Friday, April 29, 2016

The Sunday Roast

Well, you all haven't heard a "SIL Named Patty" episode in a while, but she is still pretty much a constant thorn in my side.  On the rare weekend I don't have to see her, my whole outlook is different - like someone sent me flowers.  Recently I suggested to Sam that we make at least one weekend a month "Patty-Free."  He was amenable to that, but last Sunday was her birthday.

The week before, I had managed a half day off work on a Friday.  I knew her birthday was coming and invited her to lunch at a nice restaurant.  This is very hard, because I just do not enjoy her company at all.  I try.  I really do.  In fact, I am not exaggerating
when I tell you I would rather see my dentist than have a "girl" lunch with Patty.  Ask Sam.  After lunch we went to Chico's, her favorite shop, to look for something she wanted for her birthday.  Usually I have a good idea for a gift but not this year.  She seemed very pleased.  I was simply relieved when she didn't get rude with a waitress or a salesperson.

I think it may help you understand my dislike of her company, if I explain that besides being the biggest "Know It All" I have ever met, she does not say please or thank you.  She never says, "I'm sorry," because she believes she never makes a mistake.  And if you can imagine a woman in her 70's who still uses baby talk, you may relate to some of my frustration.

So the dinner we had last Sunday for her was on top of the lunch and shopping.  We chose a menu she would enjoy.  Patty adores lamb, and Sam did it to perfection on the grill.  She and I chatted as I got the rest of dinner ready.

So here is where things got dicey.  I am telling you all this because it bothers me so much.  Hope you will not think badly of me for not being more patient.  She does this thing to me at least every 3rd or
4th time she is over.  She spills or drops something on the floor and will not pick it up.  Not only won't she pick it up or tell me, but if someone says something, she will deny it was her.  I have watched her spill a glass of wine and just ignore the puddle on the floor.  I have seen her drop food on the floor and then kick it away from her with her foot.

Spills don't bother me.  They can always be mopped up quickly with a paper towel or sponge.  If she would only say something like, "Oh, how clumsy of me.  Ella, could you please bring me
something to clean this up."  Or if she jumped up to grab a rag or towel.  I mean most kids past 5 years old would at least try to help.  Goodness, do you know how many spills I mopped up when my kids were small or over my teaching years!

So Sam brought the lamb in from the grill and put it on the table and headed back outside to get something else off the grill.  I think Older Son must have been out there, too.  I had put the Worcestershire sauce on the table for the lamb and was busy putting food into serving bowls and bread in a basket.  I saw Patty
serve herself before anyone else was to the table and then saw her hitting the bottom of the Worcestershire sauce bottle over her lamb.  Didn't think anything of it at the time.  Within 5 minutes we were all ready to sit down, and she was already eating.  (Rude, you say?)  As I put the last bowl on the table, I saw this mess of brown liquid all over the floor and dripping down my wood cabinets.  Immediately I knew what had happened, and just couldn't believe she would do this again!  "Well, what happened here?" I said, but she would not even look up from her plate.  I was so angry.  It only took a minute to clean it up, but after that I had a pissy attitude the rest of the afternoon.

When incidents like this occur, it is all I can do not to blow up.  In fact, I can easily slam a few things around in the kitchen or develop a "Well, pin a rose on me!" attitude.  Like I should win a prize because I didn't tell her to, "Kiss my ass!"  Or I can just be angry and silent.  Sam will give me some leeway here.  Many times he will just give me hugs and kisses and say thank you.  He knows she is horrible and so do the boys.  But he will not allow me to give into temper or telling him what to do.  Lately it seems that Sam has adopted a "zero tolerance" policy.  And Sunday I apparently got bossy and short-tempered.

No sooner had the front door closed on the last family member, when he confronted me.  And boy, was he upset.  Red in the face and LOUD in the voice.  He rattled off at least 3 times when I had bossed him around.  "You, come with me," he said.  I made several attempts to put out the fire - mostly to insist that it wasn't my fault. He did not see my point at all.  He wasn't addressing Patty's bizarre behaviors.  He was addressing my bossiness and attitude.  Just because she was as crazy as a loon, did not give me license to be a bitch.

He made his points all over again after he grabbed the godawful rice paddle from hell.  That implement was supposed to be only for fun.  This spanking was SO not fun.  No warm up whatsoever.  Sam does not believe in those when he is spanking for an unwanted behavior.  Those are for when Ella has her halo on straight.

