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Archive for the ‘aging’ Category

Warning: this post might gross out some people, so if a certain word in the title makes you uncomfortable, the rest of this entry will probably heighten your discomfort:

I SO enjoyed my nightgown camshow last month (and had an awesome one the day before, too). I wore a long nightie that always makes me feel SO sexy and SO pretty and such a feminine tease. Someone I worked with years ago gave me three Eileen West nightgowns I never ever would have bought for myself, but now that I have them I want a dozen more:

Big Boobs Look Plush Under Pleated Cotton Nightgown

I guess I just really like the feeling of white lengths of cotton flowing all over my body with no panties or bra (like my long white May Day dress).

Pretty lady in long cotton nightgown looks like a sweet mommy tucking you in.

I *especially* like the way these nighties make my jugs look so generous and mobile and soft with the pleats adding more fabric to accentuate them bursting forward. So so ripe and full.

Modest and non-nude, but suggestive and succulent

In my show it was like poetry, talking about being a lady in a long nightgown, and what ladies in long nightgowns like to do and how their pussies get so wet underneath their long long nightgowns. I felt so pretty and iconically feminine, like if Victoria magazine included porn (never gonna happen, I know). Don’t you just want to push that white cotton up-up-up? And see and smell some soft, furry bush?

Free pics of me from a few years ago in a similar night gown: http://www.trixie.com/tgp/Trixie/see-through-nighty

It’s gross I guess, but I also love how skinny my arms and legs look wearing this nightgown. It’s the most feminine interpretation of skinniness, I think. Everything looks so long and pretty and gracefully awkward compared to everything in the middle looking so abundant and juicy.

It made me want to log in to the pay-to-view camsite I’ve been working and make all the boys want me to be their pretty mommy in her modest white nightgown. It’s such a familiar mommy-in-summer look, the soft cotton wafting faded mommy perfume and hugging hands reaching out on long arms to drawn you in. There’s nothing overtly sexual about it except that it’s all ALL all woman, and the modesty is the most naked you might get. A silhouette if the light is right, a sour-sweet stubbly armpit, some long pale leg if she gathers it up a little to step through the dewy lawn to get the paper in the morning.

It’s a look that provokes powerfully confusing strong feelings in a lot of people of both innocent love and taboo lust.

*****

That day we had more people in members-only chat than we’ve had in MONTHS, which also boosted my spirits terrifically. And really everything started looking up on Thursday when and after we fucked (don’t you think this is true?).

Sleepy mommy-type's big Victorian "dirty pillows"

*****

If you want to get me a similar nightgown or inexpensive night slip to fill out my pretty mommy wardrobe, I have a couple ON SALE on my wishlist! It would be nice to have a couple of new drowsy sleepytime gowns to wear this summer.

*****

I hope to blog more later about 1) the camming I’ve been doing and 2) my own shame, discomfort and conflicted feelings about role plays I get off on.

I’m not a huge fan of photos of the sunset, but I’m posting one anyway as a way to share just ONE beautiful thing we experienced today:

Sunset tonight (June 5th, 2010) from our backyard.

Today we took a walk in the same woods where we took Nico for her last forest walk. It’s the first time we’ve been there since then so it was hard not to think of her, but not necessarily unpleasant because of it. Delia identified birds by their calls:

Olive-Sided Flycatcher.

Orange-Crowned Warbler.

Swainson’s Thrush.

At home I asked her what the birds were in our closest tree:

Cedar Waxwings.

And then over a dozen of them rushed out of the tree right by us.

She’s identified them for me before, but I never remember any of it. I might be cultivating a mental block on purpose because I love having her tell me . . . I like asking her and having her answer. I like being almost completely ignorant and dipping into her body of knowledge and having it be too much for my brain to absorb. I like feeling overwhelmed by the world of birds and having their names sound as new as possible to me each time she pronounces them.

I’ve never been “into” birds (though I’m a big fan of chickens, crows, and owls — all for different reasons, of course — plus some other raptors) so paying any attention to them at all is sort of other-worldly because there are so many of them this time of year and most are so different from anything I remember noticing growing up. They’re kind of a revelation to me, so tiny and animated and enchanting. It’s kind of sickening how much they delight me in the same way I’m slightly grossed out by the way poetry and jazz have grown on me in the past year or so. Like, what the fuck is happening to me?!?

*****

In case you’re wondering what this poppy looked like when it opened, here you go (taken the morning after I took the other ones):

One of the poppy’s sepals thrown off:

Poppy's thick, fuzzy sepal thrown off onto the ground.

