the few times you’ll see me ask "dumb" questions. shuttup)

This weekend was Serenity’s Coming Home Party. She came home Tuesday, but the relatives showed and fawned Saturday, then she went out for the first time and visited my Aunt in Dallas for Sunday BBQ.

None of her father’s relatives, just the sane group known as my side.

I convinced Big Ed to show up with me to the BBQ. We were late, had to wait for his happy ass to jump in the shower. So we arrived about ten minutes before my folks split. The only reason they hadn’t already left was because LittleOne had stayed the night with me and they had to pick her up.

My Aunt is a hoot. Ya catch her at the right time…. Let’s just say she was wild before she married, I’ve heard stories, and she’s trying to reach out to me when no one is looking.

One comment she made before we left still kinda sticking to me. She told me she’s glad to’ve met Big Ed, says she’s never seen me with a man before. And considering she’s seen me with my ex, who is now enjoying a new pastime, I agree with her.

….I’m begging you….

Go congratulate Big Ed so he will calm down; he sounds like an excited cheerleader upped on sugarpills and beer at a taping of girls gone wild.

Thank you.

I am disappointed.
I am envious.
I am hurt.
I am jealous.
But most of all, I am proud.

I am disappointed in your choices so far, envious of the new life you have created, hurt by your pushing me away, jealous of the family you have now started, and proud to be your sister. Never, not in my wildest dreams, would I have ever expected you to be fearless going into battle, and not even cringe when the contractions went from many so close to one continuous spasm.

Even after 30+ hrs of lack of sleep, I am not easily impressed, but you have done so. And she is gorgeous, although she more resembles her father than you, she has your toes (giggle). She has potential, I hope you rear her well.

Yes, folks, my sister had the baby. She had basically continuous contractions since roughly Saturday about 5pm, and when they got rather constant, and about four minutes apart, they left to the hospital…at 11:30pm. They checked in just as I was calling–I figured something was up and wanted to know if all was ok. 40minutes later I was pulling into the parkinglot (40minute drive from my apt to the hospital while doing 80 down the highway and getting lucky and falling in behind a cop doing 70 in a 50…). While she slept fitfully from a muscle relaxer, I huddled in the room’s unpadded wood glider, my mom stuffed herself in the pukey-floral half-couch, and the daddy lay fast asleep on a quickly assembled cot (after my mom and I basically pushed him away from my sister). I couldn’t sleep, I sat and listened to the baby’s heartbeat on the moniter and watched the machine graph her contractions. That is kinda lulling, but every time I was even remotely close to passing out, the heart-rate would change or there would be some beeping from the machine (like….ran out of paper….gawd that was loud!). The nurse checked in every hour, checked her dialation every two, and at four, they booked her and checked her into the hospital…originally they figured she’d be out and home in an hour or so, but after nothing but continuous contractions and another slight change in dialation….

She eventually caved and had the epideral. Not because it hurt so much, but because the pain was so constant that she couldn’t sit still, she was squirming and the pain-stuff they’d pumped her with didn’t do a damn thing…and basically she was maxed out on the stuff. Oh how she slept! The daddy used that time to retreat and call up friends and family.

OH! My new in-laws…..oooooooooohhhhhhhh boy! Yikes. Let’s say white-trash, plus plastic surgery, plus a diva complex, plus sick drunken stories. THAT was the waiting room before we called into the delivery room to listen in. *Shiver* I think I’m going to refuse any invitiations to that side of the family reunion….sorry sis, but DAMN!

But I should get back, no? By two in the afternoon, she’s barely dialated, but fully efaced, or so the nurse says. To hell with it, I have a 45minute drive (meaning I won’t be flying at 80 down the highway home) ahead of me and I’ve been awake since roughly 7 or so the day before. Sure I’ve pulled all-nighters before, but given that the last one was with the aid of a fianced couple, 1/2 bottle Jack, and 1/3 bottle vodka (all me), I wasn’t lasting quite so well this time around. If I got any sleep at all, it was in 5min incremants that can’t be called sleep. So I made up my mind; either the baby would be here soon and I could go home guilt free, or I’d leave at 4pm no matter what and see the baby Monday after work.

I left at 3:15pm for a 5minute run to Braum’s just down the road, she’s sitting at 6 and just waking up to be checked again. I get back about 3:20pm or so and get a phone call as I’m walking to the elevator "We’re getting ready to push!" Whaaaaa–???!!!??!!!!

At 3:48pm, Serenity Leigh officially joined the world. She was barely bigger than I was when I was born! But she weighed a few ounces less. 6lbs, 10oz, 19 3/4" long. She has her daddy’s hair style and color, daddy’s chin, daddy’s upper lip, mama’s amount of hair, mama’s nose, and mama’s toes. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, not with a million people milling about. Serenity is the only one to see my tears as I welcomed her to this world and talked to her. Hugging the daddy gave me an excuse to hide my face long enough for them to fade, and then I hugged everyone and left. I’m an aunt again! And my mother is now officially a grandmother, and this time not by a step-daughter.

I find myself somewhat depressed a lot of the time lately.

I’ve put it off as work getting under my skin, even though I know that’s a lie.

Truth is, I haven’t really understood why I’ve been feeling this way.

Weekends I have the mornings to myself while Big Ed sleeps; he plops into bed at some point between midnight and six in the morning, the time I’m sleeping. This morning I sat at the computer and retouched a photoshop piece I did last night, and began on another. I’ve got a spontaneous urge to create; not to write, but to create. Completely unlike me, yes. But while I was working, I thought. Thinking, for me, can be dangerous, have we not learned this lesson before?

I firmly believe that had I not been moved to the big city, I’d still be quite an innocent country girl, most likely never been kissed, and working a small time job at the Tastey Freeze between classes at Seminole Jr College (since been redubbed an actual college, I believe). How different would life be compared to now? A whole hell of a lot, yet not much.

