IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!! (And I couldn't be happier!)

Yeah, the Pens lost in game 6 tonight of the Stanley Cups Finals.

I won't have to be bothered by another friggin' hockey game until next season.

Thank you, Jesus.

I love sports. But hockey is my least favorite. I think I would almost rather watch NASCAR or Indy Car racing.

I don't care that the Pittsb.urgh Pe.nguins were in it. At least respect me for not jumping on the bandwagon like so many others. Would have been nice for the true local fans, granted.

YEAH, IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. Kirsten 2.0 tried to blackmail me by stating (in reply to an email I sent her about how glad I would be when all of this was over) that she'd rat me out to Dr. J about this -- LMAO! You think he doesn't KNOW this already?! Sweetie, remember, I HAVE NO FILTER!!!!!!!!!

Wa.l-M.art puts the squeeze on food costs

Yeah, so many people bitch and moan about W.al-Ma.rt, but THEY are doing things to help us with our grocery bill!!! And they are doing it in ways that are energy-conscious and capitalist-themed.

So SCREW YOU, haters!!!

We Own What?

We bit the bullet this weekend.

We known own (gulp), a lawnmower, a weedwhacker, some weed killer, two heavy duty 14 amp extension cords and the coil.

We also bought the one of the four hardware/wall-mounted baby gates we still need to buy and install. We received the soft, removable one as a shower gift. We bought the extra-tall top of the stairs one because it was on sale at L.owe's.

A lawnmower. Phuck.

Frightening, but I am more freaked out by the thought of us owning a lawnmower and weedwhacker than us having a child.

Dr. J, what does this say about us? (Other than "MOVE TO A TOWNHOUSE").

D.C. Recap

It was a whirlwind 5 days in our nation's capital. I am 'zausted, to put it mildly.

My Hill visits went extremely well, and I was proud of my sheep as I sheparded them into meetings with our Senators and assorted members of Congress.

I knew it would be a looooong week, with plenty of partying opportunities (plus, I was rushing back home on Saturday for a "girls nite" that same evening, followed by a family party the next afternoon), so I really put emphasis on pacing myself with the booze. I succeeded. No hangovers (unlike my colleagues), no huggin' The Porcelain God, no showing up late or missing conference sessions entirely. Yea for me!

Definitely, the trip got better as the week went on. The meeting I look forward to most each year is the one with my colleagues (away from our Board of Director types). Being able to bitch and moan in private is always a highlight! Plus, Friday marked two happy hours, the latter was with these very colleagues from across the country. A special shout-out to the gang from Georgia -- gawd, I love Southerners!!!

Afterwards, I was treated to dinner at a very chic place with a dee-lish wine list. Yum! I was amazed that we were able to secure a table without a reservation weeks in advance, but good luck was on our side. The whole evening, including the spirited after-party, was just a perfect way to celebrate a successful (albeit fast-paced and stressful) week. It certainly put me in a relaxed, mellow mood on Saturday morning, which I capped off by another indulgence . . . sweet breakfast treats (hullo mini-Belgian waffle!) via room service. Mmmmm mmmmm goooood.

I drove home from D.C. with a smile on my face. How many people get to say that, hee hee?!

Lawn Boy Becomes . . . Home Improvement Guy?!

Good Lord what is happening to my man?! He has also now stained the repaired wood frame around our bedroom and closet doors, AND built the new bed and chest of drawers in the baby's room.

If he starts to drywall I will call a divorce attorney immediately. Or a psychiatrist. Probably both.

Yard Work? WTF?!?!?!

I rushed home from the municipal meeting I had just finished up at because I received a FRIGHTENING text message from my husband . . .

"I AM MOWING THE LAWN."

I was so scared. He has NEVER ever done something like that. Seriously, we have owned this house a year, and he has never done that. Hey, neither have I. I refuse to do yard work or home improvement projects. Really. I said it when we closed on the house and have never waivered.

Last summer we paid my Mom a few bucks here and there to do it (our lawn is not that big). Really. Or would give a few bucks to this guy who is a friend of the family to do it. That's how WE roll. And I like that my husband does NOT do this kind of stuff -- 'cause we agree we suck at it and he doesn't try to deviate from that. Let somebody else do it, somebody who is BETTER at it than us! We will PAY, or trade services somehow.

But our lawn looked soooooo bad, and he couldn't stand it any more. We have an old lady who lives next to us who is a grass-cutting nazi. And the lesbian couple behind us put us to shame (they were outside shoveling asphalt while all of this hoopla was going on, I kid you not).

So Dr. J borrowed the lawnmower from my Mom (she has been too busy to do it) and was mowing when I got home. I took photos. He said to me "I will NEVER do this again." Well thank gawd for that! I would have called a psychiatrist or scheduled an intervention if he LIKED it, LOL!

I am wondering if all of the muffin-baking and flour-sifting tips he gave Kirsten today (via email) inspired him to get in touch with his Manly Man side?
Sniff, sniff, I want my metrosexual back!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, Dr. J, I am in awe right now. I think in a good way. Lord knows I can't and won't do something like that. Ever.

But please, NEVER again. I can't handle this.

It's like I don't even know YOU anymore!!!!!!!!!

More Hearting

I spent most of Saturday afternoon swooning. I admit it. Freely. My body just felt sooooo good. His touch lingered for hours afterwards. My spirit was uplifted, my skin warm, my energy positive.

He does it to me every time.

Yes, I am referring to "My Howard." To refresh everyone's memory, he is the young massage therapist-in-training I have gone to several times now for an hour of delicious "Me Time."

And damn, does that boy ever deliver :o)

I think he is getting cuter each time I see him, too. I luv how he whispers when he touches my body, giggles with me about how he worries about new clients who have "bAcne," how he asks me if he's using enough pressure, how he rubs my glutes . . . okay, I especially luv how he rubs my glutes.

All people in the service industry have their favorite clients -- hairdressers, manicurists, doctors, chefs, they all do. I like to think that Howard enjoys me as his client, in this regard. I guess our session was running a few minutes long, cause at the end of our alloted time he was rubbing my back with these long, deep strokes and then he whispered, "They're telling me I have to stop."

I wanted to purr "Ohhhhh, don't stop . . . ." Hee-hee!

And yeah, I will see him again in a few weeks ;o)

Mo' Money, Mo' Money

Got our Economic Stimulus Rebate Check today. Yep, spotted in our bank account (I check it everyday online), and I promptly transferred it into savings. That, with our tax return, oughta fund 6-8 weeks of maternity leave.


I'd say "thank you President Bush and Members of Congress" . . . but it was our money in the first place.


So instead I will say "Thank you Dr. J" for having a social security number ending in a number that made us among the first to be eligible for receiving the moohlah.

Your Friday Morning Cup of Coffee

Just an important lil' somethin' for all you men out there to ponder as you settle into your Friday morning . . .

THE TOP 10 SEX MISTAKES THAT MEN MAKE

And my quick thoughts on the article, point by point:

1. AMEN, Dr. Yvonne. Really good foreplay starts days ahead, if you really want to heighten your experience . . . and OUR performance.
2. YES, YES, YES. We have tons of interesting body parts that are waiting, no, begging to be explored. Now go be a pioneering explorer. In fact, let's play Lewis & Clark.
3. Another YES, YES, YES. Look, we ladies know how fascinated you are with your penis. We know you think it's the be all/end all. But listen, come close, cause I'm about to let you in on a little secret that shall serve you well in all future female conquests (ready?) . . . YOUR PENIS MOVING IN AND OUT IS NOT ENOUGH TO MAKE US "O". It's nice, it's helps, we like how it feels (my posse of women are nodding), but we need a lil' more interaction, okay?! Please re-read my response to #2. Thanks!
4. Listen to our heavy breathing, our moans, our purrs. You'll figure it out, if you listen carefully.
5. Your woman will probably "O" more easily if she thinks you're in it just to have some fun. So stop stressing, and so will we.
6. Um, you like us to keep OUR figures and wear cute outfits AND wear sexy lingerie, right? THEN CHECK THYSELF! Lose your own gut (or build some muscles if you're already thin), wear clean clothes, nice boxers, check your breath, shave your face, update your look (that means wardrobe, glasses, hairstyle, etc.), and stop bitching. [Looking at The Posse, and they are nodding so empathetically they're bordering on whiplash].
7. It's true. We have a naughty side. Meow.
8. Porn Star behavior from us? You first, Mr. Pizza Delivery Boy. (yeah, it's as bizarre in reverse to you as the shit you see in most stupid pornos are to us).
9. Listen, really, for the umpteenth time . . . unless you are so tiny we need a microscope, we don't care about your size. Conversely, your size is not enough to keep us around & interested, either. And another thing, having surveyed all members of The Posse, only one guy has been big enough for any of us to admit we were "wowed." But damn, you'd be amazed at all of the guys we have collectively slept with who THINK they are big "down there." LMAO.
10. Another Amen, Dr. Yvonne ;o)

