Wow, I'm sore.

I worked out very hard today, so I don't have anything bright to say here. Instead, here's some pretty shoes.

Carlos by Carlos Santana Womens Windsor Platform Pump

Primary source research and other wacky hijinks.

Over the holiday weekend (and I hoped yours rocked, too), I got sidetracked by some research. I was figuring out how modern Berlin differed in layout from World War II Berlin, especially what happened to the land where the final bunker was.

(It's an apartment block and playground now. How very cool!)

In the course of looking that up, I found a book called In the Bunker with Hitler by Bernd Freytag von  Loringhoven.

Von L, as I started to call him, was a Captain in the regular Army, and was aide-de-camp to the Army chiefs of staff- Guderian and Krebs. He describes his experiences in the Bunker from July 23, 1944 to April 29, 1945.

It's a fast,  fascinating read, and I suddenly wanted to do a paper on Group Think and the Third Reich. Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, by Irving L. Janis is one of my favorite books. This would be an amazing study, full of footnotes and quotes (and parenthetical statements).


But alas, there is only so much time in the world. So instead, I'm going to use In the Bunker... as a primary source on Hitler's behavior and personality in the last days of World War II. Some of my notes:

1. Never underestimate the power of charismatic, motivated, deluded idiot.
2. As much as it sucks, it really does help to listen to people who disagree with you.
3. As nice as it is in your own little world where your soldiers are at full strength with plenty of food, ammunition, fuel, and not being killed by your enemy, you might want to maybe, just maybe try playing make-believe.
4. The regular Army really didn't know about the war atrocities. I never understood that before, but after hearing how Hitler ran things, I see how he did it, and why. (Secret meetings with the Nazi party because he didn't trust or like the regular Army men).

This is why primary source research is the most fun of all.

Quote-tastic for the Holiday, part II

"May your walls know joy; May every room hold laughter and every window open to great possibility."
Maryanne Radmacher-Hershey

"Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down, and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountain split."
-Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm

A great deal of life consists of hurling ourselves into poorly-mapped abysses. That's how things get _done_. We can try to choose our abysses well, but there comes a time when we have to leap. Daily.
-- Patrick Nielsen Hayden

"anyone or anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you." david whyte

"Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a ****load of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but, Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes."
-Dave Eggers in "The Harvard Advocate."

Don’t let fear decide how you live, what you wear, what you say, or what you do. Identify your fear, understand it and accept it, and move on.
--Coco Graham

A bad reputation can set you free. After all, if you've already declared yourself to be a pot-smoking, acid-addled slut, your opponents are forced to oppose your ideas on their merits, rather than strategically revealing your hidden depravities. Shame is no weapon against the shameless.
-- John Perry Barlow

(so when people get snippy about writing romance, just smile and agree. "Why, yes! I am shameless!")

Inspirational Quotes.

Every one has quotes they pin up on their wall by their desks. As we close in on American Thanksgiving, I want to highlight the most important gratitude of all - that of love.


For one human being to love another:
that is perhaps the most difficult of our tasks;
the ultimate, the last test and proof,
the work for which all other work is but preparation.
-Rainer Maria Rilke

"Some day after we have mastered the winds, the waves and gravity, we will harness for God the energies of love; and then for a second time in the history of the world, humans will have discovered fire."
-Teilhard de Chardin

The subject tonight is Love
And for tomorrow night as well.
As a matter of fact I know of no better topic
For us to discuss
Until we all
Die!
-Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

"Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love."
-Leo Tolstoy

"Any thought that is not filled with love seems unholy."
-André Gide

"Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who treat you spitefully."
-Jesus Christ

"Right now, we are appearing as the very light of consciousness, alive as love, although we may require some training, like an artist would, to fully offer our self as love's gift."
-David Deida from "Waiting to Love"

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."
-Thoreau

"When I love, I love so much, it's dangerous."
-Nicole Kidman

"To love is to tilt with the lightning, two bodies routed by a single honey's
sweet."
-Pablo Neruda

When I think of you,
fireflies in the marsh rise
like the soul's jewels,
lost to eternal longing,
abandoning my body
-Izumi Shikibu

Pillowed on your thighs in a dream garden,
little flower with its perfumed stamen,
singing, sipping from the stream of you --
sunset, moonlight -- our song continues.

