Anomelodious , hello

Anomelodious

 

 

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Mdanniesnoddy

Hi Anomelodious

Date: Mon, 25 Jul 2022 11:44:50 +0300
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hi Anomelodious

 

 

https://goo.gl/6TUEXU

 

 

 

Mdanniesnoddy

Heart to mind

There was so much in her mind that manifested in her heart. Getting choked up, she didn't know where to start. Holding back the tears, she started to talk, voice trembling, she gathered her thoughts. The stream of words began with a slow start, those powerful words she had stored down deep in her heart. Steadily, the words continued faster, the emotions she felt, they weren't getting past her. She felt everything that was meant within her words. All she was giving, truthful and hers. A rush of thoughts, a stream of consciousness, her words vomited right onto his chest. Flicks of flying onto her legs. Not penetrating his heart, he let out a muffled hmm, with more of her emotions and words still to come. She anticipated a heart to heart; she had in fact opened up hers and was wanting the vulnerability, the clarity... she wanted reciprocity. Instead of exposing both of their deep thoughts clarified, she had actually just had a heart to mind. Her words, though from a place of emotional exposure and eruption, didn't penetrate his heart, but did in fact give way to his deeper thoughts. Not realizing the spewed words that hit his chest were honest and artful and beautiful in their own truth, he disconnected, and left the chat room.

Remembories

I remember making breakfast in the morning on Saturday for and with him. I remember sunny end-of-the-summer days seeing him shine from the heavens as we'd wait for c to get off the school bus. I remember him bundled in his blue uniform on the sofa as he slept, sun kissing his face, resting before heading out for third shift.

I remember skittle vodka with him. I remember walks around the complex in the late evenings. I remember not being enough.

I remember the time I farted as he was performing oral and him looking at me with shame but slowly exiting the area and enjoying me elsewhere.

I remember our first date. I remember it was to taqueria arandas at 1 o'clock in the morning. I remember going to cheddars first but them being closed. I remember we talked for hours. I remember him taking me to valero and it being the first time I really saw him. I remember staring at him and him being so damn sexy that I asked myself who he was. I remember my reaction when I realized the man I was staring at and coveting was him. I remember since then, I haven't looked at him the same. I remember he bought me gas and put it in my car on the way home. I realize from then I wanted him.

I remember the first time we made love. I definitely remember he asked to shower after getting off from work. I remember being in the bed, listening, watching through the mirror in the adjacent bathroom. I remember him saying, "you think it's the first time someone said something about liking my lips?" I remember the towel he tightened around his waist after he exited the tub.

I remember how he would touch and kiss my back. I remember he's the only one who has ever and the one who showed me my back is as sensual as it is.

I remember he was always quietly confident with me. Even inside me, I remember him humming "mmm hmm" as he laid stroke after stroke.

I remember.

I remember him telling me that his raw dick was addictive, hence him continuing to use condoms. I remember it being addictive.

I only remember sunny days and nights with him. I remember the Halloween party and the long drive back. I remember I was drunk and I hated how my hair looked. I remember his costume and how the shirt didn't fit right. I remember how handsome he looked with his shades on and how proud I was as I held onto his arm as while he walked confidently into the room, head held high.

I remember some of what caused us to fall apart. I remember a letter. I remember the time he came up to my school to get the keys to my place so he could rest. I remember it was one of the last times I was with him. I remember the last time. I remember we put together a bookshelf and at the very end realizing that we put the bottom shelf upside down. I remember him asking me if I wanted to fix it and me telling him no. I look at that bookshelf every day and remember I was falling in love.

I remember he wasn't.

Peace

He politely asked, "may I come enjoy your company tonight?"

He chose to rest himself in the peace here.  It wasn't a matter of escaping, a place to run away from the chaos. It was a place of solace for him, a place where his terrors were laid to rest in the comfort of the spaces here. He found his peace in my presence saying his monsters played well with mine, but my monsters always quieted his, and he enjoyed that quiet. He enjoyed that peace. Tonight, he was needing that sense of harmony and balance restored.

Here he didn't have to be anyone. There were no presuppositions in this place. This vast encompassing dark space of life's complications were filled with enough sparkle to light the sky that he saw when he was here.

There will never be anything more gratifying with him than knowing I am my King's place of peace.

In that time and place, making love isn't done in the dark. He respectfully leaves a single light on, silently gazes deeply into my eyes right before he leans in to kiss my lips. Each stroke is methodical. He enjoys taking in my breaths of passions, watching various places of effect, like the flex of my calf, the curl of my toes, or the tremor in my right bicep. He places his hands in mine and draws me near, inadvertantly penetrating deeper, calming me while simultaneously stirring a more unctuous arousal. A kiss to his forehead, a quick erotic impetuous gnaw to his shoulder, an impending orgasm is on the horizon. He releases himself, his hope, his passion, his desire, his fear, his complication, his lust, his past, his savage he says, and comes into the present state of being where the being of us is his comfort.

The cathartic emptying leaves room for the positive to enter and refill the pockets of space. He draws me close to his dewy skin, again hand in hand, wraps himself around me and inhales the positive we've perpetuated, refueling his tranquility and harmony.

