Happy Halloween

I know part 2 of "Nine...but who's counting?" was scheduled for tonight but I forgot to e-mail it from work to home. Hopefully I will remember tomorrow.

In the meantime we had lots of trick-or-treaters who got progressively older and scarier as the night wore on. I was very proud that my two bags of candy were perfectly paced according to our number of visitors. One little Snow White whimpered when she realized she wasn't going to get to pick out the candy herself, so I let her. Wonder if she did that at every door? That's a lot of whimpering.

When my kids were younger I was always in charge of handing out the candy and my husband took them door to door. He was almost a slave driver about it, forcing them to go "just one more block" when they were ready to call it quits. Then when they got home they would spread out their spoils and give him the ones they didn't like. Ahhh...good times.

Now he and I share candy duty equally. He was calling me at work, making sure I would be home in time, like he wouldn't be able to do it without me. I mean really...rocket science it isn't. You open the bag, pour it in a bowl and answer the door. That's it! And we're millitant about the job being equal, If he is in the bathroom during his turn then he has to do two turns in a row. This year we had a silly hat that we switched back and forth all night according to whose turn it was.

I know, I know...it sounds like "Leave It To Beaver" around here. Hmmmm...no...more like "Married with Children."

Daylight Saving Time Sucks

There. I said it. Can someone please explain to me why we do this? Because my body clock does not understand. And is it Saving Time or Savings Time? Nevermind...I googled it here.

Okay, I plead complete ignorance on this subject. All this time I thought the winter months were DST...something about the kids not having to go to school in the dark. But DST is during the summer months...it's Standard Time that sucks! Why can't we leave it DST all the time and change the time school starts?

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off...NOT

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

Sorry for the delay...I know it's Saturday, but I have a good excuse. Yesterday I was furiously getting ready to go for a long weekend to visit my best friend and her boyfriend who recently moved to Waco. My day included getting (making) our Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein costumes, packing, getting the oil changed, driving the two hours south to Waco (which was 3 hours because of rush hour) and attending a steak cookout. (The costume party is tonight...digital pics to come.) My day was further complicated by my daughter's car wreck. Nobody was injured and it wasn't her fault, but I did have to help her with the tow truck and insurance claim and go get her. That was a couple of hours out of my day I really didn't have to spare.

ANYWAY, enough about why Freaky Friday is on Saturday.

The topic today is by request. BTW, I take requests for a sexual subject near and dear to your heart...or anywhere else for that matter. I probobaly wouldn't have ever thought of alcohol as the subject of sex because:
a) I'm ALWAYS the designated driver
b) I do not find drunks attractive in the least
c) My inhibition quotient is already low without the use of drugs or alcohol

BUT it is true that alcohol can be an aphrodisiac as the title of this blog (song) can attest to. And if you partake on occasion, it does tend to loosen what is usually tight. (Wait a minute, I thought tight was a good thing in terms of sex???)

I think these Brad Paisley lyrics would be appropriate here:

I can make anybody pretty
I can make you believe any lie
I can make you pick a fight
with somebody twice
your size. . .

Well I've been known to cause a few breakups
and I've been known to cause a few births
I can make you new friends
Or get you fired from work.

I got blamed at your wedding reception
for your best man's emberrasing speech
and also for those naked pictures of you at the beach
I've influenced kings and world leaders
I helped Hemingway write like he did
and I`ll bet you a drink or two that I can make you
put that lampshade on your head . .

And since the day I left Milwaukee
Lynchburg, Bordeaux, France
Been makin the bars
With lots of big money
(crowd:) and helpin white people dance
I got you in trouble in high school
and college now that was a ball
you had some of the best times
you'll never remember with me
Alcohol...

Speaking of alcohol, remember the steak cookout last night? Well, alcohol flowed freely the entire night...Jack Daniels and Diet Coke, Coors light plus other assorted beers, and lots of bottles of merlot. If you'd lit a match in the place it would have gone up in flames just from the CH3OH being exhaled into the place. And I will admit, on the drive back into Waco my husband was feeling a bit more RANDY than usual.

As mentioned before, I'm the designated driver, so I was drinking virgin Diet Coke. It's not that drinking is against my religion or anything, but besides the fact that SOMEONE has to be the designated driver, just one "social" drink can give me a whopping hangover the next day. I may be alergic to the stuff.

And being around a bunch of drunks makes me nervous at the very least...which tends to tighten up things that are usually loose. So needless to say my husband did NOT get lucky last night.