I realized that I’m not mentally healthy. What? How? Well, before certain things happened, I was one of the most friendly girls around, but not in that way, and I’d let people walk all over my niceness. Now, I’m slightly hostile to other women and highly suspicious of every male I run into. It’s become a subconscious habit; I exude an air of hatred to other women, more so when I feel them a threat, and I treat every male as if he’s a future attacker, simply biding his time until the time is right. I know this isn’t right, but it’s something I’ve noticed. And it’s something I don’t know how to fix, or if it’s even possible.

I also took the time to sit and think about my recent funk. I can hide it easily enough, but sooner or later Big Ed will learn the signs and signals of me hiding in my shell. Trust me, it’s not something I’m proud of that I have learned to hide inside myself. I sat and analyzed my mood while I searched through music on MySpace mindlessly. My conclusion: that inner part of me that wants a family is torn to bits because my teenage younger sister is already married and has a baby due any minute now. I know its rediculous, but it’s something I can’t help. That part of me does settle down when I stand in the doorway and watch Big Ed sleep; it hushes and hums and purs because he’s mine, and that eventually something may come of it. It’s simply the possibility.

Oh, and guess what I was told Friday: I’m too faithful. Apparently that because I’m not married, I should be open to the idea of multiple boyfriends and/or partners. How does this logic work? Someone tell me. I honestly don’t understand that view on relationships.

It’s a sad day when a little girl asks you to sell her puppy.

Well, my little sister is wanting to get rid of Savannah, her 4 month old pup.

We were told she would be 1/2 golden retriever and 1/2 blue heeler, but we were lied to. She’s at the very least a german shephard mix.

She’s too much of a puppy. She’s too dominant over my little sister and she’s too playful for my dad’s patience. So, she must go.

Sad, yes.

She’s a gorgeous pup. She just needs a little obedience schooling and lots of love. Maybe another pup to play with? She tries to play with my mother’s cat (who hates all other animals) and she chases birds and tries to catch them mid-air.

She’s addicted to the pool. She tries to ride on floaties, but when they are removed, she bites them. We’re trying to fix this. She also doesn’t like when people swim underwater in the pool; her instincts are to bark and to try to pull the swimmer out of the water. Not a bad instinct, but it makes it rather difficult to swim with her around.

She’s had her first set of shots, overdue on her second (will have them soon).

Our vet refuses to fix her until she’s older.

Quirks:
- I’ve already mentioned the pool, right?
- She collects sticks. When she was allowed free reign in and out of the house, she brought sticks in and hid them under the couch. Even tried a log from the fire-bin outside.
- She did carry a blanket with her everywhere, but it became tattered and trashed (bad daddy!).
- She has a thing for towels. I suspect it is because she now has no blanket to carry with her.
- She thinks she’s a lapdog. It’s cute now, but when/if she gets bigger….
- She once found a dead baby bird in the backyard. She brought it to the back door and barked insanely until my dad disposed of it. Apparently it didn’t belong.
- She chews rocks. She digs them up and carries them everywhere. Be warned.
- She chews bushes. In process of trying to break her of this.
- She jumps and tries to chew tree limbs. Suspected bird hunting; she only does it when birds are in said tree. Again, trying to break her of this.
- She hates sqeeky toys. She has effectively hidden the two squeaky toys bought (a rubber sqeaky stick and the squeaky green thing pictured below). They have not been seen since she hid them two and a half months or so ago.

I would love to give her up as free, but I didn’t get her completely free. I don’t think she’s pure German Shephard, which would be a pricey sale to be sure. I do know she’s at the very least part Shephard.

If anyone is interested, ESPECIALLY IN THE DALLAS/FORT WORTH AREA, please email me or leave a comment.

Her price is $250. (I’m willing to negotiate)

Savannah roughly 2 1/2 months old, playing with Big Ed

Savannah as of July 23, 2006. Wet from playing in the pool and carrying a stick.

As a child I was a little clock. Once a month, on the dot, I’d have strep. It was terrible. It got so bad that they decided I needed a tonsilectomy (needed my tonsils removed). However, once decided, I had nonstop strep. They pushed back my surgery three times before my pediatrician said "to hell with it" and put me under with a 102 temp.

Since then, I’ve regularly had strep once every two years or so.

Until now, I’ve gone a good five years or so without one single strep diagnosis. Guess I was way overdue. This just kicked me in the ass.

I ignored the headaches I woke up with Thursday and Friday, even managed to ignore the beginnings of a stabbing pain when I swallowed Friday. But when I woke up Saturday morning at FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING and couldn’t swallow because my entire exterior throat was swollen and puffy and tender and the entire interior was swollen and icky looking, I couldn’t ignore it.

I’ve had strep plenty to know that you must gargle warm salt-water to cleanse the throat. You must drink plenty of juices and water. You must see a doc as soon as possible.

What I didn’t remember was the massive headaches and the lovely fevers. I don’t have a thermometer, however after this, I will purchase one. I mean, if after taking some tylenol for the headache and fever, my temp was 100.4 (visited my mother, don’t ask), then I must’ve had a pretty high fever. Hell, it was high enough that I couldn’t focus or see straight, I was quite dizzy and off balance. Until the tylenol, of course. Then I could move and sleep with ease.

Of course, that also meant that I went to take a nap Saturday afternoon while Big Ed visited his parents. But when I woke up…. According to Big Ed, the apartment’s thermostat read 85degrees but I was cuddled and huddled in a ball under the blankets freezing my ass off.

So I’m not doing so well. And to top it off, I gag on my birthcontrol pill, a tiny little spec of a pill compared to the horse-pill antibiotics and painkiller/anti-inflamatory meds the doc gave me. My throat is still that swollen. *sigh*

LittleOne called me last week. Monday, I think. I wasn’t at my desk, so I missed the call. She didn’t call from a cell phone, which is her normal method, as she can open the flipphone, say "TripleLLL", and the phone will automatically dial me. No, she used the house phone. She actually looked up my number and dialed by hand. Wow.

So I missed her call. My caller ID showed "Home" and I thought something was up. Nobody ever calls me from the house phone! The baby? She’s due any minute now, maybe she’s in labor and I’m gonna miss it?!?

So I call back. Expecting great and exciting news. LittleOne answers.