Aphrodisiac

A glass of wine in hand, condensation running down the side, stirring a nice steaming sauce. Naked under an apron, dressed with only the sexiest pumps, aroused by the air enticing the labia and the wine. She's cooking her lover's favorite things. Titillating aphrodisiacs: lobster with an oyster buerre blanc topped with caviar, served with a beautiful steamed asparagus. She's already prepared a pesto with basil and pine nuts with a crispy banana chip. Dessert is a chocolate cake with molten peanut butter topped with strawberries, bananas, and fresh whipped cream.

He's been watching her ample ass jiggle and big perky breasts bounce as she shifts from pot to pan. He enjoys watching his lady lover prepare for him the things he enjoys. She would rather him sit and watch her.  A sense of arousal comes from this act of putting on a show for him, entertaining him without words, a silent sexy movie with him as the only audience member. She never turns back to check his facial expression or the fact that hes biting his lips, besmirtched with her mass appeal. His decanter and glass are filled with his preferred whiskey. She knows exactly how to host her staring lover.

She bends over, so sensuously, exposing her glistening lips and inner thighs, as she retrieves the cake from the oven. Her breasts tilt forward and fill, her nipples stiffen and protrude through the apron. She sips her wine again as the cake rests. The lobster is now steamed to standard, and she butchers the tails to open the white and pink juicy tender meat. She prepares the claws into a decorative edible art piece and tops the entire production with the creamy buttery sauce & caviar. She steps back, in a dance almost, to admire her creation and places the last touches of asparagus and lemon on the plate.

She drinks from her glass, saunters across the kitchen, switching her hips in her heels and swirling her expectant juices, flaring the aroma into the air to combine with the decadent wafts of her dinner. She places the plate at his place and he pulls her to him, yanking the apron down. He dips his finger into the verdent pesto and glides it between her ample breats. He takes his full lips to her collarbone, bites her gently, and commences to lick his way down her cleavage. He silently beckons her to sit in his lap, where she opens her full thighs and stradles him. Wine glass in hand, she tilts her head back, and drinks. He immediately places his long middle finger into her saturated aperture and begins to slowly but sternly glide in and out of her. He takes his fork, swirls it in the sauce, cuts into the lobster claw, and takes it into his mouth, making a point of finishing his first bite with the taste of her exposed hardened nipple, simultaneously still gliding his finger in and out of her wetness. He continues this amidst her moans of obvious pleasure, but she stands up. He licks his fingers and continues to eat as she returns to the kitchen, refills her glass, sips, and looks at the brown cake in the white French ramekin and sweet fruit toppings.

She assembles his confection and delivers it. She gathers up his empty plate and clears the table of the accouterments for the aperitif and appetizer. She returns to the table, silently acquires his fork, and begins feeding him the remnants of his next course. The effects of the wine, the smell of the sensuous divine foods and her wet spaces overtake her and she begins to unbutton his pressed dress shirt, with the cuffs neatly and appropriate curled to the elbow, perfect for a relaxed evening she is staging. She bends over slightly, just enough for her sexy bare ass and wet pussy to be exposed to the crisp air. She bends one knee toward her lover and begins scoping his body with her red lips and tongue. Slowly. Kissing his chocolate skin down his neck, on his collar bone, down between his tight, smooth pectoral muscles. He grabs her ass, sits her back onto his lap, takes her face into his hands and begins kissing her firmly.

She is completely intoxicated and turned on. She pulls on his belt, begins to unfasten the leather strap. He pulls her hands away, quickly turns her over his knees and lands a hard swack to her ass. She let's out a guttural groan as her back arches and the sting sets in. Before she could brace herself, another striking blow comes down on her voluptuous ass. She winces and whines, only to feel his hands massaging her stinging cheeks. His hands spread her cheeks and his thumbs find their way to the wetness that is pooling at the base of her pussy. He teases her clit which releases her juices. The pheromones waft to his nose and he takes another smack, harder than the first. Her heels lift with her outcry. He sternly tells her to grab the stiletto spike and do not let go until he's ready for her to do so. He pops her four more hard times. Each landing, screams accompany the lashes his big hands lay causing her wetness to intensify more and more. Her clit is engorged and she's struggling to maintain her drunken composure, still full bodied straddling his knees. Without hesitation, he penetrates her wet opening with his thumb, driving it in hard and fast. Still holding her stilettos as tightly as she can, her pussy tightens up, clinches on his flange and she squirms as she explodes on his hand, down her ass, down his slacks. The orgasm causes her to release her hold on her shoes.

