So, Back to work!

I have had a wonderful vacation week!  Filled with friends and family, the loved ones whom I cherish and adore.

But very importantly, it was a wonderful week for my marriage.  For re-charging our collective battery.  Re-igniting and stoking to a blaze all the fire and passion that is always smoldering just below the surface, banked down, burning low and waiting for the opportunity, the oxygen, and the space to roar to life and heat us up and leave us toasty and content.

Our sex life is never lacking, almost never (with the exception of illness or extreme fatigue), but there's something so wonderful about not having to make time for the act, you know?  We always manage spontaneity--the reach-around in the kitchen whilst preparing dinner, the blow-job whilst checking one's e-mail, the hearty groping whenever the other passes by, the quick pounding when I've bent over to get something, the soapy fodling in the shower, all that. Like I've said before, there isn't a day, not a single day that passes where that man's assets aren't in my hands or on my lips.  Or where my assets don't get caressed, kissed, and petted. No time crunch seems to douse our need to fondle, stroke, cuddle, and pleasure, even if we're too tired to do everything, we engage in intimacy daily.


But this vacation week afforded us time to ourselves that we haven't been able to enjoy in so, so long.  I'm not even sure our chirstmas break was as rewarding-- mostly because this time around our Roomate was out of the house alot more often.  We had enormously fulfilling sessions, (ENORMOUSLY) and when we weren't doing that we were really enjoying watching tv shows together, reading together, having long, deep, often hilarious, frequently stimulating conversations, cooking together, eating together, playing games together, visiting friends and family together, cleaning together, hosting friends and family together, shopping together, playing together, and just plain lounging around together.

It was one of my fondest staycations thus far.  We were patient with one another, considerate, kind, friendly, warm, welcoming, encouraging, supportive, appreciative, and worshiping. We laughed, as we always do, but deeper, fuller and longer.  We seemed to hold eachother closer, kiss more deeply, snuggle more contentedly.

I love being married to my best friend.  To the person who really knows me, and fulfills me, and makes me feel like my best self even when I'm my absolute worst self.

I was plagued by self-doubt, by insecurities that have cropped up due to all kinds of complicated issues, I was a ship at see without bearings, storm-tossed, ragged, hopeless, afraid.  He was there, as he ever is, with strong arms and an even stronger heart.  He was there with wisdom that cut through my bullshit, with advice that resonated, and guidance that helps me be the best me possible.

He is, as he ever was, and ever shall be, my love, my life, my friend, my partner, my lover, my mentor, my dearest companion.  Generous, patient, thoughtful, supportive, warm, open, deep, steadfast, delicious, dedicated, innovative, witty, wonderful, inspirational, beautiful, perfect.  I am a very lucky woman, and very grateful.


I found this on a friend's blog and thought I'd like to re-post.  I never had a wedding, a thing I don't really regret (when I see the miserable hassle my loved ones endure for such events!), but sometimes I like to fantasize about what things I'd include in my wedding if I ever do have one (like a vow-renewal).  This would very likely be included as a reading.**  Enjoy!

Why Marriage?

By Mari Nichols-Haining

Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person

With all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body...

Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me,

Who won't hold them against me,

Who loves me when I'm unlikeable,

Who sees the small child in me, and

Who looks for the divine potential in me...

Because I need to cuddle in the warmth of the night

With someone who thanks God for me,

With someone I feel blessed to hold...

Because marriage means opportunity

To grow in love in friendship...

Because marriages do not fail, people fail

When they enter into marriage

Expecting another to make them whole...

I take half of the responsibility for my marriage

But together we create our marriage...

 

 

 

 

 

 

**I would like to take this moment to remind the reader, if they have forgotten, that my beliefs are quite liberal, and I firmly and whole-heartedly believe that the cultural norm of a two-person union is not necessarily the perfect, ideal, or only type of fulfilling, rewarding, healthy marriage.  And I certainly don't believe in a hetero-normative view of marriage by any stretch of the imagination.  We can get into that some other day, but I just want the record clear: I believe in love! The more the merrier ;)

Make-Up Sex; Or: The Joys and Perils of Habitual Blogging

Ok.

Yup.

Alright.

It feels like me and the blog had a fight.  We said some things we didn't mean, called eachother names we both regret, and now, maybe, it's time to move on and forget this never happened.


I'm still kinda pissy about it, still have some lingering resentment and some troubling doubts;  will we work?  Will we end up getting a divorce down the road when I meet some other hobby, some hobby that really gets me?  Will the passion go out of our tempestuous love-affair?  Am I just doing this because routine comforts and anchors me?  Is it ok to have a side-blog?  Am I simply addicted to blogging?  Is this a healthy relationship?  Are we friends first?  Are we friends at all? Is it worth it to stay in a relationship because of amazing sex?  Wait, no, that relationship metaphor doesn't apply to the blog, lol.  Neither would: Is it ok to stay in a relationship when the sex isn't stellar and hope that it will somehow get amazing or that I will miraculously stop craving fulfilling physicality?  Lol.  Questions I hear posed by people all the time, heeheehee.  Things that may or may not find their way into the secrets of Cedar Falls...


Anyway.  Here I am.  Back on your doorstep, bloggie darling.  Forgive me for throwing my hands up in frustration.  Forgive me for being unfair, irrational, and impulsive. Forgive me for making you sleep on the proverbial couch, for giving you the cold shoulder, the silent treatment, and the ever childish "I can't hear you! Is that the wind?  Because It can't be anybody talking..."

I still love you, whether it's good for me or not.  I love you no matter what.  I love you in a vacuum, and I love you in public.  This started as a private thing, just you and me and the relative anonymity of cyberspace.  I don't need anyone else to watch what we have (as sexy as that is, heeheehee.).


Let's put this weekend behind us.  Let's heal and move forward.  Let's bury all those awful things we said when in a temper, or tired, or scared, or confused.


The show must go on.  Time and tide wait for no man.  Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.  Wait, what?  Well, whatever adorable little catch phrase applies, consider it appropriately slogan-ed.  Make a poster.  If the shoe fits.


Plus, we already put the deposit down ;)  J\K.  


He hasn't asked, and I don't know how I'd answer!  (Eyelash flutter)

Words to live by, notions to cherish.

Carelessly Beautiful.

Thoughtlessly Perfect.

Effortlessly Magnetic.

Good Night and Good Luck?