PHUCK, that hurt! (a.k.a. Our Visit to the County Health Department)

Dr. J and I elected to get several shots (on the advice of our G.P.) in advance of our pending summer trip to China. After checking around we learned that one of the shots is ONLY offered by our County Health Department, and they had evening hours one night a week that would accomodate Dr. J's schedule. So off we went, checkbook in hand (check or cash only, please!)

We decided to get the tetanus booster, Hep A, and Hep B vaccines.

This is the sign that greeted us as we walked into the building . . .


Then we saw THIS sign as we waited for the elevator that would take us to the 3rd floor. Immediately, I said to Dr. J, "be careful what you touch while here. And don't touch me at all."

Oh, here's ANOTHER fun sign that had my germ-phobia starting to kick into panic mode . . .

Lemme say, I am NO wimp, okay?! I can, have, and do deal with physical pain just fine, thank you very much.

However, when that nurse put the Hep A & B combo shot into my arm, it hurt! I swear that thing was given intramuscular or something?! And the moment she pulled the needle out I actually winced! YOWZA! Hey, I got allergy shots for years, so I am NOT afraid of needles. And kee-rist after LAST summer's medical follies where my va-jay-jay went through the friggin' wringer I know I am tough enough. But DAMMIT THIS HURT!

We waited the obligatory 5 minutes post-vaccines, and promised to return in one month's time to get the second phase of the Hep shots. And that's when perhaps the "best moment" presented itself out of this whole germy experience. We exited the elevator back on the 1st floor, and I spotted this sign . . .

Immediately, I start cracking up, while making all sorts of highly inappropriate remarks to Dr. J, who is somewhere between wanting to vomit and laugh hysterically. It's at this point that a janitor happens to overhear us, (cue the voice of Nicolas Cage from the movie "Peggy Sue Got Married,"), nods in our direction at the sign and says "THAT'S THE REAL WORLD RIGHT THERE."

LMAO!!!!!!!!! Hullo, are we high right now? Or just dreaming? It was insane. And awesomely bad. Perfect.


A final gross-out photo . . . this, along with other photo examples of highly contagious diseases, were prominently displayed on the walls of the waiting room where we sat for 30 minutes waiting our turn to be jabbed. I made sure to send a copy of it to Jay (Lori's fiance), who promptly replied, "They paid me $100 to pose for that. And $500 for the herpes one -- have you seen it yet?" LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!

Small Steps, Big Leaps of Faith, and Quiet Moments.

A year ago today was thee happiest day of my life. I found out I was pregnant, and despite some tragic history, was feeling really hopeful about this third chance. And for a while, Life was wonderful, and beautiful.

Then something terrible happened -- we got the news that she was too small, and probably not going to make it. And that is what went on to occur, devastating us. So, just as the Due Date for that baby hurt like hell, so does the memory of the date I first learned she was alive inside of me.

Pulling yourself together after such profound grief, and learning to go on, and even contemplating trying again is amazingly difficult. Even still. And its why, even with the pending adoption of our Lil' Pumpkin, I still have moments when I am cynical and scared. I now expect Disappointment in my life. The vulnerability I have acquired often keeps me from preventing it.

But on Saturday I did something that was really difficult for me.

I bought baby clothes for Lil' Pumpkin.

