Paging VJ Summers!

Yes. I vanished. And I was *very* aware of it.

11958304_889160474503660_5374665112356398694_o

No excuses, but here’s my last two weeks:

  • The flu. I won’t elaborate other than to say that for a week I wanted to DIE.
  • Mama Drama. Apparently Advanced Directives only count when the nurse *reads* them. (Mom’s fine – just Villa seems to be making up reasons to transport her to the hospital when A) there’s no reason and B) it’s expressly forbidden in her AD. So frustrating! FOUR calls in five weeks, for Pete’s sake!)
  • Sick kitty! And not Gandalf for a change! #2 kitty, Velcro, managed to get swatted in the face, and the wound on her cheek festered. Bleck. So after a week of finding the wound (black fur – not easy to see through. We though it was an eye infection for a week!), getting her to the vet, and now doing the home treatments (God help me), I’ve lost a good couple hours a day regularly. Ugh!)

2015-10-16 19.41.01

So, blogging sorta slipped by the wayside. As yet another apology, here’s an extended ManCandy, Friday Guilt Edition. Enjoy!

12096498_10206187353776217_3102000069042765078_n

His job is to lock me to the computer, cuz I *need* to be writing MOAR!10424982_1460956934217260_3475098635689847799_n 20120305-041503Their job is inspiration, ┬ábecause I’m writing BDSM!

Have a fantastic Halloween weekend!

Advertisements

I Blame Marie Sexton

As you are reading this, I am hurtling down I-75, on my way to Blissfest. And what, you ask, is Blissfest? An orgy? A psychotropic experience? Well, maybe, though probably not for me as The Kid is coming along.

No, Blissfest is a weekend long folk music festival at which one camps. In a tent. With port-a-potties. And they’re too far away for midnight potty needs.

Actually, when I’ve gone in the past (the far past, when I was much more enthusiastic about peeing outdoors) it’s been a wonderful experience. The music is good. The people are friendly…and exceedingly mellow (go figure, snicker) and I came home relaxed, sun kissed and happy. Of course those times *I* wasn’t the one putting up the tent.

So how is this Marie Sexton’s fault?

Well, I recently re-read her most excellent Promises, which reminded me of the equally excellent A to Z, in which the MC’s meet up at…a folk music festival. No sooner did I read them, than I got a “Happy Bliss” email from a friend from my mis-spent youth (HA! I was frighteningly stodgy) and I thought, “I must go! I shall see Jared and Matt, and Zach and (most especially) Angelo!” Because yeah, they’re real people.

So, hopefully I’ll be back Sunday night tanned and relaxed, and sharing pictures and stories. (No anticipatory pics as I’m posting this from the most miraculous Nook)

In the mean time, pray that I don’t end up with poison ivy, or ticks, or – God forbid – earwigs! (Remind me to tell you the earwig story sometime. Did you know their bodies are hinged, and when they scuttle across the ceiling…?)