He scowled, but she is blinded by her orgasm. The austere timbre followed indicates she is to pay for the mess she was causing. She was being such a dirty slut, cooking naked, exposing her wetness and that beautiful ass to him, and she was terrible for the cum she squirted on his pants. She coyly looked at him and asked what she could do to make up for it. She smiled behind that drunken smirk, loving the fact that he enjoyed her this way. He begins rubbing his masculine hands on her ass again, and tells her the way she can make him happy again is if she gives him the tightness between her beautiful golden brown ass. She arches her back and perks and pushes her sexy wobbly ass up for him. He takes the wetness from her glistening pussy and strokes the opening to her pink tight asshole. She let's out a delighted whimper. He takes one finger, enters her hole with one strong motion. She gasps. He says, I told you not to let go of your heels, then forces the finger into her tight space again, swirling it around this time. She whimpers. He says this is awful, forces her to stand up and pushes himself from the chair. He pins her between his burgeoning dick and the table, grabs her neck, pulls her to him and bites it. He kisses her neck, unfastens the apron, yanks it to her hips, exposing her fill figured curves of her core, her full round beautiful golden breasts, which he grabs to twiddle her hardened nipples before he forces her face into the table and grabs her hips. He leaves her there, face down, ass up, daring she move an inch, finishes unbuckling his slacks. He changes his mind, she's not yet fully deserving of all of him, and only unzips the britches exposing his fully erect dick before he thuds it on her ass perched high into the air.

She makes no sound but spreads her black high heels wider, giving him access to view her full pussy lips, tempting thighs, and of course her ass. She grabs the edges of table, bends her knees ever so slightly and bounces her ass. She stops. Leans more on the table and slowly rolls her hips, pushing her ass up for him to get more of the view of her. She drops back down the table just enough and begins to fiercly twerks her ass, she makes it clap right there with his dick sitting there. Her ass is bouncing and his dick is bouncing right along rhythm. She knows he enjoys the freak show she puts on for him. He loves her ass, and she makes sure she shows him appreciation for loving it. He playfully smacks her ass, knowing she is wetter than ever. She claps that big ass of hers, he takes his big appendage and every time her cheeks come apart exposing her pussy juice it and her engorged clit, and begins stroking. She begins to roll her ass against his big stiff dick. He grabs his dick and presses it against her asshole. It takes her aback, she squeals and stops short, but begins grinding again. He presses harder. Pulls out. And harder. And pulls back. The tip of his head is in and she's full faced down groaning in the most erotic of ways into table. He grabs her left hip, holds it as he pulls it towards himself. He's going in even deeper. He's not pulling out this time, but guiding her hips back into him. Her mouth is agape and she's moaning more with each deeper penetration. He pulls out completely and says bedroom. She lifts from the table, grabs her ass cheeks, pops them a couple of times, and saunters to the bedroom.

She has the sexiest walk, ass cheek rolling with each hip roll. She's purposely moving slowly to give him full view of the wetness glazing the soft supple skin between her thighs. He watches her and removes his shirt, comes completely out of his boxer briefs, and slacks. Completely naked, the sun hitting his beautiful glowing brown skin, accentuating his Adonis physique, he goes into the kitchen, gets the wine, glass,  whip cream, berries, and chocolate and commences to meet her in the bedroom.

Still in her spiked heels, but sans the apron, she was on all fours in the bed when he arrived. He kissed her calves. He kissed her thigh. He kissed her ass cheeks, he kissed her hips. He kissed her back, sucked spots that made her let out gasps of ecstasy. He kissed her shoulders. He then took a strawberry in his mouth and began kissing her pussy, placing a finger in her exposed ass hole. She moaned and groaned. She rocked her hips into his face as his tongue lapped over her full saturated lips and flicked her clit.

He was on his knees eating her juicy sweet marinated pussy with expert skill. Lick, flick, suck. He was simultaneously fucking her ready ass hole with the thick long finger she accepted indubitably as an acceptable temporary substitute to his dick. She ground her ass in his face shrieking with each intense action of his amazing mouth, spreading her wetness on his nose, his cheeks, his chin. He took another berry into his teeth, between releasing the suction of his lips on hers, he enjoyed the juice of the fruit mixed with the sex juice he was causing her to release. The whip cream was now in his hand, he scooped his four fingers in the cream and smeared it against her engorged and aroused lips. He released his finger from her ass hole, finds the glass, fills its fully rounded base with wine from the bottle sweating in the heat of their passion engulfing the space of the room. She takes a long sip from the glass.

Before she could get her lips back on her glass to take another sip, she falls forward to brace herself from the unexpected pleasure his mouth had begun again giving her. His face was back between her lips, flicking his tongue into the melting whipped creamy sweetness dripping to her ankles. Still holding the wine, she gulps down the remainder, drops the glass to the bedroom floor just as he begins to lick the sweet cream from her right above the heels she's in. He tells her to stay right there, gets a softened piece of the baking chocolate brick, and places it in her mouth. She kisses his fingers, enjoying all the flavors, from the taste of wine still tingling her tastebuds, the bitterness of the pure chocolate, to the taste of his skin and her salty juices. She takes it all the way into her mouth sucking it just as she would his dick. He gently tells her to suck the chocolate as he slowly pulls his finger out against her tongue. He comes close to her face, kisses her lips, causing her already satiated pussy to gush even more wetness. He instructs her again to not bite the chocolate, that she is to explicitly suck the bittersweet brick.

He instructs her to get back on all fours. She is feeling the waves of intoxication, near orgasm, adrenaline, and pushes herself back onto her hands. He stands finally, standing back momentarily, staring at the beautiful bronzed body on the bed, glistening in the sun hitting the beads of sweat formed against her skin. She is anticipating what he will do next, she still owes him for earlier when she disobeyed him and dropped her grasp on her stilettos.