Today Danielle commented on her Facebook that it felt like her thoughts had been through a salad spinner.  How brilliantly and aptly put.  I think my heart and mind have been through the salad spinner.

I'm all mixed up, and churned, and turned around.  I feel like there's so much to mull that I could burst!  And EMOTIONS?  Forget it.  Emotions make thinking about stuff a real fucking chore, huh?  And a treacherous adventure.  Because emotions are kinda fuckholes, aren't they?  I often wish that I could be absent emotion altogether.

Of course, rationally and realistically, I understand that most of what makes me ME is the welling spring of emotion.  I'm Beth and my emotions runneth over my huge fucking cup.  That's who I am, it's what I do, it's how I navigate the world and respond to it.  It is part of what makes me an artist and a creative soul.

But jesus.  Sometime I wish I'd been an accountant. With Asphergers. 

I love fully and completely.  I love fiercely and with my whole being.  I care deeply, I lay myself out ther without reservation.  And without regret.  Only sometimes?  I feel twinges akin to regret before I squash them and remind myself that I DON'T LIVE WITH REGRETS.  I recategorize those twinges of 'wow, I wish I hadn't done\said\acte like that...' and shrug them off and move the fuck on.

We only get this one life, right?  So what if I make a complete ass out of myself, so long as my motivatiuon was pure and my intent was never, ever to hurt another person.  Oh, Polonius, I try every day, but sometimes it's real fucking tricky to be tru to thine ownself when one hasn't a fucking clue as to whom thine ownself could be!!!

Am I this?  Am I That?  Do I want this, or that?  Can't I has both, please?  Labels don't quite fit on me, and while my teenaged self reveled in this intensely unique and original state of being, my late twenties self is beginning to feel self-conscious about her other-ness, her existence apart and adrift.  It isn't as precocious anymore, it isn't as precious to defy the mainstream on fundamental issues and habits and tendencies and preferences. 

Ug.  And It turns out I kinda can't stand myself most days!  Wtf is that?  Somedays, don't get me wrong, I fucking love me.  I think I'm the bee's goddamn knees and all that jazz, the cat's PJ's etc, but most days?  I just try to ignore my self and make due-- like an annoying roomate you are forced to live with.  Lol.  I drive me nuts, but hey, what can you do?

Like this blog, for example.  Gag me.  So many people have blogs WORTH reading.  Entertaining, insightful, FUNNY.  I have one of those posts every once in a blue moon.  Most days? They're like this.  All internal contemplation and irrevernt silliness and WASTE OF TIME AND SPACE!

And I'm not sure I want to keep it up.  I don't know.  Obviously half of me wants it.  The other half asks:  What the fuck good has it done you?  And don't give me that bullshit about 'finding your voice', that's bullshit.  It sounds good, and it might be true for many, but you?  You, Beth?  Take a peek back and tell me what sort of 'voice' has emerged?  Any clarity forthcoming?  And deep spiritual revelation?  Any closer to having your life on track or your shit together or your stars aligned?  Nope.  Just a bunch of posts whining about some drama or other, or a buncha posts about fun sex, and a handful of posts that could pass as funny.  Oh, and let's not even start on what kind of 'Voice' you've developed with this shit fiction that you practically have to beg people to read.  Jesus, Beth, way to waste like, a half year of your life.  Years are thinning, you know.  How about if you want a family you work a little harder on getting those proverbial ducks in a row, instead of sitting around daydreaming and bitching and moping and wondering 'what if' and passing judgement on others.

Yeah.

My other half is a real bitch.  Have you met her?  She's a wicked meanie, and not super fun to live with.  But that doesn't automatically invalidate her opinions and her stern advice.

I need to re-evaluate my priorities.  Get myself situated.  I think I need to stop playing kid games and start living the life befitting a grown woman.  I know I have no regrets and all?  But I dunno.  I'm feeling something over here, something that stings and prickles and brings tears to the eye. 

I shouldn't be allowed to take baths.  Too much time alone with my thoughts gets me morose like a bitter drunk with some hard liquor!  Jesus.

How about some positivity to wrap up this blog endeavor?

I had coffee with two wonderful ladies today.  They are both amazing and inspirational.  I love them to pieces and my heart swells whenever I get to spend time with them. 

And This afternoon my Brother and Sister and neices came over for dinner!  It was their first time ever seeing the apartment, and it is always fun to show off a place we adore so completely.

And my husband is fantastic.  I'm the luckiest woman in the whole world.  He is supportive, and kind, and funny, and warm, and emotionally available, and understanding, and infinitely patient, and hung, and lol.  I know that last one shouldn't matter.  But it's worth a mention, lol.  And he's my best friend in the whole world and he's my partner, and he's my soul mate, and he'll always be my big romance.

Maybe I'll see you around?  Once in a while?  No more of this daily bullshit. 

And god knows what will happen to the CF endeavor.  I believe it shall languish until it perishes from starvation.  Some mother I'd make.

Now to spend time in the real world. 

It's been fun!

Ciao!

Nothing more than fee-ee-lings...

It feels good to have such a tidy house!

It feels disappointing that vacation is nearly over.

Today it felt good to nap without anxiety over what else I 'should' be doing.

It feels good to have the house to ourselves once in a while, and it feels fucking great to be pleasured when I can be as loud and raucous as I want!

It feels lonely when you don't get to see your friends alot.

It feels like the tomorrow I dream about will never dawn.

It feels like a waste of time to keep writing.

It feels fucking awesome to climax multiple times in rapid succession, lol.

It feels gratifying to be appreciated and admired and respected.

It feels cozy to get a hug from your niece and hear her say ' i luvuh eeuuw Ahntee '

It feels empty when plans fall through

It feels depressing when you have to pick and choose which bills you can manage to make payments on before month's end.

It feels like he might never actually move out.

It feels frustrating to even THINK about going back to work monday.

It feels liberating to go braless.

It feels like sexy-time when the husband dims the lights and gives that smoldering look.

It feels nostalgic to wear hid button downs.

It feels nice that family will stop by tomorrow, but irritating that I can't show the apartment off the way I'd like (I know my little climbing-monkey of a neice would LOVE the loft, godammit!)

It feels like helplessness to see what goes on and not be able to help it, prevent it, or make any meaningful change.

It feels like a pressing weight, thinking about going back to work and dealing with that wretched ass of a co-worker.

It feels bouy-ing to know that my favorite mentor will be there, though, smiling and sassy, and always with the right advice.

