Thursday, March 16, 2017

Lilli's Little Meme

Thanks to Lilli for finding this clever meme!  I always think they are so much fun to both write and to read.

Who's oldest?  

That would be Sam by only 5 months.  I love to rub it in a bit, but then my birthday rolls around, and I have to shut up.

Who was interested first?

It was pretty much a mutual attraction.  I saw him as soon as I came into the classroom.  Very broad shoulders and chestnut hair.

Same High school?

Yep.  Ours was a huge high school, and I never knew Sam as a freshman.  We met on the first day and in first period of sophomore year.

Most sensitive?

This is a tough one.  If it has to do with people, I am probably more sensitive than Sam.  But if it has to do with animals, Sam is an easy mark.

Worst temper?

That would be me.  Patience is not my strong suit.  Driving is where I really have to consciously focus on staying relaxed.  There are some serious ttwd expectations that address my temper, and it is worlds better than it used to be.

More social?

Being social used to be more difficult for Sam, especially in larger groups.  He is quite comfortable and eager in smaller groups, though, and loves to meet new people.  I think I am the more extroverted of us both, though.  Or I just have a big mouth.  It's hard to tell.

Most stubborn?

OMG - this is a toss-up or maybe just a tie between the two of us.  Back in our pre-ttwd days, not being able to get past our differences and perceived slights was always a big problem.  There were many times when neither of us would give an inch.

Wakes up first?

I am normally a very early riser.  A natural morning person.  Sam knows if he wakes up before I do, that I am probably sick.

Bigger Family?

There were 3 children in Sam's family, and he was the baby.  There were 4 children in my house, and I was the oldest.  Bossy just comes natural to me.


It is fun to receive flowers, but almost 10 years ago, I did request no more flowers delivered by the florist.  Seems outlandishly expensive.  But I do enjoy white tulips if Sam finds them while out shopping.  I have never bought him flowers, but I have cut red roses from the garden for him.  He would much prefer I bake him a pie.

Who cooks the most?

That is a toss up now that we are older.  When the boys were small, I definitely did more of the cooking.  Sam is the master of omelets and king of the grill.  He has a massive smoker in which he prepares the most mouth-watering ribs you have ever tasted.

Cries more?

Oh, I take the prize for that one.  Happy, sad, angry, empathetic - just name it and I have tears for it.  The thing that can always make Sam get watery eyes are the stories of soldiers and their selflessness.  I always tell him he is on the "sucker list" for every military museum in this country and across the pond, too.  He will always make a donation.

Said I love you first?

For the life of me, I do not remember.  My memory really sucks so I should perhaps ask Sam.  (Pause Here)  He doesn't remember either.  Good god, we are old!  We do know for sure that we were both 15 years old.

Better singer?

Neither of us can carry a tune as much as we love music.  It is better if I am singing along with a song.  And I love to memorize the lyrics from my favorites.  I will sing to myself if I am alone.

Better driver?

Sam is a very good driver, but I don't think he drives fast enough.  TTWD has done a lot to help me keep my mouth shut in the car.

Hogs the remote?

I don't think either of us do.  We do not watch TV together that often.  We do enjoy a movie together, but Sam does not like any television series until it comes out on DVD. 

Better cook?

Probably me.  I love to cook when I am not working.  Most weeks we cook a lot on the weekend, and it lasts us through the work week.  

Clothes And Shoe Hoarder?

True Confessions.  I have way too many of both.  Sam doesn't usually mind if I am careful to stay sensible about money.  He even built me a "shoe wall."  I like to touch shoes.  I find putting different pieces of clothing together in new ways very creative, and I am always snipping things out of fashion magazines to try a new color combination or a way to wear a scarf.  

What struck me as I finished up this post is that ttwd has changed the both of us so much.  The way we live.  The way we interact.  The way we love.  Five years ago, my answers to these same questions would have been much different.  There were times that we were not partners at all but rather adversaries.  We will never go back.  

                                          Happy Man 

                                        Happy Woman

                                       Happy Marriage 


Thursday, March 9, 2017

"Humph" and Other Interjections

We use interjections in our speech every day.  We use them in writing, too, but most often in dialogue.  Sometimes it is a challenge to figure out how to spell them.   There are so many, and they convey so much with just one little word or even just one little sound.  If you hear someone say, "Ooops," it usually means they have done something clumsy.  "Ooops, I spilled the coffee," or something a bit stronger like, "Damn!" if it's all over a white shirt.

