Personal tools

The Fish Bowl 2007

The Life & Times of a Kinky Fish in a Vanilla Sea

The Fish Bowl

There are lots of ways to look at life...

  through the looking glass...

   through rose-colored glasses...

    or my way...

...through the fish bowl.

(2008 Fishbowl)   (2009 Fishbowl)

Friday, September 28, 2007

Once, many moons ago, I took the word "serve" and addressed each of the definitions (I believe there were 10 or 12 of them) and the way I felt they related to a D/s relationship. I was called "cold" for doing such a thing, but it helped me, at the time, define what I was looking for in a relationship. Now, I think the crutch can be removed, and we'll see how much pressure the leg can bear.

Submission, in my book, means to hand over the control of my power to another person. This is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do. I have, under my control, an *enormous* amount of power. It's not always utilized as best it could be, but it's there. Now...I have spent my entire life learning how to wield this power—seeing that it can be both viciously abused and laudably used. It requires a great deal of faith in someone's integrity/moral code to imbue them with authority over that power.

Let's get past the rosy flush of finding a compatible person. Let's get over the "honeymoon" stage, and get right to brass tacks. I know, in my heart, that Fisherman holds his breath every time he exerts control over me. That somewhere down deep in his heart of hearts, he's wondering whether I will allow him the control again. And it's *that* moment of decision, every time, where I reaffirm what I believe a submissive is and does.

Every action I take, every reaction I make, is a choice for me to submit. After a time, it does become a habit. But the slightest thing can/will make me aware of the conscious choice of my submission. If we aren't communicating on all levels, it is easy to choose "no."

I freely admit the responsibility for my own power will always rest with me. If my power is being misused, it is nobody's fault but my own for choosing someone who would do that. But, assuming everything works well, assuming a moral code of very similar values, the single most relaxing thing for me to do is give Fisherman my control. I do not give it without thought. I do not rest the full weight of responsibility on him. I recognize that, having known myself for over 50 years, I am the world's leading authority on what goes on inside my head.

It is my responsibility, in submission, to correct mistaken impressions. It is my responsibility to look into my mind and seek new places for Fisherman to explore. It is my responsibility to *be* the technical advisor on myself. And it's my responsibility to execute these duties regardless of my comfort level.

It is my joy, in submission, to delight in my dominant's pleasure. To serve willfully and without grudge. To seek ways of pleasing him that he may never have considered or explored. Why shouldn't dominants have secrets, desires, and needs too?

It is my hope, in submission, to give Fisherman a loving, caring, giving, strong relationship. To offer strength when he needs to be weak, to be weak when he needs to offer strength. To explore places I wouldn't go alone, but to allow his guidance and trust his care to take me no farther than I am capable of going.

What do I want from Fisherman, directly? Attention, first. Not constant, but consistent. Emotional security, someone who can remember that they are a human being—and don't mind reminding me of the fact as well if I start to worship. An ability to absorb intensity without buildup (or to shed it, if necessary).

I would like him to be strong enough to help me explore my dark corners. I want to go into the closets while securely embraced by chain or rope, held safe while I expose what lies there to light.

I would like to find the dreamer I used to be, the one before I became a realist. I would like to be friends with my dominant, to be his staunch ally or cheerleader. I want to look my own personality in the face and say "there are no shadows, and I like what I see."

Most of all, I want "me" to be "we," and from there...anything is possible. When the time is right, I will serve, I will submit. He will dominate, he will accept service graciously. He will be a student of concept rather than detail, I will be his student in life. We will complement each other, and the world around us when we journey down the D/s pathways of our relationship.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

**It fit just fine!**

Painting by Paul Baudry.

Monday, September 17, 2007

STANDING with my back to the door, I watch you close the curtains and darken the room. The small night stand lamp fills the room with subdued light. My heart is pounding erratically. My mind clamors with doubts and longings, the two emotions fighting within me for prominence and control.

YOU open the drawer of the night stand and remove three red candles. Methodically, you light the candles, one by one. I smell the sulphur of the match, the sweet odor of the burning candles. The room fills with a soft and scented light. A hint of mystery and things yet to come pervades the air.

REMAINING very still, no words yet exchanged between us, I watch as you reach for the wrapped birthday gift I left laying on the bed earlier today. It has come a long way, this gift. A special order handled by special friends for your special day.

SLOWLY you untie the ribbon. You stop and look up at me...your eyes offering a questioning look before you undress the present any further. Still, I can only watch you...mute to your inquisitive gaze. I have nothing to say.

METHODICALLY, you remove the gilt paper. I watch your fingers and let my mind imagine I am the gift and it is my body you are slowly exposing. With a soft rustle, the wrapping slides to the floor, revealing a shimmering satin bag. Just as your fingers deftly untie the secrets of my body, you untie the drawstring that holds the bag closed.

I HOLD my breath, waiting for you to remove your gift, waiting for you to acknowledge I have made the right choice. I stand motionless, rooted to this spot, unable to speak, unable to step into the glow of the candles.

IN slow motion, you slide your special gift from its shimmering womb. Shards of light suddenly caress the walls as candlelight embraces the emerging crystal dildo like a sunrise.

WITHOUT a word, you pull me to you...your eyes seeking mine. Without time to think, I find my eyes caught in the power of your stare. Your eyes showing me a bottomless well of desire and strength. I feel my knees tremble slightly. The intensity of your look a thing of almost palpable substance.

IN the silence of our visual bonding, you speak. Softly, and yet with a timbre of complete possession, your words control me.

"I LOVE my birthday gift, my Ladyfish. It is just right. Come to bed with me now and let us see how it fits."

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

I am not a sex toy virgin (unless you're my mother reading this), so I wasn't expecting to be intimidated by Doc Johnson's iVibe Rabbit. I thought it would just be another vibrator. Pop it in, switch it on, then lay back and enjoy. I had heard great things about this little lagomorpha and its rather daunting price was not enough to discourage a certain Tall Guy from buying it for "us." It was our anniversary, after all, and although I was holding out for a tennis bracelet, it was seemed only right to get something we could both enjoy (Tall Guys don't wear diamonds it seems).

When I opened the Rabbit, I was surprised by its size. It's at least 2 inches longer than my Purple Guy (my old standby) although it definitely isn’t as flexible or soft. It is also quite heavy and took four batteries instead of two, so I had to scrounge around and steal two from my camera to make up the difference. It claims to be waterproof but when I try to imagine using something like this in the bathtub I get visions of sticking a JetSki up my ____ and riding off into the sunset.