It feels like limbo, and part of me loves it, and part of me wants it to go away, because my heart is simultaneously resiliant and terribly fragile.

It feels sexy, and it kinda feels guilty.

It feels like I'll never see my bestie again :(

It feels like i need to seriously re-evaluate my career (but what else is new, right?)

It feels like I made mistakes, and I'm not certain how I feel about that, because it all depends, doesn't it?

It feels like eating gourmet cupcakes may be nice once in a while, but not every other day for a week~ you know? 

It feels like this summer theatre thing might really happen, but it feels so unsettled right now that it feels like I might have an ulcer coming on, lol.

It feels like it might be a really long stretch of time before April vacation. 

And it feels like I'm getting really fucking old, really fucking fast, with fuck-all to show for it.

I feel feelings. heeheehee.

Mary Jane

DISCLAIMER:  I am a liberal.  I am pretty fucking liberal.  I believe strongly that marijuana use and growth should be 100% legal!  I mean, it is a plant, from the earth, and it isn't all that bad for you.  Understand this about me.

Now.  That being said.

I fucking hate the smell of weed!  Jesus Effing Christ!  Why does it have to reek so terribly?  UGH!  My ROOMATE just walked in from an 'errand' he had to run, and he is absolutely stinking of weed.  I'm getting a goddamn headache from it.  It is so bad, and I didn't know what to do!!!  Aaron is fast asleep on the couch, and besides he only has 7% sense of smell anyway, so he's useless.  But me?  I have perfect smell!  20\20 smell, lol.  I have a nose like an eagle, heeheehee.  I can smell marijuana roasting from apartments away.  I would be a fantastic fucking Narc if I weren't so thoroughly liberal.

And I HATE hate hate the smell of it! I didn't say anything at first, but when I came back from rotating the laundry I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Eric, you reek honey."  I told him honsetly.

He acted all confused.  I bowled right over the feigned innocence.  "You stink like marijuana.  I think I have to go light a candle, it's so bad."

He chuckled.  I lit a candle.  He has not febreezed himself or showered or anything.  I am getting a splitting headache.  Grrrr!

And I don't want my house stinking like this!  OMG!  What if it does?  Paranoid!

I'll febreeze the shit out of everything tomorrow, and prolly keep the windows open for a time, just to be safe.  Erg.

If only pot smelled wonderful, like the smell of a good clove cigarette.  Holy Hell, I love love love the smell of clove cigarettes.  I was so fucking bummed when they outlawed those.  I'll tell you, Emerson's campus just didn't feel the same after that move.  And besides?  I'm a liberal, so I was affronted by the move to ban those cigarettes.  What sense does that make?  Why target those ones especially?  Lunacy.

I should, at least, be grateful that he doesn't smoke weed in our house (which we wouldn't allow, not for legal reasons, but because we don't allow smoking of any kind in the house, because it is yucky.  I always go outside with my smoking friends--they are not pariahs, but smoke is so much better in the open air, where it can waft free and not sink into my fabrics, you know?). 

But Come On!  You reek!  You've now been made aware that you reek.  Please do something to correect this for those who are forced to inhabit the same small space with you!

Sincerely,

BETH!

PS:  The only time it's ok to smoke indoors:

Oh Don, you sexy, sexy beast.

Savings!

President's Day!  Who is your favorite President?  Mine is John Adams.  I also favor JFK.

Today Aaron and I went to this awesome thrift store that Andrea introduced us to called SAVERS.  They were having a big half price sale, so we went to get Aaron a bunch of work shirts and stuff and it was super fun!  I mean, they have great ass shirts from Banana, Calvin, Nautica, Gap, Brooks Bros, American Eagle, Express-- all for FRACTIONS of what they'd be worth normally, plus 50% off even that today!  He picked up a whole fucking suit too, and an amazing trench coat!  Plus this is SUPER GREEN and ECO FRIENDLY!  Recycle!

We saw a gorgeous high-quality changing table there, for instance, that reinforced my pre-emptive decision to go green and recylcled when we have kids.  I seriously want to buy second-hand on most of our stuff, both for economic AND eco reasons.  There was also this adorable wooden kitchen set for kids which I would have SNAPPED up if I had my own kids, but you never know how others feel about second-hand stuff.  But I am totally comitted to wooden and natural materials for our future brood, and I'mma try to stay away from PVC plastics as much as possible. (I'm realistic, I understand I can't possibly go all purist-- I love my friend Meagan over at EcoMILF, but really?  I just don't see me going whole hog on the eco bandwagon.  Diapers for instance?  I'll do my best to go eco-friendly, but I will also still go disposable!)

Anyway.  In addition to shirts we got Aaron some fun fucking ties, and we got a few nick-knacks, and as we were about to check out, guess what?!?!?  We ran into Andrea herself!  I had known she was planning to attend the President's Day savings event, but I kinda figured she'd be at one closer to her house in RI, but there she was at the Plymouth store!  Yay!  So fun to run into friends whilst out and about!  I was able to show her some things I was purchasing that reminded me of her, and she had in her hands an orange sweater that was reminding her of me! Too funny.

Then my lover and I came home, I made Caprese Sandwiches, and we are chilling with Mumford & Sons on in the background now.

I have to clean, having a special guest on wednesday =), but I love just chillaxing with my best friend!  Oh, and wait till you see him in some of his new savers shirts!  Too bad the sweater vests were well picked-over and nothing great.  He got a couple last time we were there, but I was hoping for some new ones!

I myself did little 'beth' shopping. He hasn't patience for it, and neither do I really.  I don't have an easy body type to fit, and I wasn't in the mood to try shit on.  I got a scarf though, and some throw pillows for the couch.  And a new coffee mug :)  I got two of the orange things Andrea was looking at for me though, and I'm eager to coze up in this orange sweater!

I gotta run!  Have to go to my folks' and bring in wood!

Love,

Beth

Happiness is a Gourmet Cupcake?

So far? 

Vacation is making me a happy girl!

Friday evening was game night at Danny & Rachel's.  Fun stuff. 

Saturday was sex and videogames followed by babysitting for Natalie (Don't worry, I showered first).  We love sitting for her--she is such an adorable, hilarious little creature! Plus, as payment (which isn't at all necessary, but, rather, my sister's sweet compulsion), My sister Pippi heard about our 'No Take-Out February' and offered to get us dinner from Indian Delight in Weymouth.  YUM CITY!!  It really hit the spot!  We have been pretty darn good this february about outside food and bev (A coffee and sandwich from the bean here and there isn't too awful, right?)--and this was a nice reward.

