7 months and counting…

HarmfulFlatEgg-smallIt’s been now seven months since I’ve seen my girl.  Honestly, it actually seems longer.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but well, life does have a tendency to get in the way.

The original plan last year was: Get together in either May or June, and then start getting together every couple of months, to keep things fresh.  But of course that didn’t happen.  One month turned into another, and another and another.  Disaster occurred in her life at the end of August, so that sucked in a major way, and I was unable to be there for her when she really needed me too.  Still bothers me that I wasn’t able to do it, but responsibilities here kept that from happening.  After that, it was Labor Day, then the temperatures started to drop and it was not feasible for her to attempt driving in winter weather, since I’m the one that has decades of experience in that, and she has basically one winter season under her belt.  Too, my vehicle is a lot more reliable.  So, more waiting.

I keep reminding myself that I’ve done this before, and I didn’t much like it.  No one likes waiting, and watching, and being on the sidelines, hoping for the time that they can be together.  I know there are others in the same boat, and I’ve often in my mind equated it to WWII soldiers being sent off to Europe and not seeing their loved ones for years.  At least that’s how I work it out in my mind, even though if I don’t really know if it happened that way.  Soldiers and sailors (and marines) got liberty, and leave, but were they allowed to take it in the US in the middle of all that combat?  Did the US military allow that?

I did a little digging on the subject and here’s the result, fwiw.  Your average GI Joe wasn’t allowed to go back home unless there was some sort of extraneous circumstance.  If multiple siblings were serving, and all but one were killed in action, the remaining one was sent home, to continue the family line.  This rule wasn’t in force at the time of The Sullivans tragedy, but several other families benefitted from it later on.  So that’s the answer to that question, in case you were wondering.

Of course I’m getting away from the subject at hand.  As is my custom.  The bottom line is, I’d like to get together more often.  I’m not certain in the current idiom it’s going to happen.  And yes, dear reader, it’s damn frustrating.

 

Saga of the “What If’s..”

giphy.gifI was laying in bed last night, just before going to sleep, and the temperature outside was a balmy -6°F when it hit me.  What if we had a fire in the house right now?  It’s not an impossibility.  The house is over 170 years old.  Having gone down to the basement, there are indications of a previous fire in the neighborhood of the living room fireplace, so in the past history of the house, there was some sort of disaster, or at least some timbers were heavily singed.  Since we don’t know the history of the house really past the 1870s (that’s as far as the title search went) we’re forced to speculate a little bit about the ‘what if’s’ that occurred back then.

But again, what if there was a fire in the house?  Would we get out in time?  How many of our possessions would be salvageable?  Moreover, would we be able to catch the cat to save his little furry butt as well?  Naturally there are pressing issues about scene items, like my flogger collection, and other BDSM toys, how much of them would be destroyed, lost to water damage, smoke and so on.  One of our wedding presents was a flogger made by an artisan who’s no longer crafting her wares.  Matter of fact, one can’t hardly find a reference to her work anymore on the web, but go back 25-30 years ago, and she was a highly respected and sought after craftsperson.  Weird sometimes how that happens.  Lost to the whims of history, even in BDSM lore.

I started this post a week ago, but am finishing it up now, fyi.  A couple of days ago as I was thinking about the scenario that began this post, I thought about buying a safe for my more valuable and less ably replaceable scene items (along with some other necessities, like insurance papers, birth and marriage certificates, as well as other important documents and valuables).  We do have a small safe that my FIL owned, but it’s been in storage for the past 20 years, and it actually weighs about 200 lbs (~91 kgs).  Too, I don’t believe we ever ascertained or found the combination, so at present the safe door is open, so we don’t have to pay a locksmith to open the damn thing.  Consequently, that wouldn’t do very well anyway.  Too small.  I went to a safe website, and looked for possible options and hit upon a possible solution, a ‘gun safe’, one that would be used to protect one’s firearms as well as other valuables.  The only problem (besides price) would be the one I would probably want weighs in excess of 800 lbs (~363 kgs).  The likelihood of something of that nature would be it would end up in the basement, since it would probably crash through the floor of whatever room we wanted to put it in.

