Tidy up

I wandered outside in the pond area of my yard this week. I was so sad. The pond is choked with fallen leaves, the plants have died back and need cleaned up, weeds in the pots seem to be thriving, and it looks so forlorn and neglected.

I thought about how if I leave it be, those weeds will take over and ruin the habitat for pretties. Weeds that are NOT pretty or helpful (I love DYF-Darn Yellow Flowers- but some of them are more than invasive and have thorns) need pulled. If I can separate them from the plant roots they are crowded around. Well, even if I can’t separate them, they need removed. I filled bird feeders and found wasp nests inside one feeder that hadn’t been used since about May. I can see where some things had been given a spot of nurturing, but it wasn’t enough. I get this. The Craftsman can’t do his mom’s larger yard as well as take care of the things I plant. He did keep up on the front, the area people see all the time.

So often life has us do that. What is seen is lovely, what is hidden is less so. Orchids are lovely plants, yet are a parasite. Ivy, I used to think was beautiful. (I still do, but in smaller proportions!) Then, my eldest did a Scout Eagle project to remove it from an area. Many trees had been encased in coffins of ivy. Eventually, both the ivy and the tree had died. We brought home some stunning dried twisted vines after removing it from the trees, but if it hadn’t been for the ivy, the tree would have lived. More trees near the church up north were taken out this last week, or so, due to a beetle that infected and killed them. The area is now denuded, but safer from fire or falling dead trees.

Even humans aren’t immune from bad things. We can get diseases or infections and become hosts for organisms not meant to live in our bodies. (I’m still unsure whether or not fat cells are in this category somewhere..) FB is full of people living happily, yet, underneath, they are a different soul. (the odd TV series Portlandia had a quote about this theory. Alas, I cannot remember the wording!) This blog of mine is directly related, which is why I coin it my ‘Unfiltered Facebook’.

We can hide, like Moses is (he is in one of those garden photos!) . In plain sight and yet hidden in the shadows and leaves. Or we can dig in and weed, visit doctors, take antibiotics, make changes, and move on.

I’m in the taking antibiotics and sleeping a lot stage. I have to do blood work before I can schedule the three hours of MRI before I see the MS doctor again in early Jan. (medical baby steps!!!) However, I have done a few things. I’ve made quite a few meals and baked several treats.  I took more pictures of Moses. In some he was sweet, in others he was not wanting to pose with pumpkins. My egg rolls looked terrible, but tasted very good. (It is more efficient to have an extra pair of hands, which I did not. As you can see they look like limp speckled trout instead of crisp rolled fried treats!)

I called a jewelry appraisal person and talked about the baubles I brought back from AK. (I found out it is 120$ for them to look at the first piece, $50 for subsequent pieces, and I’m on a waiting list of at least a year. I’ll need to figure out what I feel is worth the most and take those in first.)

At the moment, I’m listening to a music CD of the first Star Wars movie (I DO have the movie on a 33 record in a sleeve with pictures, but I’m not entirely sure where it is!) and being thankful The Craftsman is going to grill burgers during this stormy rainy evening (I’ve got the side stuff mostly done).


Beautiful (over 18)

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I wasn’t sure what to call this. But, after a friend read it and suggested ‘Beautiful’, I went with it. It is long…probably too long, but it wrote itself. I was just the fingers on the keyboard.

****I grimaced, looking in the mirror as tears slid down my cheeks. The healed scars on my chest where my breasts had been were horrible and broke my heart. When George told Barbara to wear her dresses cut low in back after her surgery, I hadn’t really understood her dismay or his caring response. Thinking of the scene in the movie about Sleeping Beauty, I now felt a kinship. When the actress compared her character’s pain with losing her wings to the personal loss of her breasts, it made sense. I realised how a woman losing her breasts was as difficult as the loss of a limb. Breasts nurture, feed, and are an asset. I remembered playing with my Barbie knowing how the breasts defined her out of proportion shape from her younger sister, Skipper. I stifled a sob. I was now Skipper.

How could I hide my deformed body? I recalled hugging a woman with fake boobs and they were solid and painful to my own soft body hug. Mom had some inserts and they were ugly. She had to hand wash the foam, so she rarely wore them. Mom wore a sports bra anyway. I guess she wanted to cling to that adult idiosyncrasy of under clothing. I rarely wore a bra and now my tank tops would display nothing inappropriate. I still couldn’t go topless, though. Our stupid society would be as horrified as I was, only for different reasons. Maybe.