However, we decided to further reward ourselves today, the first sunday of our February Vacation, with a trip to the brand new CUPCAKE SHOPPE that has opened in WeeBee Centre!  I feel strongly that once a town has a cupcake shop, it qualifies as a Centre and not a Center any longer ;)  Soon maybe WeeBee will be as absolutely precious as perfect Plymouth!  Or, sigh, Plimoth! Too adorable.

Anyway, We wanted to try one of absolutely every single item in the cozy little shoppe.  We are not made of money, so we did not do this.  But we got a half dozen, plus something called a Key Lime Explosion or something, some keylimepie pastry that looked like heaven on earth.  The Cupcake people encouraged us to have them at room temp, so there they sit, just a few feet away from me, slowly ripening to perfection!!  I am so excited to try them that I can hardly stand it!! 

Flavors we will be sampling today:

Strawberry (Strawberry frosting and strawberry centre!)
Holy ShNickers! (Snickers is a brand name, just ask Marylou's.)
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Oreo
Lemon
Coconut

You should have smelled this place.  Divine.  Heaven in a little shop.  PLU they also serve COLD STONE CREAMERY ICE CREAM!!  Whaaaaaaaat?  Yup.  It's all pre-mixe, they don't have an actual cold stone there, but it is official Cold Stone Creamery brand, so you know it is deliciously yumsauce.

You should also be made aware that the decor was warm and cozy and modern and welcoming.  And Aaron would like me to make special note of the music that played whilst we were in there dithering over just how many cupcakes becomes an excessive amount of cupcakes.  The Police, followed by Mumford & Sons, followed by Adele.  It was pretty awesome.  He kinda wanted to hang around for more, and then begged me to let him get HD radio.  He honestly pondered their music majesty all the way home; "I mean, was it a playlist?  It was like they were borrowing my personal playlist?  Was it satellite?  It was so awesome! What are the odds..."

And the staff were great too!  Freindly, hip, socialble, not at all pushy.  Good times.

(And if anyone's keeping tabs on my new year's resolution to 'avoid junk food' I would like to justify my actions by classifying artisan cupcakes as well outside the realm of 'junk food'.  This is a special delectable treat for my body, and not horrible processed trash.  Everyone deserves an artisan, gourmet cupcake or six every now and again, right?)

It should maybe be mentioned that prior to this excursion to the Cupcake Shop, Aaron  and I spent the ENTIRE morning in bed together, cuddling and talking and watching Hulu and fooling around.  I absolutely heart vacations.  I love pondering menage-a-trois whilst getting a backrub and watching backlogged episodes of the office.  I love our honesty and our communication, and how very much we enjoy eachother and get eachother and turn eachother on!

I really really like vacations!!

And?  Have you noticed how very close we are to March 1st? Oh man...

At some point this day I will start cleaning.  I'm expecting company this week, and want my house to sparkle!  AND I will sit down with my writing and organize it some more and get more posts up on the CF blog!  How are you all doing?  Keeping up?  I can't wait to get it all posted and up to date with where I am in my actual writing. 

Another goal for vaca week:  Get resume stuff up-to-date and ready to send out at the drop of a hat.  Jobs are getting posted and I need to be applying. 

But Sundays?  Sundays are for indulgence and replenishing the soul, and sundays are for Aaron's homemade mac and cheese, and Sundays are for rock-your-socks off orgasms, and Sundays are definitely for Artisan Cupcakes ;)

Will let you all know if these cupcakes taste as good as they look and smell!  How's your sunday going?

Free at Last!

Holy fucking shit, I made it to vacation.  By the skin of my goddamn teeth, it feels like.  In fact, at exactly 2:01 this afternoon I got cripplingly ill, had to haul ass home (Praying that I didn't have any kind of incident in the car), run upstairs and be sick.  And proceed to call in to aftercare-- first I called in late, then I called back to amend the previous call--wouldn't be able to make it. 

I'm feeling better now after some rest (knock on wood), and am going to go ahead with my friday evening plans as originally scheduled; game night at my brother's!

But sheesh.  I posted wicked early yesterday morning, so you have not heard about the subsequent drama that occurred at my workplace.  Holy fucknuggets.  Awful.  I won't get into that now, because I have to run out to game night, but it was bad.  And the one shining thing about the day was this amazing woman I work with, who is such a role model and mentor for me, personally and professionally.  She was awesome to me and helped me calm down and get my shit together and keep on working.  Thank Heavens for Mrs. Cambpell. 

More on that later, maybe.  For now?  I'mma focus on the blessed goodness that is my February vacation!  Cue: choirs of angels!

I can't wait to relax, organize more writing for the CF blog, see beloved friends, relax, maybe help the BIL move out (fingers crossed??  He has no solid plans yet, but I'm praying superdeduper hard!), relax, relax, clean the house, relax, sigh.

A blessed week.  God damn, but I wish it were two!

Hey, any ideas on what I should do for my feb vaca?  I love ideas\suggestions!!

Also, sorry for making light of the MLK quote.  Happy Black History month!

Ugh.

Yeah.

Drained.  Emotionally, physically, spiritually, creatively.  Sapped.  I feel weak and fragile and scattered and unhinged.

Bearing your heart is not an easy thing to do.  Speaking your mind is a complicated endeavor.  I feel like I've been through a battle, and as the smoke clears I'm not sure any of it made any difference--nor am I sure that it should have.  I don't know.  I really don't.  I feel so muddled and lost and like I've lost my bearings. 

Also?  What is up with my writing lately?  It feels like I haven't written a GOOD scene in forever (Yeah, I know, this is assuming that I've EVER written a good scene, and well, I can't speak to that, but I guess I can say that I have written vignettes that have FELT good to me, that have been satisfactory to me--even if no one else in the world cares\notices\agrees-- and now, not so much.)  Now?  Now I'm just meandering around writing extraneous scenes or leaving crucial scenes incomplete, languishing in the ether.  Maybe it is the feeling like I never have time, but I'm not convinced that's it.  While it is true that I have significantly less time and am running around to a bunch of jobs and trying to balance friendships and family and a marriage, all of which leaves very little time for pleasure writing-- I suspect that there's something more fundamental at work in here.  Not that I've lost my inspiration, specifically, but... I've got no answers. 

