Calgon, take me away!

Remember those commercials, or am I hopelessly dating myself? Anyway, I don't need a fancy bubble bath -- I need a lobotomy.

Stressful weekend. Went to J's Saturday morning and found him even worse than he was last weekend. He looked so sick, it scared me, but he insisted he was more tired than anything else and we should go have some lunch.

Took him to get a bite to eat and then ran errands with him, at his insistence. He needed printer cartridges (of course, that couldn't wait) and he wanted to get his groceries too. It was 90+ degrees out, and he sat in my passenger seat, bundled up in his jacket and with his fur-lined trenchcoat wrapped around him. Still, we got the errands done and got him back home to bed.

Couple of hours later, he came staggering out of the bedroom, and the look on his face made my heart jump up to where my tonsils used to be. I will not detail what happened right after that. Suffice it to say it was dreadfully unpleasant for both of us.

Got him back to bed and collapsed on his couch, feeling like jumping into my car and fleeing. I'm not proud of that, but that's how I felt. Seeing him like this for so long was freaking me out. But I stayed.

Later, I went out to get myself some dinner and bring back something for him. Got him some miso soup, some Pepto-Bismol and a thermometer. He woke up for a little while, long enough for me to get some Pepto, some Tylenol and a bowl of soup into him. And some grapes. For whatever reason, he can't get enough grapes. Took his temp -- 101.5. Not as bad as it's been, but still up there, since his normal temp is low, around 97-point-something, just as mine is.

Slept on his couch -- well, tried to, anyway. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and then, sick as he was, he brought me blankets. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't need them, I was already too hot -- just said thank you, and discreetly pushed the blankets back off after he went back to bed.

Today, I thought I'd get him squared away with a light lunch and then head home, but he said he was a little better and wanted to go out. Took his temp again -- Normal! Hallelujah! He wanted to take a shower, but when he first got in, he fumbled with the sprayer, dropped it and got water all over the bathroom floor. I knelt down to sponge it up and he snapped at me that I was doing it wrong and missing spots. Finally he yelled at me to stop, grabbed the sponge and did it himself. Then he apologized profusely for yelling at me.

He managed to eat his breakfast, albeit very slowly. He alternated between pulling on two jackets and then taking them both off, then putting them on again. At least the food didn't get his intestines in an uproar. Got him home and helped him prepare everything to bring to his office in the morning. Yes, he was going to work. He hasn't been exercising and he can barely eat, but he still goes to work. If he doesn't go to work, that means he's no longer among the living. So I made a list for him of things to remember, because in his febrile state he'd forget them otherwise. Once I'd done everything I could think of, I finally took off, leaving him to sleep and going home where I could get some sleep myself. He promised me that if he didn't start to turn around this week, he'd go back to Kaiser. It's been nearly a month.

Got about 2/3 of the way home and realized I left my overnight bag there. Turned around and went back. By the time I got back to his place, I was beyond frazzled. "Hey, you're not supposed to be in worse shape than I am," he joked. He insisted repeatedly that I had been wonderful this weekend and he couldn't have managed without me. I don't think I was wonderful... I was a nutcase. Where do people get the fortitude to be caretakers? I don't have it. I can't do a thing for my mother, and I'm not much better with J.

Still had to run errands, get my own groceries, and of course heading back from his place the second time, there was an accident and traffic came to a standstill. We all poked along at about 10-15 miles an hour, the setting sun blinding us.

Home, sweet home. Unpacked my stuff and fell into bed, and was out like a light for a little over an hour. Now, I'm catching up with email and enjoying the peace and solitude.

Tomorrow? Another dose of stress release. Thank goodness. It couldn't be more timely.

Yes, I know, I'm perverse and twisted. I'm looking forward to pain. But with this pain comes a blissful relief. My mind shuts off and my body sings and thrums with endorphin surge. If I'm addicted, then so be it. Spanking won't pickle my liver or fry holes in my brain. Or bankrupt me. As addictions go, it's quite innocuous. :-)

Hope everyone is enjoying their long weekend.

Friday Hodgepodge + Question

No CHoS today -- I think I scared all the pervs away last week. :-)  Not to worry, they'll be back, I'm sure.

A bright spot in my Friday morning -- I got Chrossed! Again! Two weeks in a row! That's never happened before. Funny, I was just chatting with Craig last night about how some people write such creative and cool blogs that they get Chrossed week after week. This truly is the holy grail for spanking bloggers, folks. barely pink commented to me recently -- I can't remember the exact quote, but it was something along the lines of, "You know someone is important when their name has become a verb."

Side note: My entry that got Chrossed was the one about stress relief. This week, Devlin O'Neill also blogged about spanking as stress relief -- from a top's point of view. He got Chrossed as well. Excellent!

