What's the Difference?

Back in June, Amy, over at her blog Eric51Amy49, wrote a serious post on the subject of Submission and Obedience.  If you would like to read it, you can find it HERE.  It was a very thought-provoking topic, and Amy's response made me think about where I am currently with both submission and obedience.  I don't feel confident with telling you that I am where I want to be.  So maybe it's time for me to write about it too.  To take on a little self-examination.  Perhaps a bit overdue.

                   Here is the statement that started me thinking.



What does it mean to submit?  
Submission is a matter of attitude, a matter of spirit.  
What does it mean to obey?  
Obedience is a matter of conscience, a matter of outward behavior.  
Submission is inward, whereas obedience is outward.
 
 

Well, here are some of my understandings.  Submission is something that you choose to give.  With a ttwd or DD relationship, it is the crux of the whole "consensual" question between the couple in a long-term relationship.  A wife agrees that her husband will be the leader and she will follow.  He has the option of using a spanking or other deterrent when he feels she has acted in some way that has a negative impact on the couple's well being.

         
There is no force exerted by either party.  The woman freely submits, both to his leadership and any spanking, if it happens.  There is a high level of trust between the husband and wife.  An important thing to understand is that both people are committed to each other and to making each other happy and fulfilled.

  

I become "His" both by the way I submit and the way I obey.  I think I am at my most submissive when I remain silent.  And for me, it takes constant monitoring to stay in this mindset.  As soon as my mind moves on to going out to dinner or cleaning out drawers or my volunteering responsibilities, I can lose that good place in my head and in my heart that makes submission feel so natural.  That's why I confessed that I am not where I want to be.  I yearn for that to be as easy as smiling or nodding my head.  Oh, I wish.

In fact, submission can be both easy and difficult.  If I am concentrating, I can easily listen when Sam speaks and give him my full attention.  Active listening.  I am engaged, but I know in my head that my opinion isn't needed for this interaction.  In fact any words coming out of my mouth would be extraneous in that moment.  What is needed is my silence.  That is my gift to him.  I don't need to have a sign on my forehead that says, "I am submissive."  He will know and appreciate it without it being consciously acknowledged.

When I fail, it is as obvious and ugly as a wart on my nose.  Sam makes a statement and, instead of submission, I deliver, "No, you are forgetting.  That happened after we got off the plane."  There is...no listening to the heart of the matter.  There is only...just let me correct you, mister.  Submission crawls away to hide its head.  In fact I believe that almost always, when I do this, my response is absolutely without meaning.  It does not serve any purpose other than to make me feel smarter than Sam in a useless and harmful way.

I still try to reinforce the submissive behavior in myself by a specific physical movement that is meaningful only to me.  If I did something that was understood by Sam, it would defeat the purpose.  Perhaps it is a silly thing, but it helps me remain in a submissive state of mind more often. 

   

Obedience is sometimes easier because I am given a prompt that brings me back from wherever my mind is wandering (perhaps about shoes.)  It also requires some type of response from me.  Either in a verbal agreement to take this direction or even just a nod or a kiss.  He knows I heard him and plan to carry out something as he wishes. 

"Ella, don't forget to use the Lowes charge card when you go to buy your flowers," Sam says.

I hear it as a direction or even a command.  It is much easier to remember to simply say, "Thanks, I will," or even "Yessir."  It is NOT pure obedience when I come back with the word, "Why?"  Then I am questioning his leadership and forcing him to defend himself.  Even when this is done with no rancor, I am still doubting his authority to ask me to obey.

In the best of times, there is both submission and obedience in our ttwd marriage.  At the worst of times there is neither, although that happens much less often than it used to.
  

As I was thinking through my feelings on the subjects in this post, something else became apparent to me.  We all are well aware of the fact that there are very few posts going up in blogland these days.  Me included.  People have moved on to other interests or just giving in to the feeling that they have said all they have to say.  I totally understand because I can identify with both those reasons.

The thing is that I think the very act of writing a post like this one or reading someone else's post about a facet of ttwd keeps me sharp.  Many times a phone conversation or a visit with one or many blogger friends does the same thing.  By "sharp" I mean it keeps me in the zone I want to be in.  I am renewed.  I am conscious of living this lifestyle.  It makes me watch and listen to Sam with patience and love.  Without the reading, the writing, or the discussion, I lose my edge, and ttwd becomes just a little bit mundane.  

