Wednesday, March 21, 2012

hey diddle, diddle

Spring has sprung locally and the air is full of sperm. Sure, some persist in calling the floating, ubiquitous yellow bits "pollen", but it's sperm, nonetheless.
After all, consider the source, shall we? Pollen is a fine powdery substance which contains the male gametes of a seed-bearing plant - that is, pollen is the fertilizing material released by the anthers of a plant. The anthers, a two-lobed structure at the tip of a thin, stem-like appendage, rupture when the pollen sacs within the lobes mature, releasing hundreds and thousands of egg-fertilizing cells. Sure sounds like SPERM to me!
It smells like sperm to me, too, and leads to a non-specific, near-constant horniness on my part. I've recognized this same effect of pollen in others as well; folks have an increased proclivity toward coupling during this part of the year (and again in the fall, when other flowering species are prolific).
As I am an analytical chemist, my specialty is pattern recognition, a type of puzzle solving. Sometimes there are so many variables at play that the true problem is isolating the key factor responsible for a pervasive behavior or response. I do believe the pollen is the dominant factor in the increase of sexual activity which coincides with the blooming of so much local flora.
My response is NOT to rush over to the nearest guy with a pulse to get a bit of action, a bit of the old in-out, so to speak. I'm not inclined toward one-nighters these days, not am I in search of a long-term mate, so what's a warm-bodied gal to do with herself?
Well, as my BFF would say, "a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do!" But what to CALL it? "Diddling" seems utterly ineffectual and implies that one has all day to spend on the act. No. Climax should be accomplished within about twenty minutes or less, so a girl can get on with other important matters.
I have a personal fondness for the phrase "jerking off", though that seems to be regarded as a male-only expression. "Jacking off" and "whacking off" are also viewed as not quite appropriate for females. I have three brothers and have worked alongside men my entire life, so perhaps that explains my attraction to the term.
"Masturbate" is hard and clinical and I don't like it; it contains neither joy nor humor. ANY act of sex should include both joy and humor for maximum enjoyment by any, and all, parties present.
When I was a sailor, I found out about "Rosie Palmer and her five talented dancing sisters" and, I must admit, that expression ALWAYS brings a smile! True, a lesbian friend is the one who shared the phrase, so some might say those who are "strictly dickly" should abstain from its usage. I say those folk need to lighten up ... and maybe get diddled!

Sunday, March 18, 2012

three nieces and a girls' night out

I have been blessed with a day in the company of women! Three of my nieces came by my house and visited with me. Then I rounded out the day with five new friends at Ruby Tuesday's for an evening of food, fun tales, and jokes. Who could ask for more?
Mid-morning yesterday, I had the first of three visiting angels - this was the stepdaughter of my eldest brother. She came full of concern for me, as I had called her in a panic last night about my need to disperse Mama's possessions to new homes. She gratefully accepted the many teapots, leaving a couple for another niece after conversing with her on my phone. She also accepted a framed studio picture of Mama and Frank, or Grammy and Pop as she knew them, as well as a few other loose pictures. I carefully boxed all the breakables and helped her take all to the car. What a relief to me!
The second angel was the daughter of my stepbrother. I had asked her if she would like Mama's Franciscan stoneware and, to my joy, she accepted. The stoneware is the Desert Rose pattern and is something Mama had wanted for many years. With her retirement check, she purchased service for eight: dinner plates, bread plates, bowls, teacups, and saucers. She included a covered casserole dish and two large bowls, as well as eight water glasses embossed with the motif and still in the box. This niece was thrilled to have something so dear to her Grammy! And I was thrilled to give it to her, to use with her young family for the years ahead. I know Mama would have been pleased.
I also sent her away with one of the framed studio portraits, as well as some of Mama's jewelry for my great-niece. I had wondered what to do with the jewelry. Most of it wasn't "real" stuff, just fun, pretty pieces Mama had collected over the years. I'm not much on wearing jewelry and neither was this niece - but she said her daughter was! Bingo! So I loaded her up with fun pieces for her daughter (and have some set aside for the daughter of my first visiting angel of the day).
My next visitor was a surprise! This angel is the daughter of my middle brother, the one who is most like me in appearance. She had ostensibly come by to pick up the remaining teapots, but mostly I think it was to sit with me and make sure I was doing okay. She went through photos with me and we talked and I showed her the picture of Mama laughing at the office party. I had thought it might have been her retirement party. No. "Grammy looks so young in this picture! When was it taken?" What does it say on the cake?" "What is that metal crown she's wearing?"
What?! I took a close, calm look at the Polaroids. These were NOT from her retirement party; these marked her leaving the mill as a department clerk to work as the secretary for the mill manager. These were probably 30 years old, maybe older, and featured her as the Wonder Woman of the department, complete with crown and cuffs fashioned by the fellows in the machine shop.
What a great burden lifted from my mind and my shoulders! The teapots had new homes, the stoneware had a family to serve, and a misunderstanding on my part had been resolved! Thank you, thank you, thank you, my three angels, my three nieces, three who loved my mother dearly.