So here's my hypothesis. I think alcohol affects men and women differently. The precise amount of alcohol makes men more horny. (Too much and they are of absolutely no use to you.) On the other hand, alcohol makes women more pliable. You can see where a more horny man and a more pliable woman can work like magic OR be a dangerous combination, depending on the situation...

Oh, believe me, I've been drunk before. And I've paid the price big time the next day. And during those times my good sense was a bit...uh...how to say this...off. So I can see how along with a woman's inhibitions which fly out the window when you drink, your judgment goes right along with it. You just flat don't give a damn anymore. Phrases like "what the hell, just this once" and "if it feels good, do it," tend to replace the word "No!"

And frankly, I think men know this. And believe it or not, I think they use this knowledge to their advantage! Shocking, I know, but true.

As far as my husband goes, perhaps he will get lucky tonight after the Halloween party. It will be Frankenstein and his Bride's honeymoon, after all.

Nine...But Who's Counting

Poetry Wednesday is taking a short hiatus in honor of Halloween.

***

Sampson detested the stupid doll shoes Cassandra made him wear. But he had decided to humor her since it was Halloween, and the shiny red shoes did just make the outfit--a pinafore of blue gingham check. The fact that he was a Tom-cat aside, who ever heard of dressing a cat up like Dorothy? It was a natural for Foxy to be Toto, but anyone who knew anything would naturally dress the cat as the lion.

But Cassandra had her heart set on being the lion. She looked adorable, too, in her gold yarn mane and plush jump suit with the tail attached. So there trotted Sampson a.k.a. Dorothy, in his ridiculous costume next to Cassandra, the cowardly lion. Foxy had pulled the old "thorn-in-the-paw-pad" routine. It worked every time.

So, instead of riding in the basket Cassandra had carefully lined in matching blue gingham check, Foxy was snoozing in front of a roaring fire. Sampson on the other hand was being humiliated in a dress and doll shoes for all the world to see...well, at least all the world that lived on Mockingbird Lane.

They were headed to the school carnival, which was only 3 blocks away, but it was starting to feel like 30 in the ill-fitting shoes. Finally they ascended the steps and entered the frenzy of crepe paper and costumes that was Carter Elementary School's Fall Carnival. Sampson made a mental note to check out some of that crepe paper later. It could make some interesting batting material. A giant purple Barney boot almost flattened him in the crowd so Casandra swept her cat up into her arms.

"I'm sorry, Dorothy," Cassandra whispered in the black cat's ear. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

It was a whirlwind afternoon of cakewalks and candy corn, dunking for apples and downing tart cider. Finally they stepped back out into the evening, the golden moon low in the sky, giving off an orange glow on the sidewalk ahead of them.

"Don't worry, Dorothy. You won't have to walk all the way home in those shoes. Daddy's coming to pick us up. I don't want to be late."

Sampson knew why Cassandra was so anxious to get home. Tonight was not only Halloween, it was also Cassandra's birthday party. And Sampson was proud to say he had been present at nine of those 11 birthdays. He attended the first one when Cassandra was only two years old. He was a fluffy black kitten then--a gift from Grandma Winnetka.

They continued to shiver in front of the school as the crowds of carnival-goers sifted down to a single janitor locking the front door.

"My Dad will be here in a minute," Cassandra assured him as he headed reluctantly to his truck.

He called back, "I'd wait here with you, but I've got to get home and take my kids trick-or-treating."

They watched his truck's tail lights disappear around the tree-lined curve in the street; stirring up clouds of leaves behind him.

From the other direction a carload of teens pulled up in front of the school and one of them shouted, "Look! There's one!" The boy in the letter jacket was pointing directly at Sampson.

"Get him," shouted another kid. The jacketed boy jumped out of the car and started running toward them.

"Leave us alone!" Cassandra cried out.

In the commotion Sampson leapt from her arms and darted into the woods next to the school.

He shivered violently while running through the cold night air. Orange, yellow and red leaves crackled beneath his tiny shoes.

To be continued Halloween night...

Still Making It...After All These Years

Backstory: Along with my full time job I also coached a competitive junior dance team for thirteen years. Back then everyone would ask me..."How do you do it?" And I would just smile and laugh.

Now that I think back on that time I ask myself "How did you do it?" And the better question is "Why did you do it?"

Well, okay. It was an extremely creative outlet. And during that thirteen years I learned a lot of valuable "stuff". Things I was even able to use in my real job...like managing people. Once you've managed 24 eight year olds and ALL of their stage moms (and some dads), managing 4 college graduates is an ABSOLUTE piece of cake.

