Memories of my Father

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For many years I have resisted writing about this. In case you don’t know what this photo is of, it’s an antique barber strop. A strop was, or is used to sharpen a straight razor used to shave men’s beards. It used to be made of leather, with a canvas or thick leather cover or side used to polish, wipe,  or buff the razor after sharpening.

My grandfather was a barber. He came to America from Russia and opened a barber shop in downtown Los Angeles in the 1920’s. His two sons, my father and my uncle followed in his footsteps, both going to cosmetology school. My uncle owned a women’s hair salon in Santa Monica for over 40 years. My dad had a bad back, and although he enjoyed it, chose the military instead as his career.

My father came from a broken home. This was back in the day (the 1930’s) when divorce was truly unheard of and considered a scandal. My grandfather was a womanizer, a gambler, and liked to drink. My grandmother left him, taking my uncle with her. That meant that my dad, who was a little boy, stayed with my grandfather and slept on a cot in the back of the barber shop. I don’t know what he ate or who cooked. When my grandfather brought his women in, what happened to my dad? He had a scar on his arm and one on his face which happened when he was a boy and I believe his father was responsible for them. My grandmother wasn’t a good mother – she shouldn’t have split up her sons like that. It permanently damaged my father.

He kept a razor strop like the one in the photo – it may even have been his father’s – always hanging on a hook on the back of his bathroom door for as long as I knew him. He didn’t use it for razors. When my oldest brother was born, the doctors knew he wasn’t normal. They told my parents to put him in an institution. (This was 1948.) My mother refused. She took him home and showered him with love and attention, and my brother always went to regular school, struggling along with her help. He eventually graduated and learned to drive, attended junior college, has held many jobs, knows how to use computers, has his own condo, loves to read, and is very intelligent, more than many people I know. But my father being a military man could never accept that his son wasn’t perfect. He resented the attention my mother gave to him. I remember the horrible names my dad called my brother; the fights; when my father would drink it got very bad. I was so little but I remember my father chasing my brother around our house with the razor strop and beating him. I recall him screaming at him to get out of the house. I could not have been more than 5 or 6 years old.

There is so much more to say about this. Perhaps (I have often felt) some of this explains my desire for submission. Many times, my mother tells me, she thought about leaving, but times were so different then. As my father aged, he mellowed somewhat. And of course eventually my brother was able to move out on his own, which helped matters. I will never forget the day when my father called my brother and me into the living room where he was watching TV by himself and said, with tears in his eyes, “I want you to know that I always loved you.”

My brother still can’t forgive him. It was too little, too late. I understand. I do forgive my dad, though. I understand him. He was damaged. He actually was a very emotionally weak man. Still, I love him and miss him. But there are things I am, and always will be haunted by. You can’t change your past, but you can try to understand it and become a better person by not repeating the same mistakes your parents made.

Rafting the Martha Brae

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Last week, my beloved Master and I took a one-week cruise of the western Caribbean. My favorite part was our day in Jamaica, where we docked at Montego Bay and booked with a private tour guide to show us his beautiful island country. It was a glorious sunny day and Chris, our guide, was friendly and drove us all around, explaining the various sites and places we stopped. Mid-morning we went rafting on the Martha Brae river, a highlight of the trip.

It was here where we met Sam, the man you see in the photo. Sam was our raft captain, who poled us down the river. He has been doing just that for 34 years. You, like me, may find that astounding, that anyone has the strength and fortitude to push and pull rafts along a 20 mile river for such a long time. While we waited to board the raft, I noticed that few of the raft captains talked with the customers. I hoped we would get a friendly one! As luck would have it, Sam was a talker. He wanted to know about us and he told us about himself. He also sang as we floated downriver. He had a lovely soft voice and repeatedly sang a hymn about going to heaven. I told him he had a nice voice, and then he said he was preparing to perform with his daughter at church last Saturday; they had been practicing for weeks.

It was beautiful and very peaceful to sit and listen to Sam talk about how he never used to be a faithful person. How he never went to church at all – did not believe in it. But as time passed, he became less stubborn. He realized God is with us always, everywhere, in everything we do. He realized he wanted to go with his wife to church and know God.

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I reflected on my life as we continued down the Martha Brae; about how ridiculously complicated we allow our lives to become, worrying about the latest styles and food crazes and wanting a new cell phone, shoes, handbag, etc. We are consumed by consumerism. We have all become haters because we only believe our view or vision is the correct one. We are on the brink of societal collapse because we simply can’t be calm, agree with our fellow man, love one another, and move on in life. We have lost the innate knowledge of kindness which small children instinctively have. There’s a global need for more, faster, better, now. What happened to simpler, less, slower?

Meeting Sam – spending time with him on his raft, learning about him and his life, was one of the greatest privileges I’ve had in my life. Sam is blessed. He doesn’t need a new car, expensive rich meal, fancy clothing, or even a vacation to have happiness in life. He found peace, love, and happiness in his own simple life. He told us. May you find yours!

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Heads or Tails

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Recently Master presented me with this absolutely beautiful long tail which attaches to a new butt plug. (Master loves all things anal…)

The tail is real fox and is sumptuously thick and feels amazing when I walk, brushing against the back of my legs. Master made me wear it as I cleaned house yesterday, and was quite pleased (and aroused.)

