So, Star Wars…..the trailers were better than the movie.

I have rarely been so disappointed.

Main Hero and Villians demasculinized and clear lines of good and evil blurred. It used to be a story in which the good guys were accountable to be good and the evil were badass evil. Darth Vader could take out a whole battalion by himself, throw everything you got at him and he would still crush you – himself. (Read the “Vader Down” comic).

I get that heros make mistakes, and the cool part about going to a “cowboys in space” epic is that you can count on them lifting themselves up and getting on with being a hero gloriously. Obi-Wan watched over Luke, progressed his learning, waited patiently for the next positive move he could make after failing to see what was happening with his padawan and tragically having to take Anakin down. He was not demasculinized as a character in the story line. Luke destroyed a Space Station for the greater good, twice and was a hero legend. I’m not buying the storyline Disney gave him, it isn’t hero-worthy. Before Disney redid things, it was Mara Jade who confronted Kylo Ren for the evil in him and Kylo killed her. Our hero, Luke , was in a better place to be a hero and deal with the situation and our villian was evil. That is Star Wars, that’s what was great about it.

We are now left with an awesome Rey and a whinny, temper-tandrum child-who-ruined-his-mask-because-it-was-pointed-out-to-him Villian. That isn’t a Villian, that is a badly behaved child. He isn’t the boy I see Princess Leah raising. She would have had him to guide for all of his formative years. Princess Leah allowing whinning and temper tandrums. No pass. Not even.

Dropping bombs in space? Having to drop a bomb in space by hovering over the target? OMG, LMAO.

Sigh, it goes on….so, let’s just leave it that I cancelled my “see it again tickets” and argh, how disappointing!

My hairdresser. 

I have gone to the same hair salon for 35 years.   Love you Gino at Rizzi Hair Salon in Encino. 

And yes, that is me at 9 am with zero make up on this morning. 

Family at Holidays.

Mom and I have an ackward relationship, at best.

She thinks I do fetish and “such” modeling.  Yep, that was the best I could do. 

The Morman Church looks after Mom and my youngest brother.  They have given to the church all their family lives and bless this church, they take care of their own no matter what.  I got a call from the Morman Church saying my youngest brother watched too much porn and they wanted to know what to do about it. [Insert silent gasping inside, hoping my youngest brother hadn’t found my porn]  I told them I didn’t think watching porn was bad, as long as he was doing his job and handling his life responsibly.  He wasn’t and that is another topic I am not writing about now.  

Anyways, no, I did not say I did porn.  Sigh.  Please, Forgive me.

And no, I am not Morman.  I went to my Grandma’s church.

I have a broken immediate family.  Dad was an abuser.  Mom was an enabler. Most of my life I just didn’t talk to them.  My brother and I were brought up by Grandma (on my Mother’s side).  My brother was in a body cast from 6 weeks to 3 years, so, yes, my Dad really was that bad.  They had one more son.  He was raised by them.  He was taken away when he was 11 years old and given back because they could not find a home that would keep him.  Yes, he really was that ill behaved. There was a lovely call in the middle of the night once, it was Mom and she was hysterical because my brother was beating up Dad.  I asked her what did she expect would happen?  The Law of the Jungle always rules in violent homes.

Dad died several years ago.  No, I didn’t go to the funeral, even though the Morman Church called and asked me to go.  I didn’t have a relationship with him, so, there was no one to miss or grieve for.  This is a healthy choice more people should make for themselves (IMHO).

My Mom sent me a big box of memories of my Dad, his High School diploma, Navy pictures, etc.  Included was 2 of the ugliest afghans I’d ever seen.  She had said she wanted to knit me one.  I bought yarn for her, two complimentary colors of green.  I love green.  There was this continous conversation from her about didn’t I want some contrasting bright color, like ornage splashing threw it.  I hate orange.  I told her no.  So, she made an afghan out of other yarn in color combinations I hate and sent it to me.  Non-consensual domination.  I made a date for lunch and drove the box back to her.  She didn’t last 30 minutes without saying something vile to me.  

In her defense, Grandma used to do this out of the blue also.  You go along having a decent conversation and then the truck slams you in the side pocket. 