LO: "Hellow?"
ME: "Hey, did someone call me?"
LO: "Yup. I did."
ME: "Is it the baby?"
LO: "No, silly, just me. Sissy told me to call."
ME: "Did she tell you to call because of the baby? Is the baby coming?"
LO: "No, she won’t come until her expiration date. If she comes before then, she’ll be too little. But if she comes after it, she’ll be too big!"

I fought to control my laughter. Little kids!

Well, the basis of the call was about the wedding. I was supposed to have been in conference with them regarding this matter, but somehow I missed out. They were to be married last Friday, as soon as possible, basically. Y’know, before the baby arrives? Yup.

Court houses are fun. Yup. I took off work Friday and arrived at my mother’s house for lunch. Ran a few errands while we waited for the groom to find his tie (shockingly, HE decided everyone would be dressed up). The bride, 9 months along, was wearing a floor length white maternity skirt and a rather comfortable looking white top. The groom wore black slacks and a white button up, sans tie (couldn’t find one).

We took two cars to the courthouse; bride with me and the folks, groom with their friends. We arrived 15minutes before the appointment, however didn’t check in until two minutes before; the groom and friends got lost. Then the short ceremony. My sister actually cried at her own wedding! And shockingly, my father didn’t cry until afterwards, when he acknowledged she was no longer his.

Marriage out of the way, all that’s stopping the baby is the doctor. He’s on vacation this week, and she’s forbidden to show up until he comes back. LittleOne keeps putting her head to the beachballbelly and asking Serenity to go past her expiration date by nearly two weeks to be born on LittleOne’s birthday so they can be twins. *smile* I can’t wait to have kids of my own ~ they’re adorable.

Let me be selfish for a moment. I think I deserve that much at least.

Just as a rule is meant to be broken, a plan is meant to fall through. That is one painfully obvious truth I have learned these last couple decades known as my (short) life. I do try not to get my hopes up for anything, but there are times I let my guard down and find myself actually looking forward to something. I have learned to hope for the best but prepare for the worst, and be happy to at least land somewhere in between. That is, as I said, my usual way of looking at things. It serves me for the most part, but every now and then there are some shocking surprises that slip through. I try not to dwell on anything, it hurts the spirit, but when things refuse to allow me to not dwell…it’s not pretty.

Well, I made a plan. A long ago plan. All around me I see my plan coming true for other people, but not me. It’s completely unfair! Take my sister for instance; she’s not yet 18, will have a baby and be married by the end of this month. Aren’t I, the elder one, supposed to get married first? Aren’t I, the elder one, supposed to start a family first? And yet, I find myself unable to get mad at her or upset with her, instead I am finding myself willing to buy them a cheap set of rings as a wedding gift (they can upgrade later for an anniversary — if they last that long). No, I’m more upset with the fates than anything. They have refused me every turn so far. I can understand that some higher power may have a plan for me, but what about ME and MY plans? I don’t want to be some old maid, and, though it is better than an old maid, I don’t want to be like my oldest sister and wed at 30; I want to marry early ("young" it is called nowadays) and enjoy my husband a few years, then have children, as many as he will consent to, while I’m energetic enough to handle them. Which, by my "fragile health" state, won’t be my mid- to late-thirties!

I’ve heard the speeches about being too young, about needing to go out and enjoy life, and about needing to go out and explore and have an adventure so as not to look back later and regret starting so soon. It might sound strange, but I don’t want to enjoy life as a single, and even though it might be exciting to explore and enjoy adventures, I know my financial limit, and it’s rather very small. Depressingly small. It’s not going to change any time soon, and I’m fine with that. I’ve got more now than I did growing up, I’m actually quite happy with that. I refuse to envy or crave beyond my means. Marrying "young" doesn’t bother me, it is actually something I’ve wanted since I was quite little, though, maybe growing up in a community where the average alter-going age is either 20 or never, might have something to do with it.

I know Big Ed’s response to all this. We’ve talked. It’s too soon after his divorce, I understand. Hell, he even called me his ex-wife’s name the other day! (granted her name and my name are quite similar, just a consonant apart sound wise) IF we make it that far, it’ll be AT LEAST another year before any sort of ring. I’m fine with that. I would just like some sort of assurance it could be more than an "if".

It’s just a little disheartening, really. And quite unfair. Of my close-knit group of friends, two are engaged, while the third has recently acquired a boyfriend. Yes, I only have like three friends. Sad, huh? Which makes it slightly worse.

In ten days it will be six months for me and Big Ed. Honestly it doesn’t feel all that long ago, but it is still a milestone. And to be frank, a part of me is slightly upset, asking if I’m not as good as his exwife; he proposed to her five months after he started dating her. The logical part of my brain knows differently, but there’s still that voice that won’t shut the fuck up.

Oh, before I forget in all my self-absorb’dness, go congratulate Big Dick and O.G.(Kelly). Dick, you’re a wonderful guy, and I’m curious what you got at Home Depot that would hold that rock without letting it’s shine and glow escape. Kelly, you’ve a wonderful man, don’t let anyone steal him! And that kitchen is gorgeous; hope you enjoy it!

Brutus is my first Vet-ridden pet. Before him, they were all healthy and/or taken care of medically by my dad (aka: shotgun). Being that he is my first pet with medication orders from the vet, I had a bit of experimenting to do for antibiotic/pain reliever time.

Brutus has been declawed and looks quite unfavorable upon us humans in the apartment. Pandora constantly taunts him (case in point: she is currently sitting atop HIS tower, staring down at him willing him to hurt himself to make her move her high-throned ass). He sits in the room with his back to everyone and tries his best to sleep; I feel terrible - his attempt at throwing guilt is working.

Our first excursion into medication-time began with his pain stuff. One syringe filled with 0.1mL. No problem. That dropped on his tongue and he swallows. Next up, the amoxicillan mixture, filled to 1.0mL. Now to test how well this will work….