The oral play was just his pleasure. She knew he enjoyed looking at her body, and she was primed to give him everything she owed him. She was anticipating giving him every inch of the tightness he could fill. She perked her ass out, clasped her hands under the gushing but sticky cheeks and bounced them for him to enjoy. He takes his dick, harder than ever, traces her pussy juices and taps her clit, torturing her in the most intense way. This creates even more wetness that he continues to trace and uses to cover his dick's head. He drives his dicks, ever so slowly, still torturing her into her pussy. He slowly pulls it out. Once. It is covered from the head down to the base in her pussy juice and cream.

He takes the shaft firmly in his hand, and slowly begins to enter her tight hole. She stays firm on fours, but moans so deeply and sensuously that he pushes in deeper. He pulls himself out just a bit. Slowly. She let's out another round of sexy moans behind her closed lips, still sucking on the chocolate. As it melts it is filling her mouth with an intense bittersweetness that floods her senses as he drives his dick deeper and deeper into her and pulls back farther and farther. Still moaning, sucking the chocolate, she feels him deep into her now widening tight cavity. She says nothing, but moans and sighs, and mmmm and ahhh. She sucks the chocolate. He is engrossed in her, and she feels amazing to be inside. He begins to pick up speed pushing himself into her tight hole and pulling the shaft back faster and harder.

He can feel her relaxing with the pleasure he is giving her, but in one instant forces the rest of his dick into her ass. Shocked, she screams and falls to get forearms as the sting of his dick instantaneously stretching her hole began to ring. He pulled back to his head and forced himself down her tightness again. And again. She swallows all the remaining otherwise bitter chocolate that seemed to immediately fill her mouth with sweetness and lets out bellows of screams. With each drive down her hole, a deep, gutteral utterance left her agape sexy mouth. Finally, she was opening up, and she began to enjoy his dick being in her ass. Stroke after now pleasurable stroke, she was pushing back her beautiful ass on him, letting him get so deep into her. Her moans, her tightness, her wetness, her pushing back on him, fucking him like he was fucking her was driving him to near explosion.

He pulled out, startling her, but not stopping her, rolled her over exposing her hardened nipples and breasts. He grabbed his dick, entered her tightness, leaned down, kissed her lips through her moans. She grabbed ahold of his deep brown back, one hand gripping the small of his back, seemingly driving him more and more into her. He stared into her burgeoning eyes as he was continuing to drive himself into her tightness. He stared at her facial expressions of ecstacy, and leaned in closer where he intensely kissed her nipples, kissed down her chest and back up to her neck. She passionately kissed his shoulder, screaming her desire into it through the kisses, and rolled her hips into his, meeting each stroke of his with the same rhythm. He pulled back away from her, she grabbed his ass cheeks, thrusting her hips into his, eyes wide, shrill moans of pleasure from each time his dick slid down into her and she grinded back into him.

He was driving himself into her over and over, building up a sweat, she leaned up and licked off his chest. She licked his nipples, driving him into another state of being. He bellowed out he was about to come! Sshe cried out a deep yes, just as she lifted her leg, cupped his tightening balls, and he released himself into her. She let out a final orgasmic scream, and he collapsed down into her arms. She closed her eyes with him in her arm, and drifted off for a moment, but when age awoke, she was fully clothed in a silk pajama short set with a thin strapped cami, under the covers. It was pitch black.

She noticed the empty wine glass was on the night stand. There was no chocolate wrapper or remnants of the strawberries or her lover though. Concerned, she exited the bedroom and returned to the kitchen where it was spic and span. Everything was clean. The decanter was full, and each of the glasses sat neatly next to. Puzzled, she went to the front door to see if it was unlocked, if he left, he had no key. The door was locked. She returned back to the bedroom, confused. She sat in the edge of the bed, noticed the apron on the chair and began the attempt to remember the events of the night. She realized she couldn't feel anything like she normally would have had she just ended such an intense session. She looked at the wine glass on the night stand, cocked her head and shook her head. She just didn't know. Was she dreaming this entire thing?

Oatmeal Cookies

3/4 C butter, softened
3/4 C white sugar
3/4 C packed light brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 3/4 cups rolled oats, I used instant.
1 C craisins (any flavor, but strawberry would be best)
3/4 C white chocolate chips
8 fresh strawberries
1/2 C chopped pecans

Directions Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

In a small bowl, whisk your eggs until the yolks are runny, this will help make lighter cookies.

Process your strawberries in a food chopper or a food processor. 

In large bowl, cream together butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until smooth. Make sure the mix is not grainy.

Add the eggs and vanilla, beat until super fluffy.

Gradually, stir the flour, adding the baking soda, cinnamon, and salt into butter mixture.

Gradually add in oats, craisins, white chocolate chips, strawberries, and pecans.

Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool slightly, remove from sheet to wire rack. Cool completely.

Yields approximately 4 dozen gems of sheer goodness!

