I have been working against a deadline; that is, I have been trying to complete some writing on a schedule I did not agree to, while resisting changes I do not wish to make, and trying to invest my work with some spec of my self. And actual deadline would be fatal, as I have already quite missed three of them, and from what I gather, a deadline was a literal demarcation for prisoners of war during the ACW.

As you will all doubtless know, writing for one's avocation makes writing for enjoyment quite difficult. Thus, when a day of work and writing work is at an end, I simply do not have the energy to drag myself across the net to anywhere, but most especially to here, as here inevitably becomes an entanglement, however much desired, however welcomed in the moment. Tonight, I decided I would take the risk, my writing having gone rather well.

I bought a new vibrator, a new dildo, and a new harness, all for my girlfriend. My rather demure and femme girlfriend. The vibrator was a Lelo brand re-chargeable, called "The Liv", in Navy Blue. It had a variable speed motor and something called "modes", which turned out to be different pulses of the vibrator's motor; this is a very, very, good thing. My g/f declares that the Pocket Rocket is "more intense", but the Liv is "more powerful", and the orgasm "smoother"; naturally, I applied both---the Liv on her spot, the Rocket on her clit. This nearly got my face torn off, so I relented to the Liv on a slow, powerful pulse, which took some practice to get right (placement, movement, pressure), but was "oh my" worth it.

The dildo was a Vixen Creations "Woody Vibe" in very, very, Red, and it comes from Vixen with a bullet vibe for the base (which fits in a nice cavity right in the middle. Woody is "realistic" (except for being "Santa Claus Red" as my g/f put it), and has a gorgeous head. The harness was a Jaguar in White Leather that I ordered at the same time, along with two 8 oz. bottles of Slippery Stuff Gel (I **love** Slippery Stuff).

So, it was a major blowout expense, but I do not grudge the $$$---we have had two amazing dates with our new toys, and my g/f absolutely loves her harness and dildo. Despite her worry that she would feel "ridiculous" (though she confessed that she feels I look "very, very nice" when I am wearing my harness and dildo), it turns out that she felt "amazing, powerful, strong" (more fucking ensued).

My kitty is now 6 Lbs.! She is long and lean, but unfortunately, she has hip displasia (I don't think I've spelt that correctly). It is apparently very rare in cats---in fact, my vet had to give me the hand out for dogs, because as far as she could find, there were none for cats, and the guidelines were basically the same. She had Jardia, too (also probably mis-spelt), but that's clearing up, thanks to Rx.

My g/f has had two root canals, so she is very sore (in the bad way). To cheer her up, I wrote her a pornographic story and told her to rehearse it, as it would be her next "reading lesson", to which she replied wondering if, should she be a very good girl and make it all the way through before finishing, would I let her fuck me---I seem to have created a monster (who knew spiffing up the toy chest would get such results?).

I do not have any pics of my kitty, but I will try and get some and post them. I have rambled enough, I think.

Goodnight all.

I am at a loss as to what to post, mostly because I am embroiled in another---possibly the same---row on the boards at the moment.

But I do have a new kitty, and she's gorgeous!

My cat died on Wednesday last. My g/f was over with her twins and I went 'round the corner to close the door to the guest bathroom---that's where the litter box, cat food, and cat water (she needed distilled water) were kept. We keep it closed for now as the twins, at 13 months, are into everything. I'd just forgotten until one of them took off down the hall, which jolted my memory and sent me zipping ahead to close the door.

I found my cat dead, sprawled across the floor between her food dish and the cat box. I kept the twin behind me, but my cat was blocking the door. I called out for my girlfriend, who knelt beside me when she saw. Once my g/f had the twins interested in something else, I placed a hand on my cat to see if she was breathing, or warm, or whatever. She was still warmish, so I slid my hand underneath her, and that settled it---she was the same temp as the floor.

It was only luck that my g/f was there at all. She usually brings the twins over on Thursday afternoons. This time we'd moved our usual Thursday to Wednesday, because we had a date set for Thursday.

She was only ten years old. She was a mostly-black Calico (tortise shell, excuse the spelling). She'd had bladder problems---she had something like 18 stones removed last year---and just gotten over a bladder infection, but for the last month she'd been fine.

Coming around that corner was awful. I have had to put down cats, which completely sucks, except for the part where you at least know you are doing it for the cat, and you get to have a time to make goodbyes. This was much worse. It brought back memories of my g/f of long ago, who this year has been dead twice as long as she was alive.

For the next three days I kept seeing her out of the corner of my eye, or feel her jump up on the bed to lay on my legs, and I would automatically head for the bathroom to check her box, food, and water, before bed and when I get up. Not the crushing loss of a person one loves, but pretty awful just the same.

Even when my g/f and I were making love, it was poignant, as we didn't have to scoot my cat out of the room before we closed the door. It was a fantastic afternoon, complete with rhythmic thudding of the bed against the wall, which for some reason, seemed to please my g/f very much (though she did have to shift her grip to keep from skinning her knuckles). For some reason, death seems to make sexual contact more urgent.

So my partner, g/f, and daughter pretty much ordered me to go out and get another cat (my g/f insisted on two). So I got a Tortise Shell and a grey striped kitty---the grey is a male and he's an affection sponge, so my partner and daughter think he hung the moon. The Calico is a moody princess, which is a good match for me.