I have avoided doing this ever since we started our "Path to Parenthood," because it felt like I'd be jinxing the whole thing.

With m/c's #2 and #3, it seemed that just when I started to allow myself to dream a little bit, by looking at nursery bedding online (yes, online, not even in-person at the store), our world was shattered shortly thereafter by the loss of our baby.

But Dr. J had to go to the mall to return something anyway, so I shyly asked him if he would accompany me to take those scary steps into the store. I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to buy anything, or if the fear and doubts would take over. He assured me that he would be there to reassure me, and gave me a big hug. And I cried (what else is new, lol?!)

We went into Children's Place, and I bought two pink t-shirts, and one pair of pink shorts for Lil' Pumpkin. I thought they'd be good mix & match items, versatile, and appropriate choices since we'd be picking her up in the high heat of a southern China summer.

Then we went to Target, and picked out just a few more little items, like an adorable hoodie (I seriously LUV this hoodie), a lil' shirt that Dr. J liked, a pair of khaki shorts, and her first pair of jean shorts.

It was truly a leap of faith to do this. A small act, but it required enormous bravery on my part. It meant I had to dig deep and have some faith, and allow Hope to occupy just a tad more room in my heart.

I hope she (Hope) sticks around.

So through my tears, today, I am also looking ahead, and allowing myself little moments to dream. To think about all the things that we were going to do with the baby lost last year . . . and all the things we WILL do with the baby we will welcome home in just a few months.

Fun at The Mall

OMG, I do not know if we ever had such an amazing people-watching opportunity dropped into our lap, before?!

We were headed to the mall (more on that in a subsequent post) and we suddenly noticed that the parking lot was beyond full. Beyond Saturday-before-Christmas FULL. It was insane. Cars everyone, people creating spots where none existed, tons of parking illegally.

Why, we wondered?! I was guessing that Miley Cyrus was making an appearence at the mall. I briefly thought it was tryouts for "America's Next Top Model," but that thought was quickly banished from my mind when I saw all of the ugly people inside the mall.

And there . . . were . . . people . . . EVERY FRIGGIN' WHERE inside. Really. There were lines snaking over every conceivable spot of walking space inside the mall, top and bottom levels. We walked into The Gap to return a birthday present from Dr. J's aunt and I inquired of the sales girl "WTF is going on here?!"

The answer? Tryouts for "Deal or No Deal." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Nope, she wasn't. Apparently people had been camping out in the parking lot since Thursday, coming from Rhode Island, New Jersey, and a whole slew of other states to try out for the show. Dr. J wanted to go outside and shout "Hey everyone, I just saw Howie Mandel walk into Victoria's Secret" and watch the sheeple run accordingly. LMAO.

We ran into a woman from our church and her two kids, and we all had a good laugh at just how insane people are. There were THOUSANDS (yes, thousands) of people still outside, winding around in a long line, still waiting to get in!

Ever the troublemaker (and never passing up an opportunity to say something outrageous) I actually leaned over the railing from the second floor and shouted down to the people below "Hey, they closed the auditions -- they said they're not interviewing anyone else!" Hee-hee!!!

I think we were most dumbfounded by how U-G-L-Y the overwhelming majority of people in line were. It's one thing to be less than a physical specimen of beauty, but these folks were slovenly on top of it. Seriously, people, what makes you think an old, grubby, t-shirt, carrying around 60 extra pounds, and (ladies) a hairstyle you haven't updated since 1986 is going to make a casting director snap their fingers and say "YES -- THAT is who I want to put on t.v.!!!"

Really, people. Really.

The only thing that would have made this people-watching moment more perfect is if we had booze. Oh, that would have been SO sweet!

I hope another t.v. show comes to town again soon to conduct auditions. We are sooooo going back, and gonna each pack a flask to enhance the experience. Cheers!

Marrying Up. Or Down.

I don't think it's any secret that in most marriages (or couplehoods) there is inevitably some lack of parity. A stroll around the mall makes this readily apparent. How often have you seen a goodlooking guy with a less-goodlooking girl and thought to yourself, "She must be hell in bed!" Or seen a beautiful woman with a so-so looking guy and figured "Either he makes gooooood money" or "Maybe he's a good listener" or something to that effect?!