You can't help but smile if your husband mutters a serene, "Ahhhh," as he gets comfortable in bed after a long day.  Tasting a still warm-from-the-oven cookie seems to call for an appreciative, "Mmmm."  Of course, there is the low deep groan you make when the alarm clock goes off.


"Woot, woot!" is a paycheck with no deductions.  "Blah" describes a movie that was not to my liking.  So does, "Ho-hum."  As a teacher and mom, how could one get along without, "Shh...?"  "Duh" is only appropriate if you are talking to yourself.  Do not make the mistake of thinking your husband will find it funny.  He usually won't.

Then I thought of all the noises I can make as I approach the climax of orgasm.  Not really sure I could even match letters of the alphabet with the sounds that come out of my mouth.  Really sort
of animalistic now that I come to think about it.  Am certainly a lot more vocal than Sam.  Right when I get to the peak there is only this little series of squeaks coming from my throat.  They keep getting closer and closer together until it is like a tiny scream.  And then slowly coming back down, the squeaks recede in a quiet hum of satisfaction.

                          "Was yours good?" Sam whispers.

                                      "Mm-hmm," says it all.

All this started to percolate in my brain after Sam began to take exception with a persistent interjection of mine.  It's actually rather
recent, I believe.  Lately, I have been thinking that about half the time I am submissive and the other half of the time I am merely "a submissive wanna-be."  So if Sam says something with which I don't agree or I wish it could be another way, I strive to listen and smile and say, "Whatever you think, hon."  Well, as often as possible.  But if I'm smack dab in the middle of a more, "It's all about me," frame of mind, I am very tempted to be more argumentative.

When my instinct tells me to pipe up with an opinion, ttwd tells me not to.  Instead I have begun to substitute the interjection, "Humph."  It is defined as a "mild exclamation of disagreement or reluctant agreement."  This just started a few months ago, and at the time, I think it was meant to be funny.  But a few weeks ago, Sam decided there were to be no more "humphs."  Now he said it with a smile so I wasn't sure if it was a rule added to the stone tablets or more of, "I double dog dare you."

Honestly, I can't remember what made me say it so soon after walking in the house from work.  We were pouring that first sweet beer of the evening, and Sam asked me to do something or not to do something and out came a "humph."  Sam jumped up out of his chair, grabbed some sort of cooking implement, and I went over the counter.

Well, speaking of exclamations, besides our laughter, very soon I was letting loose with a whole new set of interjections that included, "Ow, Yow, Ouch, Yeow, Hey, and Zowie."  I am  pretty sure they do not need any explanation.  When Sam was done, he pulled me onto his lap for some love.  I was quick to add just one more "Ow" as my bottom touched his thighs.


                   But Sam took care of the final interjection
                        with a long, drawn out, and sarcastic, 


                                   I took care of the hugs. 

Thursday, March 2, 2017

"I Won't Let Go"


Anniversaries are most often happy occasions.  We choose a card or a gift or plan a surprise with love to celebrate a long ago wedding day with a spouse who seems to make us happier with every passing year.   I have pins and certificates  to signify years of service to our city's school district.  There are dates that become fixed in my memory of a special accomplishment or occasion.  They make me smile even if they do not touch anyone else.

Then, there are anniversaries of sad events.  Every year on September 11th, I find a meaningful way to pay my respects to the people who died in the attacks that happened that day in 2001.  I will never forget.  Memorial Day is so much more than just a day off work and hot dogs on the grill.  It is a day to remember all those who died in the service of their country.  I feel very strongly that we owe them our heartfelt tribute.  I am sure I am not alone in knowing the exact day when each of my parents passed away.  It gets easier as the years go by, but I will never forget those dates and how the world changed for me.

With an anniversary of a traumatic event in my life coming up soon, an idea started to form for this post.  At the same time, the lyrics of a special song captured my heart.  

                             Does it seem to any of you that 
                sometimes a song becomes part of the memories 
                       we keep, whether they are joyful or sad?  

The lyrics and melody seem to speak especially to me and then forever take me back to a time and place in my past.  Think I am going to use the words of the song to structure my story.  A link to the song, "I Won't Let Go," being performed by the group, Rascal Flatts, is provided HERE.  It is a very powerful song, and I have already talked to one dear blogger friend about how it also reminded me of the hardships she has dealt with in the past few years.  It will be interesting to hear if it connects with other readers.

