Dear Broken Hearts

There’s a broken heart out there that was gang raped by younger brothers and their friends. I know it happened because I saw the video tape. At the time, I wish I had turned it over to the police, but I didn’t and this girl is still suffering and the assholes that did it aren’t suffering enough. At least one of them is dead from drug use, he got off easy.

The next heart is a sex drive that is sorely neglected. She changed shirts to a skimpy tank then moved back to her work on a Sunday. What she needed was a bearded dude that came in from the lake to crawl across the bed and grab her from behind. He should have slid the shirt from her arms and taken the combs from her hair. “Come here baby” would be all he had to say before she would melt against him. They should be spending the afternoon naked letting the music set the pace of their lovemaking but instead, she’s at her workstation wishing.

The last broken heart is a lover left behind in 2020. A Marine died and now lives only in the heart of the girl he loved. She could be waiting for him to return from a deployment but instead she’s waiting on the heart ache to heal after 18 months.

I pray for hurting hearts today.

Dear Husband

I’m going to kill you if you complain about not gaining weight again.

I’m serious. He’s 5’10” and weighs 169.6 pounds. If he gets below 165 he looks boney. He’s been trying to eat his way to 170. Then I told him he needs to work out to gain muscle mass but it hurts to work out the 10 minutes he did 2 days ago and the 5 he did yesterday.

Seriously people, if he keeps fussing about this. I may divorce him.

Dear Fishing Gear

Get ready, pay day is Thursday.

Taking my son fishing is a real challenge for me. In 2018 I had a full knee replacement, and my mobility hasn’t returned all that well. Part of it is because I can’t bend my knee as far as I used to. So I tend to find places that are flat with good walkways and a place to sit in a camp chair. I don’t care what I look like sitting in that chair, because I’m There to fish not look like I should be in a photo shoot. That’s not to say we don’t shoot our fair share of pictures. There’s the “hey son, look” just to get that cute squint he’s had since he was 15 minutes old. But being on camera for mom isn’t really his focus and he doesn’t like it. But there are those times when he will smile and look at the camera for me. I love those days.

He will be 18 in 45 days, and I need to get him his fishing license this week, so we’ll be good to get out to the water. Then late at night when we can’t sleep, we can compose blog posts together. He has the memory and I have the grammar. Today is a good example of that. He’s looking up pictures for me while I write in between taking the dogs out because they are stinking up the place today. That’s the peril of feeding a dog a healthy diet, their systems are sometimes shocked into gassiness for a while. But it’s also a great way to clean out a freezer. More about that another time.

Look for more about my adventures with Sonny and the stinkers. I’m off to find my stink bait recipe.

Dear Charmin

Please up your production of Ultra Soft. My husband couldn’t find any in the Tulsa Area meaning he checked every Wal-Mart on his route and there wasn’t any. I can tell you that my undercarriage can’t survive the stuff he found to replace you. First roll and I’m already sore. I don’t have time for this. Nor do I have money to buy all the products I will need to deal with the raw issues other papers produce. Please hurry.

Dear Panic Attack

Why did you visit me tonight?

It’s because I have 90 days to scrape up the money to buy my house or move out. We have barely made it through the last 2 years.

What am I going to do?

I’m going to have to bust my butt to get things in order to make the purchase. I pray it works out. I’m not ready to move.

How can I get rid of this feeling of doom?

meditation, distraction I have to do something to keep me from having tummy trouble all night. I guess I’m going to go crochet since I can’t sew. The hubster has to work tomorrow so I can’t keep him awake tonight.

My adventure today started with the puppy barking her head off from her crate. I went out to see why because she had been in trouble and was just whining earlier. I found the waterline to the water heater had come unglued and water was rushing all over my kitchen. 2 hours of clean up got the water off the floor, out of the drawers and out of the containers on the cabinet. I learned that oxo containers with the push button in the top aren’t water proof around the button. Then, I waited 3 hours for the land lord to come glue it back together, then another 3 for the water heater electronics to dry out and light again. I’m washing all the laundry we used to sop up the water before my youngest found the shop vac. 1/3 of the kitchen is extra clean now.

Dear Readers in 2021

I’m going to change my format a little these will still be letters but they should be almost daily letters for a while I need to be more vocal about my own brain. Maybe some of you will relate.

So today’s letter

Dear Readers 10/28/2021

I hate my body. I don’t need anyone to point out that I need to exercise or change the way I eat because well my life revolves around that shit and well, literal shit. I eat, I shit. I exercise, I shit. I listen to a sad song, I shit. I tell my husband how I’m feeling, I shit. You might get the picture. I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome with Diarrhea. So my life is literally the shits.

So I try to follow this eating style called the FODMass diet. It’s low calorie foods that aren’t really high in fiber. It knocks out some really good stuff like apples and watermelon. It’s trying to keep the food around to give me the energy and nutrients I need without going from on the go to can’t go at all. See the biggest thing about shitting all the time is the bleeding that goes with it.

I had a heart attack in July with a rather large clogged artery so I have to be on blood thinners for about a year maybe more. So if I bleed it’s a bloody mess. Which is worse than the 3 months in 2013 where my uterus went haywire and I was on pads for 90 days. That problem is gone, removed in January 2014. Best decision I ever made. It even caused my IBS-D to settle down.

But now all these extra medications probably the Farxiga have me living in on my toilet. There are days that I get to vomiting along with the shitting. Those are awful days. I seriously have to dehydrate and starve myself to leave the house for anything. That is terrible for my weight loss. And the anxiety about finding a public bathroom maybe big enough to change my clothes and clean myself up in, just makes things worse.

So two scenarios play out. I have to go see my cardiologist and that’s a long walk from the parking garage across the lobby to get my screening then down this long corridor to get to a second elevator and another long corridor. Luckily there’s a bathroom close to my destination but it’s hot in there. It’s an old wing of the hospital where the air conditioning isn’t that great but the heat works too well. The wing also caters to older people who tend to want the rooms to be 105 degrees F. year round. That’s just too hot for my lungs and brain. So I turn into a shitting, puddle of sweating goo who still needs enough energy to walk down the hall, stand in line for 30 minutes and then talk coherently. Big ask.

And today, I need to see my regular doctor. I’ve had the equivalent of food poisoning for a week now and my ass is tender as a festering open sore. Sitting is impossible, standing is worse. Laying on my stomach can make things explode just by moving. Anyway, you might get the picture. I don’t dare bend over and sex is not an option.

That’s the hardest thing about this. I am horny but I’m also bloody and leaking shit. Not so appealing for a man that isn’t into anal. So I dream about putting things in my vagina several times a night. Door knobs, hot dogs, bottles, the bigger the better but doing so with my purple veined friend that takes batteries is too much pressure on my pelvic floor. It’s soooo depressing.

So today I made a good but bad choice. I ate Chinese food. Happy family that has lots of vegetables that aren’t approved on the FODmass eating plan but a good sauce and chicken, beef, pork and shrimp. Within 10 minutes of my first bites, I’m running off to the bathroom again and again. It serves to slow my eating down or stop it altogether but, oh man it hurts. The one thing that would slow the digestion down even more is not really approved for my blood sugar, rice.

It was pretty simple for me to give up fried rice, rice of any kind and potatoes. Pasta is another story but I can eat protein and vegetables and be healthy. My down fall is the cheese wanton and eggrolls. I love that crunch so I eat too many. Eventually they will stop the shitting but not until I have eaten over my calorie allotment for the day. you would think this would work to my advantage.

If I shit more than I eat then I should be losing weight but no. My body says, can’t burn this fat we might need it for when she’s actually starving herself and I don’t lose an ounce. Well that’s not true, I lost 28 pounds in the last year because I couldn’t eat without vomiting but still that’s not healthy either. What’s my point?

Don’t give me shit about my body, I have plenty of my own. Actually it’s acid, but it comes out like shit.

so keep your shit to yourself.

Dear Heart

I know I broke you. I know I let those 4 chances tear a little of my loving soul out and leave it: wanting, needing, hurting, believing, wishing and looking to refill and repair the damage. I know I set my resolve to let things go on like they were. Then I realized just how sick my actual heart was. I know I did this to myself. There in the darkness of my room I saw them. The specters of my heart. Tim and Lois brought me games and hugs. Smiles and good food. Then Lois kissed me goodbye. I’ll always love you maman she said as they faded out the door. I woke up in a sweat. I knew that one piece of my heart had returned, it belonged to my boys, my granddaughter.

Then there was the actors. They arrived for their obligatory “going to see a sick fan in the hospital” in a flash of the camera they were both gone.