I guess what's important here is for me to understand that maybe I'm a writer and maybe I'm not.  I want to be a writer.  One who writes.  But.  Maybe this has all been a fun side project for a creative soul who feels shackled and restricted in her original art form (theatre) and was reaching out to the only medium available to her in which she could have complete control. Or.  Maybe I am a writer who does other art forms because they are more accessible and readily satisfying than writing?  Maybe I can absolutely be both and have to learn to reconcile myself as such? I don't know.  I really don't.  All I'm certain of is this feeling of uncertainty!

And the roomie?  Nary a box has been packed, nary a move has been made.  We are fast aproaching the deadline and all's quiet on the roomate front.  I'm starting to panic.  Aaron seems unperturbed, as if March 1st arrives and POOF!  He'll be out, just like that!  Ummm, it doesn't work like that, so let's start some maneuvers, right?  Let's sart hinting or doing something, right?

Grrr sandwich.  I gotta go.  Maybe I'll post later.

The Big O?

Why does a good orgasm seem to make everything better?  I mean, besides the obvious.  It really shouldn't, should it?  And sex, in general?  Isn't this why people stay with the wrong people? 

God.  I have seen too many people stay with the WRONG partner for years for no good reason that I can discern.  Because if you are with the WRONG person the sex is generally (generally), not great.  Now yes, I am aware that you can also b e with the absolute WRONG person because of amazingly skillfull, combustible sex, but I'm talking about the more mundane, run-of-the-mill, less lifetime movie kind of relationship.

You might get sex on the kinda regular, but it seems, more importantly, that you get to say you are in a relationship.  You are not alone, which, as we know from movies and tv and literature and art, is a fate worse than death.  Because, I guess, then you'd have to be in charge of your own sexual satisfaction, and you make an awkward addition to an otherwise even dinner party.  How awful.

But really?  Is just having a warm body good enough?  Is that what people should be settling for?  I remember when Aaron and I were young and eager but didn't really know what we were doing in bed.  I LOVED having sex, though I didn't orgasm.  I loved the excitement, I loved having him inside me, I loved making him come.  But was it good sex??  I guess it's relative, isn't it?  At the time I thought it was just the bee's knees, you know?  It was fun and intimate and I felt loved and wanted and sexy and worshiped and powerful.  And sex feels good even without that release....but damn, it feels so much better with that release, right?!?! 

What is the point?  I never promised to be pithy here.  I guess what I'm getting at is that I guess I understand, on some level, why people stick with the WRONG partner for mind-boggling lengths of time.  I think it's the security.  The comfort.  The path-of-least-resistance.  Because it is easier on so many levels, than being alone.  Because we human creatures seek to couple, seek to dwell with others, seek and crave intimacy, and, it would seem, we'll sacrifice a whole hell of alot for those things.

Dignity.  Dreams.  Self-worth. Respect. Passion.  Potential.  Friends.  Intellect.  Common-sense.  Love.

I'm going to stop.  I am.  I had a whole other part written, but I'mma shut this mouth of mine because I've already said more than enough.  Just. Nope.  No.  I was gunna, but I'm not.  I want to, but I won't. 

Be true to yourself, be true to your heart.  Listen to the true voice inside you, and not the one that's been manipulated by societal norms and cultural pressures.  Don't trust the co-dependent human flesh you inhabit-- trust only the spirit.  You are a soul, with deep wisdom, with natural instinct, with a destiny.  Don't settle.  You are too amazing, too precious, to wondrous to shy away from your true potential. 

This is 2011.  We really don't NEED to be with anyone.  Not for anything save the right reasons. 

Where's that list?

Anyway.  What I wanted to say, was that I had a great orgasm last night!  Lol.  Woot!  And it made me feel happy!  Yay. I have to say, years and years of practice with this incredible partner of mine has really been paying off.  He is skilled and attentive and generous and sexy as fuck. 

And if you're keeping track on the 'intimacy watch', yeah, our roomate was home.  Lol.  Else it would have turned into alot more than one great orgasm, I have no doubt.

I've been promised a hundred in one day when the roomie moves out. Hahaha.  We'll see.  When we get on a roll, we get on a roll, but a hundred?  I might just die happy on that blessed day.

Some Stern Advice to Self

SNAP OUT OF IT.

Ever have to give yourself some harsh advice?  I know, I know.  If you know me, you know that I am frequently giving myself too-harsh advice and being over-critical and way too hard on myself.  But sometimes, ok maybe alot of the time, I allow myself flights of fancy that feel really good and exciting, but end up hurting when reality can't hope to live up to fantasy.

Remember that old house I wanted to buy and fix up?  My dream home?  Sigh.  Like that.  Or, remember how I wanted to start a school of performing arts?  Or, remember how I agonized about not getting to live in the best apartment in the building?  Its like I allow myself all this daydreaming, imagine how life COULD be IF ONLY...., but the If Only almost never seems to be within my grasp.  Or at all realistic.  And all these burgeoning hopes and fledgling dreams have to be put down. And every time it feels a little bit like slaying an innocent.  A bright-eyed, hopeful, simple innocent, who never even sees it coming.  It's like I have my very own George and Lenny inside my head, and nobody wants to kill the big guy, he can't help it, you know?  It's just his nature.  What was he really guilty of?  Of loving too much and too clumsily?  But if you don't shoot him in the back of the skull there will inevitably be more accidental casualties, right?  Big rough hands that don't know their own strength, big hands that reach for things they shouldn't, things that are too delicate, too fragile, too precious.

So in the interest of self preservation you shoot that childlike side of you in the back of the head. 

And move on.  A little saddened.  A little jaded?  And alot lonlier for a time.

So.  Snap out of it.  Get a grip.  Knock it off.  Wake up.  And move the fuck on.

Nobody needs a melancholy, moody, taciturn mother fucker moping around feeling sorry for themselves!  So let it go.

In the interest of self preservation.  I mean.  I've never been one for too much dignity or pride-- I make a fool of myself most of the time, but there comes a point, right?  Where you have to straighten your spine, gather what's left of you, and exit the stage with what little grace you can muster, am I wrong?  Know when to cut your losses.  Is that the saying? 

At any rate.  Snap out of i,t Beth.  No moping this time, no deep swinging moods.  Just smile.  Take it on the chin and have a stiff upper lip and all that jazz.