“It’s all about control, baby…”

Sinful Sunday

Four Years is a Long Time

So, the depressing reality is beginning to set in for me as well as millions of Americans. We  (well not me personally because I didn’t vote for him, but the collective “we”) have elected a monster. I haven’t slept well in weeks. I find myself unable to listen to or watch the news. Each new day brings more mandates and laws the monster is either enacting, repealing, or changing to his liking. Soon we will have a new Supreme Court Justice who will help change the course of the way many major laws are enacted for many years, possibly for a generation. My husband (a physician) is worried we may not be able to get medical insurance if the Affordable Care Act is repealed.

Many of the positive things President Obama struggled to do over the past eight years are already in the process of being undone or changed – for the worse. Our new President based his campaign on lies, and still insists millions of illegal votes prevented him from winning the popular vote. Uh… who cares?  He insists more people attended his inauguration than any other (clearly a lie) and also there were millions more there than at the Women’s March the following day, even though photographs show this is not true. He says the media is distorting the truth. He wants us to listen to him, and him alone, and to only trust his word. Sounds rather like a dictator to me! I applaud CNN, who said they would not attend the press conferences at the White House as long as Sean Spicer, the WH Press Secretary continues to lie.

Now tell me, how many more days until the campaigning begins to elect a new President in 2020?

Good (kinky) Fortune

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Okay, I don’t like fortune cookies. I should say I really don’t care for the cookies the fortunes come in. Once I went to a restaurant where the cookies were dipped in chocolate on one end, so those were at least edible. Usually the cookies are basically little better than stale cardboard, if you can imagine such a thing. Sir likes them. I used to nibble on the almond cookies way back when Chinese restaurants used to offer those delightful pale gold, round moon-shaped morsels of delight after your meal, but those days are long gone. Interestingly, I never paid too much attention to the inane “fortunes” inside until I was diagnosed with cancer. And then… (insert theatrical pause) the next several I got were all very pertinent and gave me pause to think. It was as if someone was making sure I got those particular cookies. They had fortunes such as “Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.” Then the next one perhaps was: “Your future looks very bright.” And then, maybe a few weeks later, “You will live to a ripe old age.”

Normally, one wouldn’t give such notions a second glance, but with a life-threatening diagnosis looming large, and a small child to raise, when the fortunes kept coming my way, it was mildly reassuring. The funny thing is, I’ve never received any such prophetic fortunes before or since. Usually we get “You may soon take a long trip” or “A pleasant experience is coming your way” or “”You are blessed with great happiness, love, and wealth.” Master has often opened cookies and pulled out “All your hard work will soon pay off” or some such.

What do you think of this one I got the other night?

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It certainly brought a big smile to my face! Hope you are all smiling today too.

 

New Year, New Toys!

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I’ve been absolutely crazy busy since start of December. As some of you know, we plan to move later in the year, back “home” to SoCal from east Texas. It will be a huge move. My 91 year old mother must move as well. She moved from Cali to be here with us when our girl was quite young, after my father passed, and I was diagnosed with cancer. It’s been lovely having her here only ten minutes away and visiting whenever the notion struck either of us. She still drives and is quite the independent woman considering her age. However, as much as she hates the idea of yet another move, she must return with us. She and I recently flew back to be with my two older brothers for a few days to search for a place for her to live. She refuses to live with any of us! She also doesn’t wish to buy another home or rent an apartment where she’ll live completely alone.

My brothers found an independent-living senior center quite near where they both live. She liked it, and it appears she’ll be moving there early this spring, before we move in the summer. Now we are scrambling deciding what she will take, as it’s a small two bedroom unit. She’ll have all meals prepared for her, and light housekeeping as well. As a bonus, she was very lucky in that a prime unit with a patio and small yard became available while we were visiting. So the transition will be easier because she will have very much her own “space.” I’m praying all goes well and she will be happy and make friends there.

Once she’s settled, this will be a big relief for me. I adore my mom; we are not just mother and daughter, but best friends as well. It has grown difficult watching her age, and becoming a bit of a caregiver for her and needing to call every day and be sure she is feeling well and has all she needs, because my brothers live 1500 miles away. I will still do this, but she will be where there is excellent paid staff and she will have a pull cord by her bed and in the bathrooms. Help is just down the hall if needed, and my brothers are 10 and 15 minutes from her. (We will be an hour away.) I know this will be a feeling of relief and satisfaction that she is not living completely alone.

Regarding the title of this post – oh yes, Master did buy me two new toys to start the year out in the way He (we) likes! As you see, the first is a beautiful, very large, heavy metal butt plug with a beautiful purple jewel! As for the second toy, knowing that Sir really has a fixation on all things ass-related, can you guess what it might be?

Sir has bought me my very own tail!!!! We have not played with it yet. I will keep you posted!

The Secret to Life

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This holiday season I need no gift other than the secret to life as told by Fannie Flagg in Fried Green Tomatoes: Friends. Best friends.

I’m so grateful to those who read my blog and particularly a few of you whom I’d love to visit and share a couple of precious hours chatting over a warm drink. You see, kindred spirits know no boundary and recognize each other even sight unseen through the miracle of the internet. I know we would laugh together and no doubt cry as well, talking about life and the path it has led us down. The partners we have been with, our children, aging parents, family drama… and our path of self-realization. It strikes me I could talk openly with some of you and discuss things I haven’t told anyone else. I know you would accept and not judge me. I know too, you would offer words of wisdom and advice. As I would do for you! I love you all, and wish all of you happy, peaceful, healthy, prosperous times ahead. Oh, and may there be loads of fun involved!! xxxxx