                                          It's like a storm 
                                          That cuts a path
                                          It breaks your will
                                          It feels like that

                                         You think you're lost
                               But you're not lost, on your own
                                         You're not alone

It was 8 years ago now that I suffered a series of strokes - 5 of them in a 4 day period.  For most of the first day, I wasn't even understanding what was happening to my body and in my head.  I didn't feel in control of myself; my own free will was gone.  I couldn't think clearly and only knew that I felt alone and a little like I was drowning at the bottom of a well.  It was very frightening, too, but Sam was with me always.  He also did not realize what was wrong until my first visit to ER.  That was the first time people used the word "stroke."

                                       I will stand by you
                                       I will help you through
                                When you've done all you can do
                                       And you can't cope
                                       I will dry your eyes
                                       I will fight your fight
                                       I will hold you tight
                                       And I won't let go

The earliest physical manifestation of the first stroke was a horrible grand mal seizure on the left side of my body.  I was only half conscious - and I felt like I was standing and watching myself from above as it blasted and shook my body over and over again.  Sam thought at first that I had merely had a horrible nightmare.  Although I never had another seizure, each night in bed, my whole body would start to shake and tremble almost like how one would shiver violently from a very cold temperature.  For almost 6 weeks, Sam would spoon me and hold me tightly until the shaking would finally stop.  He never let go.  The tears started at least a dozen times a day.  He would help stop the crying by rocking me and saying, "Shhh..." over and over like you would to calm an infant.

                                       It hurts my heart
                                       To see you cry
                                        I know it's dark
                                       This part of life
                                      Oh, it finds us all
                                    And we're too small
                                      To stop the rain
                                    Oh, but when it rains

It was a very dark time for me.  The strokes that followed were not as severe as the first one, but with each one, I sunk deeper, and I was so afraid.  I couldn't hold my head up above my shoulders, and the thoughts in my brain were a staccato that made little sense.  It could take 60 seconds to get out just a few words, and the frustration brought on more tears.  There are huge chunks of time of which I have no memory at all.  All my senses but touch were affected; I could always feel someone's loving hands on me.  I always knew Sam or the boys were there.

I usually journal in the early morning, and I tried to write.  The letters would not stay on the lines, and my hand dribbled the words into a jumble that slid down the edge of the page.

                              "I am very scared.  I don't know
                                         t is
                                                 ening t

When I walked down the hallway, my body would lurch and hit the walls.  I held onto things to keep my balance.  Sam put a stool in the shower so I wouldn't fall, and I did not shower unless he was with me.  Nothing seemed as difficult as buttoning a shirt; it was agonizingly slow.  I forced myself to do it over and over while I wiped the tears away.

                                   I will stand by you 
                                   I will help you through
                            When you've done all you can do
                                   And you can't cope
                                   I will dry your eyes 
                                   I will fight your fight
                                   I will hold you tight
                                   And I won't let go

I was hardly ever alone for long.  I was sleeping upwards of 16 hours a day.  Sam or the boys would fit in work and other responsibilities in the hours I slept.  Son #1 would keep his hand on my shoulder until I drifted off.  Many times his hand would still be there when I woke.  Son #2 stayed with me through 2 MRIs, sitting next to the scan machine and never letting go of my hand.  I am very claustrophobic and am petrified of being slid into that machine.  He talked of all his memories from childhood.  The loving moments he held dear.

                                  Don't be afraid to fall
                                  I'm right here to catch you
                                  I won't let you down
                                  It won't get you down
                                  You're gonna make it
                                  Yeah, I know you can make it

And, yes, like the song says, I did make it.  After 3 weeks of steady deterioration, I started coming back very slowly.  There are so many memories from my past that are fuzzy or just plain gone.  I compensate for the poor memory by writing everything down.  Handwriting will never be the same, but that is not a really important thing.  I can't balance on one foot if my life depended on it.  But, with the help of Sam, I crawled back out of that hole. 

                                       Oh, I'm gonna hold you
                                       And I won't let go
                                       Won't let you go
                                            No, I won't

One does not "celebrate" a bleak anniversary such as this one.  One remembers, perhaps with tears.  As for me, every year I thank God that...

                                      Sam never let me go.

Friday, February 24, 2017

Code Red

I know most everyone sends texts to their spouses, and most of the time texts offer some privacy to the couple.  If you want to include something very personal or suggestive, you can be fairly sure that only your partner is going to see it.  I do love the feeling that I can let Sam know I am thinking of him or finding that he is thinking about me.  The little glitch for us is that Sam does not text and more than that, he doesn't ever want to.  I will certainly send out an celebratory post, if he ever changes his mind.  I have dozens of bad-girl texts just floating around in my head.

