Perfectly cooked

Steaks, tempura Greenbeans, and some experimental sage and chive potatoes that came out wonderfully was the culinary conclusion to tattoo and mattress delivery day.
My husband returned from Old Larimer street tattoo to suprise the kid and myself during the walk home from school. He revealed a very beautifully rendered cabin in some deep dark woods against some very red skin that his buddy Oz did. He’s very vocal about his tender bits.

The next day we visit petsmart while the kid is in school. The idea is just to browse since babies are starting to arrive with the spring season, and maybe see if they carry an automatic treat dispenser for while we’re away.
It was very difficult when we got thereunder are greeted by some very friendly fur babies behind glass. One of them sticks out as a possible candidate and he is just the absolute joyful sort, the kid to chase his tail and play fetch, however there was some ongoing stuff with thevperson who vrought ut in for adoption.Husband struggles to say let’s wait a little longer.

We then visit the lumber store next door to get quoted on prices for our next home renovation and find some nice options. We tell them we’ll be back with the proper dimensions for the material split.

In the car however, my husband is having a meltdown and can’t drive, he’s all worked up about the kitten we met and I am cracking up. So I drive home, we re measure the living room and continue weighing the pros and cons of another kitty in our home, ultimately making another trio back to the pet store in an attempt to bring that cat home. After filling out all the paperwork though we were blocked off by a previously unheard of limitation of 3 pets in a home in our city, lady says something about being legally bound by their middle man provider contract to reject the sale. Now that it was out of our hands though, the husband could finally relax but talk of a new kitten didn’t halt all together, we still looked online at shelters and eyed a little buddy named Ned nearby that could meet all our needs. If we get rejected again it’s fine, it just means we wait until a better time.

I can see it in your eyes….

You want it. And guess what, I want it too. I want you. All of you. Let me say that again. I want all of you. And I know what you so desperately need, because I need it too.

You are so pretty, it’s hard resisting the urge to kiss you whenever I see you. I wonder if you keep your beautiful eyes open or close em. Mine will be open, lost in awe. I like playing little games, like footsie, but with our tongues, and we both win every time. A mouth as pretty as yours would be very good at other games too, but I’ll leave that to your imagination.

The neck is criminally underrated, no? This beautiful trail that leads my mouth from yours down to your perfect chest. But I’m taking the scenic route, your soft moans in my ear encouraging me to take my time. After all, there’s no rush, there’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be, except, well, we’re getting to that.

Time for the second course, your wonderful breasts. And they both deserve equal amounts of affection. Baby, I hope it’s ok, but I can be a little rough. As much as I like to kiss, and lick, and suck, I also enjoy lightly squeezing and biting. I might leave some marks where only you can see to remember me by.

You have such a tight little body that I know you work so hard for, and I want to cherish every bit of it with kisses along your tummy down to your exquisite thighs, where I once again might feel compelled to mark you as mine. And I could go on, but I can’t resist any longer.

Not to detract from anything I’ve already said, it was and is all very true, but we both know who the star of the show is. I wonder if you have a name for her? Can I give her one? Maybe I should get to know her first a little better. This is another fun game. I’m going to take my time, even though you’re already so wet I know you’re ready for me to take you now. You have to wait as long as I want. I am in control. Just lay back, grab me by the hair, and close your eyes.

Call me Cousteau because I’m about to explore. Like any diligent adventurer I must investigate the outer areas first. Intrepidly, I also search within for the fabled treasure. But while you taste so good I could stay here forever, what is this but discovery of the precious jewel to the north! I must excavate with my tongue. With each moan I fall further into a berserker rage, consumed with the solitary purpose of pleasing you. And I won’t stop, can’t stop, until I feel you quivering and your legs close around my head.

So what’s next? Well, I’m not in control anymore, so I guess that’s up to you.

Actually, you’re NOT that nice!!!!

Just a shame that you still feel the need to force your teenage daughter onto me, even though you don’t really have that much interest in me. You’ve proved to me what a narcissist you are, by things you’ve said to me. You think that I’m completely stupid. You think that I’m not that clever. You’re friends are stalkers and I will never give them the time of day. You are pathetic to be this obsessed with me. You don’t “care about me”. You don’t “love” me. Aren’t you growing a bit fed up and tired of playing the same old game without getting any end result? Aren’t you a bit old to be playing these sorts of games by now? The joke’s actually on YOU. You will never get to see me again. Goodbye, you pathetic waste of space.