I slipped on an old T-shirt, wiping the salty moisture from my face. Perhaps if I pretended nothing was different, but I knew that wasn’t possible. I was different now. I was surgically changed and for all I could see, it was for the worse. My beautiful orgasmic nipples were gone. The flesh of my breasts had been diseased, cut off, and thrown away. I couldn’t bear to touch my chest. I couldn’t’ see anyone else desiring to do so. My own love, I hid from. My sexuality was eliminated with the stroke of a surgeon’s knife. I knew, deep inside, my insights were false. I couldn’t see anything else. I was a mess and convinced of my Frankenstein appearance.


On his way home from work, he stopped for flowers again. He knew she wasn’t fond of roses, so he purchased her favorite carnations. In purple this time. He knew she was feeling vulnerable and afraid. He also picked up a pint of her favorite ice cream. At the post office, he discovered a healing massage essential oil he’d ordered had arrived. He smiled with hope, perhaps he’d let him touch her. Show her she was as beautiful to him as ever.

Once home, he enfolded her in gentle arms. Ready to release her if she desired. Their lips met and he wanted to devour her, but stilled his desire. Her clinging kiss cried out for protection and he was so willing to do so. She gratefully smiled as he handed her the flowers and ice cream. She was so afraid he was blinded to her change. Perhaps they were both in blindfolds. He was not able to see she wasn’t the woman she had been and she could not see past her deformity. He was constantly giving and she was terrified she couldn’t receive properly or give back.

Later that evening, she fell asleep on top of a pillow on his leg. His hand lightly rested on the curve of her beautiful ass. He didn’t want her to awaken or chill, so changed the end of the movie over to soothing jazz and snagged a blanket off the back of the couch to cover her. She sighed and snuggled against the back of the cushions. In her sleep, her fear seemed to abate. A hand slipped from under her cheek, falling against his leg, then curling under it. He froze and relaxed into the warmth of her palm. Slowly, he stroked the shortened hair on her head. He missed her longer locks, it didn’t matter, those would return and if they didn’t, it wasn’t what was innate. What he truly missed was her joy in life and loving. Quietly, ever so silently, he whispered words of love and affirmation to his sleeping beauty. Maybe she’d sense in her subconscious how much he cared.


I could hear words echoing in my sleep. It wasn’t from the movie, I identified the gentle play of horns and reeds dancing under the voice. The words were calling to me. Repeated phrases of love. Instances of times before, hints of what could still be. I laboriously climbed from the depths of dreams into reality, tears wet my face and the pillowcase. Turning my head, I looked up at my lover. He, too, was crying. He felt me move. Our eyes met and his arms scooped me off the couch onto his lap.

He nuzzled my face with his beard, wiping and combining our sorrow. My hands involuntarily reached out to touch him. Blue eyes stared into mine. I gulped, throwing my arms around his neck and stormily crying into his shoulder my fears. Disjointed words fell like stones in a calm lake. He rubbed my back, soothing my lonely girl. Eventually, I stopped. Tiny breaths stuttered and he held me closer. He continued to speak words of care and of my beauty. My headshaking negation made him angry. So, he kissed me fiercely. With all the longing of the past and hope for the future centered into one passionate kiss.

Startled, I mewled and melted under his lips. I had thought I wasn’t ready to be loved. My body said otherwise. I knew he’d stop if I asked, yet, I realized he needed me as much as I needed him. Recklessly, I straddled his lap, shoving away the pillow and blanket.  Something inside me said to try to give, I could once. Could I again? I’d been existing for so long in my sorrow. A sorrow which still claimed me, but if I didn’t remove my shirt, maybe I could give to him. I recalled a former lover who preferred me mostly dressed for intimacy and felt I could do that. He gathered himself to lift us both us and a giggle escaped. I’d lost weight through the treatments and ensuing depression, but I wasn’t going to let him hurt himself lifting me. I slid to my feet, surprised at the giggle and my thoughts.

Ever diligent, we strolled to our room turning off lights and locking doors. Moonlight was coming through the open shades on the large windows I’d insisted on for our room. Shadows gathered in the corners and I froze. He stood in front of me, caressing my bare arms lightly, kissing my neck and face and collarbone. I reached for his buckle and he stopped me. Confused, I was ready to withdraw again when he told me to wait. He led me to our bed and tugged down the down comforter, exposing the sheets. Gently, he pushed on me til I bounced on my ass. He knelt at my feet to remove my shoes and socks. He then took off his. I heard the tang of his belt buckle and the glint of the metal as he released it from his sexy hips. My heart clenched, he’d lost weight, too. I’d not noticed. Slowly, his jeans slid from his lean hip into a puddle of denim on the floor.

