Que
aʒɑ̃ prɔvɔkatœr
- Joined
- Dec 3, 2009
- Posts
- 39,882
Minishine came out the sunroof some 11 weeks ago, and he's perfect.
Awesome.
Blurt Thread III - Emporium of Unexpected Exclamations & Revelations
- Thread starter Emerson40
- Start date
Awesome.
Wild_Honey_66
sweet freak
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- Mar 7, 2014
- Posts
- 50,279
Que
aʒɑ̃ prɔvɔkatœr
- Joined
- Dec 3, 2009
- Posts
- 39,882
*snicker*
post the link when it happens, 'kay?
did I tell you all that I got a new toy? I got a new toy.nothing fancy, but it gets the job done very nicely.
I think I need to change the sheets.
Congrats. Does he like being refereed to as a 'toy?'
Pshew. It did fall flat, but I pulled out and got the rpms above stall speed. Barely. The problem is, I have these continuations of conversation going on in my head that did not get conveyed before I suddenly included them in the thought.
imemkay
Lucky Girl
- Joined
- May 15, 2012
- Posts
- 1,931
HAHAHA! He is such an ass, isn't he? Any time he makes national news I cringe, he is an embarrassment.
Update. The dildo is no longer there. Where did it go? Did somebody take it? If so, who? The owner or some random person driving by? Who??
midwestyankee
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2003
- Posts
- 32,076
I have several friends from Maine (plus family) in my FB feed so I usually get my LePage news from pretty close to the source. I even occasionally pull up the web edition of the Kennebec Journal for a read on what's happening in the old home town, so I have no shortage of LePage news in my life. Oh, but if only I did. The man is an embarrassment to the state but also to the human race.
imemkay
Lucky Girl
- Joined
- May 15, 2012
- Posts
- 1,931
I agree!
Emerson40
An evening spent dancing
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2012
- Posts
- 13,838
It is raining as we ride the ferry over.
“Daddy, I can’t see where the sky ends.” my daughter observes. She is right. The slate clouds of the afternoon sky mirror the grey, choppy water and looking out, you can no longer discern where the horizon and the sea meet.
“C’mon.” I say, and take her hand. We go back inside, before the world rushes in and swallows us.
At the house my little girl goes to play with Kate’s son. They talk of school and Halloween and our recent trip down the coast together. They are happy to see each other I think, but their hushed tones and solemn faces when they are not looking at each other let slip they sense what is looming, that death is near. The boy, at times appears scared, and my little girl does her best to be there for him, but she is only just getting familiar with her own, seldom used, brave face.
In the living room - Kate’s room for months now - Kate smiles a bit and raises her fingers slightly when she hears our voices. Her husband is sitting bedside, holding her hand. They talk quietly together, perhaps recalling all the times they held hands, remembering sunsets watched. Maybe they are discussing dreams, those they had, those they shared, and those they just couldn’t get to in time. There are no sudden declarations, no what-ifs, or if onlys. Been there, done that, some time ago. He stands a few times, bends, and gently presses his forehead against her head, his mouth close by her ear. His lips move, words only for her.
They are celebrating this remaining time together, keeping promises, and saying goodbye. I feel a bit like we are intruders, trespassing during these private, poignant moments. But this is what Kate wanted, what she asked for, to have all of us here with her. My wife slips out of my arms and murmurs something about checking on the kids. This has been hard on her, for many different reasons. I know this because I can see right through her brave face. I offer to come and she says ‘No, stay, I’ll be right back’. I watch her go and feel lonely without her there. Then I think, how ridiculous, I have no idea what real loneliness is.
The nurse moves around the bed, checking and switching off equipment, making quiet notes on her chart. The house sighs and the room suddenly feels three times smaller. The rain against the window patters louder and somewhere distant in the house, the wind wails and whistles through a chimney. Kate’s body is there, mere bumps and sharp angles under the sheet, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book. Her face emanates warmth and radiance, the black, implacable cancer within unable to fully extinguish her inexorable light, even in death. I know no other who shone as bright, so briefly.
Kate’s cousin, a slightly annoying and unconventionally beautiful woman, who constantly craves attention and possesses an uncanny ability to draw the spotlight her way, starts to bawl loudly and uncontrollably, ostensible and exaggerated grief complete with black tears streaming down her cheeks. Who does this? I almost fall from the suddenness and potency of my anger, and for a moment I consider walking over and smacking the raccoon eyes from her wretched face.
I quickly realize my anger is misdirected. I am angry at cancer, and the deliberate and meticulous way it claimed this sweet young woman, mother, wife, and dear friend. I am angry that there was nothing more any of us could do. I am angry at my utter sadness, rising like an unstoppable tide inside, pushing against the inside of my face and down on my heart.