                      And that is something I never want to happen. 

   

Funny Old Meme

This is quite an old meme, probably from last fall.  I've held on to it because I thought it was such a good one and enjoyed reading all of yours.  Thanks to whoever introduced it!  I can't even remember.  Goodness only knows when I will get around to PK's new meme!


1.  I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick 
up 5 items.  You can only pick one thing from the following departments.  What do you choose?

Produce - Pineapple
Frozen - Healthy Choice Fudge Bars
Dairy - Whole Milk (for baking)
Meat - Steak
Canned Goods - Chili Beans

Note: I think there has been an error here.  Where is Bakery?  And what about the Liquor department?  My answer is Beer! 


2.  Let's say you're heading out for a weekend getaway.  You're only allowed 3 articles of clothing with you.  So, what's in your bag?

Oh, this is a hard one for Ella, folks!  If I am assuming that shoes and underthings don't count, I would pick ...

                                    Jeans, Tee shirt, and Jacket.

3.  If  I were to listen in on one of your conversations throughout the day, what 4 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear?

a.  "I love you, mister"

b.  "What did I come into this room for?"

c.  "Ding, ding, ding.  It's Happy Hour!"

d.  "Please clean up the kitchen counter."



4.  So, what 4 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn't get to do them, you probably wouldn't be in the best mood?

a.  Swiffer all the bare floors.

b.  Put on my makeup.

c.  Love on my dog.

d.  Sit on Sam's lap.

5.  You're driving down the road, and suddenly you're hit with this sense of road rage.  What 3 factors probably contributed to it?

Oh, this is such a real thing for me.  In fact, my temper in the car is something Sam has helped me work on (the ttwd way.)  Things that drive me crazy would be:

a.  People that can't get completely over into a left hand turn bay and block the traffic behind them!!!

b.  People that keep turning left even after their green arrow is gone!!!

c.   Two cars going exactly the same speed next to each other so that nobody can pass them!!!

6.  You just scored a whole afternoon to yourself.  We're talking a 3 hour block with nobody around.  What 5 activities might we find you doing.

a.  Out tending plants in the garden.
b.  Reading a Cassie book with a bag of Tootsie Rolls.
c.  Baking bread to surprise Sam.
d.  Checking out the sale wall at Loft.
e.  Movie with a jumbo buttered popcorn.

7.  We're going to the zoo.  But it looks like it could start storming so it'll have to be a quick visit.  What 3 exhibits do we have to get to.

a.  Monkeys, for sure.  Can watch them for hours.
b.  Giraffes are such gentle, graceful animals.
c.  Polar bears always look like they are having fun!

8.  You just scored tickets to the taping of any television show of your choice.  You can pick 4, so what are you going to see?

a.  Fixer Upper on HGTV, although they are not taping anymore.
b.  Judge Judy (She gets paid millions to be bossy!)
c.  American Pickers
d.  Project Runway

9.  You're hungry for ice cream.  I'll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone.  What flavors can I pile on for ya?

a.  Chocolate Fudge Brownie
b.  New York Super Fudge Chunk
c.  Death by Chocolate

                                   Do you see a pattern here?

10.  Somebody stole your purse/wallet.  In order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it.  So, what's in there?

a.  Sunglasses
b.  Tissues
c.  Phone
d.  Pen
e.  Gum

11.  You are at a job fair and are asked in what areas you are interested in pursuing a career.  Let's pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you?

Well, I am liking retirement just fine, thank you.  But for the sake of the meme, here's what I would say.

a.  Lawyer or Judge
b.  Research Scientist
c.  Interior Designer
d.  Drama Teacher

12.  If you could go back and talk to the old you when you were in high school and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say?

a.  "Spend as much time as you can with Dad.  
      He's not going to be here very long."

b.  "Sam's the one."
c.  "Trust that you can tell Sam any secret."
d.  "You're not the only girl in the world who wants to be spanked."

When Sam Says, "Come Along"

I just don't think it's my imagination. Things are Dead around "the Land" as one friend christened this blog neighborhood I like to visit.  

                                             How Dead?