Wedding face

My brother is getting married this Saturday, and I thought about doing my own face. What do you all think of this look?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjR4Cu1shzk&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Remy Shand, first listen

I remember late night collge parties, coming home in the wee hours of the morning, relaxing to soothing music. Old school Cadillacs and Oldsmobiles with CDs, smooth rides from far places (too hung over to recall where in the hell we were), listening to Jamiroquai, Glenn Lewis, Cody ChestnutT, and best of all Remy Shand. Take a Message. Robin Thicke, did you take a cue from Remy? Sultry, smooth, and sensual, Remy has been a resonate sound in neo soul, and he's back with a new single. Where are we going takes me back to those days in college. It just has that old school, 70's feel. I listen, and think of the movie Life, in that scene sequence after they broke up that final time, and everyone is aging, and time is passing along with the lives of their fellow inmates. The instrumentals alone are enough to make you want to just vibe out. It's on repeat for me, y'all.
Jam out and let me know what you think of the new hit.

Q. U. E. E. N. official video

Yesssss honey!!!!

Q.U.E.E.N.

Erykah Badu & Janelle Monae team up on done seriously dope shit!!

http://youheardthatnew.com/2013/04/janelle-monae-ft-erykah-badu-q-u-e-e-n/

A Few of My Favorite Things

Visual vacation

 She sat on the grey storage tub and stared out the window down past the steep bright green hill speckled

with tall willows fresh leaves turning bright in the warmth of the spring. Her eyes caught the last few winter worn trees, empty and blackened. She looked at the ferris wheel in the distance going round and round and the double swing of the screaming pendulum rounding closer to completing it’s thrill.

“Mommy,” her son touched her hand, and jarred her from her visual vacation, “juice.”

He did his best, as a two year old could only do, to ask for something to drink. She gathered herself, and trudged the heavy body that felt aged each moment by moment to the kitchen. She opened the old, yellowing fridge and beyond the quart of 2% milk, left over spaghetti and exposed red grapes, maneuvered her way to a jug of cran-grape juice. She turned to the small laminate wood covered countertops and struggled slightly to untwist the lid she securely tightened in fear that it would leak and dribble onto the toddler’s shirt, or worse even, onto the despised nylon carpeted floor.

She poured the red purplish colored drink into the boy’s cup half way up, and leaned her body over to the

right and opened the tap, cutting the sugar saturation. Once again, twisting the lid with her might, she thrust the cup the boy’s way.

“Te-ku Mommie,” he said.

“You’re welcome, baby.” she slowly pushed out of her mouth. “Go, sit down, and watch your cartoon sweetie.

Mommy is trying to do something in the bedroom.”

Before returning to the sight of blue intermingling black, gray, reds, pinks, khakis, greens, baby blues, and white swells of clothes strewn over the queen sized mattress, unsightly by the unkempt and unmade sheets and comforter in the nearby bedroom, she opened the cabinet to her left hand, grudgingly pulled out the box of reduced fat cheese squares. She moved to the entryway of the kitchen, there she pulled the yellow children’s bowl- which were actually perfect proportions for such snacks- out of the cabinet. The door would always remain ajar, no matter how much force was placed upon it or how many dishes from its shelves were in the sink or dish rack below. This time, once again, she closed it. No sooner than the

cabinet facetiously clicked, the door popped from the socket, and opened once again. Never wanting to bother with it anymore, she skulked in the kitchen just moments more.

“Mommie. Eat.” her son cried. 

She thought, “if you give a mouse a cookie…” as she slightly formed a smile and proceeded to the entryway

where he was standing cup in hand, shaking up and down to ensure all liquids had been consumed and nothing else remained. Once again, “Te-ku Mommie,” as he grabbed the bowl from her.

“Two hands baby. Don’t want you to spill your crackers and make a mess.”

“A mess?”

“Yes, baby, a mess. Mommy doesn’t want you to make a mess with your crackers.”

“Oh kay Mommie.”

Conversations like this made her eyes twitch and her heart warm. He could be so sweet, such a good boy. At times.

Tirelessly, she entered the bedroom ignoring the linens and things strewn here and fro on the once charming bed. Hesitating momentarily, she grabbed the notebook on the side table next to the night lamp that did create such ambient lighting but now mostly dimmed the room and was more bothersome than romantic. Nowadays there wasn’t much that didn’t seem dark and inefficient. She opened up the book and flipped to the next empty page, which was well past the middle and not to far from the end. She paused, letting out a quiet, pregnant sigh. Then lifting her ink pen, her hands began to move atop the lines of the page, word by word, thought after flooding thought until she had filled one and a half pages, including the back. Looking over the first page, the words were small and compact to the pages, neat, fitting in as many as she could, and as she got lost in her own mind, the words spread out and were curved to the margins. She held the pen up to her pursed lips, nibbling the top and pondered if she had any residual thoughts she needed to flesh out.

No sooner than she decided to close out the entry, “Mommy,” her son came to the bedside, where she had chosen to write today, rubbing his brown eyes. His chubby little face was turning a cherry red, all indications that he was sleepy and ready for his afternoon nap. She stared for what seemed like an eternity, lost in an almost trance as he held his arms up towards her.