I lay across the bed with Brutus snuggled on my stomach, pillows propping me up for some support. Holding his neck gently, making him look at me, I ease my thumb below his chin. He is effectively trapped, but not harmed. Three small drops go by fine before I let a little too much out. The result is a nice gash on my stomach from his back claws as he jumped out of my hold and hobbles to the door (he tries running, but slows quickly and limps). Guess my hold wasn’t that great…or I was as surprised as he was… Either way, it took a few minutes of soothing his ruffled fur before I could ease the dropper back to his lips. Tail thumping, he’s not happy. The rest of the dropper emptied without any other incident.

Now, all this while, Big Ed has been out to the Mart of Wal picking up a cage for dear Brutus. For the next two weeks he is confined to HEAVY supervision and lockdown while we are sleeping or at work.. Know why? Cuz he’s got GLUE holding his paws together and he is not allowed to jump or put excessive sudden weight on them. TWICE tonight we’ve lost him. Err, the first time was shortly after medications, I turned my back for a second to scold Pandora more for taunting him and I turned back and he was gone! He managed to get up on the counter in the bathroom and was whimpering in pain. The second was just a short time ago; Big Ed had returned with the cage and he had COMPLETELY disappeared when we finished setting up the collapsable thing. He was nowhere to be found! Turns out, the meds had finally kicked in and he was hiding behind my stuffed leapard atop the television in the bedroom. He wasn’t happy he’d been found.

Apparently neither is he happy he’s caged and Pandora isn’t. I think I’d better go and seperate the two before he hurts himself trying to get out and be free…. She’s taunting him again, but from above him on the table *sigh* Children!

I’ve an idea to create a small comic about my two cats.

Very original, I know.

But considering all the stuff that goes on, it would be a best seller and a great read.

Well, I figured I could start off with a major current event: Brutus being declawed.

Brutus is massive in size, but he’s still a kitten and nowhere near a year old yet. Pandora is a tiny thing, the runt of the litter, and at 8years old, quite cynically set in her ways. They don’t really get along; they have that Garfield & Odie relationship.

Thus, I present the first in the, hopefully, successful series.

CLICK

My close knit circle of friends has drifted since I moved. And since half of them have kids now. Woohooo! *not*

I have a dream of one day being married to a wonderful man. With luck, this wonderful man would want kids as much as he’s good with them. So far I’ve found men who are good with children, but don’t want any. *sigh* Maybe Big Ed is different; he simply says ‘not right now’, which I’m completely fine with! AFTER the wedding!!! …*IF* there is a wedding for us. After over three years with C produced nothing, my hopes aren’t too high, and only five months with Big Ed, I can’t hope too hard; he already told me it’d be AT LEAST a year before he will even consider going on one knee.

But I’ve got people who have a lovely head start on my dream. Here’s a short list:

- My sister, who’s due before August, exact date keeps shifting. She and the daddy will be wed before then, and have already named the baby: Serenity Leigh Dean (I think that’s his last name….)

- Bitch, once one of my best friends, now just another friend in a faraway town that I see very little of anymore; mostly because of her nightshift job and her baby. From what I understand, her fiance is no longer a part of their life and she’s back in her mother’s house, but I haven’t spoken with her yet, so I don’t know for sure. Christine Elizabeth Childs is only a few months old and is one of THE most adorable babies I’ve had the pleasure of spoiling so far.

- My cousin, who’s roundabout the same age as my sister, is knocked up as well. Don’t know the story here, just that she’s following in her brother’s footsteps, though his child was born when he was only 14.

- BabyBitch, another friend (nickname given to her by her fiance), is suspected of being pregnant; I have no way to know if this is true or not; she won’t answer her phone. Either way, she will be married by the end of next year and will surely be pregant at least by then.

- My aunt; I know she’s got four other kids, but the fact remains that at this moment she’s with child again. It’s in the air!

I’m sure I’m missing someone here, but you get the picture. Everyone is knocked up but me! I can’t help but to feel left out of the loop, which only makes my depression so much worse. Sorry, not depression, I’m not clinically diagnosed, and would refuse to accept it if I were. I’m just feeling rather lonely, that’s all. I don’t get along with too many people well enough to consider them close friends, and those close friends I do have are drifting away…. And mostly because I moved to another town and half of them are affianced and/or will be parents! GAHHH!!

Thus, I throw myself into other areas of life; like books (always a decent, yet sometimes expensive, outlet), writing (which you should see more of soon), and recently added to the list: my ORKS! And my kitten gets a lot of my attention when I’m home; I’m just so worried and having second thoughts about his operation Monday….I was all for his being declawed until the appointment was set; now I don’t feel so well and I’m worried for him. He’s my baby afterall! He loves me and expects me to keep him from getting hurt, he hides when too many people come over, he lays on me and purrs and knows that I’m there for him…and I’m voluntarily handing him over for an amputation! Oh the betrayal!

Yes, I very well could be the crazy cat lady; I love my cat so much he could possibly be my child; hell, I’ve spoiled Big Ed’s cat too! She’s already adopted me! So, I guess, in a way, I have my babies too, but it’s not the same. It’s a psychological thing, really. It’s not about "growing up", it’s about a dream FINALLY coming true, something going so perfectly right for a change, y’know? Something that can’t be rushed, yada yada yada, must happen on its own, in due time, blah blah blah. I know. I try not to push it, but when it’s being shoved in my face from so many around me….

After how many cats is one classified as "the crazy cat lady"?

Nevermind; I can’t adopt any kittens or cats anyway. Big Ed refuses. Well, considering the size of the apartment is too small for Brutus alone, I can understand, but when we talk about moving into an actual house, he still refuses. Seems two cats are enough, but there is this need inside me to care for those poor homeless kitties out there….

To be brutally honest, before my dream of marrying and having a wonderful family, I kid you not, I was dreaming of being "the crazy cat lady". I even had plans drawn up of the house I’d have built! It would be one massive cat playplace, all custom made furniture, everything.

But, alas, that is not to be; nowadays the "crazy cat lady" is arrested for having too many animals. Whaaaaat? Yup. If your not a licensed professional with a quality business facility, you cannot own a couple dozen animals. That is just wrong. Granted, most "crazy cat ladies" truly are crazy and don’t really care for their cats as much as they think they are….

Sorry, this post isn’t going where I thought it would. So I’ll just end it here and get some clothes on; I don’t wanna be late for work….

**edit**
Picture relinked; it will work now

*+*+*

Refer to [THIS] post for explination about [THIS] HNT picture.

Before I get to my post, let us first take a moment of silence for the loss of Mr Buzzy. Mr Buzzy lived a long fulfilled life in the year or so Big Ed has owned him, and came to a tragic demise in the jaws of a feloneous feline. I shall miss you greatly Mr Buzzy.

Now, down to business.

As y’all know, I had a bit of punishment over the weekend. Simply thinking about it has had me worked up all day. Being so worked up threw a jumble of thoughts through my brain. One of which I let hatch into a full blown devious plan. Ohhh what a plan it was!

I decided I would come home and give Big Ed a treat for a change. Then cook dinner IF I could successfully pull that off. See, I’m not one with any sort of vote of confidence in my abilities, thus I’m never sure if I can do what I plan or not. Well, to say the least, this time I was QUITE successful.

When I got home, Big Ed was complaining of the beginnings of a migrane. So I pouted a bit and lay my head in his lap to show my discontent. He petted my hair (as any good owner should) and told me he would be up for fun later this evening. Well, of course I didn’t lose the advantage I had; I began nuzzling him through his boxers. This didn’t last long, mostly because he felt the chair was majorly uncomfortable. So he drug (drug? dragged?) me off to the bed.

As he lay down, I "got more comfortable", stripping down to my thong and shirt; he was already in simply a shirt and boxers. It wasn’t long before I had him in just the shirt. He lay on the bed, pillows strewn above his head, and I sat between his legs, on my knees, running my fingers up and down his steadily growing cock. I love the feeling of that soft tender flesh expanding into something so hard and hot.

I had the urge to jump up and ride him hard, but I managed to hold out and wrapped my lips around him instead. There is nothing to compare to the deliciousness of a man’s cock! I’ve never been that great, at least I’ve never felt that I’ve had much talent, but the way he was moaning and clutching the bed….

I must admit I did not make him cum. I don’t think I could ever do that with simply my lips and tongue. However, for the second time ever, I have given him one of the best internal orgasms he has ever had. I have never felt so thrilled!

Now, the fact that I didn’t get my warm gooey treat didn’t bother me; I had only planned on making him feel good. Well, he didn’t think that was right and as soon as he was able to move again, he remedied it. I’m just still quite so surprised that I could do what I did….It was fun and I do believe I will try for a repeat performance later this week. *wink*

A rogue, really. Here’s a little history about this man I call my father. Be warned, it may be a bit lengthy, you may come to some conclusions that are unwelcoming into my mind, you may come to the same conclusions I have, you may even wonder why it is I still speak with him.

He was born waaaay back when. I can’t say exact, that will give my age away as well. He grew up to a divorced poor family. Before the divorce, he lived with his full family in not quite unhappy conditions. With the divorce, his mother refused him, his father took him in. His stepmother was as evil as they come. She beat him when she had the chance, disciplined him to be a perfect God fearing man. His friends were not immune; he seldom had company because they were forced to help him with his chores or were considered bad children and refused safe passage again. His reprieve from this was school and church, but he wasn’t a great scholar by any standards. He barely passed through school with a C average (yet expected no less than A+’s from me), making his best class football. He was one of the star linebackers for the highschool. This won him a full ride to the University of Oklahoma (GO OU!). However, to put a damper on things, after he had accepted, he found out his girlfriend was pregnant with his first born. Both were 17. Back in those days it was frowned upon to have a child out of wedlock. By 18, they were married and he had to turn around and decline his scholarship.

His first marriage was a sham. It was then he had his first two children, yet caught his wife in bed with his father. This leaves the true paternality of the second child in question, even to this day. Finding her in bed with another man, yet again, sent him into a rage. A bit of time in prison left him with nothing in the world.

A bike rider, bar hopper, and hard worker, he gets mixed up with another woman. No children from this marriage, but not long after vows are made, he’s in jail yet again for finding the woman in bed with another and his rage takes hold. (Seeing a pattern yet?)

When he’s out, he decides to clean up and files for custody of his children. He wins for one, his oldest. They live in a van, believe it or not; one of those chevy home things. Life was grand for them, I think. Sometime in there he meets wife #3. They have nothing but a fling until she’s knocked up (see another pattern?). Down the aisle they walk. My third oldest sister is born (yes, all girls so far). I don’t know the details of this wedding, other than the fact that she’s caught in bed with another (yet again, another pattern), and dad is off to the lawyers.

He ends up free from all his children, unhappily, and working a construction site in SmallTown, Oklahoma. This comes YEARS after traveling from town to town for work. He buddies up with a friend of a friend - a native to this small town (haha, I crack myself up). Not long after they become close friends, the guy plans to hook my father up. This guy is my uncle and plans to hook my father up with his sister - my aunt. When they went out, it was my father, my uncle, and two of his sisters (again, still in the time that every girl had to have a chaperone of some sort). When asked what he thought about the hopeful new girlfriend, my father went on about my mom. Big shocker to my uncle. "But, she’s still in highschool! She’s ten years younger than you!" Well, they hit it off. Unmarried, but living a life of sin. My father began truck driving again, but stopped through town every chance — it was his new home after all. He fell in love and he fell hard. Soon they moved to a small Dallas suburb, still unmarried, as if that would jinx everything and ruin it. Then I was created. My mother is quite stubborn and refused his hand in marriage when they first found out — she grew up around the ultimate stereotype; small town girls DON’T do well with traveling men. Roughly six months AFTER I was born, he convinced her and they tied the knot roughly a week before her birthday. Big month, November.

That’s about when he regained custody of the eldest. By this time, she’s fourteen and going through a nervous breakdown. Might I mention that at only 14, she’s not even 8years younger than my mom? Thus starts tension in the house.

When I was two, my dad lost his eldest daughter. I remember that day in a confusing way; it wasn’t until recently that I learned it wasn’t a dream as my dad kept insisting, it had been real. BJ, the eldest, went off with her mother, in the company of her aunt and a mutual family friend. Not long after this, dad was blessed with yet another little girl. Five girls now.