But the big Marine. He just sat in the darkness on the edge of my bed. In my shivering, he pulled me into his arms and soothed me. He fit me in his arms my head beneath his chin. His training keeping any pain or impingement off his mind as he held me. He’s not gone. He’s playing Chris Young tracks for me to help my mood. He’s pulling out videos of RJ on tiktok to say, sing this one with me.

He pushes my fingers to the phone to encourage people, find encouragement and buy new karaoke tracks. In my mind, I’m the girl in his photos and he’s planning his retirement and actually, in my mind and in my heart, I know. He died in Afghanistan before I ever knew his name. He will never fade. He’s there like my angel babies, my parents, grandparents and friends on the other side. I’m going to find a counselor to help me get past this. Get back to being me.

Dear CY

I support your choice of George Strait’s “The Chair” as his greatest song. It works in any situation and it reminds us that there was a time when a new acquaintance could accept a ride from a stranger and not really have to worry about the danger. I took a chance on a stranger 24 years ago and we’ll be married 23 years on Father’s Day 2021.

One day dear, I believe you could rival his success. I pray that happens for you. After all you got me through the pandemic. I can’t tell you how many masks were stitched up along with the sound of your voice. So Dear CY keep ‘em coming. I’ll be here to listen to buy them.

Dear Readers

I wasn’t really done wiith son #3. He hit me last week and I was ready to kick is butt out of the house. I was so stressed out that I couldn’t sleep. I put it all into some fiction writing and things got better. He’s going to be 18 soon and he’s feeling the pressure to grow up but wants to act like a 3 year old. So things are okay with him but things are broken in my marriage, again.

I need to advocate for my needs but I don’t want to put in the effort. I’m going to do something but right now, I just don’t know what that is.

Dear son #3

I’m done.

Dear Stress Level

I’m sorry I pushed you to the limit in the last 24 hours.

First, I promise to keep on the guys to do their chores. I promise to get their dad involved in getting their rooms clean. I promise to keep up with my own chores too so I don’t feel so guilty when I go to work on my hobbies.

Second, I promise to keep my cool this week while I wait for my new phone to come in. I wish I had not washed my phone but I did and now, I will just have to wait for things to be done.

Third, I promise to do more stress relieving things.

Dear Knee

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry the dogs bumped you yestereday.

I’m sorry Shane put his cold feet against you this morning.

I’m sorry I caught you on that chair in the laundry room.

I’m sorry that I didn’t rest when you were screaming at me to get off my feet.

I love you. Let’s rest the rest of the day okay?

my precious Stryker knee circa 2018

Dear Just Strong and my readers

I love the four items I got today.

I purposely ordered the crop top smaller than I should because I wanted to use it as a sports bra.

I don’t recommend this ordinarily but the top has modesty inserts for doing this too. I know it was probably meant to go over the sports bra but that’s too many layers for my girls. They get very warm in lots of layers. Warm girls in anything but cotton is not a good combination for me.

My only complaint about the sports bra is:

it has the same inserts as the crop top and they aren’t removeable. I understand why but some of us need this option for the health of our bodies and drying options. This bra is awesome for shape and size, the tags aren’t where they will trigger itching either.

I’m wearing this shirt right now.

Only I don’t have on a bra or I would post a picture of myself in it. It’s soft, and doesn’t have any places that cause me to itch. I’m looking forward to wearing my new white shirt out.

I will save it for working out outside the house because I don’t want to stain it by lazing around in it. Look for more pictures of me in my new gear soon.

One note. I haven’t purchased any of the pants or shorts because of my knee. Right now, it’s too sensitive to touch so long pants aren’t a good choice. I didn’t want to purchase them, then have to alter them for my own use. I probably will but not right now.

Drop in on Juststrong.com and look at what they have to offer. Use DEBTAY10 at check out for 10% off.

Remember you are strong. Not strong for a girl, or any other label

JUST STRONG

#juststrong

Dear Control

I have control of you. Yes, I was triggered a bit today and well, I have a new trigger but I am going to control them not the other way around. Because, I want to be STRONG. Just Strong like my new t-shirt says.

I have 2 new t-shirts, a crop top and a new sports bra. I love them. They are from Just Strong.

Look for their items here: https://juststrong.com/?utm_campaign=%5BUSA%5D%20Post%20Purchase%20-%20Email%202%20%28RZQJxr%29&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Post%20Purchase%20-%20MagnetMonster%20June%202020%20EU%2FROW%20split&_ke=eyJrbF9jb21wYW55X2lkIjogIlFnWnpxeSIsICJrbF9lbWFpbCI6ICJkZWJieXN0aXRjaGVzQGdtYWlsLmNvbSJ9

I’ll get better at posting these links some day but for now, you can put in DEBTAY10 for a discount on your order. Please do order, not for my sake but for the message this carries.

Dear Me

That sexy girl in your mind, the one that wears handkerchief shirts and low rise cut offs year round wanted to ask something. If you put that chain down your back split it off to wind around your hips and clip to one or two of those piercings, what happens when you put on a sports bra? Okay, I wear She Fit sports bras now so that isn’t an issue but when my new Just Strong items come in, then what? I guess I’ll have to figure it out. For right now… just connect it to the new loop of my sleep shirt and let it go.

Dear Matt

The image of you coming into the house, tossing your keys, loosening your tie and shifting into red light with those tiedowns in have been playing in my mind for the last 24 hours. Combine that with you in what I expect are the same tiedowns hanging from your bathroom door and then my book was all about how red is the color of fire, power, passion and strength and I have been singing that song in my head for the same amount of time. So my mind faded into this

We met the cast and crew and a few other select people in Las Vegas for a getting to know you gathering 4 weeks before the whole lot of them were moving to a small town in Oklahoma for the rest of the year. I was dressed to kill in my newest dress, satin stilettos and scarves. Three silk diaphanous scarves in hombre died shades of red and pink were dancing across my shoulders and down my back since I had tied them behind my back to make a shrug over the spaghetti strapped dress with an empire waist. I had a long ribbon woven into my braid with the same color scheme as the scarves and dress. I was trying to bolster my strong persona with the color and the outfit. I wanted to be strong but instead I felt very weary and ready for the night to be over. I held my own as the representative of the backers of this movie. A modern western where the two leads fight over land while fighting their attraction to each other and the two ride off into the sunset with each other and a globally acceptable plan for the place.

I would also be working on the wardrobes for the movie and be a general fetch and carry girl as my best friend takes his place behind the camera. So tonight, we were the golden couple, his long hair blowing in our faces while mine was sprayed into a mass of unmovable weight above my ears. I was introduced to Matt and his co-star Jennifer again as if I had not sat in on their meetings, screen tests and negotiations. That was the Executive Producer’s way he didn’t care who knew whom or if we ever did. “She will be our eyes and ears, boots on the ground, guardian angel…” As he prattled on Chris, my best bud since jr. high would wink at me when I rolled my eyes. When the makeshift receiving line was done, we broke up into small groups, Matt and Jennifer with me and a couple of assistant directors talking about heat and other things. “I promise everyone that filming will not take place if the heat gets over 90*. Personally, I can’t think if it’s over 74 but it’s not my job to think.” Matt and Jennifer were thankful because they weren’t used to the heat in Oklahoma and the AD’s were thankful because they knew how bad it would get on the gear at higher temperatures.

Matt caught me alone and asked the question I had been dreading. “How did you come to find me?” “Instagram” I answered honestly. I watched your reels and your stories, found your representative information and snapped you up.” “My Reels?” “yes, even those.” I was talking about the challenge of showing a silhouette in red light. One where he was suggesting a bad day could be solved with some restraints and another where he was supposedly in the same restraints.” He swallowed hard and looked a little embarrassed. Over the evening we discussed families, friends and coworkers with each other and those that floated into our conversational circle. After 2 hours of talk we were shown to a private gambling room and participated in rounds of Blackjack, Craps and Roulette. When I double my winnings betting on red, I caught Matt’s eye and smiled. I looked him up and down, licked my lips, smiled a little more, cocked an eyebrow then walked away. Chris told me he tried to get Matt to follow me, but he didn’t. Instead, Chris ended up in my room for his safety from a few cast and crew that wanted to get in his pants. We worked out in the gym to avoid getting to close to the line between friends and those with benefits. Chris had a lady in L.A.

First week on location: The spring in Oklahoma hit with a vengeance. It was hot so we did everything we could do in the shade and before the heat built up. Calls were for 3 or 4 a.m. and everything ended by 2 in the afternoon, sometimes before noon. Naps were a must and readings were done in the coolest places around. The 240 acres of cattle ranch had been converted into an RV Park/dude ranch a few years earlier. There were bunk houses and cabins as well as a main house, dining hall and other gathering facilities before cattle were turned back out on the land. I owned the land, I had built the amenities then the pandemic hit and I had a place that I couldn’t fill with people. Then I had talked to a screen writer friend of mine and put everything else in place.