Turns out that there is scientific proof, or something like that. Okay, maybe not scientific proof exactly, but maybe a "method to the madness" as they say.

I can't think of anyone I know well enough to call a friend (maybe a couple of acquaintanceas) that is in a relationship in which it's the guy who is the better-looking one. I don't know what that says about all of these people, or me (maybe I gravitate toward people who have similar types of expectations in their intimate relationships?!)

I think most of us are generally more comfortable accepting that a beautiful woman can love a less-beautiful (physically) man. But who ever believes the opposite?! Don't we all squint our eyes in suspicion if we see a goodlooking man with a woman who is less attractive, or chubby? Why is that?!

Eh, at least I admit to it, I suppose.

Spring has SPRUNG!

FINALLY, we had a truly beautiful day around here!

Evidence:

• I was treated to lunch at a "soul food" place that has been all the rage, and got to eat outdoors.
• I barely turned on the space heater in my office today (it's a super-cold office most of the time).
• I skipped the gym and jogged outdoors after work.
• I opened the gas bill when I got home, and it was $80 CHEAPER THAN LAST MONTHS!!! WOOOOO-HOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
• The local ball team blew it and lost the home opener.

Next up . . . time to break out the lil' dresses, lose the nylons, and lather on the extra moisturizer to make that skin summery smooth :o)

R.I.P. Old Friend

So saddened to hear that Charlton Heston has passed on to Heaven. What a guy! Me, Dr. J, Noah, Adrian, Kirk, and so many more loved the dude.

It may be for the best, since he was so ill from Alzheimer's over the past few years, but damn the guy had one hell of a resume.

Of course, I hafta wonder . . . when he died, did they finally get the gun out of his "cold dead, hand", or are they just gonna bury him with it?!

WE LOVE YA, DUDE!

Bad Blogger

I have been a bad, bad, blogger lately.

I have LOTS to say, just too little time to type it out. Busy with a sudden project in my personal life.

Work also has me waaaaay busy, since it's Primary Season in my state, and a lot of my job involves the political realm.

So I am going to cheat and do a "Random Musings" list of unflitered thoughts that have popped into my mind recently:

• J.Lo -- honey, please stop pretending those twins are "just completely natural." We all KNOW you had fertility help. That's okay, we love you anyway! We know you have suffered m/c's, and we're happy for you. But please, stop kidding us, okay?!


• Dammit, I need to get a new purse. My shit don't fit -- evidenced by the apparent disappearing act of my blessed Ray-Bans. (Cue me pouting and tearing up). I can't not live without sunglasses. I have SUPER-sensitive eyes, the kind that blink in pain if I get near a light bulb, I swear. I never even turn on the lights in my office. PLEASE RAY-BANS, FIND YOUR WAY BACK TO ME! I swear I will invest in a bigger, more fashionable purse if you come back to mama!!!


• Where can I find an inexpensive throw rug for a bedroom? Other than Target, I have no clue. Eh, maybe IKEA, if they aren't too funky.


• WHY THE PHUCK DOESN'T IKEA HAVE WEDDING AND BABY REGISTRIES?! Seriously, this is ridiculous!!!!!!! TONS of people furnish their homes and nurseries via IKEA -- I just can't understand this?!


• It sucks that 2.0 and MH live thousands of miles away. I need them here, to make The Posse complete.


• There are waaaaaay too many children's sippy cups on the market. People, it's a sippy cup, not technology that launches the space shuttle. Designers, get a friggin' life and find something new to re-invent for gawd's sake!

Okay, time to go stalk the blogs of the strangers whose world's I am fascinated by.

Still Hearting Howard

Had another massage from Howard. Ahhhhhh.

The funny part was just prior to the massage when I was in the bathroom getting changed. Another woman was in there, with her friend, and they both had just received massages. One woman was raving to the other about the masterful fingers of the young man who has just rubbed her.

I looked at her and said "You must be talking about Howard." She replied "Ohhhh, yes!"