This hurt so badly that I even screamed once or twice.  Then I began to inch forward toward the other side of the bed.  He just yanked me back by the waistband of my jeans and continued paddling.  Through the sobbing, I do think I said something like, "This is so not fair" at least once.  But spankings like this one suck the anger out of me very quickly.  I apologized and tearfully admitted that I had just redirected my resentful feelings toward the Dreaded SIL at him instead.  There was no reason to be barking orders at Sam. 

When it was finally over, Sam held me close for a good long time.  The anger was gone and the connection was back.  I was worn out and decided that pajama bottoms sounded a lot more comfortable than jeans.  As I changed, I caught sight of my bottom in the
bedroom mirror.  Sam may have served lamb for dinner, but it felt  and looked like I had been served a Sunday roast.  Later I sat on his lap, and we talked a while.  I asked him if he would think of a secret password that I could whisper to him if I absolutely needed to get away from a "Patty" situation.  He nodded and said he would give it some thought.  

                              He patted my bottom and asked,
                                       "How's your bum?"
                                  "Damn sore," I said softly.

                                       "Good," he smiled.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Ella's First Birthday!

Cannot believe that Ella and my blog are turning one year old.  It was April 26, 2015, that my first post went up.  And it really did feel like I was having a baby!  Goodness, labor and delivery took forever.  Ask Meredith.  It was her encouragement and unflagging support that made me believe I could have a blog.  By the time we got to Saturday, 4/26, I am sure that somewhere out in blogland, Mere was shouting, "Ella, you can do this.  Just shut up and push!"

For others more tech savvy than I, learning to use Blogger was probably quite easy.  I stressed over this and even searched for a book called Blogger for Dummies.  There wasn't a current one at the time .  That made me worry.  If Blogger was so simple that there wasn't even a Dummies Book, heaven help me.

I did finally find an old book with some basics, but it was a bit out of date.  It still felt like a security blanket.  In the end, it was better
to find the latest information with Google.  Sam was a lot of support, too.  I really don't think it would have happened without him.  Mere's advice was "...just play with it.  You'll get to know it better."  Basically, I left the whole design just about as plain as it could be and forged ahead.  I have often wanted to make it prettier, like Katie T's.  Maybe someday.

I knew I wanted to be Ella.  It was my grandmother's name, and she was such a good lady.  An angel, who made angel food cakes and smelled like lily of the valley.  As a young girl I often wished that I had been named for her.  In many of my childhood make-believe games, Ella was who I wanted to be. 

The "..Ever After" part came because it felt like a fairy tale was coming true for me.  

           Once upon a time, there was a girl and then a woman 
                           who held a secret for so long... 

Well, you know the story.  So, once I had Blogger ready and a name chosen, I set to work on a first post - an introduction of sorts.  Have never liked that first post, but I left it there to remind myself that I could always improve.  Both Meredith and PK were set to send some readers my way.  Mere told me that PK was sort of the "queen bee" in this corner of blogdom, and it was very helpful to have her mention my blog.  She did, and this year I have come to discover she is the sweetest queen bee you could know.  Finally I pressed the magic orange button that says, "Publish."  And my blog was born.

A year later, I love the writing very much; it's been a long time since I have had a reason to write.  Now, there have been over 70 posts!  Visiting other blogs and commenting gets me thinking and talking to Sam about ttwd and the life we have chosen. 

                    And friends - for them I am most thankful.

Of all the good advice dear Meredith has generously given this last year, the piece that has been most important to me was simple and very powerful.  She said, "Stay honest, and be true to yourself."  It has been at the front of my mind in every post, comment, and email for these 12 months.  If Ella wrote it, it's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

                          Thanks to all the readers and friends 
                     who bring me so much joy and fulfillment.

                                         I love you guys!!

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

If You Could Take a Pill....?

The other night, I was tucked up in bed reading and I came across  a spanking article that was interesting and unique in some ways.  As a spanko, I did not agree with everything the author said, but there was one passage that really made me start to think.  Like a little seed, the question posed seemed to grow and grow in my mind.  I decided this was also a perfectly good seed to plant as a post.

             "If you could take a pill and not be a "spanko" person, 
                                         would you do it?"

Wow!  I had never even thought about such a question.  Since I really believe a spanking fascination was a part of me by the time I was five years old, I don't have much memory of being any other way.  As a child I wasn't particularly ashamed of my interest/obsession, but I knew instinctively that maybe it was not something to share with others.  