• Dead man walking Dead
• Dead as a door nail Dead
• In the Dead of the night Dead
• Catch your Death of cold Dead
• Belly up Dead
• Rest in Peace Dead
• Better off Dead
• Bored to death Dead
• Give me liberty or give me death Dead
• Dead of winter Dead
• Dead on arrival Dead

 

I could go on ad infinitum until you all wished you were Dead because I found a website with Dead phrases, and I have barely touched the surface of the list.  But I won't because I am Dead tired of it now, and you are probably sick to Death of it as well.

Walking Dead Dead

Anyway for god's sake, please do your very best to piss off your HOH somehow, some way, and let's generate some good post material.


So, here's my contribution.  Serious spankings have not been happening very often around here either.  As I have told Sam for years, 

                       "I am practically perfect in every way." 


(Apologies to any Mary Poppins fans out there.)  Lots of little swats on the ass in passing.  Seems like that happens in the kitchen more than any other room in the house.  Sam says my work in the kitchen presents so many opportunities to keep his right arm in shape.  It would be interesting to hear from some of you that have golfers for husbands.  Do you notice a change in his swing when you are over his knee during golf season? 

                                   Curious people want to know.

                      (Also because we are so bored in blogland.)


There is almost always a "weekend adjustment" on a Saturday morning.  It's purpose is to discuss the behaviors, well, my behaviors that can creep back into our day to day living. Things like bossiness, interrupting, and impatience.  Oh, there is usually a cautionary 5 to 10 spanks about temper too.  I am a whole lot better with controlling my temper, but Sam says that is probably because we continue to "discuss" it.  When under the paddle, so to speak, I do not argue this point.  Even when he holds out his hand, palm up, I put my hand in his and listen as he says, "Come along."

Sam's favorite implement is the one he made out in his wood shop the very month we started ttwd/dd about 5 years ago now.  Mr. Paddle was born from a piece of poplar wood.  It has an overall length of eleven and a half inches with a handle of 4 inches long.  It is only 3/8 of an inch thick, so it can't do any permanent damage.  It's like "safe sex" except it's a "safe paddle."  Sam sanded it smooth and finished it with Danish oil.

There is no doubt at all that he picks Mr. Paddle out of the toy box/sweater drawer close to 80% of the time.  It's fast and effective.  Sam does not golf, but it is a similar fondness to the affection a golfer has for a favorite driver or a favorite putter.  Why mess with something that works and does its job every time?


 It stings like hell.  I will agree with any point Sam is making as he talks his way through a spanking.
  

• the sun rises in the west.  Yessir, it does.
• the best pizza has Canadian bacon and pineapple.  Yessir!
• you should be driving the speed limit.  You are so right.
• you have enough shoes.  I surely do, sir.
• the dog does not bark just to annoy you.  Yes, I know that.

 

A few weeks ago, I had a reason to be packing a suitcase.  Just a friendly visit to two, very dear, friendly women , but I was crazy excited.  My knee finally felt almost back to normal, and I was keen to kick up my heels a bit and enjoy some girl time.   And maybe shop.  Who knows?

The night before my flight, I had finished all the pre-trip tasks and was sitting pretty.  Well, at least until Sam decided to add his finish to my To-Do list.  "Come along, you," he said and reached out his hand waiting for me to submit and follow.


"I was thinking that we need to do our own TSA Pre-check," he said as he arranged me over his knee.  Mr. Paddle was in his hand, and Sam started listing the things I should remember when I was away from home.  And him.  By the time he was done, I really felt like the security line at the airport was kindergarten play.  Sure thing.  I will take out my quart bag of liquids.  I will remove my shoes.  My laptop will be placed in the bin...... You know the drill.

He talked about staying safe and calling to let him know where I was during the travel days in airports. He talked about not lifting anything that might mess up my surgery.  Did I have the 25 single dollar bills ready for tips?  Did I have some snacks that weren't all sugar?  He told me he would miss me very much.  Here the spanking was done with his hand.  There was also some exploratory stuff going on down there.  Fine with me.  I was a happy little traveler sitting in seat 34D thinking about that spanking.


The days away flew by and such a good time was had by all.  Over way too quick, but we made promises to see each other again.


Back home Sam and I settled back into our regular schedule, and I got caught up on laundry and appointments and errands.  We had our happy hour chats, and I had all of the experiences and chatter
of the week before to share with him.


Mr. Paddle was glad to see me too.  I wasn't as glad to see him.  There were a few spankings, all short and to the point.
 