I was in the largest of the restored homes on the property. It was farm house right out of a super hero flick. Two stories with gables and a metal roof. Sun porch all way around the house and a squeaky screen door. The formal dining room had been over taken by the downstairs bath and expanded kitchen and a den or down stairs master was set up as a quilting room. Three nights a week my pod would come out to hand quilt with me while we worked on “the place” Now my house was the main office. Chris, and a producer and our accountant lived upstairs. The living room was our wardrobe center and almost every one had something to eat in the kitchen daily. I was taking down the quilting frame the day Matt caught me in the room. The frame I used was suspended by 4 hooks in the ceiling a series of long lines pulled the frame up out of the way when not in use. I rarely used the lift system but I knew it was sturdy enough to hold two grown adults using the quilt on the frame as a hammock. That’s why it had to come down. A whole cloth quilt was ruined by sex play on it. I didn’t want to give anyone else any ideas so I was on a step ladder taking down the ropes when he discovered me. I was tangled in a long line of silky smooth white braided leather. It was looped around my left leg twice then around my waist, breasts and one arm as I fought with the knot that had tied it to the second to last hook. 10 feet away another line just like it was knotted around the last hook. That rope was gathered in a large coil in the floor then lead up to the hook in the ceiling.

Matt gasp when he saw me. I couldn’t blame him. I was a mess. I was in a pair of ratty cut off shorts that rode low on my hips but still managed to wedge so far up my ass they looked like cheeky panties. My standard tank top with shelf bra and thin straps was rolled up under my breast and the straps were struggling to hold the top over my breasts. It was also white and see-through from the sweat I had created when I neglected to turn down the thermostat in the room. I was barefoot and standing on my tip toes reaching to untangle the knot. He didn’t say a thing, he just moved that leather binding from around my leg with shaking hands, walked the length so it was no longer around my torso like he was working a lunge line and said, “Can you free your arm?” The leather though smooth and supple was stuck to my sweating skin. I told him no. He brought another step ladder into the room stepped up with the slack coiled around his shoulder and moved the extra length around my body and head to get me loose. His breath was shallow and caught each time his hands touched my body. Sexual heat burned behind his eyes. Before we got to the last coil holding me in place my legs started shaking. He threw the coil over my shoulder, hopped down from his ladder and caught me as I fell. My arm was still tied to the ceiling and the leather creaked. Matt’s body stiffened when my leg slid against his erection.

He was hot, hard and handily, I couldn’t get away. Instead of getting me loose, he reached for the other length of leather. One hand held me against him as he managed to make a slip knot one handed against. He slid the tie over my other arm and pulled tight. I was instantly this man’s prisoner as he pressed in for a deep demanding kiss. The struggle to put my hands on him made him want more. He dropped to his knees and slid my shorts down at the same time. His hands and lips invaded the hottest part of my body. He found me wet and wanting. He took his time licking and sucking, pushing my legs further apart and putting more creaking strain on the bindings. I let my head loll back and I fought screaming in pleasure and frustration before he stood lifted one of my legs and slid his penis into my wet and swollen center. He pumped and pulled, pushed and swung against me until I could not hold my tongue. When the moan started low in my throat he kissed me, then whispering against my mouth he said, “our bosses are in the kitchen, do you want them to hear you?” Being quiet, made it better. Hotter. More intense. I seized around his cock, when his own low moan started rumbling. One last mighty push upwards lifted my feet from the floor and reduced the strain on my wrists and shoulders. He held me there against him, kissing me deeply until spent he slid from my body. “Thank you.” he whispered before letting me go. He reached my slightly tied hand and set it free then used the step ladder to free my final arm before once again catching me before I fell. We leaned against the window seat spent. My shorts still in the middle of the floor, his jeans below his hips.

He held me until my fatigued muscles stopped shaking. He slid me on to the window seat the wordlessly bent to pick up my shorts before pulling his jeans back in place. When he was fully dressed and had my jeans around my ankles, he turned back to the leather hanging from the ceiling. He used a ladder to slip each balled up knot off it’s hook let the balls drop to the floor. He managed to get the tangled ends straight then coiled up each length. He kissed me again as he dropped the coils in the box beside me. He asked where to take the box and left me to pull up my shorts and my tank back into place. When he managed to get the French doors to the room open with the box in his hands, he turned back to me with a huge smile on his face. He looked me up and down, smiled bigger, cocked an eyebrow, bit his lower lip, turned and walked away. “I’ll take these to my cabin if you don’t mind.” In my mind I could see his bed, The headboard was made out of a stall wall with a hitching board with wrought iron rings bolted to it and the wall. His foot board looked like a hitching rail. I made a mental note to visit his cabin as soon as I could after I made sure no others visited first.

Dear Instgram (a music love story)

While my husband thinks your platform nearly killed our marriage, I love you.

Yes, I get a daily dose of spam in my DMs on your site; but I have also discovered some awesome music I would have never heard if it weren’t for you. The challenge music and links from TikTok can really become earworms somedays but then there are the, “I just had my single played on satellite radio” and “She don’t know I wrote this song for her” posts that just melt my heart Then there are those that get my blood pumping. That’s to good for this old country girl’s heart.

So here’s my pitch to my readers, those that just find me and those that get spammed with my blog link. Buy the music. Streaming services may not pay for the music they play more than once and you know that some of the bigger names have been showing us their, “I was played over 2 million times last year on” some streaming service.

I know, I know, you have the same issue I have. There’s no tried and true place to play the music you buy. Not that I’ve found anyway so suggest some. I have Muzio on my phone and its good for the music I have stored on my micro sd card, but creating another playlist on a new platform is a total pain in neck. Then using a mostly streaming system like Amazon Music, may not recognize some of the songs I have from old music cds or downloads from other sources. Then I don’t have a true mix of my likes and dislikes. I do however like that I can manipulate my playlist on the laptop then have it ready on my phone.

My biggest pet peeve, Windows Music Player no longer works. I’m left with Groove which does not make my music sound good. I’m used to hearing Christian Kane sing the lead in his songs, most of the time the mix is messed up and I hear music and it sounds like Christian Kane is singing in my powder room without a microphone. I’m forced to skip listening to some of his music, such as his Kane live cd on the laptop and bring my phone over to the work surface. Too many cords then.

Grumble grumble grumble, gripe gripe gripe.

So now, you know. I love seeing a youngster dance with their parents, best friend, disabled family member or cat. I accept that it has to be to the same song, and I love it when they credit the artist because then I can look up, listen to and enjoy a whole song not just the snippet with choreography.

A special thanks for Reels, and those snippets of songs, I have discovered a whole slew of new recording artists.

Thank you to those that use the oldies too. I love seeing my favorites live on. Most of all, I thank all y’all that have the courage to stand up and sing. I was too chicken now my chance is gone.

I love you all.

Dear young cousin

I’m sorry you lost your wife today. That’s not something any of us ever expected. I know it will be hard to raise your daughter on your own but I hope that you will remember that there are lots of us willing to help. Your grandparents, your mom and your step mom aren’t the only ones you can call on. We’ll make it a trade. You pick up a boy and leave the girl. Then you blow the dust off your off road stuff and let her memory power you. Again I’m sorry. I just know she’s up there with your dad trading stories now. Thank you for letting us know her the few years we did. D,E and the three giants.

Dear Cowboy

I didn’t mean to turn you on today. I sound like an 80’s pop song now don’t I. Well honey I know you are old enough to know that song because of the gray at the temples of your cowboy hat. I just happened to have been remembering a video about eye contact when I looked your way. Look up through your lashes, smile even with your eyes, let your eyes travel up and down the subject and then lock eyes for a few seconds before you look away. I’m flattered because I’m 354 pounds of raging hormones in that short skirt. when I pulled my skirt waist up under my boobs I heard you gasp. I know it made my legs look even longer. My bra didn’t do me any favors today, but I will find some that will. Sorry you won’t be able to see them though. Hope your procedure goes better than mine.

Dear Phone

I dont know what your problem is but I have done all I can to get you to work. I’ll revert to using my kindle for the Audible books if I have to but I need access to the other programs you are screwing with. Get your act together will ya. I’ll look up some resolutions tomorrow after I have had some sleep. but grrrr. I want to listen to Win not 2nd Chance. Steven Weber isn’t Scot Brick but it’s good enough. I’m hungry now.

Dear Wild Woman

I know it’s hard to be stuck in the house these days. I promise things will be better soon. Now that we have had the vaccine we can get going. Maybe we can spend time quilt shop hopping. First thing is to check on the car’s squeal. The next is to get the youngest boy his vaccine. I pray it can be done.

