Written in the Sand

Last year I committed to spending more time at the beach. AND I DID.

My priorities and my visions of normalcy and success shifted with every minute I spent at the shoreline.

My intention was to continue regular beach visits in 2019 — multiple times every week — but so far this year … I haven’t gone much.

Today I didn’t even want to leave the house. Like most days this month. February is the worst month of winter in Washington (even without the snow that piled up last week); even though the days are getting longer, it’s not nearly enough sunlight after months of reduced daylight hours. It feels like darkness falls way too soon every day.

But I had to get one of Delia’s checks in the bank. It seemed like a waste of gas and putting-on-clothes to turn right back around and go home, so I made myself go to the beach, telling myself that I could just sit in the car and read. Just GO. Just GET there.

And there it was … proof that THE BEACH IS FOR ME, written like a personalized welcome mat:

Without planning it, the tide is often low when I get there. Especially on days like today when I had to ease myself into just the idea of being upright.

Funny coincidence: last night I read a story featuring sandwriting that was also like a personal bridge, but between where I picture the author Emma Donoghue and here in the Pacific Northwest. Starting out reading Slammerkin and The Sealed Letter, she has always seemed SO across-the-pond and decades and centuries ago from where I be, but in Touchy Subjects there she is writing about JESUS and TACOMA and the word COCKSUCKERS in the sand.

So far this book is full of stories I would never have imagined her writing, but I was totally surprised by Room coming from her, too. But maybe she was just making fun of us for that big JESUS CARES ABOUT YOU sign you can see from the freeway that you can imagine was an inspiration for it. It makes me miss Tacoma, actually. Lots of things make me miss Tacoma. But then I go to the beach here and don’t give Tacoma another thought.

Anyhoo … I had very tender feelings for “The Man Who Wrote on Beaches” when I read it last night.

“…he had a home with a view of Puget Sound and a good job and a great collection of German steins and a lot of laughs. Above all, he had Margaret, who was twice what he deserved.”

The older I get and resign myself to being My Authentic Self, I have to accept that even though I’m capitalizing those words like I’m in on the ridiculous joke of myself, I’m honestly NOT joking. I’m earnest and can say with my whole heart that I love The Man Who Wrote on Beaches. With recognition, relief that I haven’t taken it QUITE that far (but only because I got the idea of asking Jesus into my heart out of my system as a teenager), forgiveness … and no measurable amount of irony.

Saturday Night Special

Sales on memberships to our sites are a new thing. Our first publicly-announced special: probably this Valentine sale in 2017.

Last year I started running flash sales on random weekend nights. Something special for people who are like Delia and I: prone to staying home when other people go out.

People who can’t sleep on Sunday nights & stay up late masturbating instead.

Folks who find themselves awake or alone when everyone else is either fast asleep or partying with other extroverts.

This being the middle of a long weekend in the states, I just opened up a Saturday night special:

JOIN NOW for $3.95 or $30

Normally I end the sale whenever I wind up going to bed, but tonight I’ll keep it open until morning since I’m sure a lot of you will be up all night long.

Note: when you join DeliaTS.com (my wife’s site) you also get access to my members-only area too (TastyTrixie.com/members is included; our sites are networked together so one membership login gets you into both). You’re also welcome to join at any of our normal prices if neither of those terms are what you want. 

 

Merry Christmas!

I hope your Christmas is wrapping up on an insanely jolly, cozy note … and that it smells as good as my hair after I laid it on these boughs of fir.

 

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A Sexual First for My Mom

My mom just came over to see a movie & spend the night with me.

I gave her my favorite flannel nightshirt to wear, and she looked so cute in our pink-and-cream bed that I took some pictures of her … and while I did she casually told me a story containing a sexual experience that made my jaw drop in celebratory awe.

My mom telling a totally different story intended to scandalize & tease ageist & classist perceptions of her

My mom and I speak very frankly about sex with each other. I know a lot of details most people don’t know about their parent’s sex lives, but I’d never heard her talk about this particular phenomenon. Something a lot of dudes are TOTALLY INTO and fascinated by.

To find out the sexual FIRST my mom had at 73 years old:

  1. follow me on OnlyFans >> https://onlyfans.com/tastytrixie
  2. tip me $10 or more on OnlyFans & I’ll DM you the exciting inspiring answer

You’ll also get to see one of the (non-nude) pictures I took of her last night. It’s super easy & uncomplicated to hit the “send tip” button under that post (or any post you like).

I’m periodically checking to see if new tips have rolled in, so it may take a few hours or overnight before I DM you the details. Thanks!

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I’m trying to raise $150 to buy my mom a fitbit charge 3. She moved to a new city recently after seven decades in the same small town where we grew up. I would love to give her this healthy body-warming gift to help with her transition there.

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