Two years later, following the same pattern as before, his wife (my mother) was pregnant yet again. They prayed like crazy and finally my dad had his son.

Tension built again as my father convinced my mother to go to college; he’d gone and failed twice between marriages and children and jail. But now he was happily married and wanted that final oppressor gone; he wanted his degree!

No need to mention that this brought on debt, financial crises, suspicion, accusation, a dark cloud of gloom, and a partridge in a pear tree.

With their degrees, my mother worked in the upper east corner of Oklahoma and my father worked in the southern west corner. Life between them was good; strain disappeared, they saw each other EVERY weekend…either we traveled down or he traveled up. It was one of these weekends that the final child, his seventh child, LittleOne, was concieved. Dad was elated.

Two months after her birth, we moved to another Dallas suburb. They became teachers, and the story from there is pretty known. Recently they’ve decided on a divorce, after *mumble* years of marriage (my age = *mumble*, thus you can’t know that).

My father, if I haven’t mentioned it, is quite a hypocrit. He’s the epitome of the "do as I say, not as I do" parents. It was alright for him to sleep with MULTIPLE women out of wedlock, but Heaven forbid I even THINK about it! And have I mentioned, yet, that my sister is to be wed before the baby comes in July? Dad’s doing; he’s personally driving them down and requesting the paperwork, testing, and a judge appointment.

I honestly don’t agree with a lot that he does or says, but he’s my father. Never one to show praise or pride in me, I strove(that even a word?) my whole life for some recognition. It’s times he tells me he loves me and he’s proud of me that I’m uncomfortable; I’m simply not used to it, which makes me dread days like today.

Today, Father’s Day, I am buying dinner for the two fathers in that household; my father and my sister’s husband-to-be. I am taking the entire family out for steak. I rather enjoy spoiling people, yet I’m not so thrilled to be thanked for it, which makes me glad my father’s other gifts (two new expensive fishing rod’n'reels AND a new pocket watch to replace two that were lost in a move) are arriving by mail while I won’t be there. I can handle a phone call, but not a one-on-one hug’n'cry. That’s not my dad, at least to me. He’s supposed to be the tough strong one who never cries, never shows love. I guess it’s a curse of getting older and realizing his EXACT middle child of 7 is all grown up and has moved off. I don’t know, really.

But, if you haven’t noticed, he’s very prideful. Yes, that is a sin and a very dangerous thing, but it’s also something I’ve inheirited. My dad has survived a lot of heartache a trouble in his life, but he’s also caused a lot in mine. It’s a toss up on how I really feel about himm. But what it really comes down to is this: he’s my father. And for that I wish him a Happy Father’s Day.

And to the rest of you father’s out there: Same to you. May those of you who don’t have children, one day know the joy of a baby’s cooing giggle.

Men all over the world have perfected their choice of torture for centuries. Millenia actually. It’s amazing how well one man can be speciallized in one field.

Big Dick, I saw your comment. Let me say this: Big Ed has already taken care of my "lies"….

You see, Big Ed has a torture chamber. It is called the bedroom. The main torture device is the plywood under the matress; it has four ropes attached. I’ll give you three guesses what the ropes hold, but you only need one. But so far, he hasn’t ever tied my ankles. Mostly because I politely told him that it would most likely be endangering me to self-inflicted injuries.

Well, tonight I was sitting and filing down my orks when Big Ed came up to me with an evil glint in his eyes. About ten minutes later I was obeying orders not to cum as I rode him. The fact that I managed not to when I could’ve is surprising all on its own. After negotiating through gritted teeth, I was allowed to cum and then told that I would have to clean him up before being tied down…tonight he was going to work me over until I either couldn’t take it or passed out.

I’ve come close to passing out before, but only twice. Once while I was still having issues with my medication (heart issues) and that was considered a bad thing, and the other when I saw the world through a cloudy haze for the duration of my orgasm.

This time, however, it was like nothing else. After roughly 40minutes, I couldn’t stand it! It felt so great and wonderful and *ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*! Might I even mention that I saw purple? Not just any purple, mind you, but a glittery bright purple. Big Ed is thrilled about that.

After the pleasurable torture was complete, Big Ed fulfilled his promise to me: he went to get me my Braum’s Frozen Yogurt. And would you believe he was going to leave me tied up and buzzing while he left the apartment?!?!?!?! THAT is torture! And as he locked the door and left, all 10 of the men that live in the apartment across the way, stood and saluted their beer as he passed.

Ok, so it was more like 2:40 in the morning, but it’s the same concept.

See, for a kitten like me, we thrive on "treats", or simply put, a nice hot mouthful (or two) of fresh cum. Usually it is allowed me before bed or just when I get home from work — ya know, to help me relax.

Well, lately it’s been postponed until the next day. And then the next day. Damn thing called "life" getting in the way. Psshhh! Like I’ll stand for that for very long!

Turns out, it’s been OVER a week since my last bedtime treat…A WEEK! That was finally remedied Wednesday. And again last night.

Er…almost again last night.

Almost? Can you explain? Why yes, I can. See, there’s this thing called a cock. It is best when nice and stiff and rock hard. However, in the unfortunate event that it is bent while in this state, it is apparently extremely painful for the male attached. I know this. I do not do it on purpose. I happen to thrash about when I orgasm. I know this because I’ve been told a million times what I do and I unintentionally cause injury while doing so. Yesterday afternoon is testiment to that. Yes, each time it happens I feel like the worst person in the world.

He was in so much pain that I let him take a nap. Ya know, to get his mind off the pain. While he was out, I cooked dinner and cleaned a little (the blog changes were done before he got home from work). Woke him up and we ate. No big deal. The dull throbbing ache was livable.

I then drag myself to bed resigned to no getting a treat or any more fun for the night. No big deal, there’s always tomorrow. Who knew that ‘tomorrow’ would end up being almost three hours into the new day?

I don’t know how, but I was awoken around 2:40 in the morning to a smiling and heavy breathing Big Ed. Turns out, he’d been inexplicably rock hard since about one in the morning. It was bad enough that he couldn’t sleep and needed it to disappear. *smiles* Of course I protested; with every moan escaping his lips, my body tightened — I wanted so badly for him to be inside me. Well, I got my wish, partly. I got his nice hard cock deep in my throat as it pumped all that hot warm cum into me. A wonderful mid-night snack!

Would you believe me if I said that he’s the cuddling type? He sighed and then was frantic over it still being more than half hard (*sarcasticly*: the poor dear). He’s one of those that pulls you to him after sex or a really good orgasm. And he did. He was a little caught up on it still being painfully hard. Well, soft tender strokes and it slowly lays down, like a baby it sometimes needs reassuring strokes. I think he was asleep faster than I was, which is pretty damn fast when I’ve just had a treat….

Somebody Help Me
I can’t sleep.
You’re not supposed to be here,
But you won’t leave my mind.
It’s like withdrawal from a drug;
I survive awhile just fine,
But it gets worse with each passing day.
What can I do to break this hold on me?
It’s not right for these thoughts to remain,
Memories of your skin hard and smooth and close,
Painfully claw my nerves,
Yet they’d kill to be given into.
I can’t keep up this facade,
But I can’t keep pushing them away.

Pride is an issue with me;
Admitting something is wrong,
Admitting a failure,
Breaking down and crying,
Nothing short of eternal pain could produce these lines from my lips.
Think of that as I fall on my knees and beg,
Beg for anyone, someone, to help me.
Help me push you from my heart,
Rid my mind of these haunting images.
You have no right to linger,
My defenses are failing,
I’m weaker than ever;
Somebody help me.

Emotional Chord:
Faith Hill - Let Me Let Go

Let’s go back a few weekends, shall we? I just got my film developed (*gasp* FILM!?!?!) of the fun zoo weekend and Mother’s Day. The zoo was two weekends ago? It doesn’t really matter, because I HAVE PICTURES!

Now, in all fairness, Big Ed doesn’t like his photos shown….so I will show him and me together and then his leg.

Yea, you heard right, now pay attention to the tale!

The Zoo
We went out and about that morning. I felt like shit (damn car sickness…) by the time we finished hunting down yard sales and garage sales and estate sales, but was determined not to ruin our plan — to see the poor innocent caged aminals in the poor recreated outdoor environments at the local animal prison zoo. Big Ed claims he’s all "look at the poor big kitty in the tiny yard" kinda sympathetic and whatnot…claims his exwife refused to take him back to the zoo because of it…. Let me say, I heard not much of that kind of words spewing from his mouth…. Kind of a let down, really…

We got there around one in the afternoon. Walked a LOT. The fresh air rid me of my car sickness (in all honesty, I had thought I’d outgrown it…damn), but my legs were still rather weak and my feet began aching after awhile.

We walked up and down, down and up. The Fort Worth Zoo has this thing going through July 9th…DinoRoars…Robotic dinosaurs hidden among the animals….Figured I’d let LittleOne take pictures of those when she goes later this month, but it was kinda cool (a scavenger hunt for kids–to get them to come to the zoo and see the animals)…

We saw one of my favorites, the zebra. Then we saw my old highschool mascot, the ram. And we also passed by the most laid back dudes ever, the kangaroos!

Had a few pictures of us thrown in there, but none too pretty; it was hot, we were sweaty, and Big Ed just doesn’t like his looks (some bullshit about being too overweight….) so none of those are coming from the zoo. Maybe later

Mother’s Day
We spent Mother’s Day with my family. Partially because his was out of town, partially because I wanted my boyfriend with me (although my family doesn’t know he’s my boyfriend), and partially because it was a fish fry — you just can’t pass up a fish fry!

Before we arrived, my mom told me about a conversation between my brother and my dad:
brother: "So who all is coming today?"
dad: "Your sister and her boyfriend, your uncle and his boys, your grandmother, and Kitten and her….and her….and Big Ed"

*giggle*

So while there, Big Ed met Savannah. I think she likes him, don’t you?

Anyway, this isn’t from mother’s day, but it’s the same outfit I wore…It’s my HNT for this week, from this past weekend at our cookout
Don’t we look good?

I was once told by my oldest sister that out of all the seven of us children, she thought I would be the most likely to elope. At the time, I was dating C. I couldn’t see that happening, at least not any time soon. I put the thought out of my head. What a crazy notion anyway, right?

Then last night Big Ed and I are watching Ocean’s 12. There’s a wedding scene, rehearsal dinner I think. Big Ed turned and looked at me and said "you know that I never planned on getting married again, so if it comes to it, we’re eloping."

…..excuse me?

That is still a long way off, not in the near future, but, like he said, "if it comes to it", you can bet that I will have my wedding and he will just have to suffer through it. No one will deprive the deprived one of her big day. Absofuckinglutely no one.

So I went to the cardiologist yesterday….

It was a 6wk blood pressure checkup because I’d been to the ER with massively high blood pressure.

The checkup was a grand total of…

1hr of waking up/showering (6am - 7am)
4hrs of driving there (7am - 11am)
2hrs of wasting time at Wal*Mart and eating Jack in the Box (11am - 1pm)
1hr of checking in, seeing doc, and getting a healthy call (1pm - 2pm)
4hrs of driving back (2pm - 6pm)
…..total of 12hrs. Fun filled day, no?
(arrived home at 6pm, ate dinner, fought sleep, had passionate sex, and fell asleep at 9pm)

LittleOne went with me. She’s cute. And so many times she was mistaken for my daughter. *blink*blink*

She talked me into stopping and picking up as many turtles as we could find on our way home; which, judging by the millions on our way up there, should have been more. We found a total of three, two with shells punctured and dead (well, one had intestines spewing everywhere) and one keeper. Why pick up a turtle when she’s recently gotten a puppy? ‘Cuz Big Ed’s momma has a turtle collection and turtle farm in her back yard; it was a mother’s day gift from me

Anyway, long day just to hear these words (paraphrasing as i can remember them):
….."Your heart is on its way back to being completely healthy and strong and beating normally….You don’t have to take the half-pills anymore, come off them at your own pace….And I’ll see you in six months for a checkup"……

All I really have to do is watch my blood pressure, which can spike easily due to the birth control pills — the only pills I have to take now!!!!