We braced ourselves for this, the best we could, but none of us were quite ready to be left.
We say our goodbyes and hug everyone, embracing all just a little bit longer. My wife, daughter, and I head back to the ferry and our lives, to grieve and leave others to do the same. I know some of us will not see each other again, the reason for our acquaintance now gone. Others are now closer, our relationships more intimate and fortified, not so much so because of this predetermined death, but due to the journey that brought us to this day, and all those precious, shared moments with Kate, held close in our hearts, and in our memories.
Still the rain falls.
.
“Daddy, I can’t see where the sky ends.” my daughter observes. She is right. The slate clouds of the afternoon sky mirror the grey, choppy water and looking out, you can no longer discern where the horizon and the sea meet.
“C’mon.” I say, and take her hand. We go back inside, before the world rushes in and swallows us.
At the house my little girl goes to play with Kate’s son. They talk of school and Halloween and our recent trip down the coast together. They are happy to see each other I think, but their hushed tones and solemn faces when they are not looking at each other let slip they sense what is looming, that death is near. The boy, at times appears scared, and my little girl does her best to be there for him, but she is only just getting familiar with her own, seldom used, brave face.
In the living room - Kate’s room for months now - Kate smiles a bit and raises her fingers slightly when she hears our voices. Her husband is sitting bedside, holding her hand. They talk quietly together, perhaps recalling all the times they held hands, remembering sunsets watched. Maybe they are discussing dreams, those they had, those they shared, and those they just couldn’t get to in time. There are no sudden declarations, no what-ifs, or if onlys. Been there, done that, some time ago. He stands a few times, bends, and gently presses his forehead against her head, his mouth close by her ear. His lips move, words only for her.
They are celebrating this remaining time together, keeping promises, and saying goodbye. I feel a bit like we are intruders, trespassing during these private, poignant moments. But this is what Kate wanted, what she asked for, to have all of us here with her. My wife slips out of my arms and murmurs something about checking on the kids. This has been hard on her, for many different reasons. I know this because I can see right through her brave face. I offer to come and she says ‘No, stay, I’ll be right back’. I watch her go and feel lonely without her there. Then I think, how ridiculous, I have no idea what real loneliness is.
The nurse moves around the bed, checking and switching off equipment, making quiet notes on her chart. The house sighs and the room suddenly feels three times smaller. The rain against the window patters louder and somewhere distant in the house, the wind wails and whistles through a chimney. Kate’s body is there, mere bumps and sharp angles under the sheet, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book. Her face emanates warmth and radiance, the black, implacable cancer within unable to fully extinguish her inexorable light, even in death. I know no other who shone as bright, so briefly.
Kate’s cousin, a slightly annoying and unconventionally beautiful woman, who constantly craves attention and possesses an uncanny ability to draw the spotlight her way, starts to bawl loudly and uncontrollably, ostensible and exaggerated grief complete with black tears streaming down her cheeks. Who does this? I almost fall from the suddenness and potency of my anger, and for a moment I consider walking over and smacking the raccoon eyes from her wretched face.
I quickly realize my anger is misdirected. I am angry at cancer, and the deliberate and meticulous way it claimed this sweet young woman, mother, wife, and dear friend. I am angry that there was nothing more any of us could do. I am angry at my utter sadness, rising like an unstoppable tide inside, pushing against the inside of my face and down on my heart.
We braced ourselves for this, the best we could, but none of us were quite ready to be left.
We say our goodbyes and hug everyone, embracing all just a little bit longer. My wife, daughter, and I head back to the ferry and our lives, to grieve and leave others to do the same. I know some of us will not see each other again, the reason for our acquaintance now gone. Others are now closer, our relationships more intimate and fortified, not so much so because of this predetermined death, but due to the journey that brought us to this day, and all those precious, shared moments with Kate, held close in our hearts, and in our memories.
Still the rain falls.
.
Wild_Honey_66
sweet freak
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2014
- Posts
- 50,279
I'm so very sorry, Em.
pplwatching
Full grown man
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2003
- Posts
- 2,370
Emmerson,
Along with the fortune and privilege of having such radiant souls in our lives comes the inescapable sadness when that light no longer shines. It sounds like you and yours were likewise lights in her life, for which you should feel proud.
My sympathies.
Along with the fortune and privilege of having such radiant souls in our lives comes the inescapable sadness when that light no longer shines. It sounds like you and yours were likewise lights in her life, for which you should feel proud.
My sympathies.
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Emerson40
An evening spent dancing
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2012
- Posts
- 13,838
Hugs my friend
I'm so very sorry, Em.
So sorry for your loss Em, HUGS
Thank you all.