I then triumpiantly said to her, "I had him two weeks ago. And I have another appointment with him in 5 minutes!"

The woman looked at me like I had just stolen her date for the Prom. It was awesome!

I relayed all of this to Howard, and added "It was like two high school girls having a near verbal catfight over you, hee hee!" I know he got a kick out of this tale :o)

The massage was divine. He even rubbed my, um, well, bum. I love a good bum rub. Mmmmmm. He even tucked the sheet into the tops of my low-slung panties when he was working his way down my back. If he hadn't been 23, and if it hadn't been a professional setting, I might have moaned "take me now, boy!" LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!

I am such a sucker for a good massage, and the bum rub is just the icing on the cake.

If I was ever taken as a P.O.W. my captors wouldn't have to torture me. I would sing like a canary if they gave me a massage and plied me with good wine ;o)

Jesse, Jesse, Jesse

We haven't had a good ol' Jesse story in a while. Which is why I was delighted when I woke up this morning and found he had sent us ("FireCracker"/me, his sister-in-law "ManHands"/Adrian, and "Chrissie"/Kirsten) this lil' gem late last night.

I love Jesse. It's like glimpsing in upon my Dad, 20 years ago. He's such a cad, ya can't help but loving him. He makes me wish I could be a guy once in a while, just to pull off such wickedly masterful sexual chess moves. Well played, Jesse, as always! We bow in your princely presence ;o)

Without further ado, Jesse, in his own words . . . .

***************

I am getting old.

Well...okay one story...

This week ... Monday... well ... you may recall I told you about a girl named Morgan. I wrote you about a time maybe 6 months ago, when she invited me over to her place where she lived with her boyfriend. For a BBQ. She is HOT girl from Indiana. 25 years old, free spirit. etc. Looks like the girl next door... well ... really she looks like the girl that was in the Eastwood movie about the boxer. Hillary Swank I think. Yes. Exactly like her but dark hair.

I was so happy to go because she has a handful of hot 20-something friends.

Well, I did not score any friends. But I kept friends with her, knowing full well her Indiana boyfirend was nice, but wasn't gonna be able to hold up against the guys like me out here for long. She is just too hot and friendly. A nightmare to have for a girlfriend for sure, flirtatious, drinks a lot, sexual ... bad news for any boyfriend.

Sure enough, they break up a month or so ago. She calls for help getting her stuff back, I arrange it, I don't call her afterwards.

She texts, "We should get a beer", we do. I'm cool, no hitting on her at all, just gettin her drunk and making her laugh. (I am buying drinks). I take her home, I am cool ... she sits next to me ... we make out, she is saying stuff like, 'This isn't gonna make it weird if I'm out with other guys, etc. I mean, you gotta promise me to be cool" etc. I'm like, "yeah don't be calling me all the time and shit" I pull part one of the move of all time. Sensing she is worried about my age and if I'm gonna get too attached and she doesn't want to go all the way yet, I mean she does, I know, but she doesn't want to be too slutty. So ... I just leave. I say hey thanks so much for spending your time with me, I gotta go, hope I see you soon.

She thinks I'm 35. So got that lie workin, But I think lying about your age is okay.

The following week. I do not call her, but then I have cause to go to a place where her hot friend Brittney works. I talk business with Brittney (both these girls are really cool and smart actually). Brit is not as hot as Morgan. But hot.

Part two of the move: I text Morgan, that " I just did some work with Brittney, she is pretty hot. Sneaky hot. Didn't realize it at first." She texts back "yeah, I know".

I don't let go because I'mplaying with her insecurities now ... text back: "Her heat is not right away like yours, You were hot when I first saw you she is a later hot". I know she talks to Brittney every ten minutes.

The next day she texts that I should get sushi with her that night. I say no. but I'd do beers after, and I'll call her at 8.

I text. she is done eating, went home, I text ... do you want to get a beer?

And I wait. I know that if she wants to see me right now ... it's on. If she says no ... it will never happen but it will happen with Brittney.

She says ok. I go to get condoms.