Smile.  Smile and keep moving forward, because what's the sense in grieving over a thing that never really WAS in the first place?

It's self-indulgent, and it is silly.  You're making an ass of yourself. 

And it just isn't healthy.

Ok.  So I know, I know.  Now that I have a CF blog I should no longer post here. BUT.  But I wrote this vignette a while ago and I'd like to post it today, on Valentine's.  It is, of course, out of order, but not too far off from where I left you with Maggie & Grey if anyon'es all caught up (Danielle?  Maybe?).  But whatevs.  I just wanna, so I'm gunna.  I reserve that right, right? Right.

So Happy Valentine's!

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

Velvet was happy Grey and Maggie had decided to join them at the main house for the annual Valentine’s Day breakfast.  She would have understood had they decided to keep to themselves in the guest house.  She smiled as she reached for the blackberry preserve.

It was a peculiar holiday to make into a family holiday, she supposed, but it had everything to do with Grey so it seemed fitting that he’d decided to come and had brought his beautiful bride.

Velvet spread a thin layer of preserve across her already buttered toast and sighed contentedly, thinking of her first Valentine’s Day with Jonah.  She’d been a new mother, a divorcee, and pretty newly engaged to boot.  They were still living in the townhouse with the yellow door in the old factory district, still living with Nolan. 

She’d overheard a conversation between the brothers late the night before, while Jonah was up feeding Grey; and Nolan, just getting home from work at the bar, was unwinding and keeping his brother company. It was a comfortable routine.  Velvet lay in bed and listened to their conversation in the common area.  ‘I can take care of a baby for a night, Jones, really, it isn’t a big deal.’ Nolan was insisting.  ‘This is your first Valentine’s’ he’d lectured, trying to convince Jonah to take her out for a proper date.

Grey’d wailed then, for a few moments, and the conversation waited until he’d settled in once again and was suckling on his bottle contentedly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy at all.”  Commented Nolan adoringly.

“He’s a night owl.”  Jonah agreed indulgently.

Velvet loved what softies those two men were for babies.  Maybe because their parents had had their younger brother so late in life.  They were both great with Grey.  She was always grateful for the way Nolan not only adjusted to living with a young couple who were raising a new baby, but actually seemed to enjoy it.  Uncle Nolan was very much a part of their little family. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a bartender like his Uncle.”  He posited and she heard Jonah chuckle low.

“Thanks, Nole, really, but I think I want to do a family style Valentine’s.”  He said after a few moments of what sounded like Nolan playing some version of peek-a-boo with the baby.

“You sure?”  Nolan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah.”  Jonah’d replied, yawning.  “Breakfast in bed, maybe an indoor picnic, cuddling on the couch and just, whatever she needs.”  He said.  “Besides, you don’t want to miss the bank you’ll make tending bar on Valentine’s.”

Velvet heard Nolan grunt.  “Tell the truth I was kinda looking forward to avoiding all those sad, lonely, desperate girls.”  She heard the water in the kitchen sink and knew he was rinsing his plate and silverware from the microwaved leftovers they’d saved him from their dinner.

“Have breakfast with us, then, in the morning.” Offered Jonah, and Velvet could hear the honest enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh, I dunno—“

“Yeah, please? Get up and have breakfast with us as a family.  I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Jones, C’mon, spend it with your family.”  Nolan said gently.

“You’re part of my family.” Jonah insisted.  “Huh, Grey? Don’t you think Uncle Nolan should be present at the first annual Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast?” Said Jonah, cooing at the months-old baby he was feeding.

Nolan laughed.  “Don’t use the kid as leverage, you asshole.”

“Hey, delicate ears over here.” Jonah said, chuckling.  “Grey thinks you should be there.  And I agree.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nolan said very quietly: “And your fiancée?”

Velvet flushed in the way one does when eavesdropping and the talk turns to oneself.  She tried to make herself even more still than she already was and strained to hear the much-lowered voices.

“She loves you Nolan.” Jonah was saying.  “No, she does—she thinks you’re great and she loves how you are with Grey, Nole, she’d want you there.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day—“

“Yeah, and the last one she had was with that son of a bitch—“

“Hey, impressionable ears!”  Nolan interrupted, teasing.

“ --And I don’t ever want this holiday to remind her of him in the least.  I’m not doing the usual stuff with her on this day.  Not ever.”

“I dunno if you have any control over how she feels or doesn’t feel about the man, my friend.”

“Knock it off.”

“Jonah, just—“

“Just what?  How many times are you going to say it Nolan?  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Nolan said with a heavy sigh.  “People can’t just be expected to fall out of love with no strings attached, no confused feelings—“

In the dark of the bedroom she shared with Jonah, Velvet’s mouth fell open at Nolan’s veiled accusation.  And then she washed over cold because of how frighteningly close to the mark he’d come.

 “Nolan, she likes you, why can’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s great!”  Nolan insisted defensively.  “This isn’t about that, this is about you and how I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I love her.” Jonah responded simply.  “She’s going to be my wife.”  He added as Nolan stayed quiet.  “We have a son.”

“He’s pretty great.” Nolan acknowledged, and Velvet could hear the smile in his voice.

Velvet heard the decisive pop of the bottle leaving Grey’s mouth and a contented gurgling.

“All done?” Jonah asked the boy incredulously.  “Think I should give him more?”

After a few moments she heard the refrigerator open.

“Bad luck, Brother.” Nolan said.  “You’ll have to bring him to the source, because you’re out of pumped stuff.”

“Dammit.”  Jonah said in a sing-song sort of voice, clearly entertaining the baby.  “Check the freezer?” She heard a raspberry sound that made the baby chuckle and burble appreciatively.

The Fridge door closed as the freezer door pulled open.

“Yeah.  It’ll take a while to thaw though, even doing the warm water.”  She heard Nolan yawn as he pulled a heavy glass mixing bowl across the surface of the counter and turn on the faucet again.

“Go ahead to bed Nole, I got it.”

“It’s not a problem—“ Another yawn.

Jonah groaned a little as she heard him getting up off the couch with the baby. “Goodnight.” He said, more firmly. “You need a good night’s sleep if you’re gunna get up and have family breakfast with us.”

“Jonesie—“

“Say g’night to Uncle Nole, Grey!”