Fuck, I’d forgotten how gorgeous this man was. My fears of ugly were starting to rear up again. How could perfection want to couple with what I was? He took my limp hand, moving it to brush against his tenting underwear. I stared and bit my lip. He wanted me, was it just because any man will take any woman if they are hungry enough for sex? Lightly he toppled me onto the bed and proceeded to remove my leggings. I was bare underneath. I don’t wear panties with leggings, but I’d not shaved recently. I didn’t see a need because no one would touch me again. My pussy hair was sparse anyway from the chemo I’d gone through. He licked my inner thigh and nipped the flesh before licking again. Gently he nibbled to my center and tongued his way deep inside. I shivered in delight. He didn’t stop. I tugged his head closer and he lifted my ass in his arms. I screamed out and flooded his mouth with my cream. Leaving me limp, he stood again and removed the remainder of his clothes. In the moonlight he was godlike. I knew he was, even in sunshine, but I adored those compact muscles he kept hidden under work clothes. It only made me more determined to keep on my top, although, I didn’t close my eyes to his beauty.

He scooted me to the middle of the bed, flipped me to my tummy, and straddled me. I noticed he had some sort of bottle with him. He said it was an essential oil blend he’d purchased. It smelled soothing and sensual when he mixed it in his hands with the ever present carrier oil I kept nearby. He began rubbing my butt and up my back. He had to lift my shirt, but it wasn’t my front, so I didn’t care. He grumbled about the fabric and proceeded to rip if off. I had known it wasn’t one of my better tops, but I hadn’t realized it was that worn! The sound of the fabric tearing was almost liberating. I made a brief mental note to shop for more worn out t-shirts. I could feel his cock growing along my back as he reached for my shoulders. I moaned in delight and relaxed into his touch. I’d not done that since I’d had the chemo treatments and started to get ugly. With every fingerprint he left on my skin, he followed it with a kiss, telling me of my beauty. I was so relaxed when he finished with the back of my legs, I almost didn’t register he’d flipped me over again. My eyes flew open and I tried to grab the tattered tee to cover my deformed chest. He stopped me with kisses. I could feel his body on mine and cried for my missing nipples and breasts. He held my hands tight as he sat up. My eyes were closed again, my head turned away.

He asked me to look at him, I did so reluctantly. He poured oils on my broken body and massaged every scar and mark. He kissed me, making sure to not miss a single place. I hadn’t realized there were so many tears in a person, my cup of pain was tipping over and flooding our world. Once again, he was crying while he whispered words of loving care and desire into my flesh. Warming my soul with his firm workman’s hands.  My own were released to rest on his knees and thighs. He begged me to touch him and I did. His cock grew on my stomach and wept with us. I reached out one finger to taste the pearly drops and remembered how good he was.

He moved up my body to my face and, obediently, I sucked him inside my mouth. We moaned together as I rolled my tongue around his length and down to his balls and back. He thrust deep, I breathed through my nose, and took him. His scent filled my nostrils, overriding the oils he’d poured onto me. I grabbed his firm sexy ass and pulled him deeper. He cried out he wasn’t going to last this first time and grabbed his hard dick from my starving hole. With one quick twist, he came in my open mouth and on my cheeks and neck and chest. The glistening lines of his release didn’t drip from my titties, they lay in sexual calligraphy on my body. He slid down and slid his still hard cock into my empty cunt. I mewled in pleasure and we fucked. Over and over, he thrust himself into my body in every way we’d ever enjoyed. While he did, he reminded me of how much he loved every part of me, always. He held my legs upright, pressed tightly together so he could nip my ankles. His cock was held secure in the tight channel he’d made. Squealing at the bites, my pussy contracted and we came in a gush. Laughing a bit at the ensuing mess, he grabbed a nearby towel to put under us, together we pulled the comforter up over our sticky, cooling bodies.

Sated and loved, we lay in each other’s arms in the early morning moonlight. It had moved as had the shadows. They might return, but I’d taken the first steps to acceptance and at the moment, I was content, naked, and unafraid.

All around me

The last weeks I was home, I found so many interesting things in the sky and the shine of sun and my world. Here is the sunset showing through birch bark and then sap frozen as it was dripping off a trimmed tree.