My first move was just to experiment with the many buttons to figure out how to make things happen. There are three function buttons, but only two sets of arrows (to make things move faster or slower). Unfortunately, there are no directions with the iVibe, just some general info on the box, so I felt a bit like a scientist running experiments. (Left arrow up = vibrate. Left arrow plus f2 button = vibrate with pauses in between. Left arrow plus right up arrow = vibrate and rotation. Plus f2 = weird half rotations in both directions.) Once I got it to do one thing though, it was difficult to undo it. I used the right arrows to rotate, then the middle button to alternate rotations, but when I hit the middle button again to have it go back to one fluid motion, nothing happened. I hit the f3 button and yet another motion seemed to take place, but I couldn't get it back to the original motion. The same thing happened when I tried to go back from pulsing vibrations to a constant vibration. I had to keep taking the batteries out to start over again. How handy is that in the throes of ecstasy?

Aside from being purple, the iVibe is fairly realistic, with a head and veins and wrinkles like a real penis. If you're inexperienced with the real thing, this is great for practicing blowjobs, (or if you're trying to quit smoking but need something in your mouth) or even if you want to work at your condom unrolling technique. The only downside is if you get used to the size of the iVibe, the real thing may disappoint you...especially if you hope to find a man with swirling pearls embedded halfway down his joystick.

Finally, ready to dive in and give it a try, I got cozy in bed and whipped out some lube. As part of the purchase of this orgasmic gadget, we has also decided to try out a new lube called "H2O." It seemed only right that a new toy deserved a new lube! Now, before I go any further with this review, let me give you my opinion of "H20." In four words...Don't Waste Your Money! Open up the bottle and you will discover quite easily why they’ve called it "H2O." Sliming up with that stuff is sort of like swimming in the ocean and hitting an oil slick gone bad. It’s too wimpy to be effective and too drippy to be fun. Stick with Liquid Silk (LS).

After using a squeegee to get rid the puddle of "H2O" under my bum, I slathered up my Rabbit with good ole LS and got to work in earnest (actually in Ladyfish). Carefully sliding it in, I was surprised once again at the size. I eased it in and out a few times to get used to the size of it, then started with the simple vibrate mode. It was pretty damn good. All my sensitive parts perked up and I found myself wishing I had a tongue, possibly attatched to a man (possibly a Tall Guy with a ponytail), to rub all over my body. From there I decided to see what else it could do for me, particularly with the rotating pearl beads, and that's where I got into trouble.

Despite the overzealous claims on the package, I found that the "rotating head action" didn't really do anything for me. I didn't have any special sensations or unbelievable reactions to it. In fact, for a brief moment I had a vision of a Roto-Rooter machine and wondered if I was going to pull out a hair clog or a missing washcloth when I slide the Rabbit out of the hole. Because there are so many buttons, I had trouble turning it off, and had to stop a couple of times and take the iVibe out (which is torture when you're just getting into the groove) to play with the buttons or take out the batteries and start over. This was distracting, and after a few minutes, it was more work than pleasure.

Later in the day I decided to try again, and then once more. By my third attempt I was beginning to crave its size and steady vibrations. I sped it up until I could barely breathe, then slowed it back down to relax a bit, then sped it back up until the fireworks went off. By the late afternoon, I had given up on all the settings except for the vibrate. With fewer responsibilities on the button end of things, and my mind clear to relax and fantasize, I had an incredible time with it.

It also may have helped that the Tall Guy had left me for Bainbridge Island and his progeny had left me for whatever it is kids do on a sunny June day, so I didn't have to feel strange about anyone hearing things from my room. I read other reviews, which claim the iVibe is very quiet, but mine sounds like it could be chopping down trees or mowing soccer fields. The cats still won't come back in the bedroom.

All in all, I would recommend this for an advanced sex toy user. It would make for a confusing, and possibly scary, first toy, but makes a logical next step for those who have used and enjoyed other products. Personally, I would prefer a simpler device, maybe with just one control to go faster or slower, as the three other buttons only made me think, when that was the last thing I wanted to do.

In this day of drive-thru banking, pick-up window fast food, and battery-operated instant gratification, sometimes, less is more and slow is better. Are you listening, Tall Guy?

Our 5-Year Wedding Anniversary, June 16, 2007

Tuesday, June 4, 2007

You know why so many people start a blog and then toss it behind like an empty banana peel? It's because the first time they fall behind for any reason (work, family, illness, sex, boredom, a good book, an episode of Dr. House, a bottle of chianti) they feel compelled to recreate all the missing dates in some sort of "catch-up orgy" before they can enter a current posting. And is that an easy task to master? Nope! That challenge is tough...very tough. It's extremely difficult to sit and make entry after entry about things that happened days, weeks, or even months ago. Who said what? Who did what? What did you eat, drink, wear, fight about, laugh about, dream about? Who in the hell can remember that sort of stuff when the present is breathing down your neck and sticking Post-Its all over your forehead with all the things you need to do today?! Do we really think that people have their lives on hold waiting for us to catch up on our blog entries?

Blogs are for masochists...or for very self-assured people that don't really care if they write in them on a daily basis or not. People that may actually prefer to leave you wondering just what sorts of things they did for all those missing days. And isn't that a sort of blog entry too?

Thursday, May 24, 2007

It was a long week. Winding up the last of the James Bondage event, working on the website, working on real work...all the usual things that sort of have you running in slow motion by the end of the week. I was floundering (a fish pun) in the doldrums when a call came in from one of my girlfriends. She was floundering (another fish pun) too and wondered if I'd like to meet her for drinks, dinner, and downtime at one of our favorite watering holes, the "Bird of Paradise Pub": (BOP). This struck me as such a grand idea I decided to share the wealth and put out a quick email to a few other gal pals inviting them to join us.

Must be the doldrums were in the air because by 5:30 PM there was a bevy of bodaciously beautiful babes (that would be us) at the BOP gathered around a big table in a secluded corner, sipping assorted cocktails, and munching on appies including wings and yam fries. I love yam fries. I love "yams":! They are sooooo yummy and actually very, very good for you (an excellent source of potassium and vitamin A)!

We snacked and sipped and snacked and sipped and then we sipped some more. As the sun set slowly under the overpass, we found ourselves softly slipping into that wonderful place where ladies go when they are warm, comfy, and slightly tipsy. That place that just sort of encases you like the warm water of a hot tub and can only be reached when you are among good friends that you trust and have shared various histories with. All the pieces were now in place for a delicious serving of dirt! Yup...stick-to-your-ribs, sharpen-your-claws dirt! Wonderfully nasty commentaries on who we've seen with whom, what they were wearing (or not), what they looked like, and so many other observations that only girls can make.

Three vodka and sodas, two Long Island ice teas, two glasses of chardonney, and a carafe of red wine later, we had pretty much dug enough dirt to fill every pothole in Victoria. As a salute to the waning daylight, our waitress lit the candle on our table as she passed by to check on our drinks. We all drew closer, got quieter, smiled softer. Was it the candle that prompted the first question? Or was it the comfortable atmosphere that pervaded our little corner?