Nolan had finally grunted his agreement and Velvet had drifted off to sleep sometime later, Jonah still up singing silly little made-up lullabies and playing the simple little games you play with babies, and when she awoke next it was to the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon and something cinnamon-y baking in the oven.  And to the sounds of animated, if quiet, conversation and the happy chipper sounds of the baby playing with the electronic light-up toys in his play seat. 

Now, 24 years later, she still got a little misty at the memory of walking out into the open-concept kitchen\living\dining area of the old brick townhouse and experiencing the first-ever Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast.

“—more, Velvet?” 

Velvet blinked and then flushed slightly.  Whoops.  She’d been caught day-dreaming.  “I’m sorry?”

Jonah stood beside her chair with the glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.  “I asked if you’d like any more.”  He told her gently.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Wife.” He added quietly, in a way that made her think maybe he knew exactly where she’d wandered off to just then. 

She grinned up at him and then looked around the table at her family.  They were all there—Viola, looking bleary eyed and grumpy as a teenager should, the twins, both in their glasses because it was way too early to think about putting in contacts, Even Avalon had decided to come and she’d somehow convinced Ben of the endeavor, and the handsome young man was enduring it gracefully, she thought.  And, of course, Grey with Maggie. 

Velvet had asked Nolan, when he’d married Zahra, if he would keep coming over to their place—She and Jonah had moved out of the townhouse when they’d married, but he’d made the early morning trip over to their new place annually—for the traditional breakfast.  He’d smiled, said he would miss them very much, but that it was time to start his own family traditions. 

She wondered what that Delaney bunch did on this day.  She’d never thought to inquire.  And Caleb sometimes joined them, but this Valentine’s was especially prickly and he couldn’t be convinced to crawl out of bed this time around to celebrate ‘that idiot cupid’. 

But she had her family, and that made her warm and contented.

“No, thank you, Sweetheart.”  She said in response to the juice query, and he moved around the table to offer to Avalon and Ben.

She listened to Maggie discussing the wedding with Ava, and to the twins teasing their father about the silver at his temples, and to Grey trying to pull his youngest sister out of her moody teenager-y gloom with humor, and she turned to Ben, who was sipping his coffee and casting his glance about, looking for a conversation to join.

She leaned over to him and confided: “I wasn’t a Delaney at my first Delaney Family Valentine’s breakfast either, you know.”

He lowered the coffee mug from his lips and smiled.  “No?”

She shook her head and giggled.  “Grey wasn’t either, I guess, come to think of it.”  She added thoughtfully, realizing that while Jonah’s intent was clear from before Grey’d been born, she hadn’t actually processed the papers until he was around six months old.

“I wasn’t what?”  Grey asked sharply, always able to hear his name when spoken in a crowd.

“A Delaney, at the first Valentine’s day.”  She answered, throwing a contrite look at Jonah who was leaning in to ask Viola about more orange juice, the very idea of which seemed to make the girl faintly ill. 

“Ah.”  Said Grey in response and met eyes with Maggie.   Velvet followed his gaze and saw Maggie nod marginally and nibble her lower lip.  “Funny you should bring that up.”  Grey said, rising from his seat and going to stand behind Maggie’s chair.

The table quieted down and everybody was watching Grey curiously.  Velvet felt a hand on her own shoulder and looked up to see Jonah smiling a little, captivated by Grey.

“Because, this time next year there will be another Delaney with us.”

Velvet looked at Ben for a moment before remembering that Ben wouldn’t become a Delaney, Avalon would be becoming a Sinclair.  She looked back at Grey, who seemed to be locked in a challenging gaze with Jonah, and then at Maggie who didn’t seem able to meet anyone’s eyes.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and she looked up, puzzled.  Then the hand was gone and Jonah was crossing around the breakfast table to where Grey stood, and extending the hand for a shake.  “Congratulations, Son!”  He said warmly “That’s wonderful news!”  Velvet watched him pull Grey into a hearty embrace and then kiss the boy’s cheek before pulling Maggie from her seat, hugging her and bending to kiss her cheek as well.  “Congratulations.”  He said again.

“Thank you.”  Maggie said shyly, still hardly able to keep her eyes off the table. 

“When are you Due?”  Velvet heard Avalon ask sharply.

Maggie looked at Grey, who smiled easily at his sister.  “Summer.”  He replied vaguely, but in a tone that did not invite follow-up.

“Due?”  Velvet heard herself ask. And she felt all eyes upon her, even Maggie’s. 

Jonah chuckled into the tense stillness of the kitchen.  “She’s in shock.”  He said pleasantly. “Can you blame her?  She’s still far too young to be a grandmother.”  He said, crossing back and kissing her atop her head, before whispering in her ear “Love, Our son is going to be a father.”

Her eyebrows lifted in the middle and her mouth opened in an ‘o’.  “Grey?”

Grey met her eyes and his lips quirked into something like a smile, his expression almost bittersweet.  “Surprised?”

“Maggie?”

Maggie blushed and smiled weakly at her mother-in-law and gave a little nod of affirmation.

Velvet knew, for certain, in that moment, that he’d married her because she’d gotten pregnant; and the image of Vaughan Grey’s arrogant, selfish face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind and she quite suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

“Velvet?”  Jonah’s voice was all concern and Grey’s joined in, “Mum?  Are you alright?”

Soon others at the table were asking, Jonah had Ava put the kettle on for more tea and Velvet felt ridiculous.  It was as if someone had pushed a button and opened floodgates.  She felt foolish and embarrassed and perfectly awful for ruining the big announcement.

“I’m so happy!”  She managed to force out through chattering teeth and sobs, earning nervous laughter from a few parties around the table.  Jonah knelt beside her chair and gathered her against him and she sobbed into his neck.  “I’m so happy.”  She repeated as he patted her back soothingly.

Dimly she was aware that Ben Sinclair had helped ease the awkwardness by getting out of his seat and going over to the opposite side of the table to congratulate the couple, which cued all her daughters to follow suit.

By the time all the family had congratulated them Velvet had managed to get herself mostly under control.  She sat up a little straighter, took her head from her husband’s shoulder and hastily swiped the wetness from her cheeks.  Sniffling and forcing herself to take reasonable breaths she smiled a watery smile at Jonah.  Her rock.  Her everything.  “I’m so sorry.”  She whispered and he smiled.

“Don’t you dare.”  He warned her playfully.  “Now go hug your son and daughter, Grandma.” 