I'm not going to J's tonight. We decided that there's no point in my driving 30+ miles in Friday traffic to his place, just to watch his TV while he sleeps. (sigh) Instead, I will go there tomorrow morning after he's had a good night's rest and take him to lunch, spend the rest of the weekend. In every cloud there is a silver lining; we get to pass on taking his mother to lunch tomorrow, as we did last Saturday. Yes, I'm a bitch. :-Þ  For God's sake... I see my mother once every couple of months; we take J's mother to lunch every single weekend. Plus, she has three other grown kids, all local, who visit her and take her out as well. J can miss a couple of Saturdays.

Well, at least I get another dose of Stress-B-Gone on Monday. New Guy has the day off and is coming over that afternoon. He says he might even consider taking me out for a bite to eat if I'm a good girl. I guess I'll starve. :-D

Tomorrow, October 9, would have been John Lennon's 70th birthday. Seventy??? Un-freaking-believable. He'll always be a cheeky young "moptop" to me. The man who I said I would marry when I grew up (hey, I was six). The man whose death made me cry for two weeks. Happy birthday, John. And happy 35th birthday to Sean Ono Lennon, John's Beautiful Boy, also born October 9.

Question for you guys, along the lines of Chross's recommendations -- what makes you read a blog? There are so, so many of them out there. I don't know where Chross finds the time to read them all during each week to choose his list, but how about the rest of you? What draws you? Pictures? Stories? Stuff about the spanking video industry? Real-life D/D households? Humor? Which blogs do you read regularly, and why?

On that note, have a great holiday weekend, y'all.

Edginess

It's official -- Mother Nature has lost her mind. A week ago Monday, it hit 113 degrees in downtown Los Angeles. And it could have been higher, but we'll never know. The National Weather Service thermometer downtown, which has been keeping the temperature since 1877, broke at 1:00 p.m.

A week later? Cool, cloudy, rainy. Last night, I actually put on a bathrobe.

And by this weekend? Supposed to be back up into the 80s and 90s, and absolutely bone-dry. Blech.

For the moment, it's gray and cloudy. My window is open, and all is blissfully quiet save for the drizzle coming down and the occasional car sloshing by. My favorite kind of day. I'm still feeling some pleasant residual soreness from Monday night. Yesterday, I got the last of my dental work over with, and amazingly, my teeth aren't hurting today. I should be quite serene right now.

But I'm not. I'm edgy and nervous, feeling that free-floating anxiety that plagues me sometimes. I'm worried about J. Yes, it's stupid. He has the flu. Granted, it's a really bad flu. But he'll get better. I hope. See? There I go again. Of course he'll get better.

Yesterday was his birthday; I spoke with him last night. He sounded horrible; no better than he was last weekend. I hurt for him.

This coming weekend, we had plans. We have an annual ritual with a dear friend; each year, she gangs my birthday with J's and takes us out for dinner. We usually go back to her place afterward for coffee and birthday cake, and she fusses over us. Last year, she took us to a Groundlings show. Today, she emailed me to confirm... and I had to write back to her and postpone. I know he won't be well enough by Saturday to enjoy himself, and I don't want her putting out money and effort when it will be wasted. God, I hated doing that. I was so looking forward to seeing her.

Here's how crazy I am, kids. In my worried state, my mind starts to wander into projection, into future nightmares. This is what getting old looks like. This is what we have to look forward to; one thing after another. If your body doesn't fall apart, your mind disintegrates, or vice versa. And if you're lucky enough to stay healthy, then you end up being a caretaker to someone else.

Jesus! Am I a freaking mess, or what? No wonder I need stress-relief spankings.

Sorry to be such a downer. I thought about posting something else, coming up with some sort of interesting and controversial topic, but you know what? Fuck it. This is where I'm at today. This blog is nothing if not honest. This is Erica, tears and fears, self-centerness and all.

I will stay in the moment. Breathe deep, and listen to the rain. Feel the peace of this day. After all, this moment is all we have; the rest is unknown. And that's probably what drives me the craziest... but I won't think about it. Thinking is not good for me sometimes.

A two-parter

Part 1: Birthday greetings are in order. Two wonderful men, back to back -- Danny, October 4, and my sweetheart J, October 5. Danny, I hope you had a great day and enjoyed your greetings on FetLife. I tried to bake you a bacon-and-Hollandaise-sauce cake, but sadly, my projectile hurling kept interfering with the process.