-Ikkyu Sojun

Celebrate what you have, every day.

A dream gave me the idea for this poem. I wrote the first draft as soon as I woke up. :)

Making Cookies

c. Linda Smith

I wrap my hand around yours and kiss your neck as we
cream butter and sugar together.

Your sari is bright and soft under my mouth as
we dance in time to your limp
to the refrigerator for eggs.

Vanilla haunts the walls
as the oven works magic.

You always
forget melted chocolate burns.
I lick your tongue all better.
Your sweetness surpasses all others.

Someday, I will lose you to the rot in
your bones.

But not today.

Today, these cookies are perfection.

My body is a temple.

Picture from National Institute of Massotherapy

I'm giving myself the present of a massage and facial today.

What presents do you like to give yourself?

Surround yourself with beauty.

I think a lot of writers have this tedious self discipline and denial attitude towards their writing. That you have to get up at 3 am or force yourself to work in order to actually finish the book.

As an eternal contrarian, I think writing is self care. I do it because it makes me feel wonderful, and therefore, I want to do it a lot. And denial breeds resentment, not joy.

So in practicing what I preach, I indulged myself in some personal beauty.

First, I got a gorgeous henna this past weekend. Sorry for the view of the sink, but that's where the light was good. :) Isn't this a beauty??

Then yesterday, I painted over a semi-circular window in our house. This window faces south and it can get quite bright in that room. I took down the fabric I'd stapled there years ago, and came up with this little confection.

Inspiration

These are the pictures that inspired Rachel and Rod:

 Doesn't she look like trouble? I see her as a rebel and daredevil.

And he looks very uptight to me. :) The kind of guy who never misses a chance to do sit ups, fill out paperwork, and dot every lowercase j.

The coolest thing about writing?

Is the odd-ball stuff my brain throws at me.

I've had this beginning rolling around in my head for a while:

“Get a load of her,” a man’s appreciative voice came across the bar.

Rod Wachowska looked up at the entrance of the club. And trouble brought all his carefully constructed fictions tumbling down.

Rachel Albin stood in the doorway, her black tuxedo jacket cut to her navel and her skirt up to her butt cheeks. And just like he had twenty years ago in high school, Rod got a present in his pants.

And from here I have some vague ideas about a reckless woman with a secret deathwish and the By-The-Book man who yearns for her. 

Give-away!

I've painted a new one-of-a-kind fan. 

Be the first person to tell me, here on this blog, in what city is the Topkapi Palace?

World War I sucked.

Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.



Note: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.

Use asbestos gloves with this one!

Mike is as turned on as I am. He gasps and with careful hands, piles my hair on top of my head so he can see my lips work him. The feel of his fingers on my scalp sends jolts down my nipples and makes me moan around his flesh.

Todd’s balls slap my lower lips as he works in and out of me. He clenches my hips hard once, then spanks my upturned ass. Surprised, I squeal and buck. The men block my motions, but not my low moan of arousal.

“I see you picked up some new tricks,” Mike murmurs in my ear and tightens his hand in my hair.

Both ends sting. In a really good, dog howling, down and dirty, let’s-get-nasty kind of way. Excitement pools in my belly at the restriction. Todd’s hand falls again and again. I can hear Todd alternately swearing and muttering something about making me not able to sit for three days. Juices surge down my thighs.
The extra moisture isn’t wasted. Todd’s diabolical thumb, completely soaked, inches a path into the dark, forbidden area of my anus. Suspended between the two men my body spasms with electric shocks.