Her eyes widened and she half giggled-half sobbed.  He helped her to her feet and when she was steady she practically flew at Maggie, wrapping the girl in a startlingly fierce embrace.  “This is absolutely wonderful.”  She told the girl passionately, holding her close, wanting to tell her so much more than was appropriate to do so in the kitchen, with all the family gathered around.  “Thank you.”  She said, pulling back enough to look deep into the girl’s dark eyes.  She wondered if the girl was frightened, or regretted her condition.  “Oh Maggie!”  She exhaled.  “I love you so much.”  And she squeezed her again, feeling the bonds of a kindred spirit, even if the poor girl was flummoxed by the overpowering surge of affection.  “And this baby will be everything to you, trust me.”  She said in an almost whisper.

“Gracias.”  Maggie said, reflexively slipping into Spanish with the heightened emotion.  “Thank you.”  She corrected shakily.

Between Jonah’s efforts and Ben’s too, the kitchen was soon bubbling with animated conversations.  Velvet heard the twins arguing playfully about whether it would be a boy or a girl, Viola wondered when, exactly it would be due, and Avalon made some comment about bridesmaid’s dresses. 

Still clinging to Maggie, Velvet felt a hand on her back and knew it wasn’t her husband.  Almost regretfully she released Maggie at last and, with a last reassuring smile that she tried to fill with all the subtext she couldn’t speak just now, Velvet spun to face her son.

He was so tall and handsome and grown up.  He looked like his father, only his eyes, her eyes, were kinder, she was sure of it.  She took his handsome face in her hands and searched those pale green eyes, trying to discover the truth that was eluding her.  “You’ve got to be good to her Grey.”  She told him at last, and she watched his bemused smile dissolve and his face grow serious.

“I know.”  He replied in a low voice.

“Grey—“

“I understand, Mum.”  He said curtly, his brows heavy over his eyes.

She swallowed and felt a trembling in her knees.  She hoped he did understand.  She hoped he would prove to be more Jonah’s son than Vaughan’s.  She pulled him into an embrace too, though this one was more guarded, wary. 

When she broke the hug she hitched a super-bright smile in place and declared with her signature verve: “We’ll have to have a baby shower!”

A Day to Honor Love

Happy Valentine's Day.

A very dear friend of mine recently expressed the view that she 'hates' this holiday.  It is an understandably popular sentiment. In fact as far as the commercialism behind it, I can agree that this holiday is largely phony and disgustingly forced.

However, I thought we might go back to the Greek origins, or even the pagan ones, for a moment, and celebrate something I think we all should cherish above all: Love.

To quote the post modern stylings of the bohemian ideals in Baz Lurhman's Moulin Rouge:

Love is a many splendored thing, Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!

Yes, yes, yes.  I know.  You'd think people would've had enough of silly love songs.... NOPE!

So yes, Valentine's day has become a machine of meaningless tokens, gaudy stuffed animals, and vomitous pink & red decor.  It seems designed to make the unattached ones of us feel miserable, lonely, and depressed.  TV, movies, and media flood the collective conscious and highlight with over-bright, glaring clarity the seemingly fiery chasm that separates the couples from the singles.

But.

But let's just forget all that hallmark, lifetime, Nora Ephron baloney for a moment.  And let's think about love.  Romantic love, sure, but let's not pigeon hole or narrow our scope unnecessarily.  Let us take a day out of our busy, bustling rutines and give pause, and honor that marvelous force, LOVE.

Much has been written about Love over the centuries, and I'm certain I have nothing pithy or earth-shattering to add here on a backwater blog.  I would however, like to share with you some of the ideas I have cultivated over the years; some of the philosophy I have come to hold as true, and some of the wisdom Aaron and I would like to employ when we raise our children.......

*****

Love is the greatest power in the world.  It is primal, it is visceral, and it is real.  Love is instinctual, it is within all of us, it is universal and enduring.  

Love knows no bounds.  It knows no restrictions, it heeds no man-made rules or conventions.  Love who you love regardless of gender, race, color or creed.  

There are many forms of love.  Friendship, Romantic, Familial, and basic human compassion.  All love is invaluable, and without it we are lost.  Cherish all forms of love that you find in this world.  Protect love, defend it, sing its praises and virtues.

Love can heal.  It can save.  It is as essential to the soul as breathing is to the body.  It gives us strength, it gives us courage.  Love gives and gives and gives.

Give yourself over to love.  Love completely and without regrets.  You may get hurt; don't put up sheilds and walls around your heart for fear of getting hurt.  Pain, heartache, loss?  These are all part of the experience of loving fully and completely.  It has been said ' 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all'  and this is absolute truth.  It is better, by far, to open yourself to love without hesitation, to allow the soaring ecstasy of it, the pure golden joy of it, then to reserve aall or a portion of your heart for fear of inevitable pain and end up not fully experiencing the entire breadth and depth and height and expanse of LOVE.

Learn what the artists, the poets, and the songwriters have to say about love, but don't let it give you tunnel vision!  There is no 'right' way to love.  If the love is honest, if it is true, then it is real, and it is no less valid than any story, however famed and revered.  Just because your love story does not look like anyone else's, does not make it any less a love story.

Love breeds inspiration, it gives us wisdom, it teaches us daily.  It is a spark, it is a hearth fire, it is a tempest and a warm hand in ours, on our back, cupping our cheek.  Love is truth, it is beauty, it is life, it is history and future.  Love links us to humanity and to the gods, both.  It is earthy and real, and it is heavenly and ephemeral.  It is as permanent as it can be illusive.  As enduring as it can seem fleeting.  Love will triumph over any and every other force in this life.

Above all, be honest in love.  Be generous with yourself.  Abandon pride, but never lose yourself in obsession or subjugation.  And trust.  Trust in love, trust your heart, trust what instincts nature gave you~ but do so honestly.  Don't be fooled by the stuff Valentine's Day force-feeds us.  Look for true emotional connection.  For intimacy, not just physicality. 

Believe in love.  Nurture it.  Gift it to others and be grateful when it is gifted to you.  Honor love and those you love and those who love you.  

******

I am so very fortunate to love very deeply and fully.  I have so much love to give, and want to gift it to some remarkable people.  I hope I do this every day, but it can't hurt to take one day out of the year and really stop to tell people how much you love and value them.  

So, my friend, I hope, today, this year, that you find a little room in your heart to love this day afterall.  Because you are full to brimming with love and passion and warmth.  So, in that context, let me say:  I love you very much, and Happy Valentine's day.  XOXOXOX