Argh, it’s been way too long since I’ve written anything–it’s almost physically painful to try to be writing right now.

Everything is fine–ticking along.  My real life is just excellent–healthier (thank you, gym), more literate (thank you, Kindle), happier (thank you, Robbie), and wealthier (thanks to my employers) than it has been in a long time.  I should thank my mother while I’m at it, but then again, I’ve always planned to thank her in any and every awards speech.

So, the blog has been quiet because I’ve been focusing on other stuff lately–hobbies and work and friends and so on.  I’m planting a micro-garden in the back, and I’ve been cooking more, and I’ve even occasionally cleaned my apartment.  I’ve been reading up on the environment, and thinking of writing more about those topics.  In fact, I’m doing that annoying blogger thing of wondering if I should start a new blog, or several new blogs, or perhaps dozens of them, as places to write about my non-kink interests.

Fortunately, I don’t have to make the decision right this second, because I still have a few kinky interests.  Since Robbie has been visiting me more often where I live, I’ve been trying to beef up the toy collection here.  (His is already dramatic.)  I just received, after weeks of obsessive-compulsive debate about design, a custom-made flogger from MauiKink.  I haven’t used it yet, so I’m not really in position to give them all of the positive press they almost certainly deserve.  But I can show a little leg.

Here’s my new flogger, photo courtesy of those great MauiKink folks:

I’ve also got a matching bamboo cane with a handle in the same burgundy suede.  Together, the pair look really stunning.

Of course, after I got the pieces and admired them, I started to have buyer’s remorse (which is a good sign–I’ve had it about all of my favorite purchases.)  I told Robbie I wasn’t sure either implement was enough to really hurt someone.  He just laughed at me and said he was pretty sure he could make them sting.  I said that I was the one who was going to be wielding these–they’re partly to use for when I switch–and that I definitely was not strong enough to make them really ouchie.  He just laughed again.  I think he’ll tease the closet sadist in me out eventually, whether I want him to or not.

So I really thought I had something more to add to this post, but then I got distracted.  I’m telling you, this writing thing is hard when you haven’t done it in awhile.  I’m retiring with a glass of red wine, a Sandra Bullock movie, and some chocolate to revive myself after the strain of writing this.  Perhaps after a couple more months of that kind of indulgence, I’ll be ready to post again.


[Hi.  I missed you too.]

The other night Robbie emailed me to tell me that for my next visit, I should plan to bring–sorry, I was required to bring–white cotton schoolgirl panties and hair ribbons.  (“Colors (in priority in case they cost too much to buy all at once): pink, white, red, black and green.”  He is nothing if not precise.)

The requirement that I provide things for Robbie’s increasing interest in costumes (one that I share) was super-hot to me.  The prospect of trying to find ribbons in my new and urban environment, on the other hand, was surprisingly daunting and inspired a fit of hysteria out of all proportion to the task.  (As I’ve noted before, tasks, no matter how small they are, really don’t seem to work well for us at distance; I go into insta-meltdown, and he ends up wondering why something intended to be sexy and fun turns into emotional crisis.)

I still don’t know where I’ll get the ribbon, since I’m thinking that the corner Starbucks and 24-hour CVS, my go-to sources for all that is essential, won’t be of use.  But I’m determined to try to find something for whatever nefarious purposes Robbie has in mind.  I have every intention of being the most irresistible schoolgirl he’s seen in some time.  And I’m hoping if I’m good enough, he might even use a few of the ribbons elsewhere on me (wrists, ankles . . . ).



I have no idea why, frequently, I think about posting pink elephants on this site.  I realize that pink elephants are associated with hallucinations.  Still, to me, they mean Big Love.

So, as a (belated) Valentine’s Day wish, I am sending pink elephants to the world. 

I also want to send some real elephants, because they are beautiful, because they are intelligent, because they are gentle, and because they bond, deeply, in pairs. 

And because, as Em and Lo point out, even elephants sometimes “love in a, you know, different way”. 

Pink elephants, and other dreamy illustrations, by Andrea Offermann.


I have a ton of things to say and no time to say them; I have a window of four hours between now and when I have to get up to travel, so I am going to preview what I would post about and might post about–especially if I could stop time like the hero in Nicholson Baker’s quasi-pornographic The Fermata.

– I’m tired. (Okay not a good post topic, just trivia; warming up here.)

– I’m getting myself a corset!!!!!!  I think.

– I’m going to see Robbie soon! . . . I’m pretty sure.

– If we see each other he is going to beat my ass until it’s rosy, and keep it that way (a promise).

– I actually found a vibrator that works–as in, makes me cum.  (More about that when I’ve shown it to Robbie; right now it’s a top secret surprise, shhhhh.)

– Robbie is more social than I am.  This is something that deserves some thought, or not.

– I like Eartha Kitt, and I’m sad she’s dead.

– I’m horny.

– I found some neat new places to find e-cards; I’ll post links to them soon.

– I need to finish that post I promised Robbie about Thanksgiving.  There was lots more ropeplay, and I owe descriptions of it, especially since we’re planning more soon and I’m never going to keep up at this rate.

I think that’s about all I can think of.  Oh yeah, there is a recurring fantasy I wanted to write about, something involving a beach in Mexico and a bottle of massage oil . . . well, maybe there is time for just a quickie . . .

Pin-up pic of Jessie With Bubbles, by Sol Lang.  Via pinkmilk.

A few people in my life have cause for celebration today . . . they know who they are.


Bottoms up, boys n’ girls!!!

Martini on PinkMilk‘s tab.