Then just yesterday I really messed up.  Well, the first part was not as bad as the second part.  So first, I made a left turn on a familiar corner near our house.  The way was clear before I ever moved out into the intersection.  I was coming out of the turn when I glanced in the rear view mirror and, in that split second, thought there was a blue car speeding up close on my left.  I jerked the steering wheel to the right and hit the curb with the right front wheel.  I hit it HARD.  It wasn't just flat.  It was destroyed.  I felt terrible.

  

When Sam came to help, he wasn't mad or anything.  I apologized about 15 times, and he kept telling me it was okay.  He got the spare tire on so that we could get to the Firestone dealer, although he was not much impressed by the quality of it.  Our vehicle was going to need a new tire for sure.  He climbed into the passenger seat and told me to take it slow and to turn into the strip mall up at the corner and cut across to get to the tire place.  This is where I really blew it.


"Oh, Sam, you can't get to the Firestone dealer across that parking lot.  We have to go around on the street," and I pulled into the left hand turn lane ignoring what he had said.  My big mouth had done it again, but Sam didn't say a thing.  After I pulled our small SUV up to the front of Firestone Tires, I saw the little access road that led right back to the strip mall parking lot.  Just like Sam had said.

When we finally got home much later, he knew I was still shaken from what had happened.  We had an abbreviated happy hour, and I mostly talked about how scared I had been in those few seconds where I thought I was about to be hit from the blue car and the impact of hitting the curb so hard.  Sam assured me that he was just glad that there had not been an accident.  The new tire was no big deal.


By the next morning I felt more like myself.  The adrenaline level was back to normal.  I was on the computer dashing off a quick note when Sam was suddenly standing in the doorway to the office with his hand extended, palm up.


"Come along," was all he said with a very grim look on his face, and he waited for me to give him my hand.  I knew what was going to happen, but Dumb Me couldn't figure out why I was about to be spanked.  After all he wasn't mad about the tire.  That was an accident.

Dumb Me

"But why, Honey?  Why are you spanking me?"


Mr. Paddle was lying on the foot of the bed; the bedroom window was closed.  After he pulled up my summer gown and arranged me over one knee, he told me that the only thing I did the day before that angered him was not obeying his directions.  Like he was too stupid to know the way to the tire place.


"Boy, oh, boy," he said, "that really made me mad, Els.  I didn't spank you last night because you were still upset about what had happened.  Now we will talk about that."


And we did.  As I said before, that paddle is something else.  It wasn't a long spanking, but damn, it was long enough.  Then Mr. Paddle was tossed back in the sweater drawer with no more sweaters in it, and Sam went to pour a cup of coffee.  Like he says,


                                       "Fast and effective."

  

Just Thinking and Just a Little Bit Gross

Been several posts lately that have me focused on orgasms.  Not that I ever really stop thinking about them.  They always talk about how often men think about sex.  Supposedly every 7 seconds; that doesn't even sound possible.  But then I wonder about me.  It seems that I think about sex or orgasm or spanking a lot.

                                  "Try to qualify that, Ella."

                                "I don't know.  Just "A LOT."

So then, I guess, it's best to be perfectly honest.  Not all orgasms are created equal.  There's the duration and the intensity to consider.  If someone out there has another factor we should add to the mix, I hope you will share it with all of us.  I'm quite happy with the duration and the intensity.  Don't do as well if I am tired.


There is that moment right before the contractions start when you know it's coming.  I don't know if that's counted as part of the orgasm itself, but I think of it as "almost happy time!"  I did some serious orgasm research here and once the contractions start, they occur on the average at .8 second intervals.  I never thought of the speed before, but it's interesting.  For me, the contractions peak and then recede with the time between each one lengthening.  Be patient.  Be patient, Ella.  There's still one more coming, I think.  Yes-s-s-s.  Love those after shocks.

Another statistic for you.  The average length of an orgasm for a woman is 16.7 seconds while the average orgasm for a man is 25.0 seconds.  Less than ten seconds difference, but it could be argued that those are pretty important seconds.  I think that's for vanilla sex though.  With no spanking.  With no toys.  With no kink.

Probably the 16.7....(let's just round up, shall we?)  Probably the 17 seconds is for non-innovative couples.  I have questions.  If we add some spanking/kinky foreplay do the numbers change?  I say, "Yes."  If Sam and I get creative with battery-operated bedroom equipment do both the numbers 17 and 25 go up?  I say "Yes" again.  Just a little anyway.