This is why I always laugh when someone says they want to do humilation and degredation play.  My family members are experts and they know my buttons.  On the upside, I learned to be with people and not get hooked by vile words coming out of their mouth.  (And yes, I do played with people that are experts in their own right, what a wild ride.)

Anyways, I told Mom “that wasn’t a very nice thing to say, I will be going now.” She replied “We haven’t gone to lunch.  Aren’t we going to lunch?”  I told her I don’t take people that say vile things to me to lunch.  It isn’t respectful of me to me to do that, so, it’s time for me to leave now.  I gave her back her box.

That was the last time I saw her.  I should try again. Maybe for her birthday.

I know.  The thing is, I never give up hope.  She is my Mom.  Three hours of good conversation is a good dream.

I sent her a nice birthday card this year.  It was filled with lots of bright (gaudy, IMHO) colors.  I was sure she would love it.  She did.

I sent her a Harry and David basket today.  I think she’ll like it and not give it to my youngest brother.  The Morman Church calls me periodically and complains that people give her gifts and she gives these gifts away to my brother.  They want to know how to stop it, they ask me what to do about it.  I tell them not to expect her to behave any different than she always does.  She is 84.  One can hope, there is always hope.  

To love someone is to accept them the way they are and the way they are not.

Blood family.  You get what you get with this group as far as I can tell.

My brother, the one I grew up with loves coffe more than I do.  Imagine that?  I sent him a nice card and a Starbucks Gift card.

Whatever your story, what ever your family issues.  We all are in this together. 

May your Holidays be filled with love, as much love as your heart can hold.

I am so very very grateful for my life.  I love my life.  I thank each of you for your generous  support.

Yes, I have close friends that are “chosen family”.  I fretted over what the perfect gift for them would be.  I am wrapping presents tonight.  

Happy Holidays!  Good cheer to you!

“There she is. . . the “too much” woman. The one who loves too hard, feels too deeply, asks too often, desires too much.
There she is taking up too much space, with her laughter, her curves, her honesty, her sexuality. Her presence is as tall as a tree, as wide as a mountain. Her energy occupies every crevice of the room. Too much space she takes.

There she is causing a ruckus with her persistent wanting, too much wanting. She desires a lot, wants everything—too much happiness, too much alone time, too much pleasure. She’ll go through brimstone, murky river, and hellfire to get it. She’ll risk all to quell the longings of her heart and body. This makes her dangerous.

She is dangerous.

And there she goes, that “too much” woman, making people think too much, feel too much, swoon too much. She with her authentic prose and a self-assuredness in the way she carries herself. She with her belly laughs and her insatiable appetite and her proneness to fiery passion. All eyes on her, thinking she’s hot shit.

Oh, that “too much” woman. . . too loud, too vibrant, too honest, too emotional, too smart, too intense, too pretty, too difficult, too sensitive, too wild, too intimidating, too successful, too fat, too strong, too political, too joyous, too needy—too much.

She should simmer down a bit, be taken down a couple notches. Someone should put her back in a more respectable place. Someone should tell her.

Here I am. . . the Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions.

A hedonist, feminist, pleasure seeker, empath. I want a lot—justice, sincerity, spaciousness, ease, intimacy, actualization, respect, to be seen, to be understood, your undivided attention, and all of your promises to be kept.

I’ve been called high maintenance because I want what I want, and intimidating because of the space I occupy. I’ve been called selfish because I am self-loving. I’ve been called a witch because I know how to heal myself.

And still. . . I rise. Still, I want and feel and ask and risk and take up space.

I must.

Us Too Much Women have been facing extermination for centuries—we are so afraid of her, terrified of her big presence, of the way she commands respect and wields the truth of her feelings. We’ve been trying to stifle the Too Much Woman for ions—in our sisters, in our wives, in our daughters. And even now, even today, we shame the Too Much Woman for her bigness, for her wanting, for her passionate nature.

And still. . . she thrives.

In my own world and before my very eyes, I am witnessing the reclamation and rising up of the Too Much Woman. That Too Much Woman is also known to some as Wild Woman or the Divine Feminine. In any case, she is me, she is you, and she is loving that she’s finally, finally getting some airtime.

