Home at last


It’s not quite a month since Sir and our three dogs and I drove 1500 miles from east Texas to our house in San Clemente, California. We’ve owned this house for over 6 years and been leasing it out. That is a tale for another day. Our Texas home is for sale. It was a rather excruciating two day trip in terrible heat (the southwest was in the grip of a bad heat wave.) My car had an issue in that the passenger side mirror whistled/squealed at high speeds (reported to dealer the day we bought the car and repaired twice already.) All in all, we were so glad to reach our destination! I’ve been exhaustively unpacking, cleaning and organizing the house. Sir is continuing to do a ten day work shift back in Texas every month and he is there now, returning Tuesday. Last Thursday the TV, phone and internet were finally hooked up.  Most of the boxes are unpacked or have been relegated to the garages. I mopped my floors twice and cleaned all the bathrooms. Today I can stop and take a bit of a break.

We live way up in the foothills near the US Marine Base Camp Pendleton. When I was a little girl there was nothing here. I mean NOTHING. I feel bad man has come in and built so far up in the hills destroying the natural habitat… and look at me. Here I am living right here smack up against the hillside. When I walk my dogs we see lizards and the cutest cottontail bunnies like the one shown. My big boy Boxer wants to give chase, but I will Not Allow It.

I am loving the cooler SoCal weather. Was it a 19 year bad dream, living in east Texas? Yesterday I drove an hour and a half to Santa Monica, near where I grew up, to visit my best friend since third grade. She is getting married (for the first time) at our ripe old age and wanted me to be there while she tried on wedding gowns. As I stood at the door of her place it was as if I had never moved away. I marveled that I was, after 19 years, back home breathing the ocean air and chatting with my dear dear friend. I felt years of stress fade away and I could feel life and happiness fill my soul again.

Thomas Wolfe was so wrong. You can go home again.



I read this today, on Mother’s Day weekend. It made me cry and filled me with rage and made my skin crawl. Can anyone please tell me what we kind of society we are becoming, if we as people really think that lying and covering up what happened to that baby is acceptable? THAT SCHOOL PERSONNEL CAN HIDE SUCH A THING FROM PARENTS??????

Moreover, that this little boy’s schoolmates stood by and did nothing, and/or told nobody what they witnessed – AND THEN POKED HIM WITH THEIR FEET  but did not run for help…

Well, I’m speechless. How do you think HE felt… completely adrift in such a cold, mean, cruel world where nobody cares about him….? Okay… here come the tears again.

Some days this world is just too much for me.

Happy -sad Birthday


Today is my birthday. It’s also the day before my 91 year old mother moves “home” to California, to a senior independent living center. She’ll have a small two bedroom, two bath apartment-style unit in a very nice place where she will have meal service and anything else she could possibly need or want. My two older brothers live in the same city, less than fifteen minutes away. Her belongings are on that “pod” you see in my photo. It will arrive on April 1st and then the unpacking will begin.

I’m happy because in June, my husband and I will also be returning “home” after 19 1/2 years here. Our daughter will hopefully join us in the fall too. I’m more than a bit sad because not only have we been going through a lifetime of accumulated things, deciding what to keep, part with, donate, trash, etc., but for the first time, I will no longer actually have a home to go to where one or both of my parents live. I realize that this place has been her last real home. The place she is going to, while it will be many important things, will not be a home for any of her children or grandchildren. It’s true I have a home with my husband (and hope I always will) but there’s no substitute for the comforting feeling of knowing you can always go home when times are tough. I’m a grown woman and have been for many years, but whenever I drove or walked up to my parents’ ( or later my mother’s) house it was with the nearly indescribable emotionally secure knowledge that here I was safe and secure and all was well.

I don’t have that any longer.

Quiet and Silence


There is a big difference in quiet and silence. It’s true that by definition, both involve a lack of sound or noise. Some would say silence is golden and still others say in a very firm tone of voice, “Be QUIET!”

I’ve always enjoyed being quiet and being in quiet surroundings. Maybe all along I’ve had a tendency for migraine, and so preferred soft sounds and silence to loud harsh noises. Some of my favorite places to be are hiking alone or with my loved ones in nature, with nobody else around, either along the shore where ocean waves are gently lapping, or in the mountains where it is still and silent, aside from birds calling. I’ve never been a particularly talkative sort either. Even when I’m home alone I rarely listen to music. I treasure having the still quiet house to myself and enjoying my home, my things, and possibly having the pleasure and freedom to write.

Yet sometimes, Sir has the need to tell me to keep quiet and SOMETIMES out the ball gag must come. Thankfully, those times are rare.



Rafting the Martha Brae


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.


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!


Heads or Tails


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?