So that scenario isn’t a likely solution.  Just another in a long line of musings I’ve had over the years.  Actually, the other ‘what if’ thought I’ve had is, who’s going to inherit my toy collection after I’m gone?  Yeesh.  Gotta quit being morbid.

 

Happy Anniversary, girl.

It’s been a year since we decided to switch things up. With you taking the bottom role and I being your Top.

We did manage to meet once, back in June. We’d planned for more meetings, but money and life got in the way.

It’s been an interesting journey so far.  I think you can agree to that.  Ups, downs, ins and outs.  We’re working towards our goals, and we’re doing it together.

Happy Anniversary.  1 year down, many more to go.

Baking up a storm (or not)

I may have mentioned this before, but I worked in a semi-commercial bakery for 12 years.  Though a lot of the work was from frozen ‘puck’ dough that was pre-formed, on occasion I was called upon to decorate cakes, and make things like angel food cake from scratch (50 lbs at a time).

Consequently, when it comes to making things for myself, I at least know how to go about it.  Too, I have the necessary tools, since my mother-in-law ran a dining room out of her home through the 1960s.  (When an Interstate was created and opened nearby, their business for the most part dried up [they owned/operated a motel] and closed said dining room)  I inherited a large part of her equipment, including a vintage Kitchen-Aid mixer.   Not one of the more modern varieties that has the hinged head, this is a beast, and it still has the Hobart label attached to it.  I don’t think I could kill it if I tried.  I expect it will outlive me, and the next 2-3 generations that make use of it.

I drag it out when I have large-scale baking to do.  Like for my slave.  She loves macadamia nut cookies (with white chocolate chips), and I found a great recipe for them.  Now, granted macadamia nuts are hideously expensive ($18/lb fyi) but being able to do a little baking for her, and hearing how much she appreciates the gesture as well as my expertise is thanks enough.  Giddy sounds over the phone (or in person, since the last time I baked them for her, I brought them with me when I hooked up with her in PA back in June) or just getting a message that says ‘I opened the last box!’ tells me all that I need to know.

Holiday baking can be a bear sometimes.  But on occasion, it can be all worth it.  Just have to know your audience, I suppose.

Chance encounter

There are times when I think that it would be nice if my eyes could double as a camera.  But, we’re not to the point where we can do that sort of ‘cyborg’ implants.  The reason I was musing about that today was, while I was at work, I chanced to encounter a customer wearing an ‘Eternity Collar‘.  She wasn’t being obvious about it, but as she was passing me, apparently something in my expression caused her to stop and speak to me in a low voice.  She said, “what are you thinking?”  After a moment of surprise that she was talking to me, I replied quite nonchalantly, “it looks better than Ring of Steel.”  And I walked away.  I think I surprised her with my reply, if nothing else.  She didn’t follow me, or say anything further.  I went back to work and when I looked around a few minutes later, she was nowhere to be seen.

Now, I can say that I’ve seen people in my place of employment that are fairly obvious in their supposed kinkiness.  Not everyone can be nonchalant and pull it off successfully.  Personally, I don’t think anyone has a clue about my kinks, since I don’t broadcast them far and wide.  The only thing that might suggest to someone about my proclivities is; I have a leather pride flag tag on my key chain.  But in all the time I’ve worked there, no one has asked me about it.  It’s quite clearly NOT an American flag pin, the colors of the pride flag are fairly distinct in their own right.  They’re most definitely not red, white and blue.

So, that was my little chance encounter at work today.  As a side note, the woman appeared to be at the store alone, there wasn’t anyone with her, at least not that I could see.  I wasn’t stalking her, just being observant.  So I do wonder what -she- thought of the encounter.  But of course I’m fairly certain I’ll never know, or find out.  And that’s ok.  Just another mystery.

Toy Whore/Hoard

toyroom4
Credit Fetlife User @Moolikan

I actually think I have too many BDSM toys.  And there’s two sad things to add to that statement.  Not only do I probably have too many, I want more.  I continually scour places that advertise items that people no longer want, or think about what I could do with items that could be converted into play things.  Like old chain for example.  Since I’m unable to play with my girl due to distance, I spend time keeping my interest piqued by watching old BDSM videos (from Insex and other venues), looking at pictures and thinking about old play scenes of my own from the past.  I marvel and covet what I see, and consider how I could be getting items from scrap yards, antique stores and junkyards to convert into toys, for the eventuality of having someone to play with.  I even have haunted Etsy and eBay over the past few days to browse for older chain, instead of going the route of purchasing new chain and rusting it.  It would actually probably be cheaper to do it that way, but I don’t think you get the same patina from rusting the stuff that you find in hardware stores these days..a lot of it comes from China, and the metallurgical make-up is completely different from domestic (US) steel from the past.