Stormy clouds behind (they never did turn to rain!) and a moon feather on the branch!

Later, on the lake I found a lesson. In front of me the Alaskan colors of fall were reflecting the height and breadth of their beauty.


Then, I turned around in the kayak and spied a stunning sunset.


I saw that focusing on just one view leaves out an array of beauty. I realised that in the brilliance of death, there is life. I noticed that a sunset and autumn is more than an ending. It is a promise. A promise of a new tomorrow, a spring after a rest, and peace. Change is a part of life. When we don’t move, we are stagnant and stale. A butterfly is a voracious caterpillar before it rests in a chrysalis, where it becomes goo. Goo that eventually becomes another butterfly that has to break from a self inflicted  imprisonment. Cycles or circles are important aspects of our being. We cannot stay in one spot, we must move on.


TnT gave me (I actually brazenly asked if I could have it!) this incredible flat stone. In our modern ages, it is a spirit rock/stone. Yet, it is more than that. This was created from sediment or rocks falling from the bottom of an iceberg floating in a lake eons ago. Once it reached the lake bed, it solidified and the ‘new’ rock traveled down a waterway to where it might be found. (this is a brief history of concretions) I love it because it shows me even rocks can change, because it is so beautiful, and because it has so much to say to me in every aspect.

Always stop to search, discover, and share. (Old Scouting motto for Tiger Cubs, but I love it!)  One of the neatest parts of this thought is that what you learn might just help someone else in some form or another.

Oregon, again-

I might need to go backwards!! Bear with me!! (not bare-since leaving the state, I’ve only been completely bare in the shower!!)

I am in Oregon again. I arrived at 1030 Friday night. Not much has changed. So far since my return, I’ve cleaned, baked, and tried to pry myself back into the lives of two bachelors. I thought the house was a real mess, but it was only a partial mess. I’ve hardly seen the guys, they are super busy. Most people, it seems, are busy when they hang out with me. (but, that is whining.) It is Monday and Little Bear was out working with his boss after work (single aging farmers need younger farmhands around to lift and haul!) and is taking photos of the shining moon and The Craftsman is taking his mom out for dinner. Strider was annoyed when I told him about dinner. He said dad should take me out. I laughed and said his dad has always taken his mom out for dinner on her birthday since our move to the East. Strider groaned and said, ‘I can hear strains of ‘Tradition’ filtering through my head and it isn’t good!’ Once again I laughed and said, ‘this is an ok one. He’s her only child and this is mom and son time away from the mom and son time every evening. Instead of watching game shows, they eat!’ Best part, I can update a bit!! (I’ll get lunch with The Craftsman on Wednesday when I go to the doctor. I’m betting fast food. I did get MiL flowers and an frozen chocolate pie for her birthday.)

The last week I packed, sorted, and got my hair colored. (after The Craftsman’s cute initial comment—it was the highlight of his night–when I sent him a photo, no one at the house has said anything. At church a friend suggested it reminded her of those north light things. I wondered if my silver strands were meteors…..) It is hard to see, but I do like it. I visited dad at his bench one last time, and went out in the kayak again before putting it up for the season. I spoke to the neighbor who is interested in the house for his son, DiL and FOUR kids (so far). I mentioned to The Craftsman that I thought the house was a bit crowded with me and my sister. He responded the house was a bit crowded with just mom!!!


Friday was a great day, even if I did leave home. Before I left, there were two moose in the yard. The cow and the not so young calf. They were on the lake side of the house, so I wanted to see if I could get their picture before I left. Both the calf and I rounded different house corners at the same time and were startled. I was so mad. I had my cell phone on selfie instead of cool moose and thus didn’t get ANY photos! The mom spooked the youngster and both of them rumbled down the hill and I deftly took myself out of view. There was snow on the way north. It was surreal to see the blackened ground now covered by white. (first snow rarely stays, so it might be icky now!) I also discovered how awesome the pre stuff is for Alaska Air. When you can pre tag your bags and print out passes. It went smooth as butter on hot pancakes. (I’m definitely going to try this again!!) Then, I was seated with a stellar seat person. Girls usually share names (I’m reminded of the one I met ages ago and followed on FB for quite a while). This one was anonymous and we will call the dear soul 23B (I was in A).

