One of the stations we listen to while toiling away in the sweat shop at night replays old-time radio shows. A couple of weeks ago there was  a detective show on (Sam Spade or Philip Marlow or Richard Diamond…) The lead female in the story was a librarian (she wears glasses of course). She thinks she’s stumbled upon a kidnapping and enlists the help of a PI. He doesn’t take her seriously so she does her own investigation. She gets captured by the kidnappers, but she has spunk and manages to keep them at bay until the very last moment when our handsome PI arrives to save the day. In the last scene as they’re driving back to town, the bookish librarian takes her hair out of its bun, tosses her glasses out the window and tells the hero to take her to the Bijou Theatre where the latest thriller is playing. When he asks her why she threw her glasses away she tells him she knows that boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses. The show ends with classic nudgenudgewinkwink music.

 

Seriously, was that ever a truism? I can’t imagine it.

 

Ok, there is a point to this. About four years ago ♀ needed to get glasses. Junior was still living at home and when his mom modeled her new glasses for the family, he got all flustered and said they made her look like a porn star. He was about 17. I have no idea what sort of porn he’d been watching, but I know for a fact that the next time we fucked I asked ♀ to wear her glasses.

 

I think I mentioned that I can no longer read the fine print, but to tell the truth reading most printed material has been a struggle for quite a while. I had an appointment with the optometrist (a real cutie btw) and I picked up my first pair of spectacles on Christmas Eve. The kids came over last night and I was reading the newspaper. The first thing Junior said when he saw me with my new peepers was, “wow, now you really look like a grandpa.”

 

How is that fair? ♀ gets glasses and looks like a porn star. I get glasses and look like a grandpa.

 

 

 

Cheers,

♀ & sss

Years ago when I was being treated for depression, one of the first questions that the psychologist asked me was if I could remember ever being happy? It didn’t matter if it was a period of time or  a day or even just a moment from my past. He wanted me to try and remember what ‘happy’ felt like.

 

We tried something similar with ♀ mojo the other day. The phones were off and we didn’t need to be anywhere anytime soon, so there was no rush and no pressure. I was giving her a massage and she asked me to remind her of  good times that we’ve had together.  So I just started mentioning a sentence or two of a wide variety of happy times…the first time I heard her laugh on the phone, our first kiss, the night she proposed, dune-buggy riding on the Oregon coast, our honeymoon, long walks on the beach, our Alaskan cruise, skinny dipping at Shuswap Lake…

 

After a long massage, I used the Wartenberg wheel all over her back and legs. She rolled over and I used it all over her front until she was squirming. She set the pace for our love-making and she decided the how things unfolded. There was no pillow-talk. We just took our time and really focused on ‘us’. It took a while, but she was able to have the biggest and most intense orgasm that she’s had in at least a month…maybe even longer. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to hear her have a Big O.

 

We were having a  shower after and she admitted that when I was telling her about all the good times we’ve had, she caught herself thinking about the negative as well. Like when I was talking about our honeymoon, she thought, ‘I was a lot skinnier then’. She caught herself doing it and was able to put those thoughts out of her head.

 

Neither of us is thinking, ‘oh boy, her mojo is back’, but at least she knows she can still have really good orgasms and I think that’s a very good thing.

 

 

Cheers,

♀ & sss

♀ has been having issues with her libido lately. It’s always waxed and waned some, but this has been a prolonged drought and neither of us is very happy about it. We’ve tried not worrying about it and focusing on other ways to be connected. We’ve tried doing things and going to places that she associates with high sexual energy and nothing has really worked.

 

I have a theory about about why her mojo has left, but haven’t been able to figure out how to improve things.  The theory? Well I don’t want to go into too much detail, but it looks like we could take over the bakery when it closes next spring. I think it’s a great opportunity, but I really don’t have much to lose by doing it. The problem is it would take both of us. ♀ would need to quit her job. A job she worked very hard to get. A  job she loves. I think she’s feeling like she has no other choice, but to do this. So I think the right choice for me is probably the wrong choice for her. That, combined with the uncertainty of taking over a business that has been declining for the past 2 or 3 years, has messed with her mojo.

 

She says I’m wrong, but has no other explanation or solution.

Do you?

 

 

♀ & sss

Mini was over here last week and ♀ was having a cup of chai tea (not to be confused with ‘tai chi’). He said it smelled nice and asked if he could have a cup. When I brought it to him, he inhaled deeply and said with a contended sigh, “it smells like Christmas”.

 

We went to the kids house for dinner last night and they had a real tree decorated in their living room (‘real’ as in once was living). The first thing ♀ said when we walked into the room (even before lovin’s for the grand-baby) was, “it smells like Christmas in here”.

 

I think my ‘Christmas smell’ happens much later. After the gifts and the visiting and the drinking and the laughs and/or tears and the big dinner and good, bad or indifferent the main event is over and everyone has gone to sleep, I take the turkey carcass and the bag of greens I’ve been saving in the freezer and an onion, and some garlic, pepper-corns, a few bay leaves and I make stock. It cooks for hours and I love how it makes the house smell.

 

Why am I mentioning this now? Well, the first of three (yes 3!) turkeys that will be cooked here in the next 10 days, is at this very moment (5:40 in the A of M) roasting in our oven. If you ask her, ♀ will have a very good reason for why we are cooking 3 turkeys and why the first of these needed to be in the oven at 2:30 this morning, but right now my big concern is what the hell will I do with all that stock?!

 

What about you? Is there a smell you associate with Christmas?  Maybe mincemeat or gingerbread…

 

 

I don’t suppose you’d be surprised to hear that we’ve pillow-talked the non-gingerbread version of this scenario.

