Only Because I Hold You in the Highest Regard, Jane Austen has nothing on me!

Sir is still battling this pesky sickness.  It's hard seeing him feel this way.  I'm going to continue the current path of treatment though and give him multiple doses of TLC per day.

I woke up this morning, as is usual, to him stroking my back.  I love waking up next to him.  His hands are so warm. It feels amazing waking up to those warm hands touching me.  I nestle up next to him and we spoon.  It's like there is a place created just for me to cozy up beside him.

I normally love snuggling up into that special little cranny.  This morning though I had the task of telling Sir a difficult thing.

So instead of snuggling up in my cozy spot, I kinda sat up and said the thing that had to be said.

Sir, I have to tell you something.  And it is only because we have the deepest bond of love and affection that I can say this, but it is time WE take a shower.  It might be good if WE brush our teeth too!

What?  You don't like the smell of my pheromones?

At this point I have my face buried in my pillow and emphatically shaking my head "No!"

We laugh a little.  Snuggle some more.  And, because I made my protests known, we are heading directly to the shower.  Or so I thought.

Instead I feel his arm get a little tighter and simultaneously my body is tilted a little to the side.  I feel the chill of the room on my backside as he lowers the covers from around me.

I settle into this new place beside him.

We aren't taking a shower, are we, Sir?

No.  I have a few things planned and then we'll shower.

Warming Her Backside

Happy New Year!

My Sir is so sickly, but I arrived last night to provide him with some TLC.  He is busy right now writing a blog for work.  That has afforded me some time to peruse the interwebs for one of my new fascinations. Springerle molds. I blame Delta Airlines for my new vice.  The cookies they give out on flights are amazingly tasty -- and addictive.  I wanted to make these for Christmas cookies this year -- so started the google chase.

Turns out the recipe for those Delta cookies, Speculaas, is hard to pin down.  I found a lot of variations to the recipe.  But, what I did find in my googling were Springerle molds.

Oh. My. Heavens.  These things are works of art.  The tally in my "Shopping Cart" increased significantly today!

The one below, though, was the most delightful to date.  If I had not read the caption first, I would have had no clue what the picture was depicting.  It was really just the title though that made me laugh out loud.  Sir wanted to know what was funny so I covered the title and asked him to guess the name of this cookie mold.

Well...Sir saw a lady with her derrière backed up to large upright object so he thought it was some kind of erotic Pompeian artifact.  

First. Seriously? His first thought was, "Is that a giant cock?" Nope. 
Second. Good news.  Sir is on the mend. He is acting more like his risqué self.  
Third. Seriously his first thought was, "Is that a giant cock?"

Anyways, it was something much less ribald.  But still,  he had a few good things to say about it.

Ladies and maybe a Gent or two...I give you "Warming Her Backside"

Blink

It's amazing how quickly lives can fuse. How quickly it changes from the moment of meeting them to the point of them being in every breath you take.

It's amazing how deep two souls can go.  How the point in time of never knowing them becomes blurred by the intimacies of seemingly having known them forever.

It's amazing the extent to which someone can touch you.  How many things become a reminder of times spent together or secrets shared.

It's amazing how wholly someone can own you. How you wonder what was once in those spaces they now control.

It's amazing how much love wants to hold on.   How it hopes it never fails.

It's amazing how quickly things can go.

Sir Fucked Me To Sleep

Sir fucked me into oblivion last night.  And this is how I felt falling asleep.

Thank you, Sir

SSO

Redecorating

A couple of weeks ago, I was shopping at the local Home Goods store.  Love, love, love that place!  As I was walking to the register, I noticed a section of wall art that was all coastal or beach themed.  Well...since Sir lives in Florida this caused a huge surge of inspiration.  Sir's house (or a least parts of it) needs to be redecorated in this theme! Yes!  I told Sir and he seemed amenable to the idea.

Being the studious person that I am I took the next step and made a point to begin the google search of coastal themed decor.  I found so many beautiful things.  So many possibilities!  My excitement was growing with each new possibility I found.

Until I was stopped cold.

By this.

A paddle headboard?

Are you serious?

Maybe Sir's bedroom is fine as it is. ;-)

SSO

Where I Need To Be

Sometimes where I need to be is right there. Nestled against his chest. Feeling his arms around me. Hearing him whisper in my ear. Feeling his warmth.

Sometimes I feel so small.  So broken. So needy. All I think of doing is cuddling up in his lap.  And feel his comfort.  Feel the re-assurance of being his.

Sometimes I feel like that little girl. So scared. So helpless. All I can think of doing is melting into him.  And asking, "Sir, please hold my hand."

Feeling particularly weak lately.  Feeling alone. Feeling so out of control.  Spiraling into a not so good place.  I knew I couldn't ground myself.  Knew if I let it continue, it could end up hurting us.  Finally, I asked.  Sir, please hold my hand.

Sir J recently wrote a post about the intimacy of holding hands.  It so beautifully portrays how I have been feeling.

Love & SSO

Dismantled

There is something quite dismantling about love.

Tired of Speaking Sweetly

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear
He is in such a "playful drunken mood"
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.

~Hafiz
From: 'The Gift'
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky