Creative Writing · Girl Stuff · Health · Humor · Humour · Life · Men's Issues · Relationships · Singles · Women's Issues · Writing

And Then He Kissed Me – Again – No Kidding This Time

John Quinlan
John Quinlan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The universe has a silly and cruel way of picking me up, putting me over its’ knee, and giving me a hard tap on the bottom whenever I think I know what to expect.

As deliciously seductive as that may sound, I like to think that I’m more mature than that darlings.

I like to think that having been around the block a time or two, I know every trick in the book. I like to think that, but I’m wrong, wrong, terribly wrong, when it comes to some matters of the heart.

If you read my last post, “And Then He Kissed Me”, you’ll know that I was giving some of you a bit of a tweak on the bottom to get up, out, and onto the next lucky lover.

Today, I walked right smack-dab into the middle of a grand spanking of consciousness.   The universe is trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what it is. Perhaps, as my friend Darleen thinks, it’s simply telling me to quit going to my favourite coffee shop. Thank you, Darleen for your pragmatism.

This morning, waiting for my half-sweet-whatever-was-brewing, I experienced  that eerie feeling of being watched. Looking up, who caught my eye? No, not some long-lost love my darlings.  It happened to be a-not-so-long-lost-I-don’t-know-what-to-call-him.

I wouldn’t call him a ‘fling’. It didn’t last long enough for that.  I wouldn’t call him a lover, although we do have some intimate knowledge of one another. I wouldn’t call him anything other than a brief blip on my man-radar. An entertaining little shenanigan which lasted one rather long Saturday , into the wee hours of the next morning.

I do seem to recall having nicknamed him,  “L’Enfant” when recounting our chance second meeting to my fabulous, but very married gal-pals.

You see, I met L’Enfant over a year ago while doing some writing on a snowy December evening.  I politely declined getting together due to our vast age difference (ok darlings, not so politely – I stood the poor kid up at the very last minute).

We met yet again this spring, and I thought it was more than just coincidence, so I consented to one simple day time get-together in a public place. You know, just to see if perhaps my kinky universe would reveal a greater purpose. It did not.

On the surface this charming young man was entertaining, inspiring, and a huge shot in the arm for my ego. But I know better than to indulge in something like that. There is always fallout, and inevitably, a small piece of jagged shrapnel gets imbedded deeply in my psyche and wiggles around, causing discomfort for years.

I took the encounter for what it was – a distraction from the mundane, and an experience to reinforce my idea that I shall no longer waste my time on men who do not hold the promise of something  absolutely delicious and sustainable.

So, today, as the barista finished making my whatever-you-want-to-call-it, I took a seat across from L’Enfant, and chatted with him about his work, the Syrian crisis, the new iPhone, and sports. That is all.

I wonder about meeting this little cutie-patootie for a third time by chance. I simply wonder.  If he were 10 years older I wouldn’t be sitting here typing about my curiosity. Instead, I would have found a way to be making unabashed, passionate love to this fellow under blankets by the river…..

Perhaps the universe is just feeding my imagination for a while, stirring hope, wonder and a bit of inspiration?

Time will tell my sweet little peaches. Time will tell….




Creative Writing · Entertainment · Girl Stuff · Health · Humor · Humour · Life · Men's Issues · Relationships · Singles · Uncategorized · Women's Issues · Writing

And Then He Kissed Me

Situations such as this, a man about to kiss a...
Situations such as this, a man about to kiss a woman who is in bed in her nightgown (Warren William and Ann Dvorak from Three on a Match), were one of the things the Production Code took aim at. After 1934, a scene such as this would not be seen in a Hollywood film for decades. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve been having one of those weeks for a couple of years now. You know what I mean. Those weeks.

The kind of week that bleeds into a couple of years, a bigger waist size, and earlier bedtimes. Don’t turn your back on me darling, I know you have them too.

Even though the stretches of mundane-doldrums seem to get longer as we get older, there are still opportunities for spontenaity, and dare I say affairs of the heart?

Last night I had a most-harlequin-inspired experience. A tall, dark and handsome past love of mine showed up on my cool, crips, fall doorstep.  I used to joke around with one of my past hot-lovers that unless Mr. Wonderful came knocking on my door I would likely not be meeting anyone to share the joy of my smouldering feminine side.

But last night, it happened.  I was fresh from a hot soak, and a very generous glass of bourbon. I had spent a full hour pampering myself, shaving the picky bits, polishing the smooth bits, and getting lost in past escapades with my yummy lovers.

I had settled into a fresh nightie, and was cozied up in the duvet with a thick book, and another helping of Kentucky’s finest when I heard a knock at my patio door.  Had I been completely and utterly sober, I likely would have held my breath and panicked at who might be waiting on the other side of the dark door.

Under the circumstances, I was about as mellow as a girl can get before fading into dreamland, and without a thought I jumped up and brushed the blinds aside, peering out into the darkness.

On the other side was one of the fine specimens who had crawled into my memory earlier,  with his charming smile, warm lips and hot thighs.

Under the circumstances, my mind did not leap to, “What the hell are you doing here?”, or wondering if he had come to inform me of some sexually transmitted disease that would render my tender bits a festering wound of death.  Instead, I opened the door.

“I missed you,” he said, right before he stepped inside and wrapped me in a wonderfully passionate embrace complete with warm, wet, kisses and a hard hello on the other side of his trousers.

Pretty freaking amazing isn’t it my darlings? Pretty hot!

Also, pretty freaking unlikely my innocent little bundles of apple crisp. 

If you’re in a bit of a rut like me, if your cynical side has wrestled your romantic girly-girl into begging-uncle submission, I suggest you remember all of the wonderful, gentle, sexy and kind men out there who are looking for a classy gal like you.

Go ahead, get out there. Drag yourself to the café, to the fair, to the party…it’s true, Mr. Wonderful won’t likely come knocking at your door. You’ll have to find him yourself.

But just in case, never go to bed ugly.

Creative Writing · Economics · Education · Girl Stuff · Health · Life · Men's Issues · Politics · Spirituality · Uncategorized · Women's Issues · Writing

Work Schmirk

Computer cubicles inside the Digital and Multi...
Computer cubicles inside the Digital and Multimedia Center (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

WORK – noun, adjective, verb, worked or wrought/ working.

1. Exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something; labour; toil.
Work, you know what I’m talking about right? That  nebulous, mundane thing that folks talk about doing every day?  The stuff you do to pay your bills and take your bi-annual much-deserved vacations?
Work – the very thing that makes some of you wonderful little plums dread Monday morning.
We all work. Whether it’s around the house, or in the yard, or on something we take up as a hobby. Perhaps it’s even your 9-5 pay-cheque gathering activity darling.
Of all the things people say about ‘work’, I think that this quote by the brilliant poet Charles Bukowski describes it best;
How in the hell could a person enjoy being awakened at 6:30am by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress,  force feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, fight traffic, to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?
I have met people who complain about their suffering because they have chosen long commutes over time with their young families. I have also met people who chose to ‘work’ as little as possible and pursue their happiness elsewhere.
Ideally, we all get the opportunity to work at something we find meaningful and feel passionately about.
At the very least we should all work just enough to be able to have time and resources to pursue our great loves; Family, Spirituality and Art.
Stay fabulous my delicate peaches, and don’t let work dull your sparkle.
Creative Writing · Entertaining · Girl Stuff · Health · Humor · Humour · Life · Men's Issues · Poetry · Relationships · Spirituality · Uncategorized · Women's Issues · Writing

Ode on a White Wine Spritzer

Ode on a White Wine Spritzer

" I prefer tongue-tied knowledge than ignorant loquacity." ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero~
” I prefer tongue-tied knowledge than ignorant loquacity.”
~ Marcus Tullius Cicero~

Oh succulent mixture!

Thou light-golden elixir of joy,

no questions or needs

simply an offering of intoxicating abundance.

Oh delightful beverage of low alcohol content

you offer me not one but two helpings of meditative nourishment!

By night I bask in the sunset of your succulent afterglow

By day I am lost;

the memory of your sweet taste on my lips,

how you warm my body and soul  from the inside, out.

Le sigh White Wine Spritzer,

Le sigh….

I shall remain forever bewitched;

forever devoted to you and your subtle charms.

Creative Writing · Economics · Education · Entertainment · Girl Stuff · Health · Humor · Humour · Life · Men's Issues · Music · Poetry · Politics · Relationships · Singles · Spirituality · Uncategorized · Women's Issues · Writing

What’s Up With That?!

HENRY O'HARA CLIVE Seaside Flirtation, calenda...
HENRY O’HARA CLIVE Seaside Flirtation, calendar illustration, c. 1925 (Photo credit: Fred Seibert)

Today was a long day darlings.

Having only realized my lack of ice-cold club soda upon arriving home, I had to substitute champagne.

Given the hooch-tragedy, I decided to go all out fabulously-girly and enjoy it while soaking neck-deep in a bubble bath.

Immediately after the bubbles hit my blood stream I  became relaxed and inspired by sublime genious. In the candlelit room, serenaded by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone, I wondered about;

1) How someone so ugly on the inside can be almost as ugly on the outside – Bashir Al  (now that’s downright ug-lee). Are we really wasting time playing this idiot’s game? Seriously. How can this breathing example of satan still be standing when innocent kids get shot on the street. Just the thought almost makes me want to switch from bubbly to bourbon.

2) Why does our conscience evolve to higher ethical and moral standards at a point in life where day-to-day stress and our need for physical connection are both at their height? Getting laid is far more work than it’s worth, and with a more discerning conscious, it’s like having a got-lucky-hangover the next day.  Call me.

3) I wonder if it would be ok to kick someone in the wiggly bits for routinely disrespecting my time?

4)  Do most women appreciate that they peak physically in their early 30’s as acutely as I did?

5) Why do we celebrate when things are going well for people? For example, we celebrate births, graduations and weddings. How about middle age spread where your friends would buy gift cards to clothing stores, showers for folks who are celebrating over a decade of being single (goodness knows I could certainly use some new tea towels and small appliances), or perhaps even celebrating your first complete calendar year taking anti-depressant medication?  That shit would rock!

6) Morning radio. We want a quick review of traffic, news and some music. I don’t want to hear some patronizing, politically, correct, melodramatic rant that goes on for half of my commute. Shut your trap and play some music already. Perhaps I need to call in tomorrow morning just to get this off my luscious chest.

7) Would it all be ok if one day we just decided to walk out on our life as we know it? What if one day you just didn’t go to work, pay your bills and wandered the planet dependent on the kindness of others? If my bubble-bath-champagne-fuelled opinion counts for anything, I think we’d all be considerably more happy. I’m sure some foot pervert would happily maintain my pedicures and you’d share your bourbon with me wouldn’t you darling?

8) How much talking does the weather-person have to freaking do? Just tell us the temperature, the type of precipitation, and if there’s a twister on the way you annoying-waste-of-time! Sheesh!

9) People who call to schedule appointments through the work day, and complain, ” But I work.” Yah? Really? I work too – do the math. We all work, see # 3, and appreciate we all like to be treated with the same respect.

10) How come my pizza guy always looks like a brow-beaten-on-the-edge-of-starvation character out of the Grapes of Wrath and not a porn star?

Yes, that covers the tiniest bit of what travelled through  my wee little girl brain tonight as I soaked my voluptuous, inebriated body in a deep, hot, bath.

I think I could be verging on genius. Of course, I think you are too darlings. Really, I do.

After having those not so charming questions loll around my pretty little head, I have decided to head straight for a protracted state of champagne-denial. Life is good my sweet little peaches, you just have to think it so.

Creative Writing · Entertaining · Health · Life · Uncategorized · Writing

Anticipating Autumn

fall sceneThat’s it. They’ve rolled up the sidewalks, and declared the end of summer.

The beaches are alone tonight, the tide relaxed in the moonlight.   The swimming pools have wrapped their chain-link towels around themselves and declared their secret depths off-limits until the sun shines in 2014.

As the evening of Labour Day marks the end of summer, it also beckons you to come peek at what’s coming next.


Summer has been a flash this year my darlings.  My gin and tonics were few and far between. I knew that it would be a whirlwind of work and settling into a new routine. Instead of time off, I’ve had to settle for white-wine spritzers while standing by the BBQ, grilling up a quick dinner.

As much as I’ve always loved the freedom of summertime, I have always, always, always loved September my tart little apples.

With a schoolgirl heart, I look forward to the routine, the cozy cool evenings and the bold beautiful show that mother nature puts on for us all.  It’s time to take stock, check out which parts of life are abundant, and which need a little more attention.

Career in line – check.  Kiddo ready for high school – check. Summer berries and yummies preserved on  the shelf – check.

As summer closes her youthful eyes, Autumn is sweeping across the land.  I’m dreaming of some cozy nights at home with my new man (he doesn’t know it yet), giving ‘thanks’ with good friends, a girls’ roadtrip, making candy apples, applecrisp, pear and pumpkin pies and hiking through our beautiful forests.

Red wine, warm cognac, bourbon straight up, and long, passionate kisses on the trail as the sun sets. Rich stews and soups after days at the market and roadtripping together. Rainy Sunday afternoons, curled under a blanket with a book that never ends, roast in the oven, and leaves waltzing to the ground.

I love fall because it’s time to tuck in and cozy up with all that I hold close to my heart.

Wishing you hope, gratitude and a deliciously cuddly love-of-your-life  to snuggle up with by the fireplace as the air grows crisp and  days grow  shorter.