“Yes, baby. Are you ready for your nap?” She lifted the four year old sized body of her two year old and placed him into her lap, legs dangling over her right thigh. She thought, “God. He’s getting so big.” She smiled a quaint little smirk and cupped his head, gently placing it on her left breast. She held it there for a moment as she placed a small kiss on his forehead.

“Night night baby.”

“Night Mommy.” he replied.

“Love you.”

“Lub you too.” he whispered. He always whispered this to her, and she had started to think about what that meant. She would have to tell him next time she tucked him in that if you really love someone you aren’t scared to say it, and it’s okay to say it loudly.

While he was napping she folded the clothes and put them away. Towels, sheets, socks, underwear., and so many inside clothes she had to wash because of spilled juice, or spaghetti sauce stains, or dirt that kids have an inherent knack for attracting. Thinking to herself, if it’s not clothes, it was dishes. Pots, pans, plates, plastic forks and spoons… and if it’s not that, then it’s toys. Cars, trucks, blocks, puzzle pieces, toddler leggos, crayons, and various knick knacks her son found and used to entertain himself. There is always something to do.

She then picked her pen up again, went to the fridge, opened up the door and overviewed the dwindling shelves. She got the pad off the front door and scribbled,

Milk

Eggs

Green beans

Broccoli

Turkey ham

Juice

She opened the freezer door that unsuspectingly actually let out cold air as the rubber around door ensuring suction was not completely flush with the inside walls.

Haagen dazs
Chicken tenders
Tator tots
Pizza
Single serve pot pie

Standing on her tippy toes, she yanked open the cabinet doors, in part by accident as she countered her lack of reach, and because the doors that did remain closed were painstaking to pull ajar. Remaining on her tippy toes, she retrieved the red box of butter crackers and examined the remaining contents. She noticed there were still some lady fingers that were probably hard as concrete now, still in the sealed kitchen storage bag. She had never finished the cookies because she rather enjoyed the way cookies got soft when they were dipped in milk, and no matter how much milk or for how long they would be submerged, these would never soften. Much like her son's father. She decided to can the package. She scribbled down the rest of her list

Apple Sauce
Sphagetti sauce
Noodles
Easy 4-minute Cheesy Noodle Bowls


While at the store, she wandered up an aisle and down the next. Focusing on her list just enough that she didn't miss anything but also abandoning all sense of it that the cart was filled with just... Things... Things that she didn't want to fight her son over in public. Things that would fill the sense of emptyness by stocking the shelves in the kitchen, which was supposed to be the heart of a home, and at one point was the engine that sustained love. Things that would give her purpose. If she cooked, then she was doing something constructive, she wasn't idle.

She got to the last aisle in the store she was going to gather goods from, the dairy aisle. She picked up some sour cream and two blocks of sharp cheddar cheese. She pushed the buggy, heavy from the groceries, lack of energy, and the weight of her son, down towards the closed in case, stopping to examine the egg cartons. As soon as she opened the carton he exclaimed, "Eggs! Mommy, eggs!"

Embarrased by his outburst, her face reddened. "Yes, Pace, those are eggs, baby."

She hurried through the dozen and a half eggs nestled in their cardboard carton, quickly examining the eggs to ensure there were no cracks, that there were none stuck to the carton, and were just all around good eggs. She placed the eggs behind the boy, and proceeded further up the isle to pick up a quart and a pint of milk. Since her son's father was no longer there to eat his sugar coated corn flakes, getting a gallon of milk was a waste of money. A quart lasted enough for the warm milk her son sometimes drank at night, and left enough over in conjunction with the pint for her cereal.

She rounded the corner and pushed her way through the frozen foods towards the check out lanes. She picked up a last minute snickers bar and put it on the conveyor belt that was speckled with some sort of dried on sticky something or another among the rest of her groceries. Much like the daze of the entire grocery experience, so was her exit from the supermarket.

Her pewter colored car was covered in yellow pollen dust. Pressing the remote, she opened the unlocked driver's side door, sunk into the seat and shot the key into the ignition. The radio began playing and she returned from the cabin to retrieve her son from the red plastic shopping cart. As she fastened him into the carseat, her ear caught the tune playing. "I'm no classy lady. But I'm All Woman...
She stands there and lets the tears flow Tears that she's been holding back so long She wonders where did all the loving go..."

Thoughtlessly transferring the bags from the cart, her mind was deeply into the lyrics as the artist sang, "She says yes I look a mess But I don't love you any less I thought you always thought enough of me
To always be impressed
I may not be a lady But I'm all woman From Monday to Sunday I work my fingers to the bone I'm no classy lady
But I'm All Woman This woman needs a little love..."

Suddenly, one of the bags spilled over its contents into the blacktopped parking lot; she had lost the grip of the bag's second handle. "Son of a bitch," she exclaimed, inadvertently out loud, as she saw the cracked brown shells and bright yellow yolks of about half a dozen or so eggs. Almost breaking into tears, her trance was now officially broken, and a man was headed towards her cart. She tried to compose herself enough to blurt "Go ahead and take the cart, I dont need it anymore."

She noticed he looked a little confused. "I didn't come for the cart. But, I'll take it back into the store with me when I go in there to get you some more eggs."