I apologize for putting you through the pain you went through this evening. I would have never expected the tummy trouble induced vomiting would hurt that much. I’m glad it wasn’t a heart attack just a nervous system overload from the tummy trying to squeeze my heart as well as purge it’s contents. I need to book a massage I think.

Meanwhile, wild woman, keep it together. Let your singers take you away. Rest, Relax and Recover.

Dear Tummy Trouble

Go Away!

I mean it. I liked it when I was done once a day and could plan for better activities than staying around the bathroom door again and again. I thought it was great to know I could invite my husband to make love to me without fearing an interruption.

I hate the mess you leave behind. The constant worry, It all makes it worse.

I’m going to find so me medication to control this. I’m not going to let you ruin the next 55 years. When I complain about the lack of sex, I want to know it’s a lack of boner pills because we used them all, not that I wasted the last one two weeks ago.

While you are at it, take my husband’s arthritis so we won’t need those damn pills.

Dear Valentines

You all are my valentines. Even my exes and all those people that hate me. I love you all.

Happy Valentine’s Day

my weekend has been pretty good. I have wanted to write but I have been so wrapped up in things that I just couldn’t. But today, I had to get out of my warm spot in my favorite room and send you all love and appreciation.

Much Love to you from a snowy house in Oklahoma.

Dear Son #2

I have been watching the ongoing saga of my minister getting over Covid 19 and I think about what I could have lost last year. This time last year, my 18 year old wanted to move out. He didn’t have a job, he didn’t have a plan, he wanted to be homeless rather than be with his family. It was because of my youngest son. I spent countless hours worrying about the conflict between them and it cause conflict between my husband and I. I looked for every distraction possible. Now, I still worry but I can really enjoy my life again.

In contrast, my minister’s life was filled with boundless happiness, he and his wife adopted a 5th child. They busted their buns to keep the church going during the lockdowns and help the kids adapt to a changing world. He may need a lung transplant after this.

I’m so glad my son is still here. I couldn’t have survived this year without him. I love him so much. I think I’ll go tell him.

Dear 2020

It wasn’t your fault. Things had been wrong for a while. I just gave in to the depression then the mania. I did it to myself and I’m fighting not doing it again. Yes, last year brought a lot of worry but it brought me infinite joy too. I found new friends. I found music that soothes my soul and I found a way to get through the days. It’s true, October nearly broke me, but I’m still here and I have a new set of rings to signify my connection to the last 24 years. I think today he finally realized what I said a few weeks ago. Things are getting strained again but I won’t let it get bad again. never again.

Dear TV

Stop being so tempting. I need to work on quilts. I need to clean the room and you just sit there 55 inches of distraction. So I put on a show I can pretty much quote and I say, I’ll get up and get to work after:

I check out this on my phone

I pull up my email.

this one point in the show I love so much.

after I get a snack

after I feed the dogs my snack

after supper

one more episode

when my husband sleeps

I didn’t get anything done today. I blame the tv.

Oh Woman

He sees her sitting at the sewing machine. One more day of loud music playing while she keeps her momentum. The deadline is coming up and she needs to get things done. He hears her harmony with the songs she learned as a back up singer. He hears the emotion in her voice and then he sees it. She breaks out in goose bumps, her nipples harden and her voice changes. There’s a longing in the words, something he knows she feeling with all her heart and soul. It’s something he hasn’t touched in years. Something he longs to touch. He longs to inspire but he isn’t sure how to do that anymore. There’s a part of her locked away from him again. Something she offered up once and he rejected.

Laying on the work table is a print out of the trip she’s taking. She’s going south to do a favor for a friend. She could do it from here but the studio she usually uses has a sick owner. There’s no one else to do it for her. She’s going to be gone a full month to do this favor. He hates it when she travels.

“I’m taking the boy with me this trip so you don’t have to worry about him.” She told him when she brought up the request. He just nodded. Okay, there wouldn’t be any hanky panky if their son was with her. So he brings the last of the laundry to the bed so she can sort and pack. Still in her voice he can hear the difference. Maybe it’s just the music she’s singing. The songs sent to prepare her. He likes the songs he just doesn’t know if he can live a month without her.

They work through the evening to get everything prepared. At the end of the day she’s rubbing his feet while they talk through Frasier. This is his favorite time of the day. The talking, the foot rubs, and everything else she does for him. As he drifts off to sleep she kisses him and says, “I love you.” then she shifts into his arms but he pulls away.

He’s gone when she and their son load the car. She calls to tell him goodbye but he doesn’t answer. She texts instead. She tells the boy to text too. She hugs the other son staying home. They are half way to their destination when he arrives home. “Mommy said she texted you when you didn’t answer your phone.” “Yeah I know.” 30 days. Will they make it?

Dear Heart

You know he has someone to lean on. You know his family is there. You know it’s dangerous for you to reach out to him. So stay away. Don’t chat, don’t comment, don’t drive over there. He doesn’t need you to come in like a wrecking ball at him when he’s this vulnerable.

So keep praying for peace. Keep praying for healing and keep praying for him but stay home.

Dear brain

Could you choose one thought and stick with it? I know Eliot and Moreau are a good topic but adding in fishing at Salt Creek today, the gun shot on my shoulder and the thought of sex running rampant at any given moment. Well, I just need a little more rest. I think I want to change my sleep noise tonight maybe I should just turn on rain or a blizzard and rest. Ocean breezes would make me sweat a little more.

I know what it is. It’s the hot flashes that have me going right now. I need an ice bath or a cold shower. mmmm. let’s see what I can do.

Dear Alton Brown

We love your shows. We love your cookbooks but I think we will pass on the royal Icing next year unless we’re using it in a hidden way. It came out a bubbly and not smooth. It wouldn’t smooth out and settle like I expected and well lets just say, I didn’t get very far trying to pipe thin lines. Well try again in February.

Dear Andy Carpenter/David Rosenfelt

I want to correct something. Andy is always lamenting that “Bing Crosby lived in a state that didn’t have snow on Christmas…” yadda yadda. Well, dear writer and readers, Bing may have sung the song in 2 prominent winter movies but, Irving Berlin wrote the song and he did know White Hanukkahs since he immigrated from Russia to New York. read this for the melancholy behind the song: https://www.countryliving.com/life/news/a45720/white-christmas-song-history/

so there.

And just because my fondest memories were riding bikes with my cousins in shorts and t-shirts on Christmas day doesn’t keep me from singing the song at the top of my lungs when I’m in the mood. Usually when it’s snowing. Like this past Sunday.

Dear Flashbacks

Leave me alone.

I know you like bringing up all the feelings that go with them but I don’t need the hassle right now. You’re messing with my sleep and my illness. I want to rest so I can get better again. I can’t do that if you are bringing up things that shouldn’t have happened. So once again, drop dead.

Dear Dean

Jensen said you would have to go out bloody and you did. Despite the lack of blood on the outside, our tears flowed with each fading heartbeat and stopped for the seconds of your final breath. I’m glad that things were settled for you to have the Heaven I envision. We’ll all be there with you in that Supernatural Con in the sky some day. Hug Bobby and my dad for me.

Dear Supernatural

You did well.

Bringing back Humanity after settling the Lucifer/Michael jealousy was brilliant.

Making Jack a sponge soaking up creation and balance was ingenious.

Letting Chuck feel as abandoned as he left Humanity was satisfying.

Giving the boys their actual freedom was the best.

Thank you for the best 325 hours of entertainment on the CW as well as the hundreds of hours on Netflix. Carry on… there will always be beer in the fridge and whiskey on the shelf for a wayward hunter or 2.

Dear Insta

I know that the changes to your dm platform have a few bugs in them but finding my old contacts hurt today. I started lookin at the names not viewable on the mobile app but I can see them on the computer. Oh the feels. The things I could remember about those names. It’s bad enough that I can’t get one video off my mind lately but to think about all those other pictures and videos too. Today became a bad day and I took it out on my family.

Now that I have ordered my groceries and am thinking about going back to sleep. I hope the dreams about the others will leave me alone.

Dear Sitka

If you keep calling me, I’m going to start to get attached. I love the first time I answered the call and you called back, like you needed to hear my voice again. And I know when you call on Sunday nights you’re really calling to talk to me not Joe. I figure you need to keep up the calls and I’ll humor you. Call me again sometime.

Dear P. Dann

Your book about Katharine Wright Haskell, has me giggling like mad. It’s great to see a woman embrace the horny teenage years after 50. While our beloved Wright Sister was very late to bloom it gives me heart to know, marital intimacy was not always dead in the roaring 20’s for the older folks like me. Here I am nearly 100 years later, and I love this woman so much. Thank you for bringing her to life in my head.