 

Cheers,

♀ & sss

Later today (the day after my 47th birthday, how the hell did that happen?), I have appointments scheduled with my doctor, dentist and optometrist (I can no longer read the fine print). Last week it was getting a new life insurance policy and next week we’re updating our wills. You might think I’d be feeling a little sorry for myself, but ♀ managed to give me a fairly spectacular birthday weekend.

 

We went for pedicures Saturday afternoon. I got crimson with hand-drawn snowflakes on my big toes. You have no idea how amazingly festive that is for a grinch like me. We met a friend for lunch. She gave me an expensive bottle of scotch…I know nothing about scotch, but apparently that’s something old guys are expected to know, so perhaps I’ll learn.

 

Do you remember me telling you about J & N?  They came over Saturday night for a fondue and some fun. The slow pace of the fondue combined with sexual tension made for a most enjoyable evening. It went sort of like this: food-flirt-drink-food-flog-frolic-food-drink-fornicate-cuddle-food-fuckoffI’mfull-coffee-fornicate and then everyone except the baker looked very sleepy.

 

And remember how I didn’t have any big O’s the last time we played and everyone else had two? Well, this time I had two while J & N were there and I popped a third one in ♀ ass shortly after J & N left. Not bad for an unmedicated old guy, don’tchya think?

 

Sunday (my actual bday) ♀ woke me up and she was very excited. She gave me a burlesque-teddy-bear. When you squeeze the bears hand she sings ‘I wanna be loved by you’ Marilyn style. The bear is holding a DVD and ♀ dragged me into the office before I could even brush my teeth.

 

OK, I need to give you some background information. As I’ve mentioned before, ♀ has a hard time keeping a secret. Also, we don’t make big purchases without consulting one and other. About six weeks ago she told me she had a gift idea for me, but it was kind of expensive and would I be OK with only getting one present for both my birthday and Christmas? I told her that would be fine. A couple of weeks later she said she was worried about the cost (and my impending job loss) and since she was going to be getting at least as much enjoyment from it as I would she wanted it to be my birthday present and both our Christmas presents. She made me promise that I wouldn’t buy her anything. She said it was being made and wouldn’t be ready for my birthday and so we could open it together at Christmas.

 

She told me she was going to able to help make the present and a couple of weeks ago she found out that this past Tuesday was the day she would be needed. She wanted to tell me so bad what she was doing. She’d beg me to let her tell me what it was. I refused so she kept dropping hints. It turns out they were all phony hints designed to make me think it was something completely different.

 

The reason she was so excited is she’d been emailed my gift several days earlier than expected so she was able to burn the DVD and give it to me on my actual birthday. And what was it that had her bubbling with excitement? She gone for a Pin-Up Photography session. They did her hair and make-up, they had the sets (including a stiletto chair) and even the clothes (though ♀ took her own). It took 3.5 hours and they shot 250 photos. ♀ said the hardest part was whittling it down to 7 pictures.

 

The  photos are…fucking amazing. We’re going to get them printed and framed and put them up in our bedroom. We talked about posting them here, but decided that wasn’t the best thing to do. If we know you in real life or if we’ve exchanged email with you in the past and you’d like to see them, just ask.

 

Want to know something weird? Yesterday before I went to bed (and before I saw the pictures) I put this on our desktop so it would be the first thing she saw when she turned on the computer:

 

 

Later that day we did the family thing at a local sushi restaurant and then everyone came back here for ♀’s peanut-butter pie (So good)

 

Now don’t you agree that was a fairly spectacular birthday weekend?

 

Cheers,

♀ & sss

Did I ever tell you about my vasectomy?

 

 

I was 17 the first time I asked a doctor for one and not surprisingly, he said no. The next time I asked was hours after Mini was born. He & his mother were still in the hospital and when the doctor came in to check on them I told her I wanted to get snipped. She said I had to wait until Mini was at least 6 months old (back in the day my mom needed my dad’s written permission to get her tubes tied). Anyway, I said if that’s the way it needed to be than so be it. She gave me the post-dated referral and six months to the day I had my appointment with the urologist.

 

 

I needn’t have been in such a rush, Mini was almost two before she had sex with me again. I think we only fucked 4 or 5 times in the 3 years after that and ♀ had her tubes clamped weeks before I met her, so my little guys really wouldn’t have had much opportunity to get into trouble.

 

 

OK, where was I? Oh, yeah…I had an appointment with the urologist a couple of days before I was scheduled to get snipped. I think he was about 60, obese, sweating profusely.  He couldn’t find the pamphlet he usually gave to his patients so he drew a diagram on a napkin from his lunch.  I asked him about a new procedure I had heard about called the ‘scalpel-less vasectomy’. He snorted and said doctors only use that on Asians and Indians because their penis’ are so small (I swear it’s true).

 

The procedure was to take place in Day-Surgery of the local hospital. I don’t remember anyone else being around. The doctor called me into the little room, told me to drop my pants and hop up on the table. I think it might have been a gyno table. There was a little portable cassette player  and he put a tape in…I guess to help me relax. I’m not entirely sure about this part, but I think this was what he put on…

 

 

 

Once that was playing and I was all settled, he announced that his nurse hadn’t shown up so he’d have to shave me himself. He sat down on a stool between my legs and proceeded to dry-shave my balls. And not just a little patch, but the entire underside of my scrotum. It was not a lot of fun, but I suppose it could have been worse.

 

 

Cheers,

♀ & sss

…tonight I was working in the camera department of Woolco. The TV department was right next to where I was. Half of a wall of  TV’s had the Tonight show on…

The rest of the TV’s had a football game on…

30 years and it seems like yesterday.

sss

Thanks to Joel, the Blog Tech Guy we’re up and running again.

And here, as promised, are a few of Uncle M’s pin-up bondage pictures:

Cheers,

♀ & sss