"Can we all share a fantasy?" That was the question. We were all quiet for a few seconds. Then we giggled or looked sideways at the person next to us. We waited. And of us spoke. "Pinky swear," she said. "Pinky swear that what we all share for the rest of this evening will remain a secret." We were quiet again. And then, slowly, hands met in the middle of the table, pinky fingers extended. Vows were made.

It was late when I finally crawled into bed. I was tired and tipsy and filled with the magic that can only come when girls whisper in the night and share pinky swear secrets.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

The night air was charged with the miasma of mystery as Sagacity's sexiest spies all converged for a night of devilish dancing and perverted pleasures. There was no dearth of fashion finery as limos (and Toyotas) pulled up to the doors of Traveller's Inn. Vanilla subversives lurked in the bushes (and the lobby) but our intrepid agents were undaunted in their desire to fufill their fund-raising mission.

Stepping into the inner sanctum of Monte Kinko, Sagacity spies were greeted with the seductive tunes of Paul Wainwright and the Sax Safari as they played the spytune game like long-time agents and teased everyone with music from a wide spectrum of spy genre medium. Games of chance (the chance to be tortured) were waged at tables graced with blood red carnations, and recalcitrant spies were bound over to the Interrogation Room for an intense workover (there never were any "right" answers). Martinis greased the throats of many an unsuspecting mark and helped loosen the tongues (and the undies) of Top and bottom agents alike. There's no lip-loosener quite as effective as a dozen martinis...shaken and spanked!

It was a magical night for everyone in attendance and secrets were traded throughout the evening. As the last limo drove off into the waning night, there was a sense of security in the air. The Sagacity agents could relax for a time. The treasury had been replenished and kinksters everywhere (or at least in Victoria) would be playing again very soon.

The Lost Days, May 12-18, 2007

They came, they ate, they left.

And somewhere in all that they fished for halibut (landed over 100 lbs), caught (and ate) fresh dungeness crabs (ewwww), watched the eagles soar and seals frolic, and pounded down more beer than I thought was humanly possible.

I love them...
I'll miss them...
but thank goodness they've gone!

Thursday, May 11, 2007

I'm sitting on the "Victoria Clipper": and the Captain has just announced that we can see Port Townsend on the starboard side of the boat. I am heading down to Seattle this afternoon to meet up with Fisherman and spend the night at our apartment. Then, tomorrow morning, we are off to "SeaTac": airport to pick up my two sons who are flying in from "Wildwood, Florida": for a week of vacation. I am looking forward to seeing them...because we live so far apart our visits are few and it’s fun to have them here and spoil them a bit. Of course, if they lived close by and dropped in all the time I suppose the fun of seeing them would decrease in proportion to the number of "loans" they hit me up for.

The Clipper is packed...almost every seat is full and there is a cacophony of white noise all around me as I sit in my seat and try to forget my need to throw up by writing this Fish Bowl entry. I may be a Ladyfish but I am definitely not one with the sea! Without the help of Bonamine (the very best seasick drug in the world), I’d be heaving over the side and moaning like a sick walrus. The crossing from Victoria takes 2.5 hours and that is a lot of time to sit and think about things. Some of the things I've thought about thus far:

**The Victoria Clipper**. The Clipper folks want to trick you into thinking you're on an airplane. Why? They have reclining seats, barf bags, "at sea" magazines, drop-down trays, a menu card offering food (see below), and beverages served to you by their "attendants." For snacks they have the obligatory peanuts. They also offer cocktails, beer, and wine (but not for free). They give a safety speech as you head off to sea and instead of showing you where the drop-down oxygen masks are, they show you where your life vests reside. I'm not really sure why they decided to emulate airplane travel. Seems to me they'd have a lot more customers if they pretended to be a cruise ship with unlimited buffet food, free drinks, and a pool! Hmmm...cabana boys might be nice too!

**Bagels**. One thing I just can't seem to fathom is why everything on the Clipper menu includes a bagel! Why a bagel? Why not a dinner roll? Or a big, fat dill pickle? They have plain bagels, bagels with peanut butter, bagels with smoked salmon, bagels with cream cheese. What they don't have is "toasted" bagels! I mean...if you are going to order a bagel...are you looking for a dry round of thick and chewy dough with a slab of suspicious fish on it? Or are you much more attracted to the idea of a toasted, crispy bread ring slathered in melted butter and maybe a few sesame seeds on the side? No dry, boring, vanilla bagel for me. I opted for a box of Junior Mints instead...give me decadent chocolate and seductive mint cream filling any day! That's way naughtier and tastier too!

**Diet Pepsi**. Funny how soda pop tastes very different in the US. Don't you wonder why? What sort of ingredients do they change when you go from one country to another? Is the carbonation different? The syrup? Is it like the differences in money? Is there a Pop Conversion chart somewhere sort of like the kg/lb chart they have in the Meat Department at the grocery store? I am sitting here drinking an American Diet Pepsi. I asked the young lady that served it to me why it tastes different then its Canadian counterpart. She looked at me blankly for a few seconds and then asked, "Are you enjoying your trip?" The correlation baffles me but I'm still thinking about it.

**Jasmine Juice**.'s not a new drink! It's a wonderful, delicious new moisturizing lotion I got today. It's made by "OPI": (I love those guys) and it is terrific. It has a light scent that doesn't overpower everyone around you, it goes into your skin instantly and doesn't leave you feeling like you've just covered yourself in Elmer's glue, and it comes in a pump bottle (I hate creams that come in screw-top bottles).

**Keds**. I love Keds and they are coming back in style according to whoever it is that decides those things (I've never stopped wearing them). They are simple, comfortable, and they actually look the same after you throw them in the washing machine as they did before. That is a rare thing indeed.

**"Fortune's Rocks"** by Anita Shreve. It's a very good book and because it is so good, I just can't seem to read it while sitting here amidst all the noise and bustle of my fellow travelers. For me, a really good book is next to sacred. It is something to be savored like a fine glass of port and a square of dark chocolate. You read the written words and surround yourself with the imagery and mood the author is projecting. Nope...I won't share my port and I won't share the magic world that a wonderful book creates in my mind. On this trip, it's Diet Pepsi and my laptop.

**Fisherman**. He's waiting on the other side for me. He'll hug me, kiss me, and tell me he loves me. He'll carry my suitcase, help me put on my jacket, and then he'll want to hold hands as we leave the ferry terminal. We'll miss the 9:00 PM "Bainbridge Island ferry": and so we'll find a nice place to sit, have a drink, and catch up on our lives since we were last together. We are almost there now. I think I'll just sit back and spend the last part of this trip thinking about what Fisherman and I will do *after* we get to our apartment. Sometimes the best part of not seeing your man for a week is the first night you are back in his bed.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

I woke up today and had two thoughts almost immediately: 1) I feel awful; and 2) no, I feel way worse than awful! My head was killing me and my throat felt like a bum that had been on the receiving end of a cat-o-nine tails for 2 days!

I am not a “good” sick person at the best of times. I am an impatient patient with no patience for the time I am forced to lose due to illness. I have too many things I want or need to do and being compelled to take to my bed just doesn't fit into my day-to-day plans. A control freak like me just doesn't do well in a situation they can't alter or change whenever they want to. In a feeble attempt to take control of my body, I stumbled out of bed and down the stairs in search of coffee, juice, and Tylenol...not necessarily in that order. The more I moved the worse I felt and even though I wanted to drink, the act of swallowing was complete torture (and not of the good kind).

After about 2 hours of this misery, I gave in, got dressed, decided I didn't care what my hair looked like, and went straight to the clinic. I hate the clinic. I hate the waiting, the cattle-car treatment, and the complete indifference I sense most of the times I am there. I am sick, I am cranky, I am hard would it be for them to at least pretend they actually cared about my pain rather than my Care Card number?

I had a high fever (hence the splitting headache) and once the physician discovered that, I suddenly moved up a few notches in his estimation and he began to actually look at *me* rather than at his clipboard. After being poked and prodded and made to say "Ahhhhh" more times than made any sense, I was attacked by a series of vicious throat swabs. I wanted to make a few sarcastic quips asking if he was a member of the "CSI team": but I was too busy gagging and wondering if this doctor was a closet sadist. Countless swabs and tongue depressors later, Dr. Doolittle grunted in a professional way and announced that he suspected I had succumbed to the "Streptococcus pyogenes": and would need a course of heavy antibiotics in order to live long and prosper. I found his pronouncements startling for two reasons...first, I have only had "strep": twice in my life (and I was quite young), and second, he actually wanted to prescribe something for me besides T3s! I am convinced that 90% of all doctors in Canada skipped pharmacology classes and bought stock in T3 manufacturers instead.

A few hours and a lot of dollars later, I arrived home from the clinic and the pharmacy. In record time, I was back in my jammies and back in my bed. The cats seemed to sense that I was feeling yucky and they curled up around me to comfort me in my time of need. Actually, I don't think they gave a damn about my comfort, they are simply heat-suckers who are enjoying the tropical temperatures emanating from my fever-wracked body. Cats are not good nurses really.

This is a lost day. I don't make it to the "Sagacity meeting":/main/events/tuesday tonight and I don't get any work done either. I mostly drink as much as I can, take my pills when I'm supposed to, and wish that my Fisherman was here. It's funny...when you are sick you really want nothing more than to be left alone so you can sleep and recharge your depleted batteries. And yet, you also want to know that if you open your eyes, someone that cares about you will be there with a soft smile and a gentle way of making the boo-boos not quite so bad. I'm sick, I'm cranky, and I'm in pain. I miss you, Fisherman...maybe you are the medicine I really need right now.

Tuesday, April 29, 2007

Okay, it's time to come out of the closet...or should I say underwear drawer? Yup...time to admit to the world (or at least the part of the world that reads the Fish Bowl) that I *love* cotton underwear! Old-fashioned, made-for-comfort, cotton bikini briefs. Those are the panties of choice for this girl! Hanes-Her-Way (always on sale at Wal-Mart) are my favorites, but you can also get some real dandies at "Victoria's Secret":;=onlineProductDisplay.jsp&event;=display&prnbr;=ZN-198606&page;=1&cgname;=OSPTYBIKZZZ&rfnbr;=1924 (never on sale, but they have cuter prints). In this day of itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny butt floss, I take a stand for a comfy pair of drawers that doesn't get lost in the crack of my bum or stuck in the cleft of my...well, you know.

In all honesty, I don't think my appreciation for comfy cotton undies was a true passion for me until my participation in the BDSM lifestyle. Until that moment, my underwear was my business and was seen only by me (and the man or two in my life that made the serious mistake of intruding on me when I was getting dressed or changing my clothes).

Becoming involved in BDSM created a true "underwear upheaval" for me. Suddenly I found myself going to parties and events where it was almost a requirement at some point to display yourself clad only in your skimpies. Suddenly my Hanes-Her-Ways represented the kiss of death in fetish fashion finery! And so, despite avowals of "freedom to be yourself" and "celebrate your uniqueness" I gave into the truths in the mirror and put away my cotton bikini briefs whenever a kink event occurred or we entertained our pervy friends.

At the end of a night of kinky play, when the lights come up, the party's over, and it's time to tear it all down...there are three wonderful things that happen almost immediately: - I kick off my 7" spikes and slide into my flip-flops; - I peek in the mirror and greedily admire my welts and bruises; and - I shed the butt floss and delight in sliding into my Hanes-Her-Way undies!

All is right with the world...

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Ahhhh...peace and morning routine back in place. It's a funny thing, routine. On the one hand, we complain about getting stuck in the rut of routine, and yet on the other hand, we get cranky when people or events disturb the uniformity of our daily patterns. It's hard to balance...spontaneity *and* predictability.

Lots of work for me to do today. There's my *real* job (I am an editor specializing in scientific and medical books/journals) and then there's my Sagacity job (I am the Exec Director of the organization and the one that gets to be bossy and bitchy all the time)! I guess it's a no-brainer as to which one I prefer to spend my time at! I mean, who wouldn't opt for bossy bitching over rats with cancer any day?! Unfortunately, however, only one of those jobs provides income and so that's the one that always seems to win the demands on my time...well...mostly!

Because there is only **one** dominant in my life that I actually let push me around (although I'll deny it if he reads this and asks me about it), I won't let my real job take complete control of my day! After a few hours of DNA replication and genetic breakdowns, I tackle the "Sagacity website": It's long past time to move on from the Easter pastels and start reminding folks about the upcoming "Fun Faire": on April 28 and our James Bondage fund-raiser on May 19.

I headed off to the regular "Tuesday night gathering": after working hours (real and otherwise) were over. A good crowd was on hand and after announcements and introductions of the new folks, we did a Fill-In-The-Blank question. The question of the night was, *"Tell us one thing you've always wanted to do but would be embarrassed or horrified if anyone found out."* Because our very own "RH" suggested the question, he was given the dubious honor of reading the responses once they were all collected. There were lots of interesting "confessions"...some silly, some serious, and some scary. One of the responses was short and sweet. It simply said, *"I'd like to lick Rod's nipples."* Who knew?! Rod was a little surprised I think and the rest of the room roared with laughter...probably more at the lovely red color of RH's face than at the answer provided. You know...sometimes I worry that even in kink, as in our vanilla lives, we all become staid in our thoughts and actions. Then something like the "Nipple Answer" happens and everyone is surprised and startled by the impetuousness of the suggested action. Yup...I love the predictable spontaneity of kink!

*PS: Thanks, "k" for the lovely e-mail you sent me. I read it just before I shut things down for the night. It put a smile in my heart and made me realize how lucky I am to have old friends like you.*

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Saturday, March 31, 2007

What a wonderful way to start a day! Waking up next to the warmth of my Fisherman...remembering it's a Saturday with no specific demands on my time...and then drifting back off to sleep only to wake up again to the delicious smell of hot coffee and a lovely breakfast tray. I'm so spoiled.

Fisherman and crew (his kids) are off to fix the ailing Sally Sagacity II and replace the "they-just-don't-fit" clamps on the exhaust system of the noisiest Toyota on Vancouver Island. I am planning to do nothing other than fluff up my bed pillows and kick back with the "Turner Classic Movie Channel.": Life can be soooooo demanding!

A few delicious movie classics later (and maybe a snooze or two) the gang returns looking for food and warmth. It was not a particularly tropical day although I was warm and toasty curled up on my bed with my afghan and multiple cat warmers. I'm not that hungry either, probably because of the huge bowl of buttered popcorn I devoured somewhere between "*Kramer Versus Kramer*": and "*The Big Sleep*": I **love** popcorn...particularly Orville Redenbacher's Movie Theater popcorn! A huge bowl of that topped with a little extra melted butter (you can never have enough butter) and I am in heaven! It's hot, it's lubricious, and it melts in your mouth! Who needs sex when you've got Orville?! (Don't read those last two sentences, Fisherman)

Fisherman settles his kids in, and then we settle on what to wear. We have been lucky enough to snag a dinner invite at the home of a couple of our kinky friends and we are looking forward to a grilled steak dinner with all the trimmings! A quick stop at the liquor store (what's a steak without a bottle of Chianti), a side trip for some flowers (a hostess should always get flowers), and we are knocking on their door. Sometimes just spending a vanilla evening with kinky friends is a wonderful thing.

Good movies and good popcorn in the day...good food and good friends in the evening. It's important to have not-so-crazy days like this every now and all the not-so-sane days don't seem so hard to handle. Sort of like couldn't make a steady diet of it, but a big bowl every now and then really hits the spot!

Friday, March 30, 2007

Slept in this morning. Well...I slept in until the phone rang at 8:30 and woke me up. I worked on a few work files and then decided to take the rest of the day off. I don't usually do that sort of thing but it's another sunny day and I am just not in the mood to sit at my desk and work.

I am feeling the itch to spend some quality time in the kitchen. I find that baking is a wonderful catharsis for me and when I'm seeking an outlet for my frustration or pent up energy, I know it's time to pull out the Mix Master and start breaking a few eggs! While I was getting the cream for my coffee out of the fridge earlier this morning, I noticed that I had a few blocks of cream cheese in the dairy drawer. Hmmm...unused blocks of cream cheese and the need to bake can only mean one thing...cheesecake! I had read recently a recipe for a "chocolate cheesecake": and that seemed like just the right choice!

No Friday is complete without a trip to the bank and a stop at the grocery store to stock up on food for the weekend. Fisherman will be home later today and his kids will be along at about the same time. They'll be here for the weekend and that means 2.5 days of raping and pillaging the fridge and the cupboards. Definitely a reason to replenish the milk, bread, and Kraft Dinner!

Once I was out and about, I decided to stop into my local video store and grab a movie or two. One of my internet bookmarked favorites that I like to check out at least once a week is "Rotten Tomatoes": They keep me updated on current movie releases, both in the theater and in the video store. One evening earlier this week, I did my usual internet cruise and popped onto Rotten Tomatoes to catch up on the latest cinema happenings. While I was there, I realized there were a whole crop of new movies available for rent that we hadn't seen.

Back home with groceries, movies, and money in the bank for the bills. Kicking off my shoes and changing into my comfy cooking togs I'm off to the kitchen to wreck havoc with a springform pan and Oreo cookie crumbs! I really do love to have the luxury of being in the kitchen with lots of baking supplies, a stack of recipes, and unlimited time. When tensions are high or my stress level is threatening to push me into the Dark Side, I head for the kitchen. Some people need a drink, some people need a smoke, some people pop a Prozac. I reach for chocolate chips and a wooden spoon. Interestingly enough (and fortunately for my wardrobe), I very seldom eat what I bake. Coincidentally enough, there happens to be three people living here (mostly) that are dessertaholics! The Ying and the Yang...cookies, cake, and pie never go bad in this house unless I decide to bake in the middle of the week!

It's a funny thing (in a sadistic kind of way), but every time I decide to cheat the workday and treat myself to some time in the kitchen, the interruptions seem to come along with alarming predictability. The cats need in, the cats need out, the phone rings, the doorbell rings, and people stop by for any number of interesting reasons. Nevertheless, I remain undaunted in my quest to make a cheesecake and just before the kids arrive from school and Fisherman rolls in from Washington, I manage get my freshly baked chocolate confection out of the oven and on the cooling rack.

Cheeseburgers and catch-up chatter later, we settled in for a quiet night of family and movies. The first flick on the bill was "*The Pursuit of Happyness*": I like Will Smith and I liked the movie. Fisherman and the kids commented that they found it rather depressing but I found it refreshingly honest and many of the sad, bleak pictures the movie painted are pictures that can be found right here in Victoria if you open your eyes and look. The next movie we watched was, "*Curse of the Golden Flower*": This is a Chinese film with subtitles. I liked this one too. It's an historic period piece and the set design and costuming are breathtaking. The story is loaded with lies and betrayal, and the duplicity in the House of Teng makes the Medicis look like the Waltons. Just like the first movie, I loved it and the rest of the audience here was a little put off by the sense of tragedy that pervaded throughout the film.

And so another Friday draws to a close. The movies are over, the lights are turned out, and everyone wanders off to bed. Fisherman and I snuggle up in our bed, back together again after too many nights apart. He rubs my feet with lotion and as I slowly drift off to sleep, all the worries of the day become nothing more than memories. Baking, movies, a foot rub, my Fisherman...a perfect Friday. Zzzzzzzz...

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Tonight I joined a handful of Sagacity folk at the "Ferris' Grill and Oyster Bar": for dinner. We were part of the lined-up-out-the-door crowd that showed up to have a great meal and help a great cause, the "Dining Out For Life": fundraiser. Twenty-five percent of the food revenue of all meals served goes to "AIDS Vancouver Island":, a Vancouver Island charity supporting local people living with AIDS. No one should ever need a reason to treat themselves to dinner out...but if on the off chance you do, what could be a better reason than this?

Over the last few months of living without Fisherman Monday through Friday, I have found that I tend to remain relatively *housebound* during the week. Aside from attending the Sagacity Tuesday night gatherings, I usually hit the gym while normal people are eating their dinner and then I head home to have a meal of my own with four of my best cats. Deciding to break my routine tonight provided me with a great opportunity to get out of the house and learn a new thing or two.

First, I learned that Malaysian Vegetable Curry is kick-ass spicy and the Ferris' Grill and Oyster Bar makes a yummy, got-to-have-more-than-one mojito! Note this equation for future reference:

**Curry + Mojitos = Delicious{Intoxicating} > Reason For Tums!**
It's a funny original plan when our server handed me the menu was to order my usual fare of predictable food items that I know and enjoy...not too spicy, not too mysterious. I decided to try something different and my tastebuds are still kicking my ass and smiling at the same time!

The second thing I learned is that you just never really know people unless you take the time to look beneath the top layers of appearance and social behavior. Peel an onion and layer after layer, what do you have? An onion! Peel a person and layer after layer and what do you have? An amazing collection of diverse emotions, experiences, and ideas. The conversation over dinner ran a delightful gamut. From the issues of transgendering to the historic decisions of Queen Victoria, opinions ebbed and flowed in a nonstop stream of fascinating insights. A great running commentary from everyone at the table filled with fun and interesting bits of knowledge and opinions. I am still mulling things over in my mind and wondering why I never knew before about the interesting diversity of these folks.

You know... sometimes it's good to break out of your routine. Sometimes it's good to order off the side of the menu you don't usually glance at. Sometimes it's good to look under the outer apparel of the people around you. Sometimes it's just plain good to open the forgotten door to all the possibilities. Try some curry...peel an onion...and treat yourself to dinner out when you least plan to!

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Another beautiful day! Great news for the part of me that wants to be out soaking up rays and puttering in the backyard...not-so-great news for the part of me that is supposed to be working and generating income! How sensible it would be if we were only expected to work on days with lousy weather! I bet people would smile more, take less time off, and generally not mind having to work. Well...mostly anyway.

Today was my sex-weekly (look that one up) trip to my very bossy hairdresser, Holly. Holly holds court at the Salon Amici in Royal Oak and has been my *Esthetic Enhancer* for more than a few years now. I refer to my trip as a "maintenance" visit...Holly calls it a "major overhaul"! She pushes me around, bitches at me for "fluffing" my hair, and generally tells me how I will look when she's done with me. Good thing I'm mostly a masochist! I adore her and I always leave her domain feeling a little prettier and a whole lot better about the day. They say that redheads are just blondes with a temper. Well...according to Holly, they are also ladies who get a little help from a good hairdresser and some damn expensive chemicals!

The first of The Great Pirate Adventure mailings goes out today. I can't believe it...seems like we just finished sorting out all the gear from the one last year. In fact, I think a lot of that gear is still sitting in my garage...the flotsam and jetsam that accumulates every year as Pirates sail in and out of the yet another Adventure. This year we add another day to the event and thus the need for more food, more drink, and most frightening...more money for the owners of the venue. As we begin to start putting dollar signs on the figures for this year's Adventure, I am overwhelmed with the realization of just how far Sagacity has come and the amazing success of what was originally created as nothing more than an excuse to get away for a weekend and whack on each other. The first Pirate Adventure was comprised of less than a dozen kinksters. We covered expenses of the trip out of our own purses. We ate potluck meals, shared our grog, and our sleeping space as needed. All those years ago...sitting on the deck at the old Pirate's Lair...laughing and sharing experiences. Did we really fit the whole crew on the boat back then? As we climbed aboard La Beale Isoud at the end of that first Adventure, I don't think any of us ever imagined where our Pirate ship would take us once we raised the Jolly Roger for the rest of the world to see.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

So the Fish Bowl was originally created as a place I could write all the interesting (and not-so-interesting) things I experienced on my adventure with the Edmonton O Society's "Lupercalia MMVII.": event February 15-17, 2007. If you look at the date, I guess it's pretty obvious that I sort of got lost in the Maze of Life and didn't write for a few days. Okay, a few weeks plus or minus a month. Anyway, the *Journals of the World* are full of empty pages of Good Intentions so I'll stop beating myself up over the fact that I haven't written a thing in ages and I'll just march (get the pun?) forward! From time to time (and when my memory is working) I'll try to go back and fill in some of the blanks...but no promises!

It's beautiful today. A real Spring day with lots of sun and although the breeze is still a little cool there is an occasional hint of the warm days that are fast approaching. I love this time of year...when everything wakes up and all the amazing colors that fly South with the geese every Autumn start finding their way back.

This is also a special time for me because it’s the anniversary of the first time I met Fisherman. Back in 1998 BF (Before Fisherman), Fisherman lived in Victoria, BC and I lived in upstate New York. We had communicated via phone and internet for almost 8 months and had shared our thoughts and feelings about everything from BDSM to lima beans (the first one I love, the latter item I won't even acknowledge). We hoped to meet one day but the geographic distance between us was a bit more than your standard day trip.

Maybe because we had lived right (or maybe because there was a museum conference), Fisherman announced that he would be traveling to Ottawa for business and wondered if I might also find a reason to travel to the same location. I look back on that moment...when he asked me to join him in Ottawa...and I realize that it was the first step of my BDSM journey. He wanted to meet me and be my dominant. I wanted to meet him and see if I could truly be his submissive. The days of *cyber* were behind was time to test the waters of reality and see if we would sink or swim. We settled our plans, aligned our tidetables, and off I went to meet Fisherman in person (this was also my first visit to Canada). It was scary, exhilarating, and it was the first crack in the erosion of my Vanilla world.

I met Fisherman at the "Albert House Inn": in downtown Ottawa. It is a wonderfully romantic place snuggled discreetly in the heart of downtown Ottawa, and is everything a place should be when you are meeting for the first time with BDSM on your mind, love in your heart, and a suitcase full of new, sexy underwear (because you’re not really sure just what a submissive should wear). As it turns out, the answer to that age-old question is cheap and simple...**nothing**!

http://www.faithringgold.comI was horribly nervous and scared to death that after all the time we'd spent talking and sharing thoughts and photos, somehow the reality of who I was and what I looked like would be a huge disappointment for this man I had come to adore. And what about him? What did he really look like? Were his hands as strong as I imagined them? Was his voice truly the voice that I had heard for months...filling me with desire and expectations? Would he stand as tall as I imagined? Or had I created an image based on my own fantasy needs?

I entered the Victorian entrance of the Albert House and found myself blanketed in Old World elegance and warmth. It was mid-evening and there was no one in sight. I stood for a minute, tugging at my skirt, smoothing my hair, and seriously considering the idea of turning on my wobbly legs and heading back to New York. I was terrified and excited and riding a wave of trepidation and uncertainty that threatened to send me crashing onto the rocks of Near Hysteria Beach.

A movement caught my eye and I glanced up the long staircase directly in front of me. A tall, handsome man with a sparkle in his eye looked down at me and said, "Hello my fish...welcome to Ottawa." He smiled in a lazy, comfortable way and slowly descended the staircase, his eyes never leaving mine. As he neared the bottom few steps, he extended his hand to me. Without hesitation, I slipped my hand into his and moved toward him. His touch was warm, strong, and filled me with an amazing need to belong only to him. He never finished his stairway descent. He didn't need to. Instead, I took a step up and began my climb into his heart and this lifestyle we call BDSM.

Tonight is the weekly gathering of Sagacityfolk at "The Paisley": For years, I never missed a "Tuesday night":http/main/events/tuesday/ and was always on hand to meet the new folks and hug the regulars. Over the last year, I have found that I manage to make the gatherings on a less frequent basis. I think a big part of that is based on the fact that Fisherman can't be there with me. Since the very early days of Tuesday nights, we have always been a team...he is my straight man and keeps me in check when I tend to wander off the topic or get a little too wound up about a particular issue. It's really not the same when he's not there.

I'll be there tonight, though! Now that it gets dark later I find it easier to motivate myself to get ready and go. Also, it's time to start firing everyone up for the "Fun Faire":/main/events/funfair on April 28. I love the Fun Faire, and this year we're offering up even more wild and crazy "booths":/main/sagacity/events/20062301/booths then we had last year! I will be in the Spanker's Corner again and I just found out last night that I'll be joined by one of my best girlfriends in the whole world. She and I have worked tag-team together over the years but always on a professional level. I am really looking forward to getting back into our partnership after a way-too-long haitus in a more...well...*hands-on* sort of way! Yippee, JL...the Blue Pencil Twins ride again!

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

**Happy Valentine's Day!**
All you special ladies...treat yourself to something just for you!
Sign up today for a "mammogram": and make sure that you'll be around for many more years of hearts, flowers, candy, and anything else you want to buy yourself!!

Sunday, February 11, 2007

The *Morning After* is not a kind Master. I started the day with a nasty headache and a tummy that was quite ready to continually remind me of the folly of drinking too much wine and eating too little food. Hangovers are awful and no one that has reached my age should still be dumb enough to open the door for them.

A large breakfast seemed like a good idea and I am convinced that good ole Southern hominy grits are the cure for just about any ailment that comes down the highway...hangovers included. After a hearty repast shared with Fisherman and the kids (who seemed quite relieved to discover that my Dark Side had left with the light of a new day), I begin to hope that I will actually survive to party another day...maybe.

The old adage states "there is no rest for the wicked" and this is certainly true today. Immediately after breakfast, and despite the sadistic headache I can't seem to safeword away, we are off to cruise the dollar stores in search of just the right items for our Kool Kink Kits that we'll be handing out to the attendees of our workshop at Lupercalia. This can be a rather lengthy have to find just the right things that go along with what you are planning to talk about. To be Kool *and* Kinky is not easy, and tracking down all the critical elements to make that happen can take great time and patience. The good news is that when it comes to poking around in dollar stores, I have just that kind of patience! The bad news is that Fisherman does not! I poked in bins...he growled...he poked me in the ass...I growled...and so it went until we had done all the financial damage our bank account could stand for one day.

The afternoon was spent doing all the domestic, vanilla things that most people have all week to do. Those damn grocery shopping, house-tidying, litter box-changing, laundry-organizing play scenes that just don't seem to stop even though there are no DM's (**D**omestic **M**inions) on hand to make sure they happen safely! You just jump right in and hope that you don't slip with the vacuum cleaner wand and cut the rug or blister the chicken while you're doing fireplay over the BBQ grill. When it comes to domesticity, almost all of it is nonconsensual if you ask me.

The evening was spent working on the Sagacity website and organizing our workshop material for our Lupercalia presentation. I need to do an outline that we can both discuss and fill in with our respective thoughts/ideas but we are both pretty tired from last night's "escapade" and by 11:00 we are shutting down the systems and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow Fisherman will head back to Washington until the afternoon of the 15th. Because we spent most of last night being "apart" it seems like a good idea to try and compensate for that tonight. We still have so much to do to get ready for our trip but we are both worn out emotionally and's okay to put off until tomorrow what you just can't feel good about today.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

I will think of this day as the *Day of Ceremonies*...four to be exact:

**Ceremony 1**
Fisherman and I had the privilege of being invited to a collaring ceremony between two people that are members of Sagacity and personal friends as well. It was a beautifully organized ceremony, complete with instructions on when to be there, what to do once we arrived, and how we were expected to behave once the ceremony began. On arrival, we were met at the door, and asked to choose a red or white long-stem rose that would signify our wine color preference. We were then led into the gathering area, and although it was rather embarrassing to discover we were 30 minutes early (I told Fisherman he had the time wrong), we were greeted and made to feel welcome. There was seating for guests and a lovely area where the ceremony would occur. After gently placing our roses (red for me, white for him) in respective crystal vases, we were served our wine. We were each asked to light an individual white votive candle (arrayed on a stunning wrought iron folding floor screen designed to hold many glowing candle cups). After we lit our candles, we found comfortable seating, sipped our wine, and enjoyed the time catching up with friends.

The ceremony (a Master/slave ceremony as compared to a Master/submissive one) began promptly at 1:00. The slave entered with her head lowered, dressed in a simple black evening gown with only a pseudo-collar necklace about her neck that was removed once she arrived at the ceremonial alter and knelt. She never spoke a word but there was an energy emanating from her that filled the room with delicious trepidation and joy at what would happen next. Suddenly, the sound of bagpipes filled the air and the Dominant entered the room dressed in full Scottish attire and with an attitude of surety and completeness. From the moment he entered the room, there was no doubt by any of us that what we were witnessing was always meant to be.

There was an exchange of pledges between them. He placed a new leather collar around her neck. She vowed to no longer belong to any other than him and to love and obey him with all her heart. He offered her his full protection, love, and respect. The words were amazingly complete and complex in their simplicity. It was a very moving moment and I suspect that it evoked thoughts and emotions in all of us in the room. Each of us hearing their vows and translating them into words or memories that held unique meanings for us as individuals. I found myself remembering my early days with Fisherman and wondering how it was that maybe we had forgotten some of this magic over the years of dealing with all the complexities of our vanilla lives. It was a glorious moment for them...and maybe a bit of a sad one for me (did we even remember we had a collar between us anymore?).

With the words spoken, the Dominant took his knife and held it to the flame of one of the many candles. His slave knelt at his feet, head lowered, waiting silently. When the blade began to glow a dull red, the Dominant turned to his girl, grabbed her hair, and pulled her to her feet. He then bade her look into his eyes. She saw only him. He laid the glowing blade across her left breast and claimed the breast and all that went with it. She flinched for a split second only, her eyes never left his. He lifted the blade from her blistered flesh and as he did, the corner of her lips lifted as well in the tiniest of smiles. They were now one....and everyone in the room suddenly remembered to breath again. With witnesses on hand, they both signed the ownership papers and took their first bows as Master and slave. The applause was spontaneous and delightful and they left the room to change. When they returned, there was toasting and congratulations and lots of yummy food. The new slave was put up on the cross and had the honor (ouch!) of being offered to everyone for a celebratory spank...or two...or three! Lucky girl!

The day was still young but Fisherman had some things to take care and his kids were home waiting for him. I opted to stay for a bit and herein is the reason for *Ceremony 3*. But we'll get to that soon enough.

**Ceremony 2**
With me still at the collaring party, Fisherman went home, and with his kids, gave Sally Sagacity I (the trailer) a much needed bath and makeover. This was a sad ceremony...most likely the last time that Sally will get her usual and expected TLC from a Sagacity member. Sally is going to be sold and she has many admirers so it's only a matter of days now. It's no wonder, really...she is a beauty and has had only the best of care. She will be missed by all of us that spent hours loading and unloading her and feeling very proud when she was pulled up to a venue...representing all that is successful and shiny about Sagacity. This is one ceremony I'm glad I missed.

**Ceremony 3**
Things begin to get a little complicated at this point. While Fisherman was busy handling Ceremony 2, I was busy at the collaring ceremony handling the unlimited supply of wine that kept finding its way to my glass. This was good because it made me silly and foolish and fun to be with (at least I think I was). This was not good because it made me silly and foolish and fun to be with (even if you didn't want to be with me). Fisherman and I had set a time for him to come back and pick me up. I’m still not sure whether I had the time wrong or simply forgot what it was. All I know is that it seemed like it was time for me go and Fisherman was no where to be found...and to add injury to insult, he didn't answer the phone when I called him. I felt betrayed and angry and I was quite happy to make that very clear when I finally got him on the telephone. In only a few minutes he was at the door to take me away. He was pleasant and sweet...I was mean as a snake. We got to the house, and with lots of help via my elevated blood alcohol level, I decided to change my clothes, hop in the car, and head off for more party and frolic. This was not good. Fisherman suggested I stay home for a bit and have some dinner. I told him where to put his dinner. Fisherman smiled politely. I demanded the car keys. Fisherman smiled politely again....and said, "no." I was livid! I screamed, I hollered, I swore, and the worst thing of all....I did it in front of the entire household (that would include Fisherman, his two kids, 4 cats, and 13 tropical fish). It was awful...I was awful...and in the end, I did not get the car keys. Instead, I taught Fisherman a lesson by locking myself in my daughter's bedroom (she was away for the weekend). And that was Ceremony 3...a ceremony where I made myself look pretty small and very dumb.

**Ceremony 4**
This one was short and sweet. After I locked myself away, I fell asleep (i.e., passed out) while watching an episode of House (for the 4th time I think). Fisherman came in quietly at some point to cover me up and make sure I didn't wake up in the morning with DVD player outlines all over my face. As he was tip-toeing out of the dark room, I roused myself from my drunken stupor enough to realize what was happening and where I was. I lay in the dark for a few minutes, clearing cobwebs from my brain and replaying the earlier events of the day and evening. And I suddenly realized that I needed to be sleeping with my man. Not hiding from my behavior and the betrayal of my promise so long ago. Not hiding from someone that had lived up to his promise to protect and respect me no matter what. Quietly, I went upstairs and joined him in our bed. He never spoke a word. He simply wrapped me in his arms and held me. Not all collars are visible to the naked eye. The strongest ones live in the heart.

Friday, February 9, 2007
I woke up this morning at 7:00 and realized two things before I even opened my eyes. First, I am not in my bed. At least not my "regular" bed. I am laying on the not-so-comfy bed in our new apartment on "Bainbridge Island": in Washington. I came down Wednesday afternoon to spend a little bit of time with Fisherman. Normally I am in Victoria all week but things have been really stretched lately and I wanted to reconnect with him in advance of our usual weekend chaos.

The second thing that popped into my head was the realization that one week from today at this time, Fisherman and I would already be sitting on a plane, flying the friendly skies to Edmonton for "Lupercalia MMVII.": We have been asked to present a "workshop": and be part of a whole weekend of exciting events.

I am really excited about the trip for many reasons:
- I've never been to Alberta or anywhere east of Kamloops for that matter...well at least in Canada; - It's always wonderful to go to an event where someone else has to worry about having enough toilet paper and first aid supplies on hand; - It's been a very long time since Fisherman and I have had the chance to spend four days together uninterrupted by work, kids, cats, or chores; and - We are staying in a luxury suite at the host hotel with a Jacuzzi tub and a king size bed! Oh, the decadence of it all! And did I mention the probable naughty moments?

On the downside, I'm not so excited about all this because:
- I hate flying; - Even though I am not involved in the organization of Lupercalia, I have been asked to do a workshop. This terrifies me because I'm never sure that I really have anything worth sharing with people and I'm dreadfully worried that I'll disappoint my audience; - I'll worry every day about phone messages, mail, work, my cats, and my fish; and - Luxury suites aren't cheap...even in Edmonton in February!

Fisherman worked half a day at his office and I worked on my laptop in the apartment. At 11:00 we loaded up our bags (and a few cans of Spaghetti-O's, two boxes of Cocoa Puffs, and a couple bags of Valentine's candy). We came home on the 2:00 "Coho ferry":

I don't mind the ferry ride, especially now that I can sit and watch DVDs on the new little player thingy that Fisherman gave me for my birthday. Right now, I am madly in love with the television show, "House.": I popped in Disc 2 of Season One and enjoyed the show all the way home. Well, mostly I enjoyed the show or at least what I heard of it. Fisherman didn't want to miss out on anything so we had to share earplugs. How gross is that?! I had one earplug in my right ear and he had the other in his left ear. You know, some things you just never share...toothbrushes, underwear, Kleenex. I think earplugs should be on that list too! Earplug play...not for the faint at heart!

We arrived home and settled in a little after 4:00. Fisherman's two boys arrived as soon as we got here. Because we will be away the next two weekends, Fisherman hopes to spend a bit of extra time with them this weekend. They go and cut firewood and do some "Man Stuff" and I go buy groceries and begin thinking about our upcoming workshop and all the other things I need to do before we go in only one week!

Fisherman and the boys cook dinner and I begin the long and frustrating process of getting all the "Domlander":/main/events/domlander info up on the website. In actuality it should already be there but there never seems to be enough time to make everything happen when it should. It’s funny...I remember being young and still at home and listening to my mother say those very words, "...there's just never enough time." I used to think that was the dumbest thing...heck...I was very busy wishing time would go by quicker so I would be old enough to get my driver's license and stay out past midnight on weekends! I sure wish it was that easy again. Nowadays all I do is wish that time would come to a complete stop on occasion and as far as staying up late...well...I'm very lucky to ever make it past midnight, weekends or otherwise! Hmmm...why exactly was I in such a hurry to grow up?
2008 Fishbowl