If you’ve ever been called “too much,” or “overly emotional,” or “bitchy,” or “stuck up,” you are likely a Too Much Woman.

And if you are. . . I implore you to embrace all that you are—all of your depth, all of your vastness; to not hold yourself in, and to never abandon yourself, your bigness, your radiance.

Forget everything you’ve heard—your too much-ness is a gift; oh yes, one that can heal, incite, liberate, and cut straight to the heart of things.

Do not be afraid of this gift, and let no one shy you away from it. Your too much-ness is magic, is medicine. It can change the world.

Don’t believe me? Check this: All of your favorite women, the ones who’ve made history, the ones who’ve lent their voices for change and have courageously given themselves permission to be exactly who they are… they’re all Too Much Women.

So please, Too Much Woman: Ask. Seek. Desire. Expand. Move. Feel.Be.

Make your waves, fan your flames, give us chills.

Please, rise.
We need you.”

Author: Ev’Yan Whitney

1. Groom yourself Sunday.   Have your nails in shape, brush hair 100 times, thoroughly go over your teeth.
2. Go to bed early.  More sleep equals feeling better and well rested on Monday, which equals to a more productive and well-balanced day.
3. Have a Monday morning Playlist set up.   https://youtu.be/bgiQD56eWDk
4. Keep your Desk Tidy. Your office area is important to your being happy.  Have an organized space, know where everything is at all times, everything in its place.  Tidiness creates space for magic to happen.  (Okay, you had to do this last Friday, so, get on it.)
5. Plan something you will look forward to for Monday night.  A dinner with a friend, a movie night, go to the gym, something that will make Monday special instead of blue.
6. Set out a sharp ensemble to wear Monday the night before.  Looking good boosts your self-confidence and mood.  Rock your favorite (office appropriate) outfit to the office.

I had a rockin’ week.  

Worked. 

I love my job.  I love the opportunity to explore bdsm and all the different ways one can do that.  Being eye candy to a Gambler, touching him, nibbling on him, learning to play a new game of cards and follow directions. Sweet. Being a toy for a couple that have been together a solid amount of years and it’s her birthday.  She labeled themselves “dedicated amateurs”.  I would label them a treat and fun.

Went to Harry World at universal with friends Tuesday.

Laundry

I frilling love the local Soap & Suds.  Clean, brightly painted and all my laundy is done in a couple hours.

Gardening

I have Spring Mix lettuces, butter lettuce and tomatoes.  We have had heat weeks in Los Angeles.  I think my strawberries are goingto make a go for it.  Not sure how that will work out for them.  The roma tomatoe plant is hearty but it isn’t bearing fruit.

Hiking

Kelly and I walk everyday.  Some days are more vigorous than others. 

Health

I have had an issue with my gluteus medus on the left side this week.  I woke up stiff, and in pain.  I walked it off and by Noon the issue would leave, then come back in the morning.  Argh.  A friend massaged the knots there.  How does a person get knots there?  Anyways, it i sSunday and everything seems to be working well again.  YAY.

Reading

I am on the fourth book of the Dark Tower series.  I want Roland to succeed.  Please , Roland hang in there.  We all have our journeys, our dark times, our stellar times.  This is your moment with new recruits.  You’ve got this.

Christmas for Grandchildren

I gifted new leather cowboy boots they can open and wear when they arrive AND books they have to wait until Christmas to open.  The little library is for all of them, Keith (7), Claire (9) and Grant (11).

Blueberries for Sal by McCloskey, Robert

Make Way for Ducklings by McCloskey, Robert

The Story of Ferdinand by Leaf, Munro

Magic Tree House Boxed Set, Books 1-4: Dinosaurs Before Dark, The Knight at Dawn, Mummies in the Morning, and Pirates Past Noon by Mary Pope Osborne

The Black Stallion Adventures! (Box Set) by Farley, Walter

The Wrinkle in Time Quintet Boxed Set (A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, An Acceptable Time) by L’Engle, Madeleine

Roald Dahl Collection – 15 Paperback Book Boxed Set

I am really blessed.  I love my life!