Your posts, and the messages sent are unexpected, sweet, and all appreciated.
We (our wee family) have attended an inordinate number of funerals over the last couple years, for friends, family, and colleagues.
It has affected all our lives in many ways - how could it not. Right now my focus is on my family.
My little girl is having a tough go of things right now, anxious when apart from us, some nightdreams that jar her awake, and struggling with some fears that something terrible is going to happen to her mom or dad.
We have some healing to do.
Most of my time here I have goofed some, had some laughs, and hopefully made some others laugh. This place started as some distraction and entertainment, and along the way I have met some incredible folks and learned some things - about the world and about myself.
I am generally a very private person, and have only occasionally opened up and bared some intimate memory, feeling, or moment, in post or message. Thank you for humouring me during these rare times, allowing me this outlet, and for the support and kind words that have followed these sparse bursts of 'me'.
I'm not sure how much I will be around these parts in the foreseeable future, so I would like once more to just say thank you to the great big hearts here.
Take care, show the ones you love you love 'em, and shine your light while you have one.
E
bailadora
We create the dreams.
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2007
- Posts
- 3,855
Just a quick, random fly by to say hello to all my Lit friends. I'm sorry for being AWOL, but with my laptop on the fritz and the desktop usually occupied well into the wee hours for AP level homework, opportunities to check in are sparse.
Em, I see you've lost a dear friend, and I'm so very sorry. My thoughts and prayers for all who knew and loved her. Rainshine, a quick glance back shows that Minishine arrived safe and sound, so belated congrats and big sighs of relief concerning your little man. As for the rest of you, even though I'm scarcely around, you frequently cross my mind and make me smile. That's a good thing, right? I'll try to make it back sooner than I have but with the holidays looming on the horizon, I make no promises.
Take care, my lovelies!
Em, I see you've lost a dear friend, and I'm so very sorry. My thoughts and prayers for all who knew and loved her. Rainshine, a quick glance back shows that Minishine arrived safe and sound, so belated congrats and big sighs of relief concerning your little man. As for the rest of you, even though I'm scarcely around, you frequently cross my mind and make me smile. That's a good thing, right? I'll try to make it back sooner than I have but with the holidays looming on the horizon, I make no promises.
Take care, my lovelies!
talikat
Music is my refuge
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2005
- Posts
- 41,761
Cumference
I brought my plunger!
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2014
- Posts
- 2,729
did I tell you all that I got a new toy? I got a new toy.
I think I need to change the sheets.
I see a pattern!
imemkay
Lucky Girl
- Joined
- May 15, 2012
- Posts
- 1,931
Wild_Honey_66
sweet freak
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2014
- Posts
- 50,279
i had to get rid of that one, he was too damn bossy. if i'm gonna get bossed around, it's gonna be by someone who can flip my switches, and who tells me to do the stuff that i was wanting to do anyway. 
she should be grateful.
the upside to PMs is that she gets a chance to make a contribution to the conversation at all.
I see a pattern!
lol, but i got it from Amazon.the little one is having her gall bladder removed a week from Friday. one more thing to check off the list!
talikat
Music is my refuge
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2005
- Posts
- 41,761
the little one is having her gall bladder removed a week from Friday. one more thing to check off the list!
pplwatching
Full grown man
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2003
- Posts
- 2,370
The little one is having her gall bladder removed a week from Friday. one more thing to check off the list!
Best wishes to both of you. My dad had his taken out and has thankfully had no major problems.
pplwatching
Full grown man
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2003
- Posts
- 2,370
My wife looked at me like I was from another planet when I told her that I think persimmons smell and kind of taste like semen. Does anyone else think so too, or am I just weird?
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Saucyminx
High heels and attitude
- Joined
- Jan 23, 2005
- Posts
- 6,251
she should be grateful.
the upside to PMs is that she gets a chance to make a contribution to the conversation at all.
the little one is having her gall bladder removed a week from Friday. one more thing to check off the list!
I know what you mean. I am ok with authority as long as it coincides with my wishes.
Love and best wishes to the lil honey, and take a nice sized helping for yourself too.
Wild_Honey_66
sweet freak
- Joined
- Mar 7, 2014
- Posts
- 50,279
Thanks, guys. *hugs*
After watching her go through two gallstone attacks and two episodes of pancreatitis because of it, we're ready for the surgery.
Persimmon cookies are one of my favorites! They're always so... moist.
talikat
Music is my refuge
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2005
- Posts
- 41,761
Thanks, guys. *hugs*
After watching her go through two gallstone attacks and two episodes of pancreatitis because of it, we're ready for the surgery.
I went through the same thing and it was such a relief when they took mine out. Not a bad surgery either as surgeries go.