In bloom (with another bud below it):

Salmon-colored poppy in bloom.

Oh, and I’m in a much better mood than I was in that other post. I haven’t been getting my B-vitamin shots; I thought I was getting too much because I got headaches a couple of times after getting them (which is part of why I *get* those shots, to *prevent* headaches), so I’ve been taking a liquid form instead and I don’t think it’s quite doing the trick. Anyway, whatever the cause(s) I’ve been a little more anxious and moody lately, among other things, but overall am fine and am working on it. I’m going to take more of the liquid B’s and am refocusing on maintaining a stable blood sugar level and increasing my insulin sensitivity by eating fewer bad carbs. I also did a good job of taking care of myself and a headache on Thursday and Friday without feeling guilty about it because I knew how much work I’ve done this week and that I could afford to get some rest and work a few less hours on those days. Yay for keeping track of hours worked and stuff accomplished instead of only looking at the undone stuff on our long-ass to-do lists!!

*****

We do have porn stuff going on at home and in our members-only areas, I just haven’t been blogging about the sexy stuff as much as I should. But it’s all in there! You can check at TrixieAndFriends.com for some previews.

My girlfriend is getting bigger boobs!!

Yeah, old news to some of you, but I don’t think I’ve blogged about it yet so I’m taking this opportunity to celebrate and share the news with you. We’re taking a trip next week for Delia to get consultations with a couple of out-of-state surgeons so the reality is setting in that THIS IS REALLY GOING TO HAPPEN and I’m getting very excited about it.

Yes, I love the puffy-nipple hormone titties Delia has now and I was very VERY excited about those growing in, but I surprised myself by feeling sort of conflicted about her little puberty-boobs. And you can kind of see why, can’t you, when I go into dirty-old-man-speak like that, right? You know I am a sucker for taboo role plays and the idea of pert buds of breasts, but sometimes I gross myself out getting off on that when they’re so REAL. It feels like I’m doing something criminal when I fondle them and I haven’t had the time or courage to really work that out yet. And now? I DON’T HAVE TO! Because my girlfriend is getting implants!! Unambiguously GROWN-UP boobs!

Underneath the cherry excitement of having a girlfriend about to get big fancy titties, there has been a foundational experience making it possible: having a special donor/philanthropist/able investor/friend come forward and send Delia THOUSANDS of dollars. And when none of the Pacific Northwest docs friends referred her to would do boob jobs on transsexuals and seeing that things were going to cost more? He stepped up and sent THOUSANDS MORE so we can make this trip and find the right doctor and make sure she gets the beautiful jugs she deserves and I dream she’s dreamed of.

I feel like I’m exploiting Sweet T. by publicly talking this way about the money he sent, but trust me, I do it with adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight (and imagine the words “adoration and a wriggle of shivery delight” being spoken in his delicious accent). I know this is the kind of story that makes chicks feel excited, happy for each other, and not just a little jealous. It’s the kind of story you WANT to read in a webwhore blog and know that it’s not a lie or crazy fantasy someone made up.

Some of you might be too jaded to appreciate this with purity, but it’s honestly an experience that reminds me (again) that there are people with money (some more, some less) who really want to use it to make people happy and give someone they admire something she longs for. Yeah, there’s the bonus of seeing the new boobies and having a hand in crafting an element of someone else’s experience, but with something as straightforward as boobs . . . I don’t know how to describe it without using the word pure. It’s very tangible and direct.

It’s exciting, because of the gifts AND because we’re sharing the excitement with someone else . . . it’s magnifying the experience, drawing it out of the mundane of doctor appointments and personal responsibilities and worries that would otherwise bog it down. Knowing that Tom is excited about the outcome and taking care of the most worrisome aspect of it leaves us free to enjoy the process and look forward to the results. It’s like a fun movie or fairy tale or something . . . more like what I think people outside of our internet porn world IMAGINE our lives are like all the time as chicks with our own porn sites. It’s affirming and a relief to have a story we can tell friends and family that actually lives up to their more positive expectations and wild imaginings (people mistakenly assume having your own internet porn site means fortune and large numbers of fans).

Note: I do not want to discount all of the people who send us smaller gifts and contributions — you are appreciated and definitely not forgotten, and there were many of you who helped with Delia’s boob job fund. The amount of people who support us and our work is profound in our lives, even if it hasn’t made us rich. All of you have made us want to keep doing it. And getting thousands of dollars at one time from one person? Just helps solidify our commitment / the feeling that it’s worth it. Again, though, I don’t want you to think we don’t notice some of our long-time members who have spent thousands of dollars on us over the years. Thank you!