I’m as drug free as I can be right now and LOVING IT!!!!!!

…celebration party Saturday. The 20th, that is; this Saturday is mine and Big Ed’s. (wink*wink)….

Mickey recently made a post about "that stupid smile"…You know the one…I needn’t explain it…riiiiight?

Well, last night, I, too, had that smile plastered to my face. I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve felt it creep across my face, which is a baaad thing.

I finally went on an out of state trip by myself. Took an overnight trip to my uncles so I could get up with the crack’o'dawn and see an Indian doc about a med refill. Then drove the insane four hours back and made it to work juuuust before noon yesterday. In total, that’s eight hours of thinking. Usually that’s a baaaaaaad thing. But this time, it was a great insight into myself and I realized a few things.

First, I realized I’m really not all that clean when left to myself for long periods of driving. I had fried chicken chunks glued to each other (held together by their bbq sauce) and stuffed in the weirdest places in the car. My cds make great floor decor, too. And I had a half eaten gas station deli sandwich cooked in its plastic wrap and styrofoam container as a passenger (minus seatbelt). I think I ended with four styrofoam cups, lids, straws, and various levels of their original contents as well. I blame two of those on my sister; she allowed me to leave her place without precleaning my car.

Second, my road rage isn’t all that bad. It seems to disappear after I leave the big city and heavy traffic. On the small backroads and tiny highways of Oklahoma, I actually had to force myself to drive UP TO the speed limit — I’m big on scenery and I enjoy looking, and this one actualy saved my life. How? If I had been going my usual ten over the limit, I would never have seen that doe prance out in front of me. I would have hit her head on and my car would be in shambles and I would propably not be here….

Speaking of animals, small sidetrack for a sec….
I saw, for the first time, a dead BOAR on the side of the road. I tried to get a picture of him on my return trip, but it was just before 7am and the sun played tricks with everything and he kept coming out like a black blob on grey grass in a deep ditch. About a mile west of him was a dead doe, NOT the same doe that gracefully pranced in front of me on highway 9.

Third, I realized that I have nothing to be sad about. I am living a rather enjoyable life and regret nothing and miss nothing. Not even C. My aunt inquired about him, and I told her when we broke up and she commented we were together quite a long time, so I told her exactly how long…She said I must feel terrible about that because it was such a long time, and to be honest, I couldn’t even feign sadness!

The long drive also made me realize that I’m more in love with Big Ed than I want to believe. I mean, hell, it’s not yet even four even months! I’m quite practically head over heels and thinking about babies and marriage! ‘Course everyone around me isn’t helping, but that’s another post entirely.

It’s because of that last thought that helped bring that smile to my face last night. I was dead tired when I came home from work (oh, a rant here, but next post..or so..), but I wanted to fight it. And ya know what? I’m glad I did. I was tired, but I was even more so a horny little kitten.

Mickey wrote "and Im smiling for no reason now. Hehehehehe…..I’m such a dork." I believe her. I’ve often told her that. It’s the curse of "that stupid smile". I even woke up with that smile. Refused to leave the bed to start my day. I am a dork.

Monday Blogger refused to publish or update. I sent an email to a few of you telling you to look at Kitten’s Mewlings. Obviously Blogger is better and allowing me to post, so you don’t have to look now, but just in case you ever think it’s been too long since my last post, everything is simulposted there; look for an update, mehbeh.

And unless anything crops up unexpectantly, I will not be blogging the next two and a half weeks; I’ve got work, multiple doctor appointments, and finals. Weeeee!

(anyone wanna do my research paper for me? It’s over the Druids and Stonehenge…)

Y’all know I enjoy sex and all it has to offer, and that I am one of those who pours her heart into a kiss, but y’all don’t know my insecurities. Maybe y’all do and I just never realized it. Who knows. Here’s an open wound that’s slowly beginning to heal. If I had my way, y’all wouldn’t be able to comment on this one, but a part of me feels y’all should. Conflicted me.

Throughout my relationship with C, I was constantly told that I was "no good in bed" and I "don’t do enough." Tough me eventually began to believe it and felt I couldn’t please him. It shattered me to think that I was with a man I couldn’t please. I did everything I could think of to tell myself that he was wrong and that he was only saying it when he was upset, and that he didn’t really mean it. The more we fought, the more it was shoved down my throat, the more I began to believe it.

He enjoys bjs, especially while he’s sitting on the couch with me laying over as if I were sleeping on his lap; sideways sensations I guess. That was the only way I ever got him off while going down on him, and out of three and a half years, only twice. Sure, he got off almost every time I went down on him, but only twice it was me from start to finish, none of his own hand stroking at the end. This only added to my belief that I couldn’t please him.

When I had finally felt that he and I could no longer be together, I got up the courage and ended it. I told him how I felt and received not one apology. Boost the belief some more.

When I met Big Ed I was a sad sight, but I hid it well. We had fooled around before we finally made it "all the way." I think he was a little startled that I was more willing to please him than demand he please me — in fact, I was shy about letting him please me because I wasn’t used to it; C wasn’t one to give often. Big Ed took it upon himself as a challenge, I believe, to coax me out of that shell.

I’m still rather insecure about a lot of things, I won’t deny that. It hurt so much this morning to realize all this. I woke up with my alarm at 5:55, and lay in bed for a full twenty minutes before I decided to get up because I was quite uncomfortable laying next to Big Ed and thinking about all this. Insecure me is a scaredy cat, and though I tell him everything, there are some things I’d rather not throw at him first thing in the morning.

Big Ed’s rather calm about all of this. He’s sweet and gentle and strokes my ego when I get to feeling like this. I know C wasn’t worth the effort now, but a few months ago, he was all I had. Perfect setup for heartbreak, no? Yesh, I have been with another besides Big Ed, and he stroked my ego as well, but he and I never would have worked out; maybe for a while, but eventually he would have tired of me. That was painfully obvious. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t the only reason I’m with Big Ed! No, it’s just one of many. He makes me less insecure and makes me feel safe.