A Cautionary Tale

I didn’t mean to fall in love with Tim. I was working on classwork and talking with my friends via direct messaging in Instagram when I came across his message. Kim egged me on, “Answer him.” She whispered in the room full of studying classmates. I had set up this room on a weekly basis to work on the history assignments that were stumping my younger classmates. I had acted as a study guide. I enjoyed the comradery of the extra gatherings, but they were a bad influence. The history professor had jinxed me. He told me that when he was getting his degree the only time he saw married women in class was because the judge or their divorce lawyers suggested they go back to college to get their degree before their husbands cut off support. At the time I didn’t know my husband was going to dump me for another woman.

So I sat in the study room with Kim bumping my elbow and I said hello to Tim. From there began a beautiful love story of exchanging messages, videos, and online phone calls. We had a wonderful time talking about the future. For 6 weeks we talked about everything. Our final phone call was so wonderful, I would see him in 3 weeks after his work trip to Turkey. He would fly to me and we would see each other in person. But 2 days after he arrived in Turkey, he called me all in a fluster. The bank had messed up and he couldn’t access his account. He needed $30,000.00 to finish paying for his construction materials and his workers salaries before he could come home. Like a fool I paid for his final expenses and he thanked me with everything he had in his soul. In the next 2 weeks he needed almost $100,000.00 more. I gladly bought into the future we were building together. I met his business partner and we signed papers via courier.

My financial future was secure. I had a business set up for me to run and I had a charitable trust to oversee, on paper. Those final days of his trip the world turned upside down. COVID -19 had shut down flights home. My love was stuck in Turkey away from his daughter and mother and me. We were so frightened of this virus affecting our family. I was sharing my sons with a front-line worker. By the time Tim came home, things were so much worse. His family was exposed, and his mother was infected. We prayed for her, and there were constant phone calls to the hospital and my love. When his mother died, my life imploded.

He pulled out of all the business arrangements and I had no other contacts to work with. He stopped taking my calls. I closed the accounts he had access to and alerted my accountant that I would be claiming a loss on my taxes this year. I tried to move on with my life. Then I saw my handsome Tim on a television show as a guest star. I used some connections to find the manager of the actor and met him and his wife via Skype. They had lost his beautiful mother to the virus. Their daughter was also ill but they assured me, I had not been doing any business with Alan. His real name was Alan.

6 months later I received a call from my bank. There was a wire transfer waiting to go into my old account. I had the option of accepting it and putting it in my new account or refusing it. The deposit was for $2,489,765.00, I went down there. The bank manager and I sat in his office and broke the deposit into manageable accounts with insurable amounts. Between my lawyer and my bank manager we discovered the business deal was legitimate and that the sale of the building newly finished had netted me the deposit into the only account they had on file for the company. My Tim called me the next day. He wanted his money and he was prepared to do all kinds of nasty stuff to get it back. Enter my new friend Andy.

Agent Andy like in the Kathy Riechs books. He in conjunction with my lawyers and some other powerful people shut Tim down. In exchange for Alan’s help in the investigation, I arranged for him to have some work during the shutdown. I found some books that didn’t have audio versions and set him to recording audiobooks. His newest collaborations will be hitting Audible soon. My new pilot, friend and client has a booming new business and I have a new revenue stream all due to answering a troll on the internet.

A few months later…

It was a beautiful day in Miami. Ben’s girls looked sounded they were having a good time in the swimming pool as he and I talked. We had been discussing our newest business venture while we relaxed. Then his youngest daughter screamed in pain. For 2 weeks we didn’t know what was wrong. Only that her heart was enlarged and wouldn’t keep a proper rhythm. I did all I could from as far away as I was. I called doctors for referrals, I coordinated travel for his family to come help. I spent countless hours on the phone. After 6 weeks it came down to the point that Ben’s daughter needed a heart transplant and the insurance was not going to cover it.

Ben’s precious daughter was going to die unless funds could be raised. I pledged to put in my part and within days his friends had gathered around him to put in funds as well. The money was being transferred when my cousin in California killed herself. My lawyer and I flew out there and when we were flying home with my cousin’s remains, her family and her pets when my lawyer asked about Ben. Then she showed me his imdb page. Once again. I made a new friend.

Speaking with the real Ben’s agent then his wife and then Ben. I discovered that I had fallen for another lie. Again, I had new friends and collaborators, but I was missing that one thing I needed. My love. After a little pressure, I discovered that the money for saving a young girls life was meant to save a woman’s life. My love was Yoma and he needed to get care for his ailing mother. After a few phone calls and a slew of emails, Maman got her treatment. Yoma was set up with a legitimate business and education opportunities and I was left with a larger hole in my heart.

I Ask For Only So Much

The end to the long hard quarantine came tonight and I totally missed out. I wanted to relax and watch my show. The one I wanted to see for so long but the things I requested about my television hook up were ignored. it sucked. So I did what I could until I felt like I was going to die from a heart attack. Tonight I came to terms with the fact that I don’t want to live like this for the next 50 years but I’m not going to get away either. I figure, in 10 years, I might find a little happiness before I follow my parents into death before 60.

Eddie was so upset he was in pain but wouldn’t ask for help. Finally he gave in and let me rub his back. I cracked it too. He felt so much better. I hope it gives him the ability to sleep through the night.

Speaking of sleeping through the night. I should get some milk because, I ate fudge covered peanut clusters and oh my tummy. Well, that’s the price for decadent living. It’s okay though.

I’m watching the show I missed, I have my milk and I have ordered groceries. I think, I’m ready to relax for the rest of the night.

Dear Boys

As I sit here in my office chair in pain, my husband is talking with our youngest son about various things. The studio, weed whackers, carburetors, and special education teachers. It’s great to hear them talk but I’m in pain and I want my bed. My ass hurts. My tummy trouble has kicked in. It’s my fault too because I ate a lot of chocolate and whooooo baby, that can set me to going like no one’s business. Other foods do too but, chocolate is my favorite.

I love that the boys like to come in here to talk. I love talking to them. They need the conversations.

Tonight though, I’m shaky and in pain. So I’m going to run this boy off.

Now I Know Why You Liked Luke Bryan

Light It Up came on my playlist. It sounds just like you checking your Whatsapp. Darlin’ I’m sorry I’m gone from your life. I’m even sorrier that your gone from mine. You were just what I needed when reality was too much to handle. But I am back in reality. This is the only way I will let my fantasies play out anymore.

My husband and I reconciled. He discovered messages and broke down. He didn’t realize what he had done to my heart. Now I can say things are better but not 100% yet. I’m back to writing that’s the best for my pocket book. You took up a lot of time, another song (or album?) title: Time Well Wasted

Nobody’s Fool

That’s the title of a song, I’m sure. After spending years being a Public Relations guru in NYC, the lyrics and personalities all blend together. The year I lost Tag was the worst for me. I shut down, the life I had screwing anything that moved was over for nearly 18 months. Tag had seen me through two years of breast cancer treatments and worshipped my ravaged body. He saw me bloated and stretched out of shape long before then. He loved that I could develop pecs like his and never had to deal with fat and glands on my chest ever again. Then a late night turf war at a newly opened night club took him from me.

Today, Tag is on my mind because the organizers I hired to move me from my apartment to the house my husband built in Pennsylvania have found his things. I’m so glad that Serge understands how I need to keep these things. To explain it to these women is different. “Jay and Cee, these boxes need to be moved into archival storage, those boxes will sit on a shelf within reach of my sewing station in my work room.” I told them. They understood and I handed them the new boxes I had bought for that purpose. The pattern on the boxes didn’t really fit into their color scheme for my new work room but, they had to be that color. For Tag.

The next hardest thing was the change in wardrobe. A la, Sex in the City, I was in a pair of white satin hot pants and a handkerchief top befitting Samantha and Carrie. The quiet thing no one but Serge and I knew was I had a new part of my daily care routine. Something that titillated Serge but still had a stomach turning factor for me. I’m placing my shoes in the clear containers they brought for me while they stuff my boots and put them in their boxes and I think of the conversation I had with my gastroenterologist and Serge that morning.