Her eyebrows wrinkled, lips tightened and she looked at him in disbelief. "What?" She was slightly disgusted but moreso perplexed.

"I'm sorry! Its just, I saw you when I was pulling in, and you looked so... So... I don't know. And then I saw you spill the eggs. Would you believe me if I said something told me to stop by the grocery store? I was coming by just to get some cereal."

With the look as though she smelled raw sewage, she immediately retorted, shaking her head back and forth for extra emphasis, "No!" She thought, why would you come to the grocery just to get cereal?

"I didn't think so." He smiled, and she felt a genuine sense of his response. "Would you mind if I went in and replaced the broken eggs?" The cold look on her face, with her slighly squinted eyes and straight, pressed lips didn't indicate she wanted to continue, yet this man asked, "What were you going to use them for?"

Completely caught off guard, she couldn't figure this situation out, and without trying to think too deeply about it, answered in hopes that it would all end soon. "Uh." she choked up a little, "Maybe breakfast? Or for a quiche. I'm not too sure. I guess I just like to have eggs in the fridge..." She trailed off, and her eyes fell to the yellow membranes on the ground.

"Okay, wait right here. I'll be right back. I am going to go get you those eggs!" And he darted off towards the store, gliding the cart in front of him. Half way to the store, over his shoulder, he yelled, "Please don't leave, I promise I don't mean any harm."

She felt strangely compelled to wait for him, and ciphered through the many grocery bags to find the tube of crispy chips. Opening the lid, she took out a few and handed one to her son. "Te ku mommy."
"You're welcome sweetie. We're going soon. For some reason, mommy is waiting on this strange man to bring back some eggs since she just wasted the ones she bought." She had given him several more chips when the man came trotting up to the car with a carton of eggs in his left hand.

"Thank you for waiting. I was so scared you thought I was some weirdo and decided to leave."

"Well, I do think this is weird, but, for some reason I didn't think it was right to go. And I shouldn't accept your gesture, I mean, I don't know you from Adam."

The glimmer in his eyes faded. "Well, I've already bought them, and the name isn't Adam, it's Emery. Well, actually, its James, but that's my grandfather's name, so I've always gone by Emery." He smiled again, even bigger this time, "What's your name?"

She hesitated, formed a small smile, and then said, "Linda."

"So Linda, since you won't accept the eggs, I'm going to hold onto them. That way, I'll have something to make you for breakfast."

She couldn't help this feeling of amusement bubbling up. It had been so long since someone had tried to pick her up, and what kind of man picks up a woman in the grocery store parking lot with a dozen eggs? Didn't he see her son in the backseat, who was actually getting antsy? She was curious, so she gave in.

"Okay James Emery. I'll give you my number. I don't know about breakfast yet."

"Don't worry. All good things happen in time."

He pulled out his cell phone and began to enter the numbers she was listing to him. He pressed send and in her purse, a cell phone began to sing. She took out her phone, looked at the Caller ID and called out the area code and first three digits. He nodded, and again smiled. "That's me."

Her son was beginning to work himself up into a cackle.
With her left hand on the wheel, she twisted her body around to him,"Okay, sweetie, we're going now." Looking back out the door, which was still open, she said, "Emery. It was nice meeting you, but as you can see, I need to be getting home. Thank you for the eggs."

Still smiling, he explained he understood, and they said their goodbyes. She closed her door and fastened her seat belt. Too busy thinking about how she got picked up over some eggs, she didn't notice Emery getting into a deep navy blue luxury vehicle as she pulled out of her parking space and drove towards the street.

How deep

How deep can you bury the hatchet so as to not creep out of the grave?

My heart opened, blossomed & was left bare. Raw, you gnawed at my flesh & left me to heal my own wounds.

I opened my soul foolishly time and time and time again. My offerings sent out into the atmosphere. Stung.  Denied the turn of an olive branch. 

Now you want back in. You want to bury the hatchet. You want to be friends.

My thoughts get caught in the space between my heart & my stomach.  

I don't want them boiling up, spewing from my lips, hot.

I'm torn. Anxious. A love i once had, not reciprocated, but easily resurrected. 

Are you digging the healed the skin, resurfacing your scab?

Easter Sunday

Prabal Garung for Target
Super cute & comfortable

Free

Lay next to me

And hold me close

Place your palm on my heart.

Feel my life play for you

In Tribal beats,

Unfettered, unrestrained dance,

Khemetic chants and soulful scats

Running marathons through deep veins.

Reach my crown

Redeeming my throaty blues

So that I may speak freely,

Ask if I may allow you to behold my heart,

Feel the universal kinship

That we share in moments beyond this.

Pursue this enduring synergy we perpetuate

Forthcoming and organic

Altruistic

Honest

Offering up harmonious melodies,

Your heart beats my soul’s performance.