In my child's mind, it was just part of who I was.  Like having freckles or loving chocolate ice cream the best, or being the oldest child in the family.  I did have a secret stash of clippings I had cut out of comics or magazines and passages I had copied out of children's books.  (Yes, Meredith, I do remember that line from Ramona Quimby.)  I took them out sometimes and pored over them.  Never worried about my mother finding them; she was a great mom but a terrible housekeeper.

So as a child I was fascinated but not frustrated.  By the time I was 16, I think I was beginning to recognize that my intense interest was also linked to wanting  to be spanked by a boy.  Since Sam and I met when we were 15, this "boy" was Sam from that point on!
Obviously, he did not realize any of this at that time!  Spanking would rarely come up in conversation, but I do remember several times when I clumsily attempted to goad him into spanking me.  I seriously doubt he would remember an instance of this; he would probably have thought I was being a bit stupid.

I soon gave up on any hope that it could ever be a part of my real life.  So if we return to the question, there may have been times in my young adult life I would have taken such a pill if it had been offered.  In reality the fantasies did no harm to anyone.  They certainly became linked in my psyche with sex and orgasm by the time I was 30.  But the fantasies were very ritualistic; Sam was rarely part of the compelling stories in my head.  By that time it was carved in stone that I would never tell any of this to any other person.  Sort of sad, really, when I recall these things now.

Don't remember exactly when I discovered that spanking was a "kink" for some people.  I do know that anything that included leather or collars was a BIG turn off.  My fantasies were always more homey and personal.  The spanking was always accompanied by love.

So let's jump forward to today.  If someone asked me if I would like to take a pill and not have this desire to be spanked, I would most adamantly say, "No, thanks!"  Now that I am having this need met, I feel like my life is enriched in a way that would not be possible for most women.  They could never know this "high" I feel, and I actually feel a bit sorry for them.


On top of this, I have met and become friends with other women  like me!  This has brought me so much happiness and satisfaction that there is no way I could actually say thank you in a meaningful way.

Finally, spanking and ttwd has turned a good marriage into a relationship that has fulfilled both Sam and I in a way I could never have dreamed attainable.  We  have a window into each other's soul and the capacity to bring great joy to the person we love most in this world.

Of course, I am most interested to hear what you have to say about this question.  Would you take such a pill if it were possible?
                         Your chance to speak from the heart. 

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Love Means Never Having to Ask

This idea came to me one night after a really delicious "Just Because" spanking.  We don't ever call it a "good girl" spanking because we have 2 female dogs.  At our house, "Good girl!" will have both dogs sitting prettily by the Pup-Peroni container and salivating profusely.

Anyway, lately Sam likes to say with a devilish smirk on his face,

               "Just Because I can and Just Because I love you."  

What compares to that first beer after a long day at work?  That would be a "Just Because" spanking from my dear husband.  He unzips my pants and slips his fingers along the sides of my panties to slowly slide both down together.  He will arrange me over his knee and start with just rubbing in circles.  Sort of hypnotic - I can start drifting off to my happy place before he even starts spanking.

  • Cares of the day - Gone...
  • Thoughts of chores - Gone...
  • Dreading next SIL visit - Gone...

Sam will always tell me how pretty my bottom is.  Happy place is getting closer.  JB spankings are almost always with his hand, although, of course, this is an HOH decision.  He is just so damn good with his hand now; it amazes me!  He says his hand used to hurt some but not any longer.  Both my bottom and his hand have trained hard.  If there was an Olympic event for spanking, we could compete, I am sure.


Hard to describe why this is the best spanking of all, but I think the sting builds up slower and it lasts longer, too.  Yummy!  Sam takes his time.  I cannot even tell you what he says, but he is almost always talking, and I love that.  I am usually opening the door to happy place.  He can also "read" me now.  He knows if I am not making any noise, then he might step it up.  If I am not squirming, he is being a "wuss."  (I actually said that once.  Never again.)

OK, so if you are a spank-loving woman, this is all sounding like a perfect evening.  I agree.  It is!  What's the one thing that could destroy this picture of domestic bliss?  I will tell you in a hot minute.  

                 IT IS NOT THE SAME IF I HAVE TO ASK!  