I pick her up, take her to the local bar. get her drunk as hell. take her home, we go in and her shirt is off in about 4 minutes (bra I removed in one minute). She says "you gotta promise me it's not gonna get weird with you, guys change" -- she meant like I'd want to be her boyfriend. I laughed. "No worries there beauty".

Got her naked and she went WILD. Crazy good sex. Great ... But I am old, and after once I was done and wanting to go (still had my undershirt, and socks on) . I put on drawers and one leg of jeans and she is curling up in my lap all naked with the "doon't goooo ... I want you to stayyy"... " Gotta go, sorry, had enough beer to snore all night and you won't sleep anyway" "So its just fuck me and leave" ..."well....yeah, but no reflection on you, you know I'm busy and I got shit I gotta do".

So I just left her ass. Wednesday, my buddy I own horses with had a food/wine pairing thing at his resteraunt, I failed to get Kia to come, so then, I hit Morgan last minute ... (one hour prior) ... she says I'll be ready in 15 minutes ... We did have a Blast.

Life is pretty good.

Liz wants me over at her sister's party tonight, but I'm kinda poor, and tired, so I'm going to bed. And dream about Britney. or Kia, but not Morgan ... If I do that I'll lose my edge.

Please forward this to Doc J.

I Heart Being Touched

Last Saturday I had a divine massage from that young buck, Howard.

This week I had another one, by another young guy, named Jamie. I was the recipient of Jamie's magic touch at a chic spa in my city.

Normally I would not indulge in a masage at someplace so upscale, of course. But this was a gift, courtesy of a friend who is very dear to me. It was given to me, no strings attached, on a day when I was at a very low moment (really, the lowness factor was bottoming out). I was so surprised when I received the gift card for it (okay, blown away is more like it). And even more touched by the thoughtfulness. I was, like, speechless (which, if you know me, is kind of an impossible situation to imagine -- but trust me, I was). I will never forget that moment . . . like someone had tossed me a life preserver as I was drowning, and said "hey, I see you out there in the ocean, hold on!"

Yesterday afternoon, in between attending the a.m. & p.m. church services with my brother for his RCIA process into the Catholic Church (I am his Sponsor), I hustled to have my much anticipated massage. Jamie was young, sweet, and specialized in deep tissue massage. Perfect. He even turned on the steam machine and aimed it towards my back as he worked on other parts of my body -- the warm, moist heat felt amazing (oh crap, this sounds like total porn right now, LOL). After he was done kneading my legs he took a large, hot, wet washcloth and pressed it into my back, while applying firm pressure onto the knots he found. I would have groaned out loud (in pleasure) if I weren't afraid of being judged a perv, hee hee!

I was so relaxed by the end of the hour I wished I had the money to book the room for the rest of the afternoon, just to nap. It would have been divine if I could have just layed there for a while longer, all Zen-ed out, and slipped off into DreamLand. My body felt like it was in a mediatative trance. I hated to leave this "Den of Zen," but finally mustered up the energy to get dressed (boo!) and go home. The good feeling lasted though, and I managed to sleep better last night than I have in weeks.

If only I could somehow end every day with a massage . . . . Mmmmmm!

I Heart Howard

There's a new man in my life. His name is "Howard," and I heart him (ya know, like one of those t-shirts with the big red heart instead of the word "love"?!)

Let me explain.

About two weeks ago I saw an ad in a local community magazine advertising that a local technical school was offering massages, performed by their massage students-in-training, at a discounted rate. Well, I know how useful an experience this is for the students, as Dr. J's school had a student-clinic (under the watchful supervision of the professor-doctors), and the students get sooooo much out of it. Add into this that the massages were being offered at a steeply discounted rate and I was jazzed about the opportunity!

And yesterday was my appointment. I was assigned to Howard. He was about 23 years old, dark curly hair, warm personality, cute, and . . . had . . . great . . . hands. Ahhhhhhhhh! Seriously, in a non-sexual way, he made me a VERY happy woman!

When I got in the car to drive home I checked out my face in the mirror, and DAMN, if I didn't have thee most sated, fulfilled, blissful expression on it ;o)

Immediately afterwards, I booked another appointment with Howard for two weeks from now.

I HEART HOWARD!!!!!!!!!!!