Narcissism and Nostalgia

Tonight, my neighors were engaging in some pre bedtime intercourse, keeping me from acquiring rest as i was attempting to take it. i decided to google myself.  My old college address & phone number showed up as well as my old myspace page. how interesting it was when i found this gem: 

"Wow. I just got done trying to teach Kwasi how to play speed. I can't believe he didn't even play speed in high school.   The games these kids (and adults) play up here are so different. They play dominos not to count but to "go out." They don't play gin to count points, but to get out the fastest, and they don't play SPEED in high school? What kind of business is going on in Yankeeville?   But while teaching him the game, it just brought back a flood of memories of Magill's debate class, Mrs. Hof-whatzherface's math class, Mr. Bolger's math class, debate tournaments where there was no excuse as to why a day would pass when you WOULDN'T play speed.   I had forgotten how i used to be able to stack a whole five cards at a time and win in like no time flat! And how the people I used to play with got sooo good we used to play with two decks of cards. I had also forgotten that i was such a nerd, i always had a deck of cards in my backpack for just the purpose of a game of speed (or spades) and how i had used that deck till the box had fallen apart and i took some masking tape in Magill's room and taped it up and colored it... WOW. such memories. Reminds me of how much a nerd I was (and still am)...   But I used to love speed. It was a game of chance, talent, and such a game for bonding. I know many of my friends on here were made during Magill's class or some other class when I wasn't doing very much and had time to play several many hands of Speed.     I even taught my brother how to play when he was a little tike... I wonder if he remembers. I'll have to ask him.   I can't believe this loser here next to me never played speed (the right way with cards face down) and got frustrated when i taught him how to really play. OH well, like they say, DAMN these YANKS.   Anyway. Just remembering... Night y'all."

Reality at all is that Reality is What it is or What We Think it is

I’m sitting here watching SATC after having a monologue with my most recent manifestation in the shower, all playing out internally, an allusion of sorts.

The conversation stemmed from the overwhelming undercurrent of thoughts that I just want to be rescued; rescued from myself. The idea of being rescued by love, whimsical, fanciful, silly and overwhelmingly romantic love just seems so romantic in itself. Silly at this age, but romantic nonetheless. Take me away. Take me somewhere where love is like breathing. I don’t care where we go, long as I’m there with you.

But back to the imaginary conversation with the man. He once called himself Captain Save a Hoe. Despite my prior life having tendencies, my immediate response, “Thank God I’m not a hoe.” But anyway, we have known each other for long enough at this point. I have been privy to the lot of his sex-capades. We did a momentary thing, hence the conversation occurring in my mind. After mulling over things, I can only be his friend. I’d like to like him, but he’s dangerous. I can handle friend zone, but not friends with benefits, and at this point, not lover. There is not much I can offer of myself that I wouldn't want protected or given away freely. I can give care and concern as a friend, but I can’t play lover or part time or in between time, and even though I can look past promiscuity, the reality is that stepping out on someone you really love, then it can be done while with me. Not into finding out that I've given myself and the flip side with the emotions associated with infidelity.

 

But before I go deep end into my emotions and thoughts about this, I should find out if it’s warranted. Lol. I’m so in my brain, reality of the situation at hand sometimes doesn't really come to me until after it’s too late.

Randomocity in 3................2.......................1.........................:

Standards.

It’s been the hot word of the weekend. I've been asking myself what are my relationship standards? What do I determine as being important to set out the tone of relationships? I have been single so long, and not really into the game of dating, that I don’t know. I don’t really have rules, and have determined that might be the reason that I am still single. LOL!

I’d love to know, so I’m going to think about it as I create this magnificent meal of jambalaya stuffed chicken with sour cream and chive potatoes, dirty rice and spinach.

Growing up with ADHD

I had a heart to heart conversation with a friend of mine today. I have entered into a new relationship of sorts, or at least that is the intention. Any loyal follower of me on twitter and those who know me off the interwebs have a DEEP knowledge that I have ADHD, and know that I am an advocate for knowledge and research as well as dispelling the myths of ADHD.

With all that being said, I am at a cross roads- let me preface this post by disclosing I have been drug free for almost 3 weeks, probably close to a month. I am not too sure where my head space is because I'm coming off an argument that was baseless... in regards to dishes, and in all honesty, prompted me to sit down and contemplate the idea of what does ADHD do to those of us who are living with the condition as adults.

Growing up with this, I've had the fortune of meeting some really understanding friends... but it has proven a damn difficult task when meeting new people, especially those who I choose to become intimate with.

At this point, it sometimes seems like an unbearable task to ask someone to deal with, but because I can't foresee myself waking up one day without the impulsiveness, without the lack of focus, without the childish ways it brings, without popping a pill to control the neurons and bridge the synapses, without overdosing on caffeine, sugar, and endorphins, etc.

Pause for the cause................................ the tears flowing down my face are uuber distracting.




P

A

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S

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I initially stated out this post with the intention on writing about relationships, new relationships, intimate relationships, and those partners choosing to deal with the ADHD symptoms, complications, and frustrations. I have gone off the farm about it, but maybe I just needed to release the frustrations I am going through right now...

Maybe after the tears dry I can focus enough to say what I really am intending to... just right now, I am hurting, feeling as though I'm trapped my shortcomings and trapped by my feelings of being out of control of my own actions and reactions.

But, as I said, I shall revisit this whence I get it together.


while i wait, here are some twitter resources:

‏@adhdfacts

@ADHDAnswered

@ADHDAWARE