Here's something I found when I was reading that made me feel that there are a lot of misconceptions about how the "average elderly couple" is perceived.  Kinda makes me a little angry too.

Read Research Bullshit Below!

"It should be noted that this study included men and women of all ages, and while we're sure there are a few randy grandmas and grandpas out there, the average elderly couple keep their beds apart for a reason, which could have a lot to do with all of the I-rarely-think-about-sex responses.  Also the study didn't get into the nitty gritty of 'every day or several times a day,' which is a pretty big range.  And last but not least, if a researcher asked you right now how often you think about sex, how on-target would your estimate really be?"


This quote is taken from a GQ magazine article, I could not find an author's name.


See what I mean.  By those standards, Sam and I are doing pretty damn well.  And I believe many of you would say the same thing whatever your age.  I'd love to write a randy letter to that author!


Ok, let me get back to the initial thoughts that started me writing here.  A few days ago Sam worked his fingers to the bone to make my eyes roll back into my head. (Is there a metaphor in that last sentence?) 

Anyway it was one of those orgasms that make you wonder what was its rating on the Richter Scale.  Duration??  Impressive.  Intensity??  Amazing.  But just ONE orgasm.  In my entire life, I have never had "multiple orgasms."  Scout's honor.  Have read about them.  Sam has devoted much time and effort, but a firm "no."  Has never happened to me.


But here's the part that might be a little gross.  When I experience a great orgasm in the bedroom and then head to the bathroom for a pee, I can have another shorter, more gentle orgasm just sitting on the toilet emptying my bladder.  It's very nice.  Since I've never shared this with anyone except Sam, I am damn curious if there are other women out there who have ever had this happen.  Have you ever had a mini orgasm just peeing?

Also, if you're still wondering about how often men and women think about sex, there was a study done at Ohio State University, however, the subjects were all between 18 and 25 years old.  Results said that men average 19 times each day.  Women thought about sex an average of 10 times a day.

             "So, Ella, how often do you think about sex in a day?"

                    "More than 10, for damn sure," I answered.

                                           How 'bout you? 

Make My Day

                What Makes Your Day Start on a Good Note?


Suddenly, about 10 o'clock yesterday morning, I realized I was smiling for no particular reason.  Then I started thinking about what had happened to make me feel so happy.  I wasn't leaving on a trip.  I wasn't expecting a visit from a far-away family member or friend.  Wasn't even going out to lunch.  Just a couple of mundane, ho-hum errands was all that was on the docket.


First off, I woke up at 6:20 am of my own volition.  No alarm clock because, happily, I am retired.  My Sam was still sleeping soundly and finally feeling better after a nasty infection had kept him down for almost 10 days.  The sun was coming up on a beautiful spring morning.  I knew I might be able to work outdoors later in the day.  Soak up the sun.  When I put my coffee on, I used the special decaf breakfast brew a blogger friend of mine sent me as a little gift. Yum!

After I tidied up the kitchen, I was online with coffee in my hand.  Caught up in blogland.  Ronnie made me laugh from way across the pond.  Terps shared her wisdom and made me think and thank.  Cat had a clever quote that I decided to send on to my brother.

My sweet doggie girl reminded me that she needed to be fed.  So I added some roast beef scraps to her kibble, and she said thank you with her tail and with her eyes.  She is an old girl now and can't play the way she used to, but hell, neither can I.  She won't chase a tennis ball down the hallway anymore, but she still likes to have her chest scratched.  When she was a pup, I taught her to "stretch" on command.  Just like how we stretch coming awake in the morning.  Then she will hold that stretch position while I gently scratch my nails on her ribs.  She goes into a happy doggy place in her mind.

More coffee and turn the news on the  television.  Not to sit on the couch though.  Time for exercise.  It feels so wonderful to have my knee almost back to normal.  To feel strong enough to do my whole routine again.  The weather report looks awesome.  My weights are hidden in a copper log bin next to the fireplace for easy access.  Balance ball, resistance bands, and ankle weights.  I certainly don't love exercising, but I surely do love how it makes me feel when I'm done.