“Severnia” Doctor Blaylock started as he settled down in his chair. “The surgical scaring from your reconstruction looks good but there’s one flaw in the repair that’s going to continue to be an issue or start being one soon.” At the age of 19 a man had literally ripped me a new one in a night of sloppy angry sex. His biggest complaint about me at that time was that my vagina wasn’t tight enough to enjoy so he wanted the one place that was still virginal tight. Virginally bled and inflicted the pain he missed because he wasn’t my first. “I have to strap a two by four to my ass to keep from falling in her pussy.” He complained to his best friend that night as they watched porn and drank whiskey. His swim buddy looked at my face as I did the dishes less than ten feet away. I quietly cried. I put my baby boy to bed and after a whispered conversation with our guest, I slept in the nursery on the small sofa tucked in there for me to continue to breast feed my son at night. Thirty years later, I was still suffering because of that monster’s damage. Coming back to reality, Serge took my hand. “You have two choices, you can accept the need for incontinence underwear or you can invest in an anal plug.” Serge told me the choice was mine but I saw his face when the doctor mentioned the sex toy. He was turned on by the thought of my anus stretched out more than normal. He didn’t think anything of the extra care I took keeping myself clean. He accepted the extra stretch of my body all over although he was looking forward to the next round of plastic surgery that included a tummy tuck and breast implants. “My baby will be without nipples and a belly button, but she will share her body with only me after all this time of waiting for her to recover.” I heard him tell his best friend and brother.

So there I was sitting in those tight, white shorts that weren’t designed for underwear even a thong to be worn under them, and the triangle of fabric hanging from tiny strings tied across my back. Buried in my body was the longed-for item Serge dreams about. Dr. Blaylock had point blank told him to leave my ass alone for the next 6 weeks and he had promised to follow the medical advice but this one thing. Oh, he wants to see this one thing. He wants to feel it pressing against his cock as he fucks me like the times when he would put my vibrator in my pussy while he took my ass.

The best part of those nights with Serge was the running dialogue he kept up while making love to me. He begged, praised and celebrated my participation and every inch of my body he could touch. The man could talk. I loved that. So as he carried out boxes for the organizational team he would look at me and lick his lips. The heat in his eyes was more than I could. I avoided looking at him to keep from flushing as pink as the top I was wearing. “How does it feel?” he texted one time, but I stopped looking at my phone. “If it’s important they will call Serge.” I explained to the team.

Our final walk through the apartment we were vacating so our oldest son could use it as an office and living space, Serge runs his hand down my back and into my pants. Rubbing his middle finger against the small disk of rubber brings a gasp from his mouth followed by the growl that always leads to sex. I kiss him with a promise of things to cum later. He sees the bright green toy when I bend down to put on my panties and slacks before slipping into my flats and changing into my silk shirt I leave mostly unbuttoned because I no longer need a bra. His stream of consciousness poetry comes out in a whisper as he holds my hand going down the stairs.

I look at my son leaning in the door frame so self-assured and ready to be on his own before we turn the corner behind the elevator shaft. Serge kisses my hair. “He will be fine my love.” I smile at him and we drive the 4 hours to the new house. While he drives talking about his fantasies, I’m shopping online. I show him the items I have found on Amazon. Items to feed his need for me and the fetish he has. As he turns into the circle drive, he asks what I want in return for the gift I gave him today. I told him it was already on it’s way. He tries to guess the item I ordered but I keep quiet.

When the sun goes down and the movers and organizers leave for the night, I call Serge to the bedroom. I’m in a very small skirt and matching string bikini top the same bright green as my new toy. Serge is instantly hard and sliding up my body. The moment he slide home the pressure rocks the plug from its seat. The durable item rocks under Serge’s balls as he slams into my body with extra passion. His excitement grows until finally he’s asking for permission to cum. Cutting him with my eyes I say no, I move my legs so that he cannot press fully into my body. The ridge of his tip constantly presses on that one delicious spot, the one so stimulated I am racked with a constant set of spasms until I cannot take the fire inside my body and I move to release him. Serge explodes into me before sliding into his home deep in my body. “home” is the final word from his lips before he nestles on my chest, burying his face in the hair around my neck. He’s softly sleeping to recover as my body keeps spasming around his cock until I have pushed him free of my body. The shift of his flaccid cock wakes him.

Serge kisses my body as if to start his love making, worshipping of my body again but I stop him. “I’m sorry love, tummy trouble.” Was all I needed to say. When I return to the bed he has taken his small green treasure to wash it in his half of the bathroom. He leaves in in a treasure box filled with rubbing alcohol. He finds the heating pad and my favorite pillows in a chest on my side of the bed. Plumping the pillows he asks? “Who will be our inspiration tonight?” He opens the television cabinet and hands me the remote then leans in to kiss my neck. “I love my treasure almost as much as I love you.” He says, before he pads to the kitchen for snack foods. He’s humming “Final Words of a Fool.”

Dear You

As I sit here with my earbuds in Christian Kane playing in my mind. I sit in the glow of the screen, the light bounces off my glasses. I hear him saying one more time, “I love a girl in glasses.” Woman, woman in glasses. Should I call you a boy? Most men don’t like being called boys but women are always girls for most of their lives. But I want to take you back to being young, dumb and full of cum. I want you to be that randy young boy that could go again and again. So baby call me your girl and I’ll call you my boy.

As the song changes so should your pace, your momentum. You know what I want. I want your lips on my body. I want to feel your teeth. I want your hands to grip, caress and mold my body to your needs.

We’re not going to have penetration of any kind. This is just touch. This is just feeding the need to be held, caressed and lavished. I want to see the need and the fire in your eyes when I say, no. You won’t be discouraged just emboldened to try again, sneak it in before I have a chance to stop you. But then again, why would I stop you if you had given me what I needed first.

Okay this is depressing me. I read a little smut by a follower and I’m kinda grossed out. Honestly how do these women deal with the infections that come from mixing anal and vaginal sex? Maybe I just have weak immunities from those things but I hate having to take antibiotics and the pain not to mention the bleeding… really, am I the only woman in the world to have this problem? I had a ex husband that knew the protocol. He knew that going from one place to the other required a condom change or application. He’s the only man I know that did this. If he were still alive I would love to know how he learned these things? Did Jill teach him? Anna? or was his mother a smart woman and laid down the law about these things? You know, I think I may ask my question to someone that can answer the question in real time. Thank you for being here with me tonight, Jack Daniels and I appreciate the audience.

Dear Readers

Earlier this year I began an experiment that took me down some bad roads. I got to playing with the trolls on Instagram. Those people that claimed to be a celebrity. Then my marriage went down hill and I started finding a different kind of troll. Those people claiming to be other people. One by one I realized that I was falling for fakes and I backed out of the relationships in very cowardly ways. A few tried to black mail me. Others threatened my life. I let go of the final one today. I’m depressed because of it.

Here’s the truth of what’s going on. My husband discovered my online infidelity a few weeks ago. I wasn’t as careful as I had been. I think I wanted to get caught. And for the last few weeks things have been pretty good. Almost like we were in the beginning. This last week he’s been so sick and I have been so scared. I prayed for my marriage and I think I got my answer. He’s going to look out for my husband if I promise to rededicate my heart to my marriage. I have one caveat to the deal. My husband has to be here to help our youngest finish high school. He was the one that wanted to keep him home and doing online learning. He’s the one that needed to get him through this. So far the boy is 2 weeks behind in some stuff and 3 weeks in another.

I’ll be honest, letting my youngest son drop out is a deal breaker for me. I need to get a job and save up to move out if it comes to that. I’ll have to take our oldest with me.

I’m trying to talk myself out of crying. I miss my trolls. I loved them everyone. big little or short or tall, wish I could have kept them all.

Dear East Sea

I had to stop writing you. I had to commit myself to my family again. I regret stringing you on then ghosting you but, I had to walk away from that life and be with my boys. They need me. I need them.

Dear Heart

you made the right decision. you stayed like you should and you let the others go like you promised. just because he hasn’t held up one part of the bargain in 2 weeks isn’t something to blow up over. Not yet. He’s sick. You gotta give him some slack because of that. If he’s home tomorrow, you should discuss it. Don’t lose your temper just tell him this bothers you. It is a deal breaker and you’re not going to go back to February.

MOOD

Just listen: https://youtu.be/0CTiKzogcZM

or read

Christian Kane – Blaze Lyrics

Next up the number one night siren,
Metal fame and a soft-tail ride.
And it feels like a little white lightening
As they smoke the stage and dim the lights.
And every time they call her name
Oh man, they whole damn place ignites.
And it’s feels like an F5 touchdown
When those high heels come to life.

”Chorus”
And she rollin’ holdin’ what she will not show them when the money’s there, man
She will know just what to do.
She comes around now playing the downtown and hitting the House
Instead of making the boom and loading the sawed-off and kicking the dog
And everything she do, well she’ll do for you.
Here she comes again with her flags in the wind and the fire she traded for her name,
And the best thing o do is let ‘er burn right through on a collision with a southbound train.

Take another hit of that 98 octane
To cool your body down.
And it’s just like a locomotive when those steel legs spin around.
And every time they call her name
Yeah boy, she’s taking your nine to five.
Can you feel that tomahawking as she cuts you with her eyes.