J and I were supposed to celebrate his birthday this past weekend. However, he's been sick as the proverbial dog for two weeks and counting... he got the flu. Big time. In 14 years, I don't think I've ever seen him quite this sick. :-( 

A few tip-offs that he's more than a little sick:

1. He hasn't worked out for two weeks. This is unheard of. J will always exercise through an illness. The only thing he'll cut out is his bike rides. But the walks and the weights? No.
2. He can barely eat. And when he does manage to force something down, he can't stand anything with sugar or salt in it. J usually has a huge sweet tooth, and he loves salt so much, he refers to potato chips and nuts as "salt delivery systems." I had baked him some brownies from scratch, and he couldn't touch a bite. Normally, he can put away three of those things within five minutes of getting his hands on them.
3. He's shivering and bundling up into his jacket one minute and breaking a sweat the next.
4. He's taking Tylenol and Advil regularly and I don't have to hold his nose and stuff it down his throat.
5. He's sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, 10-12 hours at a time. This is a man who never sleeps more than six hours in one stretch.
6. Finally, this is the real shocker: He actually took himself to the doctor last Friday. I didn't say a word; never suggested it. Usually, I'd have to bug him for about six months before he'd go. They took blood, but basically told him, "You have the flu. Go home."

(sigh) Have I mentioned that I am a sucky nurse? I worry and fret and get nervous, feeling helpless and wishing I could just wave a magic wand and make him better. And seeing him suffer makes me want to cry. In fact, on Sunday, I did. Ugh. So after this weekend, I was very stressed out.

Which leads us into Part 2...

A week or so ago, Hermione posted about stress release through spanking. I am a strong advocate of this practice; I can blow off stress through exercise (or posting a rant), but nothing sends that tension for the hills like a good hard spanking. Enter New Guy, who paid me a visit this evening.

We played harder this time. Last week, he had a wide leather strap that turned out to be too long (it was wrapping), so we put it away. This week, he brought it again, showing me how he'd cut it down and now it was perfect. (says who???)

OTK in a straight-back chair for a warmup, then he said, "I think I want you over that ottoman." "You do, huh?" "Yes, I do." And he lifted me off his lap and carried me across the room, still horizontal, plunking me down on the ottoman. I do love that thing; it's very comfortable to lie on and there's room on either side for the spanker to stand, so he has room to swing and give equal time to both cheeks. Besides, if I'm reclining comfortably, I can fully focus on the discomfort happening elsewhere.

He was bolder this time, giving the sweet spots more attention. "Are you feeling this?" he asked. "Why do you ask such stupid questions?" I snapped. I then got a flurry that nearly sent me through the ceiling. "You want to ask me that again?" Uh... no. No, I'll pass, thank you.

Concerned because I was marking, he asked how I was doing, if I wanted more. Zoned out, I gasped, "My common sense says no; the pain slut in me says yes." He laughed. "Which one should I listen to?" "You decide," I said. He went for 10 more swats with the paddle and we were done.

After I returned to Earth, we watched a DVD (When Danny Met Erica, in honor of his birthday), and by then I was back to sassing (yes, already), so I got another spanking on the couch. Just his hand this time, though. :-)

I needed that. Who the hell needs Xanax -- bottle spanking and call it Stress-B-Gone.

Ow.... do you feel sorry for me?

Well, don't. I'm a happy camper. Thank you, New Guy. Thank you very much. :-)

I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight... zzzzzzzz....

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/1

Happy Friday, everyone. Some pre-weekend laughs for you.

Like your pix's and your bottom.......
Would love to spank..kiss and lick it..

You know, pix is short for pictures. Therefore, adding apostrophe + s to pix is redundant and makes you look stupid. Just thought you might like to know.

Lovely ass for spanking and whipping and much more ;)
you are hot cougar ;)

I do not want to know what the "much more wink wink" is. Go away.

you do prefer whitemeat correct?

Well, that depends. I don't care much for pork. But I do like chicken breasts. They're so much lower in fat and when prepared properly, they are as juicy and flavorful as thighs or drumsticks.

I trust this answers your question?

And finally, this gem:

My name Is Xxxx and I saw your profile and would like to know if you would like to have your own personal pussy eating/ass licking slave who will service your legs,pussy and ass orally in anyway that you desire.I just love sucking on pussy,licking a womans ass all over,rimming her and taking her verbal commands on how she enjoys getting pleased for as long as she desires.I can orally please you nonstop in anyway that you choose for as long as you enjoy it.I would love to be your new pussy eating/ass licking slave if you desire one.I look forward to serving you.

(groan) How do you serve someone orally when you never stop talking?

And again with all this pussy business. How many times do I have to tell you morons, leave my pussy alone?

Moving on... So I heard from New Guy, and he asked if he was "going to have to spank me again on Monday." I wrote back and said I didn't know about have to, but I'm sure he'd come up with some lame reason. His reply to that included this:

Monday 6:30 p.m. Expect to get what you deserve!

Well, you know, after a damn-near lifetime of therapy plus lots of positive reinforcement from friends and loved ones, I have come to believe that I am deserving of good things! So does that mean he's going to show up with a present? Nothing too expensive, dear, we just met. :-) But I appreciate the thought.

Have a great weekend, y'all. R.I.P., Tony Curtis.

EDIT: My blog about my belated birthday spanking got Chrossed today! Yippeeeeeeeeee! :-D