Friday, March 16, 2012

loss, neverending

Yesterday didn't go very well. My niece did not come by, nor did my brother who had promised to work on the house and close up the area above my sunroom. So I was home alone, going through the mound of things retrieved from my stepdad's house almost a month ago. I say "retrieved", but actually I should say "forced upon me". My two stepsisters were there trying to get the house clear so it could be shown and sold. Quite a few of Mama's things were still there, more than eleven years after her death.
I knew the teapots were there, as they greeted me on each visit to Frank and each family gathering, but not some of the other things. I had not realized there would be bits of paper bearing her handwriting in the teapots, chronicling the givers and dates when the pretty things became hers. A couple of the teapots had belonged to Grandma and could be most easily differentiated from the others by one trait: they contained matchbooks and matchboxes.
I had not realized some of Mama's clothes would still be there, including the dress in which she wed my stepdad and the dress she wore to my wedding in 1992. There was also a party dress, a gold and black fluttery evening gown for special times. I'm not sure if I recall her wearing it, but I can certainly picture her doing so.
And speaking of pictures - oh, my. Pictures in old, stained photo albums of marriages long dissolved for two of my brothers. Aging photographs of the snowy Christmas in 1989 and of a long-gone summer cook-out when the children were young and the grandkids were few. Pictures in frames, pictures in drugstore folders, pictures loose in the bag from Sipple's Mortuary.
Most of the pictures were of family members at young ages. But some pictures were of Mama. I found several in an old birthday card for Frank, a card that spoke of a pink bunny that "kept going and going", referencing an inside joke.
I found others in a going-away card from folks Mama worked with. Most of these photos were aging Polaroids of a fun time at an office party, but one caused me to burst into tears. In that one image, Mama was laughing and clearly having a great time and I realized how much I missed her laughter. How much I missed her voice. How much I missed her.
That image follwed me around all day yesterday, bringing sobs each time. I even cried myself to sleep last night and had tears with my breakfast this morning. I truly must get some of her dear possessions out of my house. They only emphasize how much I miss her.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

up, up, up we go!

Tuesday and Wednesday were wonderful! All was well again, after a false start on my "stay-cation".
On Tuesday, I went to my ex-bird's for lunch. He has purchased a new nest, here in town, thanks to the Dream Maker program. He now has a NEW two-story, 3-bedroom home in a revitalized neighborhood, a home which has twice the square footage of my 60+ years old, 3-bedroom home. He didn't have to have a downpayment, he paid no closing costs, and the city gave him a $60,000 grant toward the cost of the house, so he only had to finance the balance. I've been spreading the news to anyone who would listen, including some of my nieces and nephews who are now married and in their mid to late twenties.
He had promised a barbecue chicken dinner, home cooked; instead, we dined on beef brisket from the local place around the corner from his new home. Pretty good sauce! Then he had me work for my meal! No, not really... maybe, though! We had no sooner finished eating than he had a phone call: the movers were on their way to deliver his beds for the two upper rooms and needed directions. I should have gone ahead and left while I had the chance! No, just kidding! I ended up volunteering my services to help him assemble the beds, as well as his new coffee table and two end tables for the living room. It was rather nice to do something constructive and see an end product materialize right in front of me!
With that inspiration, I headed to the bank to take care of some paperwork LONG overdue. How long, you ask? Well... since August of 2008. What??? Yeah, I know, pretty slack on my part, but, as I explained to the young man who handled the matter with me, I was a bit overwhelmed with changes at the time and this was the one thing that could be dealt with later. And so it was. And now it's DONE! My trust now has its own identification and is funded, so I can truly rest assured that all will be taken care of as I wish in the future. Whew!
I then bopped over and had my passport photo taken for my upcoming trip to Italy. Woohoo!!! By this time, it was too late to mail off the renewal, but I did so on Wednesday morning. Whew, another important task DONE! Then off to see some old friends and have lunch at one of my favorite places, Hibachi Grill. Love all those veggies, cooked on that hot griddle!
A trip to Hinesville was next on my agenda. My debit card had a close encounter with a magnet and needed to be replaced, plus that particular account also needed to find its way to my trust. Yes, I know that could have been handled online - but it was a beautiful day and I needed to feel the highway breeze on my face. And so I did. And so that was all DONE!
My taxes were all done, too. I had handled that late last week and received word that both the federal and state had been accepted by the great ethernet beings. Tuesday night I paid the federal and crossed that off my list. Next week, I'll mail the state a check for my balance due. What, no refunds?? Hey, at least I know I didn't "loan" the government money at a 0% interest rate, which is certainly what you've done if you do "receive" a refund.
So, I return from the military town and make a pit stop at the school to drop off two sets of graded tests and three sets of graded post-lab reports. Yeah!!! My request for dinner company is greeted with enthusiasm by my coppery friend and then it's over to meet her at a favorite restaurant, coupon in hand. Ah, yummy Italian food and good company at the end of a successful day!
Now, I await the arrival of a niece...