During that time I also learned some other things...uh...like...all professional seamstresses are liars, it's really hot at a three O'clock football game in September, a drill team is NOTHING without a working sound system, leave the judges wanting MORE, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, you know, stuff like that.

Getting back to the seamstresses lying part. Along the way I also learned how to make costumes (necessity sometimes truly IS the mother of invention). And I'm not talking about one. During my daughter's high school days, I'm talking EIGHTY. After you've done that much sewing you get to where you can do it in your sleep, without a pattern...

ANYWAY
To make a short story really long...my daughter (now 26) was going to order this Minnie Mouse costume online for a couple of Halloween parties coming up.


But with shipping it was going to cost over $50 which she couldn't afford, so before I could take back the words--out of my mouth they came: "Why don't I just make that for you."

So that's what I've been doing today...

And here it is:

Hurricane Wilma

The Thrust of the Story

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

This excerpt from CurvyKathy31: Confessions of a Chat Addict is continued from last Friday. You will remember Dan had just left Kathy on the front porch with a passionate kiss goodbye.

***
Fifteen minutes later I stepped out of the shower to the insistent chime of my doorbell. I threw on my terry robe, ran to the door and peered out the peephole. There stood Dan, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets. I opened the door and brushed a strand of wet hair out of my face. I let him in, looking up at him, seeing the burning desire in his eyes. Silently we embraced.

Finally I took his hand and led him into my bedroom. I turned to face him and he pulled my robe open. As he looked at me through the dim light of the bedside lamp I dropped the robe to the floor.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He began to kiss my face, my throat, my chest. He continued to kiss and caress every inch of me like a three-part symphony of touch and taste and movement. I could watch what was happening in the dresser mirror and there, with him loving me, I could see he was right. I was beautiful. He laid me back on the velvet comforter.

While holding my gaze with his he undressed and soon was covering my body, our skin finally allowed the searing full contact we hungered for. The exchange of electrically charged sensations was like nothing I’d ever experienced. He plunged his hardness into me and I sighed softly, taking him freely and deeply into my wet, slick recesses.

Feeling him ebb and flow, slowly at first, then gaining speed and intensity with each thrust, I knew my climax was imminent. I began to contract tightly around his bullet hard member, crying out with each ecstatic pulse. Just as my climax waned he moaned with a final, hard thrust and began filling me with his warmth, again and again, till it overflowed between us in a wonderful, sticky mess.

We made love three more times that night, each time a different and silent expression of the passion we held for each other. In between lovemaking we cuddled and dozed ‘til the sun rose.

Still we were silent, as though a pedestrian conversation about breakfast or work would break the magic of the moment. He dressed, kissed me sweetly on the lips, said he loved me, and left me in bed to revel in the vivid memory of the night before.

To Google, Or Not To Google

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y


i finger the keyboard
with a sudden yearning
then type in his name
and hit the return key

just as i'm thankful
his isn't jones or smith
i'm relieved there are only
a few links herewith

after some that aren't him
i come to a link
his place of employment?
i stare and I blink

it's a sub-page that's promising
a pic of his team
i could see what he looks like--
no longer a dream

oh my God! i realize
it's the motherload i've hit
haven't seen him in 30 years
but with one easy click...

am i ready to destroy
the memory of the boy

yellow tank top, long and lean
in his tight faded jeans?

will it be quite the same
to imagine our past
if his sweet lips are under
a graying mustache?

has his slender waist
and those cute little freckles
given way to a belly
and weather-worn wrinkles?

and will seeing him now
just remind me that i'm
not slender and sexy
but well past my prime?

i slowly remove
my hand from my mouse
i log off the laptop
i lock up the house

i head to the hallway
i turn out the light
murder of memories
isn't in me tonight

as my head hits the pillow
i rest easily
my last name's been changed
so he can't google me

Bibbidy, Bobbidy, Beyond (the call of duty)

My daughter teaches dance. No, not the ballroom kind. I mean like ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop...to ages from 3 to adult. Her studio is involved with the Frisco Ballet and they asked some of the teachers to perform in their production of Cinderella. She played the evil step-mother.

But when they went to rehearse the ball scene they realized there was something missing...and that was men. What good is a ball without some handsome men? So my daughter asked her Dad if he would consider being in it. With a little bit of coaxing (and probably quite a few beers) and a promise from me of LOTS and LOTS of brownie points, he said yes. She said all he had to do was escort a dancer onto the stage and then stand there. (At the time she forgot to mention the ALL DAY dress rehearsal, the 2 performances AND the sequinned costume!)