It’s a nickname we gave our daughter from Futurama because although she is cute, she can shit a 300 ton cannonball that consistently clogs the toilet of anywhere we go to.

This morning was particularly harrowing, so much that it made her late for school this morning and me being unable to successfully remove the clog while my husband was at work.

Gone without a trace

Dear N,

Do you remember the time we went to see the Bodice Rippers and the Extra Action Marching Band in Oakland? The pounding beats and sexy dancers fueled our desire for each other. We danced until our feet were numb. Sweaty from our gyrations, we could barely keep our hands off each other on the drive home. I recall attacking each other as soon as we walked in the door, kissing and groping each other and pulling clothes off as we stumbled to the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me close to help me take off my corset. Our skin slipped against each other as I climbed on top of you.

You had a unique smell that I could never quite figure out. You may or may not be aware of this, but the sense of smell is more closely related to memory than any other sense. Due to the fact that the olfactory bulb runs from your nose to the base of your brain and has direct connections to your amygdala and hippocampus (areas responsible for processing emotion and memory), neuroscientists have suggested that this close physical connection between the regions of the brain linked to memory, emotion, and our sense of smell may explain why our brain learns to associate smells with certain emotional memories.

Environmentalist that you were, I knew you didn’t shower every day, but you did on the days you saw me. I could tell because your long hair and Gandalf-like beard were always damp when you got here. You had an earthy smell. Maybe it was the soap you used or the detergent you used for your clothes. It wasn’t body odor or dirty. It wasn’t off-putting in the least. Or offensive. It was just …you. I loved how my sheets smelled like you for days. I’d hold the pillow close to me, and it felt like you were still next to me. A slender, lithe sleeping cat who would roll over to spoon me.

Your long arms reached over to the nightstand and took a condom out of the drawer. With your arms above your head, you skillfully took it out of the packaging. You reached down to roll it onto your cock and pulled me down on top of it -all in one smooth move.

Our bodies moved as one. I could still hear the pulsing music from just hours before thumping in my head as I rode your beautiful cock. A wave of orgasm coursed through my body. You shuddered in response. I loved how your whole body would twitch after coming. It was like you were offering every last drop to me. Finally able to catch our breath, we opened the window to let in the cool air as we snuggled close and fell asleep. A perfect ending to a perfect evening.

A year later, it was not so perfect. You had come over to say that your primary partner was asking you to close up your relationship and that you would no longer be able to see me. We talked for an hour. I cried. You hugged me as you left, and you blew me a bittersweet kiss as you walked out the door.

I walked over to the couch where you had been sitting and picked up the pillow you’d been leaning on. I buried my face in the pillow, hoping to breathe in your familiar scent one last time. But…nothing. I smelled nothing. It just smelled like…a pillow.

It feels crazy to say it, but I believe it was my body helping me move on. She would not allow me to clutch this pillow to me as a reminder of you and soak my despair into the fabric. You had moved on in every way…And so would I.


I dreamt we spoke

If we meet again on this dismal planet
I would have to walk past you
Without a mere hello.
Your presence would make this hurt come alive.
It would be volcanic ash smoldering,
Sizable burns on fresh wounds,
A questionable eruption of thousands of once dead butterflies coming alive.
Spring would awaken, stomachs would somersault by the first lock of pensive eyes.
I could never stay in the room more than fifteen minutes again with you
Or I’d be stuck forever, paralyzed by this moment In time.
I have wasted years on a love gone cold.
I cannot waste a second more.
Not this time.


I always forgot how to spell home during
The times we spoke and you laughed at the
Simple pronunciation that I could never pin
Down correctly.
It was as if I was saying it while gargling salt water.
The taste of it never felt right
And my mouth was filled with an ocean I could
Never swallow whole.
I never liked the way you teased.
It felt like poetry but the kind that misfires.
I kept insisting I was the intended target
And you kept cackling
Stating I never knew how to even spell home
Let alone feel it.
Years later, I think you were right.
Hostage in my own bed, the light dwindling from
The night sky.
I know I was always expressing it to the wrong person.
And yet tomorrow when the next person comes,
I still hope.