Breakfast used to be mandatory for me, but these days I have adopted the 16/8 intermittent fasting program.  Advice from another blogger friend.  I thought it would be awful to skip breakfast, but I adapted quickly.  Again, I love how it makes me feel.

Just had my hair cut and colored so I knew it was going to look its best.  I wrapped a towel around it and stepped out of the shower.  I had the feeling it was going to be a good day.


Then guess who greeted me as I hung up the towel.  Yep, Sam was feeling much better and in the mood to toast my bottom.  Oh, it was such a nice spanking. Long and stingy with lots of loving words thrown in.  A little rubbing, too, which made us both think of something else that hadn't happened in a while.  And one thing led to another.  You know.

So there I was a few hours later with this big, dumb smile on my face.  Life is good.

                       Tell me what makes your morning happy.

Physical Therapy - The Dos and Don'ts

Hello again, friends and readers!  It's been a while since I have posted, and there is a good reason for that.  Knee replacement surgery.  I knew it was time.  That blasted knee has haunted every trip we have taken for the last 2 years.  The slightest misstep made it swell.

Even though I am a dedicated believer in exercise, there were times when I had to cut back.  When the knee swelled, there were certain pants that were pushed to the back of the closet.  No skinny jeans, that's for sure.  Not sure why, but standing was worse than walking, so it I was in a situation where I was expected to stand still, I would pace back and forth rather than stay in place.

After hearing the options for anesthesia, we chose something called a "knee block."  This choice includes a spinal and a sedative so one falls asleep for the hour long surgery.  I woke up feeling wonderful and drinking coffee in the recovery room.  The surgery went exactly as the surgeon expected, and I was up walking with a physical therapist early that evening.  Twice more the next morning before they released me to go home.

Sam was such a wonderful guy, taking good care of me.  Did all the cooking and cleanup.  Picked out an excellent BBC series to pass the time.  Brought me ice for the swelling.  Drove me to post op visits and lots of physical therapy appointments.  He also took me out for lunches whenever he thought I might be tired of being homebound.  I felt spoiled just a little bit.

Maybe I even started acting a little spoiled too.  Most times I pretty much know if a spanking is imminent.  I can read Sam's face and know if I have stepped in some doody.  His brow furrows, and he gets kind of quiet.  Then the ax falls.  But I've had fair warning.  Every once in a while, though, a spanking comes right out of the blue.  As far as I know I have been the perfect wife.  

                                          Then.....Bam!

Sam had driven me to PT that morning and waited with his Kindle in the lobby to bring me home.  Usually, following the exercise, my therapist would ice down the knee, top and bottom, for 15 minutes.  This time I promised I would apply the ice when I got home.  That was my intention as I hung up my coat and set my purse on the table. 

"You'll need to wait on that ice a little longer," Sam said.  "I think I'm gonna to take care of a little more physical therapy you need today," and reached for my hand.

"But I didn't do any....."

"Oh, but you have," he corrected and by that time we were to our bedroom.

Well, Sam was in charge of therapy now.  He pulled down the black knit pants I was wearing.  Then he arranged me over his knee on the edge of the bed and made sure my bad knee was safe and comfortable.


Apparently I had been telling him what to do and how to drive all morning.  Since I couldn't really remember my bossiness, Sam was good enough to repeat all my indiscretions.  I had to admit, there were quite a few once he had listed them for me.

There was no paddle, but his hand was very busy.  Between protests I kept thinking of my morning PT session.  All the repetitions that Sandy was putting me through.  Thirty repetitions here and 30 more there.

"Now stand on one foot and stick out your bottom a bit so your knee doesn't extend past your toes," she said.  I should have seen the foreboding there for sure!

"Okay, now for some resistance.  Let's do 5 minutes to start.  I know it's hard; just grin and bear it," she directed.  Oh, that's easy for you to say.  Just try it from my position.

Sam was putting me through my paces, and there was one big muscle that was getting mighty sore.  He finally slowed down and then did some rubbing.  His voice changed too.

"I know you don't like being less active or curbing your normal schedule.  That's the breaks, Ells."

 He helped me up and looked into my eyes.

"I will help you every step of this recuperation, but let's keep things happy and remember who's boss."

                                          Point taken, Sam.

When I finally pulled the ColPac out of the freezer, I had a moment of indecision.  There were now two places on my body that were inflamed and needed cooling down.  Knee or .....?  Mmm...?  

                                               What to do ?