Well, anyway, after A LOT of grumbling about how he didn't really mean he would do it and how could I possibly think he would want to devote an entire SATURDAY to something like this, yesterday was their big day. I was very proud to watch my daughter (who, by the way, was the prettiest evil stepmother I've ever seen) steal the show. She was WONDERFUL and got lots of laughs from the audience, which is hard to do considering this was a ballet (ie: no talking). And my husband was the most handsome man on the stage!

Okay, I'm a bit prejudiced, but both of their performances were outstanding.

And may I also say, I'm glad it's over so I don't have to listen to my husband gripe about it anymore. However, instead, now we get to compare and contrast performance one with performance two incessantly. (A stage wife's job is never done.)

BTW, what are brownie points??? And wonder how he plans to redeem them?

Get A Room!

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

Excerpt from CurvyKathy31: Confessions of a Chat Addict

After dinner he parked in front of my house, rolling down the windows to let the sweet summer night fill the truck. He patted the seat next to him and I scooted over, giggling like a schoolgirl. We started making out like horny seniors after prom.

He devoured my mouth with his hungry kisses. Arms were groping and breathing was labored. He slipped his hand under my top, holding my breast. I could feel his warm palm through the sheer fabric of my bra. His other hand moved around to unhook the back and suddenly he was kissing my cleavage while both hands firmly cupped my D-sized mounds.

"I want you soooooo bad," I whisper-whined.

Taking my fully-erect nipple out of his mouth just long enough to get the words out he murmured, "me too."

At some point during our make-out session I turned to face him, my right leg wedged between both of his. Through his jeans I could feel his hardness on the top of my thigh as I instinctively pressed my crotch into his leg. Our adolescent petting was quickly turning into a full-blown dry hump.

"Maybe we should go inside,” I moaned in his ear. “Any minute someone's going to jog right past us." I opened my eyes and checked out the back window. "I see Mrs. Meecham walking her Doberman half a block down and headed this way."
I pulled away and started adjusting clothing. Dan leaned his head against the headrest, closing his eyes in a combination of exhaustion and frustration.

"Jesus, that felt good. I haven't made out in a car like that in years."

"So, you wanna come in?" I hated the way the words slithered from my lips.

He was silent for what seemed like decades. "I can't. Not tonight." He looked over at me and touched my cheek with his fingertips. "As much as I want to make love to you, I also want our first time together to be right."

"You are the most amazing man I've ever met." I asked jokingly, "Are you sure you're an Internet guy?"

"That's just it." He opened the truck door and stepped out. "I don't want to be one of your Internet guys. You're certainly more than an Internet girl to me."

We walked arm in arm up to the front porch and he kissed me with a passion that made me weak.

"I love you, Kathy."

I looked up into his eyes, which were shimmering blue, even in the porch light. "I love you too, Dan."

With that he ran his hand across my top and grazed my nipple sending more hot shocks of pleasure between my legs. He turned to go but I could hear him muttering under his breath something like, "What’s wrong with you, man? Are you outta your mind!"

(To be continued...)

Genius Envy

C E L E B R A T I N G
B L O G
H I T S

No, not mine, silly. (I'm only at 5,000.) This is old Duke over at Romantic Ramblings. There's just something about his golf stories, telling us how much he loves his wife and spilling stuff on his crotch that seems to draw the readers in in droves. Go figure. Anyway, congrats, John. Maybe I'll be there in another 6 months. Something to look forward to, I guess. Heavy sigh.

Pick a Penguin...Any Penguin

Penguins just popped into my head and POW...there was a whole potpourri of penguin pictures to pick from for my post. Isn't Google prodigious?

Like A Mountain

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y



like a mountain
daunting
almost insurmountable
love starts off timid

but soon our strides
become quick and wide
ever hopeful
our bodies empowered
by the promise
of an awesome view

higher we climb
till the air becomes thin
making us light-headed
giddy with happiness

we approach the peak
ecstatic to finally reach
and the view....
words can't describe
everything's so very clear
up here

hand in hand
we step to the edge
looking over
suddenly afraid
nothing will ever be the same
again

happiness becomes
a mountain stream
the tighter we grasp
the quicker it
slips through our fingers

suddenly we're
speeding unwieldy
down a treacherous
mountain road
the curves twist and turn
dangerously close

we try to steer
staying clear
of the edge
panicked we slam
on the brakes
realizing
nothing
will slow
our
fall

out of control
love plummets
to a certain
disastrous
death

Not Just A Case of Acid Reflux

The saying "Never eat anything bigger than your head" is especially true for this python in the Florida Everglades who decided a live crocodile would be a tasty snack. We might also want to add, "Don't eat anything that can claw its way out."