Mike’s cock starts leaking in my mouth. His prized control is waning. I don’t know how much more I can take. I speed up my sucking to match Todd’s rhythm, knowing both men are sprinting toward the finish. I have a suspicion their orgasms will trigger another for me. I’m already trembling, barely able to keep myself on my hands and knees. It won’t take much to make me scream.

A loud speaker blares. “Shoppers, the store will be closing in five minutes. Please take your purchases to the cashier. Thank you for shopping at J. C. Penney’s.”

Maybe it was just saying Todd’s employer’s name but he lost it on the final word. Mike is seconds behind him. I’m nearly there. Todd figures it out and reaches for my clit.

“Oh, sweet fucking God,” I scream into Mike’s hip. The boys hold me up as I hang between them, shaking as the explosions leave me helpless and limp.

Oh, yeah. I’ll never despise JC Penney’s again. Hell, I’ll shop here five days a week, and twice on Saturdays from now on.

For the next sixty seconds we remain frozen like an artsy wax tableaux. Then we all move at once.

Todd draws back and zips his pants. “You’ve got to go.” His hoarse voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Really?” Mike asks, moving in a languid way designed to drive Todd as crazy as it used to make me when my mother’s footstep neared. “You don’t want another round?”

Todd’s head pivots on his shoulders as he searches the store. “Wait in the dressing room.” He points toward Sportswear. “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Mike says to Todd’s back as he hurries away.

“Have you lost your mind?” I demand as I adjust my clothing.

Mike chuckles. “I didn’t hear you complaining. But no, we’re not meeting Todd-o for another round. We just want to give him hope and a good story to tell. Besides, you still want to thank me for a lovely night.”

Warning - this is HOT.

“Nice, aren’t they?” Mike says casually.

I tilt my head back to see the hands squeezing my breasts belong to a dark haired young man with a name tag. I squint. Todd. If Todd is twenty, I’d be surprised. I glare at Mike whose response is an easy shrug. Mike and I are going to be talking about this, I can tell you.

I remind myself revenge is a dish best served cold. And right now, I’m very hot.
“Roll over.” He kneels by my face, his erection still firm in his hand. “Mr. Wiggly needs your soft lips and Todd, here, needs to sell this mattress or get a reward.”

Todd grunts at the mention of the reward. Mike tosses the younger man a foil pack and waits on me.

Mike knows I chafe at orders, so I take my time. I sit up, adjust my skirt and halter. I narrow my eyes at Todd, sizing him up. There’s a promising bulge in his chinos. Like the conspirators we’ve always been, both Mike and I grin. Todd grins back. He’s got a toothy, naughty smile, like a young Dennis Quaid. My pussy swells at the sight. This could be fun.

I roll onto my hands and knees and edge to the corner of the bed. Todd is the only one not undressed, but he’s fast on the draw. He hikes my skirt over the small of my back and reaches between my legs. Todd tips my ass up and spreads my cheeks, obviously taking a leisurely look at my pussy. I wiggle at him only to hear the condom packet rip.

My hand slides around Mike’s hard erection and remember why I’ve been excited all week. He’s got the most perfect cock. A shapely, thick head tops his veined shaft with hot red temptation.

I dream of his penis, even when I’m awake. My cubicle often wafts female arousal from my frequent fantasies. Thank heavens I’m stuffed in an unpopular corner by the stairwell.

Pressing my lips around him, I inch forward. Pre-cum dew covers the shiny head making it easy to encompass him. He groans. I open my eyelids wide and look up at him. It’s his turn to throw his head back and work his jaw. Satisfaction ripples up my spine at the knowledge he is as helpless in his lust as I am in mine. Sighing, I lose myself in the sensation of smooth skin and sweet-salty hot hard flesh in my mouth.

The sound tells me Todd’s zipper is metal. There is a moment of adjustment before he plunges inside. Normally I’m the kind of girl who likes at least a little warm up. But tonight that’s already been taken care of. And how! He slides right in and I squirm against his lengthy cock.