He was just a bit younger than I am and had 3 girls to my 2 boys who are close to the same ages. I was barely homesick, which was nice. I almost always cry buckets as we leave the Alaskan tarmac and this time I was barely distressed. The very young man on 2B’s right was on his way to a tournament of some sort (I forget what kind) and the two guys chatted a bit about the places 2B had been. (He was a working tourist from CA) I was entirely thankful for this person, it truly made leaving home a lot easier. I laughed often and enjoyed not being caught up in missing home. We were almost to Seattle when he managed to get his technology working (he was an IT guy) and found a movie to watch during his remaining flight time. (NOTE: He noticed my color.)

Got to Seattle and if I’d been a bird, it would have taken no time at all to reach the spot I needed to be. Thankfully, I didn’t have to take the tram, but I was really tired from hoofing it. (I’d not gotten to bed til 2 am, woke at 5, got up at 6..) The most annoying thing was one of my best friends from HS was going to be where I had disembarked that evening, 30 minutes later!!!!!

Before we lifted off for my final destination, one patron discovered another was on the wrong plane. He had out his passport and when she asked where he was going, he was so grateful to be steered properly! I was surprised no one else caught it, though. The plane had a steward and a stewardess with the names of Marc and Marcia. She seemed to have a bit of a snarky sense of humor (it was a later flight) and I had scenes from Airplane flit through my head. Especially when she reminded us to keep our heads down as we exited the aircraft and to refrain from bad language. One woman on the plane was one of those cheerful I know everyone sorts. As we landed, she got a face time call from a friend and after finally accepting the call (she hung up twice!), had those around say hello!

Truly a nice end to my beautiful time up north. Full of great bead memory moments.


Fitting in

I have driven past a certain shop many times. Locals call it the ‘sex shop’ (rolling eyes). Yes, they have items for play, but they also have lingerie and bras with fittings. Since I have never actually been fitted to a bra, I have always wanted to do this. I also wanted one that lifted. Since I was all by myself and could do anything I wanted last week, I stopped. The employees were super friendly. The one at the counter called to the other girl and asked if she could do a fitting. The counter girl also said after doing so many fittings, they can usually ‘eyeball’ a pretty close to accurate size, so it doesn’t usually take very long. Well, I did!

I followed the younger girl upstairs and told her what I was looking for. I said I didn’t like wearing bras, so I didn’t know what I wanted other than something that lifted. I shared my displeasure in my lack of size and then was astonished. She only took one measurement. Under my breasts. Then, she left me sans top in the dressing room while she chose some bras for me. They were size 38D (same in UK as the US). I was startled. I figured I was 38B. That is what I almost always wear. She showed me several different models and none of them felt right. She was so cute, I felt a bit like Harry Potter when he was choosing his wand! I think I tried on 6 before she brought in this red one.


I learned not wearing bras is good for your breasts, because they learn to support themselves instead of having help. (at least for ladies my size. In our lengthy chatting, I learned mine were nice looking. I don’t think she was just saying that, it was too random a comment that was dropped lightly into our discussion. We covered several areas of breasts and when I started to state my displeasure, she interjected with her comment. I was quietly pleased!) I also learned that I do have a smaller breast on one side. When I shared this, I was told that it is because I am right handed. That arm is used more, hence, the breast is reduced a bit for muscle instead of fatty tissue. When I lose weight, you do lose first in the breast, but it is still the same size, even if it looks different. (I was skeptical of that!) This bra has underwire in it, so I was told it would be a bit uncomfortable for me to wear, since I’m not used to them!!! It also has extra fabric on the side to help hold the breast instead of just a single layer that might pouch out. I was also told that you want to use the hooks closest in first and later go out to the further ones as the material stretches. This bra also has a ‘j’ hook on the back to make an X. I’ve not used that, it is difficult for me to reach around and unhook it (I also noticed my long hair gets caught on the hook when it is not being used!!). R, the girl who fitted me, said she sometimes hooks hers and then pulls it over her head.

It was one of the most interesting experiences I’ve ever had buying an item of clothing. I learned a great deal and was given links to where I could get more of these online (since I’ll be in Oregon soon and unsure of where to shop there). I was also surprised that R didn’t get anything extra for working with breasts!! She was a lovely girl and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. R was complimentary without being trite, she was helpful as well as friendly, and I wouldn’t feel one bit odd about going back for any reason.

An odd note: there is a ‘box’ store for toys, lingerie, and what not. I’ve been inside one, in the states. I knew what I wanted, so went in and was out in less than 30 minutes. I didn’t care for shopping there, though. It wasn’t cozy or caring. I was a customer, which was my role in the store. Not to mention I was given a huge bag for my small expensive purchases. I felt like a walking advertisement.