However, we do email often as we are both still working.  And even if I don't have anything special to say, I am required to file my "Flight Plan" by 4:00 pm each work day so Sam knows when I am off work and if I have errands before I come home.   I do not forget this duty often, and if I do, a spanking will see to it that it doesn't happen again for a very long time.  Such a nice part of ttwd is missing him whenever we are apart.  Of thinking of him during my work day and smiling.  Of watching the clock and seeing how long it is until I am home again with him.  Feeling his arms around me and tucking my head into his neck.

At work, I am not at my desk for 8 straight hours.  There are many responsibilities that take me away from my computer.  But when I am working at my desk, I think of Sam often.  Since he owns his own business and works almost exclusively at his computer, email is an easy and quick way to communicate back and forth throughout the day even it is just about mundane or ordinary things.  "I am stopping at the grocery store.  Do you need anything?"

I am always very careful of what I put in emails from my workplace.  The medical facility at which I work would not smile upon unseemly messages.  That doesn't stop me though.  It's just more challenging when we want to say something personal.  It is quite common for us to use "code" words in certain emails.  Like many of you I am sure, we also code our ttwd lives verbally when we are with others.  I really find it great fun to have a spanking conversation while sitting with a bunch of friends or family and no one else understands our code. 

While I was perusing illustrations for this post, I stumbled across another research study!  This one would be more of what is called "behavioral" research.  

"Couples who use secret , just-between-us codes have greater relationship satisfaction than couples who don't," according to a study published in the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships.  I read the complete article and discovered that our "code" talk is more than just fun.  Using nicknames and made-up language is an easy way to inject positive communication into everyday life.  In fact, it's probably the single easiest thing you can do to keep romance going strong.

So I started to compile a listing.  I should think that most couples both of the ttwd persuasion and those who are not, have more than one way to hint that they would appreciate some sexual attention.  It can be as simple as putting your hands on your man and asking if he would like to "fool around" or "play."  Really, sometimes the touch is all that is needed.  A bit of electricity about the skin contact. 

  •   "Mmmm..., I am really hungry," with a certain look in your eyes will be answered with, "Me, too."

  •   "So enjoyed Sunday morning.  Let's do that again soon!" means thank you for the great sex.  There could be a spanking acknowledgement included in this, as well.  

  •   Here's one I heard from a friend.  "Tired of the self serve pump.  Just not as good of service as my regular guy."

  •   When I kneel in front of Sam and start to unbuckle his belt or unzip his pants, I softly say, "I just want to say hello."  It is a perfect code to send earlier in the day.  It is amazing what the anticipation factor does for a blowjob.

Of course, if you raised children, you may have been using covert messages for many years.  Sam and I both used the phrase, "an executive lunch" to let each other know we were up for sex, especially when the boys were off at school.

There are some code phrases that most ttwd wives will recognize with no explanation.  I think I have heard one of these on almost everyone's blogs or in a story at one time or another.

  •  "We will discuss this later."
  •  "I think we can talk about this when we get home."
  •  "You are playing with fire, Ella."
  •  "In the bedroom, NOW."
Funny how such innocent words take on a whole new ominous meaning.  Then not so funny at all.  That is "Code Red" for sure.

Then there are happy meetings of his hand and my backside.  If there is a "Just because" in the text of what either of us write, it means there will be some "good girl" attention lavished on my bottom.  That always makes me smile at my monitor, even if there is a really boring staff meeting coming up in 5 minutes. 

From our early dating years and even once in a while all these years later.... the word "fiercely" meant we were so in love and felt such a passionate urgency, like we might crush each other just hugging.

"Practically perfect in every way," is a wonderful tease.  Sam rarely disappoints me with this one.  After an interjection such as "HA!" there is usually some spanky action in order.  

An old one that we still use when a topic seems to be a sore spot between us is, "Let's be friends," followed by some hugs.  Humor is the best way out of some differences.  We don't use this as often because there are really not that many disagreements anymore. 

Most days when I file my flight plan by email, I request that Sam "save me a seat."  That is code for I want to just sit on his lap and have him hold me a good long while.  And every single day, I sign my notes to him in a way that acknowledges he is my HOH and deserves my respect.

                                     Love you, mister,


                             Here's hoping some of you will share
                   a bit of your secret language with all the rest of us.