Todd has twenty-year-old finesse. What he does have going for him is a long strong stroke that finds sweet spots with no help from him. He’s pretty good now, but in a few years, he’ll be devastating. He pumps hard, more interested in his satisfaction than in mine. Although he may be hurrying to avoid the possibility of the unemployment line if we’re discovered.

I clench around Todd’s thick erection and shudder. Mike in my mouth, a hard nearly teenager in my cunt – this is the very definition of heaven. I can barely breathe, but I don’t care.

Bringing sexy back.

Time to get back to the naughty story!

Part One is here. Part Two, here.

Part three: Right here!


I’d normally roll my eyes at his juvenile taunt, but I’m halfway there already. The sheer naughtiness of our scenario has primped my pump, so to speak. I pinch my pleasure. The intense sensation makes me arch my neck against the cool mattress cover.

I open my eyes a fraction. He’s still out of his jeans, and he’s breathing hard. I shudder at the look on his face. I shove two fingers in me, and my pussy clenches them hard. It wants something else to hang onto. I’d gotten wet the minute he opened his apartment door for me and now I’m getting what I need. I pet my clit and grind against my fingers. Breath wheezes through my teeth.

"yeah, like that.” He leans over the bed, breathes me in. Bracing one hand beside me, he gives his penis a twisting caress. “Stroke your clit like a little cock for me. Jack it.”

I obey. My head rolls back and forth against the mattress, lost in the sensations. Clenching my jaw, I hold back a sound. It might have been a wail, or even a groan, but it doesn’t matter. Five days of tension, since his out-of-the-blue call, have me reaching my crest.

My hips come off the mattress as I dig my heels in, tucking them almost under me. I’m spread so wide my thighs tremble. Lights strobe under my eyelids.

After all these years, Mike’s looking at me again with his hot blue eyes. I haven’t felt this aroused in I don’t know how long. My mind screams. Give me what I need. My body rolls toward orgasm. I’m so close to my peak.

“Open wide, baby,” he whispers and strokes my chin. “Take me deep.”

But I can’t. The sandalwood scent of Mike’s crotch is my final trigger, and then I’m too far over the edge to relax my jaw.

“Oh, Jesus,” I moan. My body clenches in convulsions. My neck arches against the mattress as the orgasm sends hot electric shocks up and down my torso.

I pant as my vagina ripples, mostly sated, but still hungry, against my fingers.

Hands push my black halter top aside, clasp my breasts, and knead. Clever fingers twist my nipples.

Breathing takes all my concentration. I need to force my eyes open, though. Mike is waiting on me. I’m dying to know what my performance has done for him.

Sometimes, a girl just needs some saddleshoes.

Are these NOT the most darling things ever???

The places I work: part three

Yesterday, I worked at Insomnia Coffee Company.  This quirky, fun space is filled with other people on laptops, music, and really really good coffee. Like, Vienna levels of good coffee!

The places I work: part two

Crazily enough, sometimes I like to work at home. Yesterday I worked at my dining room table.

I like being surrounded by the paintings that I've made for the house.

The one on the right is based on a Persian textile detail.

Something about spreading out on the table makes me feel relaxed and homey.

This is a picture I painted that is in the living room, but I can see it from the dining room when I work there.

The places I work.

I like variety. I work best when I feel permitted to work wherever I want. I could be at my desk, at a library, a coffee shop, or even the sofa with my computer on my lap. This week, I'm going to showcase a few places I like to work.

Yesterday, I went to the Hillsboro Public Library.  I particularly like this location because it is in a beautiful building with great staff. It overlooks a complex of ponds and walking paths and has abundant natural light. I also used to work for this library system, and several of the librarians still know me. They are always interested and encouraging of my new career.

The view from the window.

 I like being places where I am inspired by other people working. Also, it's encouraging to see all these books that have been published. They tell me that even though writing is hard, it is worth it.

I usually take off all my jewelery when I write. I'm not sure why.

More groovy places coming up!