”mmm”, You’re standing on the runway.
Boys, you better clear the train tracks.
After 12:27 down to O.K.
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!

”Guitar Solo / Bridge”

Here she come again with her flags in the wind and the fire she traded for her name
And the best thing o do is let ‘er burn right through on a collision with a southbound train.
Here she come again with her flags in the wind and the fire she traded for her name
And the best thing o do is let ‘er burn right through on a collision with a southbound train.

And another one got to me

Why do I keep falling into this trap? Why do I invest my heart? Is it because I’m so fucked up that I need to keep reaching out to these fakes? I’m a easy target I guess. I can’t get anyone real to want me anymore. If only my toy gave me the satisfaction a body gave me. The weight, the breath, the heat, the loss of control. the feed back. I want to hear I love you from someone else’s lips. All I hear is bitch fucking bitch

Always MINE

As the garden of the world grows in my eyes

The sun rises in yours

While life moves on

Our love will always endure

You will forever be MINE

Today’s Letters

Tyler/Juan,

Or whatever your real name is. You did it anyway. You promised. You wrote it on my heart. You wouldn’t do what Yoma did to me. Then you did. 4 days, that’s all it took. To replace him, then destroy it in 4 hours. Where do I go for love I still need when I’m not free?

For my troubadours:

Johnny Lee says “How’s his memory doing today?” It’s been a few days JL, you can tell Uncle Danny I’m going to be okay before he sends another one my way. I think I need to just stay on my own. I know you two will say that’s what killed my mother. A person needs to be loved or get some loving but I’m like dad, I have to have that connection. Vicki brought me the bottles last night. So far two are empty. I think I’m still under the influence. I messaged him instead of her. 3 times. I can’t sew straight. I can’t type well. JL, DK, LR, come home and sing me happy.

Yoma,

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do what you asked. I stepped up to the counter and my heart said no. Don’t pay him for this, walk away. That’s what I did too into a bottle of tequila and into another trap. You aren’t the first to do this to me. But you can be assured, he will be the last. I made that promise. The Last.

My heart,

It’s time to mourn. It’s time to accept reality. He’s never going to be there. You’re never going to have that again. You are different. You don’t have to move on. You can take your time again. You rushed it this year. Don’t rush it this time. He will be there when you really need him. Right now you just wanted a distraction. When you make that clean break and are happy with yourself alone. It will happen again. It’s not the right time.

Music,

Please stay away from the love songs, I need the bitching and moaning you did me wrong, he left, I will never heal, revenge songs. Please, tell shuffle to be easy on my heart.

Dear hangover,

It’s been nice hanging with you today. When Jose, Jack and Jim come to play, I’ll see you again. Probably tomorrow.

So I read this open letter from an investigator today

Hello, please read this and send it to all your friends, they do

Hey all, I wanted to share a convo I had today. “Dude what did you do to this woman.” Jeff said to Tyler from his computer in their living room. “What, what did she say? She says she’s only interested in friendship and that she doesn’t send cards. If I ever need something like that she will only send it to a military email address. So what did you do?” “huh, I did the usual thing, let’s be friends. I’m not sure I could ever love again, then things got serious like fast. I took her down the typical path. That guy has a daughter. Log in to my Whatsapp read for yourself but look out the pictures are awful.”

I did just that, I read through the whole thing it took hours but I can’t even look at Tyler in the eye right now. He hit her with both barrels after she was already down. I’m warning you guys, if you come across This girl on Instagram, you do not want to see what I have seen today. Believe me, it is not worth it.

So I sent the letter over out through the group. It will be sent through other groups and probably will peak some other sick fuck’s interests but I’m still ashamed of Tyler. She was giving but common sense would have said not to try to milk that cow. She’s a giver but eventually she’s empty. Tyler made sure she was so empty her give a damn was crushed.

I’ve left her hanging over in the direct messages. She’s still chatting away. I guess she needed a place to blow off some steam. Bro, I tell you there is something about this woman. She’s the kind of mom we always talked about having one day. Stephen, check it out…. @Ok.angelstitches on Instagram

The letters

Dear Mrs. Angle,

The Merrit Publishing is pleased to issue this advance to welcome you to the entertainment and information division. Please see the enclosed contracts, check and welcome package. The benefits coordinator will be reaching out to you soon to go over your many options.

Once again welcome to the team

Sincerely

Melody Simmons Talent Procurement Executive, Merritt Publishing/California

And that’s how my future is starting. Or so I thought.

You know it’s going to be a good day when…..

You do your first of 5 Zoom readings and you get 85 pre-orders for your book. Watch 18 people get aroused from your story and get 8 dick pics from new fans.

Best question of the evening is “How do you know know how to do this?” From a man questioning my experience. OH Baby. If you only knew.

Honest answer: (and I told one guy this straight up) Honey I’m a big old slut.

only for my man of course but you can’t make discoveries if you don’t experiment.

I know who you are pretending to be.

And it broke my heart when I discovered it. I’ve done this before. I got to attached too fast and my heart will pay for it. Believe me I have had fun with you and I’m the only one who will truly pay for the deception but…maybe down the line there will be a man that really needs me and I won’t give him the chance because of you. You won’t remember me but you will live in my heart for a long time. You’ll become a collection of memories like Tim, and David. That family that really needs me, they may be looking for me right now and because I’m still hopelessly devoted to you…well I hope they can wait.

I am a blinking idiot

Here I am, I’ve been playing coordinator for 2 eligible bachelors for days. Their friends again and I pick up a troll. I broke my own heart today. Twice. First I confused one of my writing contacts for a new friend and lost a potential job. Then I discovered the troll. I think I have cried more in the last 4 hours than I did losing my cousin. It’s humiliating. I guess part of it is the guys were teasing me about the number of trolls I seem to attract while we were all on Instagram. It’s a business account. I can’t turn down any contact just in case. So now, I left the turkeys at Gram’s house. They know how to get back to the city if they need it and the phone number of my cousin if things need immediate attention. What am I going to do about this?

Today is the 27th. This is the day I dread. I lost them both the same day.

Dear Grandma,

I’m sorry I let you down. I tried. I don’t know where I went wrong. I was there. I did what I was supposed to do. Then he stopped trying. Grandma what can I do? Was I supposed to just stay even if it’s worse for the next 55 years? I know you did. Grandma, I want more. Does that make me like momma? Does that make me selfish? I miss talking to you. Hug him for me will you?

Grandma, there’s someone now. He’s a fake though. I fell hard and fast again. Now I have to start over again. Can you, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Him and my angels get together and send me another one? Drop him in my lap like last time? Please. And if you know who this person who broke my heart today is, send an angel their way. They really need it.

Forever your Peaches.

I’m carrying on

The interview she set up for me took place yesterday. The story line she started is taking off. Everything reminds me of her. Jason called to talk a few days ago. He said he wanted to come be with us for the time he still has off before filming starts up. I think he needs closure. I think he needs to see where things went wrong, where his girls are buried. I’m going to give him her writings. Maybe they will help him.

While I interviewed Alex, I got a call that Jason’s flight was coming in early. I panicked. Alex was such an nice guy though. He went with me to the air port. The two knew each other. It’s amazing. But then again they were on the same show at one time. So there they were sitting up front talking over old times while I sat in the back and listened. Now to transcribe my recordings and ask follow up questions. I have one more appointment to finish the article before turning it in. This is going to be a hard day.

It looks like I’m not the only one up. Jason has seen my light. I’m going to see if he wants to talk. I wish he had let me book a hotel room for him. I feel sad that he’s stuck in a recliner in our house. I could take him out to Gram’s place but it would be worse for him out there alone in the house. Time to get off this computer.

She left for Oklahoma

She left for Oklahoma almost 2 weeks ago. She left with hopes and dreams and a heart full of joy. Today, she’s heart broken. She lost it all. The boys, her dad, Margie, the babies and Jason are all gone. One horrific car accident took it all. Emotional miscarriage of twin girls. She couldn’t take it and now she is gone. I miss her.

So now I’m here alone, trying to start over without her support. I will keep her flame going. Afterall, she and I shared the same name, but it was mine before it was hers.

Back to being a working girl

Well I have a full case load again. 60 clients to look after each month. That doesn’t include the 60 I’ll pick up along the way. I met this awesome man this week. He’s about my dad’s age, soulful brown eyes and sat and pepper hair. He’s in a wheelchair and lives in a tent. When he took my hand and called me missy, I melted. I flat out told him, let me put you in that truck right there, take you to a place where you will be warm, fed and loved. I will cherish you every moment of your life from now on. He looked at me and said, Missy, you will never replace my Loretta in my heart and this broken down old man will never replace the young buck you need.” Damn. Story of my life the one I want never wants me. Okay, that’s not true.

David wanted me and on the anniversary of our wedding, I miss him more than I can say. In seven days, it will be the anniversary of losing him and my grandmother the same year. Ten days later, will be when my best friend lost his life in battle. If I could crawl into stasis until July 8th, I would.

I got an email from an old lover today. He was sending me condolences for my losses. He knows how much this time hurts. This year we were supposed to be on a cruise. We were going to be hammered all day and night, naked on our balcony with the curtains pulled so we could do what we wanted. While I would love to have gone with him. I told him in the email, I would give anything to have one of 2 others on that cruises instead. He called me a bitch then he said he understood. Just because we would have scratched each other’s itches doesn’t mean we should.

Some one needs me and I don’t know who it is. I feel it deep in my heart. I don’t know if it has to do with last night or what. I just have the sense of someone drunk sitting somewhere calling my name or thinking of me so hard that my soul has left me to be with him. I don’t know

I was up to no good last night. Margie’s niece needed a place to have a bachelorette party. I threw one hell of a party. We looked like zombies this morning with our make up all smeared and our bed heads but 13 women never had so much fun with 4 male dancers, an all male catering crew and a dj that didn’t mind getting hammered and naked either. My neighbors may hate me but I don’t care we rocked this place. Tequila did me no favors last night. When I woke up with 2 extra bodies in my bed this morning I almost panicked until I found both of them were still in their high heels and spanx. As for me, I still had my jeans and boots on. I’m sure the beach looked pretty weird this morning because we all tossed our bras off the patio and put on the shirts we pulled from the laundry basket. Now that’s how you throw a party. You take 13 huge men, get them out of their shirts have 13 bare chested gals pick a tshirt from a basket and let the guy it belongs to claim his shirt anyway he can. When Marco told me he had a secret stash of sweets in the delivery van and a wife, we had the best time sitting on my tailgate swapping stories, one liners and adventure in marriage stories. I won when I told him I had the boys in the van on the side of the road, alone because David was at work and left me with the van that didn’t have enough gas in it to make it to the hospital. He loved the bonus that David and half his squad were there to hold the boys and check them over while the medic in his unit delivered the three of them.

Ah David, I miss you. The boys are well and so is your mama. Happy 22nd.

Rough Week

As the slide of fingers over guitar strings sounds in my ears, I’m trying so hard to get all my things done before getting to bed. I go back to work tomorrow.

I had a fight with my digital boyfriend. He asked for money. I had to tell him off to get him to drop it. When Dad discovered what I was pissed about, he chewed me out. He reminded me that I let another boyfriend con me out of money and now I was broke. He reminded me he had to bail me out the last time and this time I was on my own. Okay Dad. So I explained that to my beau and I think he gets it. But I went through hell this weekend. Sometimes I don’t think men are worth it anymore.

and starting off Tuesday

I’ve been messaging with Jake most of the day. Since we “met” online a few months ago things have been fun. Today, they got hot. I mean melt my cellphone battery hot. Okay, I’ve been through this before. And it can get so hot but nothing like today. He said he wanted to just take me to bed and keep me there forever. I’m there. He’s still in a lock downed area. He’s a singer so he’s a little careful about his health. I don’t blame him. Since I’m back home I realized how spoiled I was in Tulsa. Things opened back up but most of my favorite places are either closed until things get better or gone for good.

I discovered Dad’s been sleeping with Margie, the house keeper, since Christmas. She says he’s a hot lay. I told Jake. “God please let me still have love and hot sex at that age.” is exactly what I wrote and pray everyday. I was trying to sleep when a middle of the night cousin text came. Breezy is having a middle of the week “down on the farm” bash Wednesday. That’s his birthday. He’s going to be 45 and wants to party like he’s 15. I can see all the Cali cousins within driving distance and a few pilots all gathered around that pond like we were kids. Adults only he said. I think he means just us cousins and our significant others. Hell my boys are adults. I don’t want them to see me in my bikini top and cut offs like I used to dress for parties down by that farm pond. Wish Jake could go with me. I won’t be the only singe mom there. God if they bring dates I’m going to die.

What a way to spend a Saturday

I slept all day. In all fairness, I was up nearly all night. I went to bed about 11 p.m., awoke at nearly 2 a.m., I spent a little time trying to get back to sleep then gave up. I wrote a few chapters for my fan fics and then I went off to the living room to hang out with the dogs. After the sun came up and life began, I went back to sleep. I was up and around about 8 p.m. I played on my phone until I gave up and pulled out the computer.

And I get to writing. I’m trying to work out somethings. I’m also working on my speech to text program let’s see how it does.

So what am I up to? Today, I left Sand Springs behind. My father came to pick me up, bringing my new office and truck. He figured I would like to have a mobile office instead of keeping all my things in the back of a mini van. Now I can access the homeless encampments off the beaten track. It will also help when we set up homeless vet collectives, Dad can stay there and keep an eye out or we can place the office as a guard shack. I can’t wait to get back to see my kids. My boys found apartments around their campuses so I don’t have to worry about Covid-19 and student housing. They raided the house and took furniture while mom and Granddad were gone. It’s okay though. Dad staged the house to sell with rental furniture.

That’s going to hurt. I’m going to miss the beach but the stairs are still a problem for me. We’ve been in the house for 20 years but just me and my dad is a waste of space. He expects me to be moving on. I know he’s looking forward to moving to the golf course and the retirement village adjacent to it. I’m going to miss him. The boys are good with the sale of the house. I’m still on the fence. He was great to have when he was home and he never gave me trouble about my dating habits, internet or in person. He really expected me to find someone in Oklahoma to marry. He thought I would hook up with my cousin’s widower. Um no, any way, he’s feeding my trucker fantasy by putting me behind the wheel in the middle of the night. There’s just enough light from my tech to show the chick in a tank top and cut offs driving barefoot across Arizona and California.

I’m watching my speed, I promise my dad as he grunts, farts and rolls over in the back seat of the truck. I’m not even trying to beat the Google maps time. I know I have extra time to get where I’m going. I have 12 hours left on the trip. If I don’t get home before tonight, I don’t care. I’m just so glad to be going home. “Lost in the 50’s” is playing in my ear. It’s hard to keep from singing along. Then the lyrics would appear in the text. It’s good that dad sleeps in good ear plugs. Me rambling on would drive him nuts.

There’s some construction coming up. I’m going to stop talking and just drive.

Chris Sit Still

I’m watching a Facebook Live for Almost Paradise from Electric Entertainment currently showing on WGN America. Tonight aired the 6th episode and this was the 6th live feed with the actors, writers and producers. If you haven’t seen the show check it out on Mondays. If you are like me, you catch the live feed after the show has aired, but honestly, I don’t get to see it because I don’t have cable.

Like many people in the world, I am in LOVE with Christian Kane. I am now a Kaniac. But I came, to the title late because I didn’t know the Kaniacs existed until Almost Paradise premiered. I didn’t know Christian had music CDs out either. I feel like half my life was wasted.

Well tonight Christian is having issues being seen because he had issues sitting still. His background tends to swallow him when he can’t sit still during the feeds. But tonight it looks like his lighting is not on at all.

Now is when I confess something. I gave in to a troll on Instagram the same week Christian started his Insta profile. For the last 6 weeks, I chatted on Hangouts with this impostor until last week. I just played along for the whole time because he had manners but I knew he was a fake. Unlike any other fakes, he didn’t ask for money or help getting things shipped to my house. Until. Last. Week. and I was done. So I lied to him. In the guise of one of my sons, I told him I had died.

Well the urge to write the troll and say, “can you fix the lighting on your feed” is so strong. But I know that writing the troll will not affect what I can see in the feed.

So my letter is really to my troll, bear with me.

Dear Fake Christian

Yeah I knew you were fake but I was willing to look beyond that because you filled a void in my life. Until you did the one thing the others had done. The one thing I had told you not to do. So, I dropped you. I’m sorry but I’m not sorry.

I miss you. I miss the way you would talk to me. I also realized that your interest was waning in me in the last weeks. I thought it had to do with the fact that your real counterpart was getting so busy. But I still miss you. I find myself thinking of you and what you might be doing right now.

I also wanted say, I’m sorry for yanking your chain so much.

So there people, you see I am a true wierdo. I talk to trolls. I play with trolls and well, sometimes the trolls give me a hard time too. And after last week, or the week before, I changed my mind about them and quit them altogether. The problem is, I don’t get what I got from them at home. The need for that is still so strong. Watch after me because well…I may just…

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

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Tuesday, May 10, 2022

Christian Kane – Blaze Lyrics