OMG, I just hate that.  Not sure if you all feel the same as I do, but, for me, having to ask spoils everything.  If I have been needing his attention for several days and he hasn't noticed, I can quickly adopt a pissy attitude.  I do not say the lines below, but I am certainly thinking them.

  • Well, if you don't care enough to think about it yourself, then just never mind!
  • Or...It will be a cold day in hell before I ask, mister!
  • Or...Just go watch your silly cop show and good riddance!

This scene can sometimes precipitate a sudden reverse and turn it into addressing a snotty wife situation.  Therefore, I might end up Over the Bed receiving my comeuppance.  Definitely not as desirable as  JB spanking, but shouldn't I still be happy.  Isn't a spanking still a spanking?  No, it is not.

I still had to ask.  Again, I say, "NOT THE SAME."  So really there is a "sub space" out there and mine includes Sam being dominant enough to initiate the spanking.  Otherwise, there is a key component missing.

Occasionally I struggle with how to bring a thoughtful post to a close.  This one wrote itself.  As I was gathering my ideas down on
paper (so to speak), I started using the "JB" designation to avoid spelling out Just Because each time.  As I read over my work, it jumped out at me!  Simply reverse those 2 letters "JB" and what do you get?  Snap!  You get "BJ."  And what man wouldn't agree that having his woman initiate a "BJ" isn't better than having to ask?

                        Platitudes From Ella on JBs and BJs

  • What good for the goose is good for the gander
  • You will reap what you sow.
  • What goes around cums around.

                        So remember all you lovers out there-

                          Love Means Never Having to Ask 

Thursday, April 7, 2016

"Here Come the Newlyweds!"

There have been many posts here in blogland that tell how ttwd has changed a marriage for the better.  I, myself, have often written pieces which include references to how it has made our relationship stronger and the love more intense.  Sometimes this new dynamic between us makes me so happy that I could burst.  Have often thought, "Surely people must notice something different about me - about Sam and I." And they do.

Recently, Sam told me that our older son had asked him, "What's with Mom?"  It is true.  At home, I especially don't pretend to be anything but head over heels in love with Sam.  I am sure our boys (now men) notice and wonder.  It's not like we were hateful to each other before.  But there was a lot more sarcasm, impatience, and getting the last word.  Talking over one another and knowing I WAS RIGHT.

Now there is no discord between us.  There is never even a short period of silence, which was always a dead give-away that Sam and I were not getting along about something.  I haven't had a spell of depression like used to happen from time to time.  We both jump up to greet the other coming home.

Our cards to each other always sit on a prominent shelf near the table for anyone to see.  I sing to myself as I trip around the house completing tasks.  We hold hands and sit closely.  In fact, we touch almost every time we are near each other.  And of course (though not perfect at this) they notice when I say, "I think I will let your dad make that decision."

Younger son is now happily engaged to a wonderful woman.  She is a talented photographer, too, who says she would really love to take some pictures of Sam and me.  She smiled and told me last week she wants to capture the love she sees between us.  "I want to be as in love as you two are when _____ and I are your age."  It was such a lovely thing to say.

My brother lived out of state for almost 7 years, and he and his wife (this SIL is a sweetie!) recently moved back here to retire.  Although he has not said anything directly to Sam or me, he, too, questioned one of the family about the change.  "My god, it's like they were way back when we were all teenagers!"

I have shared that in the last few weeks, Sam has organized a party for a milestone wedding anniversary at our favorite restaurant/pub.  It is an old fashioned family-run business where the owner comes around to your table to say hello and make sure everything is fine.  Sam has talked to the manager about the party details and also got to know the head bartender and several of the wait staff.  One young waitress brought her husband and their new baby to introduce to us.  "I just wanted you to know," she said with a smile, "you two are an inspiration."  I got to hold the baby, and we all chatted a bit.

Finally, we were heading in to "our place" late Saturday afternoon.  As we entered, the bartender yelled out, "Here come the newlyweds!"  Every head in the place swung around to see who it was.  The bartender just grinned and waved.  Hand in hand we stopped for a second, surprised.  I was a little embarrassed, but Sam just laughed.  It felt like an episode of Cheers as we slipped into our favorite booth.

So, yes, Sam and I notice a huge difference in our marriage and in the way we treat each other.  But it shows to the world, as well.  There is a quote I remembered as I was writing this.  Perhaps you will like it as much as I do.

            "Love isn't in the falling, it's in the staying there."