Macarena Meets The Hokey Pokey

Saturday night was the wedding of the girl my daughter gave the bachelorette party for last weekend. The bride is hispanic and the groom is white so there was a wonderful mixture of cultures with a mariachi band and a dj at the hotel reception.

Of course, I'm always interested to see how these events come together as I someday hope to throw a wedding or two of my own. And this one was flawlessly executed, from the delicious buffet and elaborate cake

to the chocolate fountain. There was even confetti on the tables with the bride and groom's pictures on them. The bride is a dance teacher (like my daughter) so there was an unusual amount of "single girls" hoping to catch the bouquet.

It was quite a party and I was glad to be a part of it.

Rockin' to the Rhythm of the Rain

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

Imagine the wind whipping up in hot, fragrant breaths on your face. The very scent of a storm on the way becomes a powerful aphrodisiac as big plops of rain hit the pavement.

Is there anything better than taking cover inside as a nice steady rain outside gets your juices flowing? Doesn’t it just feel right to snuggle up under the covers with your sweetie as a few flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder set the mood?

Sidebar: I’m not talking about hurricane force winds and flooding. If that’s the forecast, now’s the time to evacuate, not get “in the mood.” Tell him to forget the condom and put on his slicker!

There is something soothing and almost primal about storm sex going all the way back to cuddling in the cave with your Neanderthal. This kind of lovemaking should not be routine or rushed, but rather follow the unpredictable pace of a spring rain. If the electricity is knocked out, all the better! Nothing’s more romantic than flickering candlelight. Or making love in the dark…flashes of light illuminate your glistening bodies, capturing single moments of your naked silhouettes pounding together as the rain pounds overhead. As the storm climaxes with thunderous lightening and driving rain, your lovemaking crescendos to a fevered pitch till you fall away, completely spent.

Then almost as sweet as the endorphins coursing through your bodies from the satisfying coupling, you doze in each other’s arms, lulled by the rhythm of the rain.

I guess the only thing better would be storm sex…in the car!

I'm Soooooooooooooo Old

Exactly 26 years ago today and 21 years ago yesterday I gave birth to two 8 lb. 4 oz. babies (obviously my maximum carrying capacity.) We had their birthday party tonight at one of their favorite Mexican Food Restaurants.

They raked in the cash and all I got was reminded how freakin' old I am. Heavy sigh.

Second Chancing

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y


(I wrote this for a friend of mine's second wedding. I read it during the ceremony.)

When you search the whole worldwide
For someone to be by your side
To walk with you down life’s long road
To help you ease each heavy load
The chances seem like slim to none
To find your mate--the perfect one
Imagine how impossible when
You have to go in search again
But suddenly with just a glance
You are given a second chance

A second chance, a new lease on love
One more go at that shiny gold ring
Another whirl ‘round the dance floor
A different dream to take wing

In an instant you know it’s true
That he’s the only one for you
And just as sure--he isn’t wary
You’re the one he wants to marry
Yours and Mine becomes We
For one contented family
Completing what the other lacks
Your lives can then get back on track
So embrace this time like couples dancing
And thank the stars for second chancing

Frustration and Firemen and Fabulous Getaway, Oh My!

I'm having problems posting comments, which really is frustrating. I can't even post them on my own blog. I keep getting a "blogger is temporarily down for maintenance" message. It's been going on for over three days! I'm not sure if this is a universal problem, a mac problem, a safari problem or an aol problem.

In other news, this weekend my daughter comandeered our house for a bachelorette party complete with jello shots and fireman stripper.


I did not think this was a wholesome atmosphere for my husband, so we went on a mini-vacation to the Marriott Hotel in Plano at Legacy Village. Oh My God! It is a nice hotel...I mean like 4-star.

The weekend package included a huge suite, 2 theatre tickets and a beautiful breakfast buffet. The hotel is built across the street from a lovely little fountain and lake

and beside Legacy Village which includes lots of interesting shops, restaurants, bars and the Angelica movie theatre. I felt like we were in a hotel overlooking Central Park.

We had the best time...it was so nice to get away. And we only had to drive about fifteen minutes to get there. Of course, what we saved in gas we paid in tips to the parking valet and the bellman.

Upon arriving home we were relieved to find the house in relatively the same condition we left it.