I’ve often also thought about divesting myself of some of the toys that I have had for a long time.  Many years ago, when I was going through a medical restraint phase, I purchased FOUR identical sets of Human Restraints.  The types that are used in hospitals, or mental health facilities.  These are the extremely sturdy leather restraints with locks.  I still have them, they’re brand new and haven’t even been removed from the boxes they were shipped in.  My justification was, they price was way too good to pass up.  Coupled with the fact that you normally can’t get these without either a prescription (unlikely!) or be ordering them from official letterhead from an institution (impossible!).  Yes there are places that make similar ones, or knockoff varieties, but getting the real thing instead?  That’s a coup.  But still, I have four sets of something that I’ve never used, and essentially, that’s THREE sets I probably will never use. prangers2 The same goes for my prangers.  I have two of them (because a seller on Fetlife was offering the two as a set, not individually) but really, probably only need one at any time.   Don’t get me started on my flogger collection.  I really went overboard on that one.  Someone on Fetlife was selling their collection due to having the need for money, and naturally I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.  So I blew my toy budget for the year on making myself the proud owner of that, and now they sit mostly in my clothes closet, or hung up in my armoire, waiting to be used.  I’ve already had one horsehair flogger disintegrate due to lack of use (that majorly sucked!) and I have to be certain that other toys don’t go the same route, because of lack of playtime.  Further, my spanking horse is in the basement, getting more and more dusty with every passing month.  The last time I had a repairman in the house, he saw the horse and asked me if it was a piece of exercise equipment.  Rather than tell him exactly what it’s use was, I just nodded and didn’t say any more.

I suppose it’s just fitting that Amazon has now gotten into the business as well.  While I was doing research looking for pictures, I stumbled upon their toy listings.  Oy.

Hurry up and wait

Hurry-Up-and-WaitOur original plan was to get together every couple of months to keep things fresh in the relationship.  Due to financial constraints, that plan has been shelved at least until spring of 2019.  It certainly brings neither of us any joy in stating this, let alone living it, but as we repeat to one another all too often “it is, what it is.”  As infuriating as that statement may be, it’s just the damnable truth.

For me, what makes it all the more untenable is the fact that my girl is able to play in my absence, due to her need for companionship beyond what’s possible with me.  She’s presently exploring a poly situation with a couple in her area, and (naturally) even that’s not a cakewalk.  It has had its own shoebox of drama, that she’s had to navigate as best that she can.

I just find more and more that I’m back to being on the sidelines.  Where I swore that I didn’t want to be again.  Yet here I sit, day in and out, week and out, month and out, not doing anything while my toys start to gather dust again.  Yes, this is a rant.  It’s not however, a rant against my girl or anyone else.  Merely expressing myself here in print, because I’m getting more and more frustrated and I just need some place to talk about it, and well, here’s a place.  I’ll caveat it to say I’m not IN ANY WAY blaming anyone about what makes the situation the way it is.

It is this way because of money for the most part.  (Doesn’t it always in some way end up being the culprit?) I can’t solely afford to foot the bill for another trip to meet my girl.  I’m certainly in the process right now of paying for my own bills, dealing with my household debt, and attempting to sock away as much money as I can into my 401k, since my Union decided to kowtow and knuckle under instead of fighting for a pension that has been paid into for 30+ years.  Just another in a long line of concessions they’ve given up.  Not for nothing, but in 18 months, when it’s time to negotiate the 2020 version of the contract, I’m almost completely resigned to the fact that the union will be presented with two untenable options.  Either agree to a reduced payment from the company for the new 401k plan they started this year, or incur more payments from the rank and file for overpriced health care insurance.

Anyway, I’ve said my piece.  I’m disabling comments on this, because it’s a rant.  I don’t expect or desire commentary on this.  Thanks for your attention, providing you made it this far through the post.