Give Me My Cookies

While I was made aware of sex and relationships and the potential consequences, physical and otherwise, from an early age, my parents didn't get too far into the "It can feel really good" portion of the discussion.  (They did like to make us squirm with the "It doesn't really get good til you're 40" comments, but I digress  And gag a little.)
Maybe because it was assumed I had already figured that out at some point between getting a time-out for kissing boys on the playground in kindergarten, getting a time-out for sitting on boys laps in 7th grade, or getting grounded at various points during high school for various boy-related violations.

Laundry Girl's mom apparently filled her in on that part too.  (Please click on that link, especially if you're a straight man.)  Wise, wise, wise words.  It's all about how everyone should get their cookies, and since the encounter usually has a way of winding down after the boy finishes his, that it's only appropriate and polite that he makes sure the girl gets hers first.

This may explain why LG was always one of my few friends who seemed to know the in's and out's (pun  intended) of getting down and dirty, not just the did-you-or-didn't-you technical details.  If I would have prescribed earlier to her Mom's way of thinking maybe I would have put up with much less poor-effort-sex over the last decade, and really, the less of that in the world the better.

Skinny Idiot

I read something yesterday that quoted Kate Moss as saying "Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels."

At first it made me want to punch her and then force feed her bacon.  Then it kind of made me angry - the woman has a daughter for crying out loud, talk about pre-determined eating disorders.

Now, I think pity is the best way to describe what I feel.  Because I'm not obese, but I'm certainly big enough that I can enjoy some of the delicious things the world has to offer (ribeye!  cheddar!  funnel cakes!) without worrying about having an outline of it show through my abdomen.  

And that, my friends, feels pretty damn good.

Sunrise

I woke up with my head on his shoulder facing away from him.  I studied his lower arm, the design of his moles and hair, that led to his strong hand that works hard but knows exactly how to touch my hair or hold my own.
The muted early sunlight was on the bed and the veins in his arm built a topographic map of his skin.  I could feel him breathing behind me in the soft gentle pattern that meant he was about to stir.  Although I wanted to hear his voice I wanted more for him to sleep peacefully next to me for just a few moments longer.
I felt sad that I had to say goodbye to him in some hours, but it was ok.  I felt more calm and safe with him than I do at any other place I can think of.  I knew I would see him again soon, I know that because we have applied no rules to each other it won't be a desperate rushed meeting.  Any time we have together is surplus.
I kept wanting to say words to him that would change the rules, so I didn't.  Instead I drew a heart on a piece of paper and put it on his pillow.  When I woke up the day after he left I felt almost euphorically happy, embracing the joy I feel just to know I get to have him in my life.

Hypochondriac

My sister did her best at convincing herself and everybody else that the 2-day fever she had at our cousins wedding two months ago was actually swine flu.

These are the texts between us today:
Megan:  I think I have mecury poisoning.
Caitlin:  WTF
   And swine flu?
   And autism?
Megan:  I can be awkward... but i font think its bad enough for a diagnosis.

p.s. I've used her original spelling.  She's in graduate school, by the way. I fully expect her to come at me with a list of supporting reasons for her self-diagnoses of aforementioned diseases.  Except for autism.  Probably.

It's Veterans Day

My Grandpa John was in the Army Air Corps during World War II.  He was shot down over France, smuggled out, came home and married his sweet love Annie, and raised ten children with her, including my mother.

My Grandpa Jim was in the Navy, he worked on radar and was on a submarine in the South Pacific when a torpedo hit it.  It was a dud, he came home and married Virginia and had my father then four more kids.

I was in love with a boy named Ryland when he was in the Marines, and was in Iraq during the start of this war.  Clifton was also there and is still one of my best friends.  I moved to North Carolina because of Justin, who was in the Army for almost ten years and Iraq for one.  Derek has served countless tours and is looking at another one.  Brent is overseas again as his love Liz waits for him in Texas.  Brandon is in Afghanistan right now, with his wife Annie and new baby waiting for him in Alaska.  Melinda served a few tours and just got out so she could get married.  Mike, Teeter, Mark, Boots, Steve, John, Scott, Dylan, Josh, Chris, Rob, so many others...

Thank You.