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

rollercoaster Monday

This has been Spring Break for me this week, and what a ride I've had! Usually, I would have bounced down to Orlando or up to Myrtle Beach or SOMEWHERE. This time I decided to stay home, especially as I have two short weekend trips coming up and then a trip overseas in a couple of months.
Monday, the first day, was a bit slow. I really didn't get much of anything done, but that was okay - I'm on break, right? But part of the reason I took it slowly and just hung out at home was to be available to "be there" for my middle brother. He had called on Sunday to let me know a friend of his had died and to ask if I could take him to the visitation and funeral service from the next day. Without hesitation, I agreed to do so and even set up the time when I would pick him up. (Long story short: he has no car or license to drive one.) Even though I had other plans for my Monday evening, plans made weeks ago, plans for this very time frame when he was needing a ride, I agreed.
My mistake. I was thinking of MY reaction to a friend's untimely death, how such news would affect ME, and I assumed HE was affected in that same way. No. In hindsight, I think he only asked because his dead friend's brother was sitting right there when he called me; he was trying to make a good appearance.
So, Monday afternoon, I called to let him know I was coming and he informed me that he was still at work, almost 90 minutes away, and didn't think he was going to be able to make it for his friend. I reassured him that the visitation was walk-in and any time before 7 PM would be fine. The important thing was to not miss the service at 7 PM. He said he would call me when he got home.
Alarm bells should have gone off right then. I should have gone ahead with my earlier plans. Instead, I subjugated my desires and cooled my jets waiting for his call. After two hours, he did call. He was home, he said, but he was tired and he didn't think he wanted to go to the service after all. Really??? I said "I thought you wanted to be there for the man's brother. I thought this guy was such a good friend to you." No, he was tired and didn't want to go through all that.
Really??? I was so very aggravated with him when I got off the phone, but i was also aggravated with ME. After all these years, I still look for him to change. He's going to be fifty years old in July. He has spent half of a century on this planet, living his life however he wants, caring little to naught about how his actions affect others. And me? I certainly know how he is and yet I changed my plans. Argh!
Still, the evening wasn't a complete wash. After sulking and being ticked off, I decided to go to a movie with a free pass from a few weeks back (the theatre had the wrong film). I called a friend who also had that same free pass to see if he might be up for a late movie - and he was! I suggested the two movies I was interested in, but let him choose. Good decision on my part as well as his! The movie was MUCH better than I had expected and quite funny! And just that easily the night was salvaged and so was my outlook.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

dance

I want a man who loves to dance and loves to dance well.
At the Francophone Film Festival a couple of weeks ago, I had an epiphany whilst watching a Russian intrigue film. The scene was of a strayed husband trying to convince his wife of his love for her, but he wasn't using words. Oh, no. He used music. He first let the rhythm of the music move his body, catching her eyes, trying to convince her to join him. Then he takes her hand and pulls her close and their bodies are swaying to the beat, warming to each other's heat, and the words popped out of my mouth: "I want that."
I didn't mean that particular man, of course. I want a man who knows how to move and knows how to hold me and I just realized that I'm back to wanting impossible things. Seriously? How is a man supposed to know how to hold me? Really.
I do have a "brother from another mother" who does quite well with the holding me. When we hug, he holds me - "tightly" is not quite the word, "securely" is a bit off, too - until I can breathe again. At least, that's my description for it. He holds me until I soften and sigh and the world becomes warmer.
I don't necessarily "want a man with a slow hand", as the song goes, but I do want a man who can dance slowly and gracefully and move me all over the dance floor.
Maybe I need to take some dance lessons...