What surprised me was how much having new cats has let me miss my lost cat without being disconsolate.

So I've been out of the loop a bit, sorry.

You think the pictures were something, you should hear what I was telling the poor girl strapped and buckled onto the damn thing---every five smacks; the nice thing about establishing a rhythm is that your Bottom knows her bottom is going to be smacked, and that's incendiary. Of course, one ought to mix in a bit of caressing, kissing, and exploration, just to keep one's Bottom on edge.

But that's another story...

Sets I want to see, just from today's front page: Zulie, Fractal, Machiko, Willandra, Rambo. And I want to read and comment on Thistle's blog; and I have posts and threads in Girl's Only and Poly and SG Feminist Groups, and a couple in the sprawling brawl that is the Boards.

I was webbing about on Saturday when I came across some old pictures of me "working"---stills to sell pre-built, Bondage equipment, real elaborate stuff, but actually quite effective if one had the room. One could also buy a kit, or just the plans. There is one photo where I am disciplining another model, and one can see the hot red-and-white (roses-and cream) spot I have been smacking. Takes me back. More when I have some more time.

I suck at blogging. In my partial and not particularly convincing defence, I do post to the boards fairly often, and I am rather active in some Groups; which is part of the problem, to be frank. I have generally written many a good blog topic out in a post or in a private message, leaving me with lame topics like the siding on my house.

My goal for this week is to try and come up with a blog topic, and actually post it in a coherent manner. Don't anyone hold their breath...

The siding is up, our phone---knocked out by the siding guys---is back on, the house is mostly painted and looks wonderful, none of our lights are back up, the back porch is still roofless, and there is one window still not done at all...but it finally seems like it might end.

Went down to the beach for Memorial day and had a good time. Both my partner and my g/f were there, as well as a bunch of our gaming crew, so we sat around and talked gaming, drank a great deal of booze, and ate even more food.

And there was more...

Plus, I got a klondike and thought delicious thoughts about merlowe and klondike bars and dykes and spreader bars...and oh my, look at the time....

My house is being sided. I am behind on my work and my new project. My g/f is on her way over for a date, and since there are three construction workers out back, and all the sunlight-blocking screens are down, it should be an amazing date, as she has a "thing" about getting caught, even though she's actually terrified of getting caught. So lucky me!

Brad Warner wrote an article about suicide, which combined with Sherrillee's blog, decided me on writing this:

The very first girlfriend I ever had killed herself in my barn. She was my best, and really, my only, friend when I was growing up. She walked the few miles to our farm, went into the upper barn, and climbed up into the loft---where we had done all the things kids do, and all the things young dykes do, and argued Radical Feminist politics to boot.

She undressed, carefully folding her clothes and stacking them by our make-shift bookshelf, underwear on top. She climbed up onto the low beam (a large beam running the length of the barn, useful for all sorts of work), worked her way out from the wall a bit, tied off her rope---which I guess she prepared in advance---looped it around her neck, and rolled off the beam.

When I came back through the barn around 0600, up from the milking barn, something made me glance over my shoulder, and something caused me to throw a glance upward. There was my love, my friend, my whole world, dangling, looking horribly wrong. I rushed up into the loft. I I cut her down, and howled for forgiveness because I couldn't hold the rope with one hand, so she fell the 9 feet or so to the floor of the loft---and it was a dreadful sound. Worse, she was laying in her own urine. I remember trying to clean it off of her, I remember believing that if I could just get her tongue back into her mouth it would clear the airway and I could start CPR. I do not remember that I had to be prised off of her, though I remember spending a very long four days in a mental hospital.

When my daughters were born, when I walked in my first Gay Pride march, the first time I used the word lesbian about myself out loud, when I had Cancer, when I met my g/f, when I met my partner; all those moment were diminished, because she was not there.

She left me no note, though the psychiatrists tell me the walk to my barn and up to "our" loft, her clothes, and the preparation, are a note of their own kind. Apparently, she went to where she had been happy, where she felt safe, where someone who loved her could find her.

She was 16 years old.

For Gyllien...(a bit of extemporaneous prose by actual me, apologies for the High Fantasy tone, I'm in one of those moods...)

Of old there was Oraman, the Shining City of The East, and it was a Light amid the Darkness, and all that was fair and bright and wonderful lay safe behind the mighty walls of that fortress. If in later days we came to know that much was base and false and cruel about the Empire that enriched that great city, and we look in sorrow on all that the arrogance of Oraman destroyed, can we dare say that it would be better never to have been?

For of old there was Oraman, and it was a Light and Dream of Light in a time of Darkness and Terror of Night. Let us regard then, that all things have some measure of Light and Dark within them, and in equal measure are we want to see them according to ourselves---when we were without Hope, and lay alone fearing the coming of Night, did we not look to East seeking The Light That Is, and Was, and Shall Be, and see there the Lamp of The East shinning in the firmament, a promise of Light after Darkness endured?

Remember therefore both that which was Fair, and that which was Wicked; Rage not against The Light for the fact of Darkness, neither yield to Darkness for the passing of Light; face the Dawn with Joy and the Dusk with Sorrow, for of these both is kindled the Fire that is Love, which even as it burn us, alone sustains us.