Yesterday marked a very special occasion on the girl-getting-breast-augmentation journey; Delia bought her first dress especially to go with and show off the bigger boobs she’s getting. Oh good lord, that was exciting. Maybe more for me than her . . . I was practically fucking salivating thinking about how gorgeous she’ll look in that dress and what her tits are going to look like in that flimsy fabric and WHAT THEY’LL LOOK LIKE AFTER I POUR WATER ALL OVER HER AND GET THEM DRIPPING WET AND YOU CAN SEE HER HARD NIPPLES THROUGH THE FABRIC and then Delia started laughing at me because I was pawing at the air in circles, middle finger tracing her erect nipples in the sky, as I described my enthusiasm for these near-future visions of hotness.

So yeah, buying the dress to go on the new boobs definitely amped up my giddiness. Weeks ago I actually wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t rather be able to go to Disneyland instead, but the dress clinched it — boobs totally trump Space Mountain.

*****

I don’t know if posts like these surprise people who think I’m all “NATURAL BODIES OR DIE!!” (and take the culture thieves at Disney with you!) I do wish for more acceptance of and appreciation for natural bodies (and especially less open revulsion/disgust) and I do think cosmetic surgery is very problematic and dangerous and worth thinking/talking about critically (meaning with your thinking cap on, not just negatively shredding apart) and overall WAY WAY WAY WAY TOO COMMON, like it’s fucking endemic to being a first world woman over thirty, but oh man, I do love some artifice and craftiness, too. I’m not saying it makes all or even most women look “better” (not at all), I am just acknowledging that it makes them look different and I am not bothered by those differences as a default. And sometimes I really admire the differences and appreciate that plastic aesthetic (and would a lot more if it weren’t so fucking ubiquitous).

What I mean to say is that when Delia got her first (and only so far) Botox injections a few months ago IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. Even though I was there when she did it and should’ve made the connection, about a week afterwards and for a month from then I was blown away whenever I looked at her, like OHMYGODyou’reSOlovely I COULD WEEP! And I didn’t recognize it as “that botox is really working wonders”, it was just that she looked like she always does but with a special softer glow. It was like a really subtle, masterful, living-and-breathing photoshop effect. She only got it around her eyes, brows and bridge of her nose and it was really cool. I don’t know why they’re saying Botox is going out of style, because it seems quite splendid to me.

But I know it’s really terrible to spend money on that when there are children starving in Africa everywhere. On the other hand, it is our job to be attractive and Delia never got to be a young woman while she was young, so fuck that guilt.

*****

I was also going to blog about Delia’s internal penis bumps, but this entry got out of hand length-wise so I’ll save it for next time. I know, I utilize the most erotic turns of phrase to keep you checking back for more.

Over the weekend (on May Day) the members area of my site (TastyTrixie.com/members) turned eight years old!

Here are some pictures from this year’s and last year’s May Day galleries:

Wearing a white corset outside: May Day 2010

I *loved* these pictures last year; they made me fall in love with myself (an important state of mind to be in for a webwhore):

It's like magic! And cleavage! And whirling!

My freckled shoulders, curly hair and big natural boobies!

This year’s set wasn’t so good, but it was all worth it to get charming shots like this favorite of mine:

Spreading May Day cheer!

So after eight years you might wonder how the indie porn site business is holding up, and the answer is NOT SO GREAT! I’m still optimistic though because there are so many things I know I could do (or do better or do more often) to boost business.

The only “problem” is I’m becoming more realistic after all these years and recognize I can’t do it all and maybe it’s not really possible for us to do more! better! and more often! It even got to the point where I seriously considered focusing solely on promoting and shooting for DeliaTS.com and putting updates and promotion for all of our other sites, including TastyTrixie.com, on hiatus. We are trying to do the jobs of too many people.

The past few weeks I’ve shifted my approach to work a little bit by

1) using to-do list software (both Swift To-Do List and Daily To-Do List). It’s helping me prioritize and sort my ideas and tasks.

2) making a 40 hour work week a goal / forcing ourselves to take days off like normal people expect to do with good jobs.

I use a timer with a stopwatch to keep track of when I’m working. In the notes section of Daily To-Do List I keep track of the hours I’ve worked and what I’ve accomplished. Yes, it’s very wage-slavey, but it’s more manageable (and more rewarding) than feeling like WORK IS NEVER EVER DONE! BITCH, KEEP WORKING KEEP WORKING TEN TWELVE FOURTEEN HOURS A DAY YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T REST BECAUSE THERE’S JUST SO MUCH!!!

I am beginning to accept that if we can’t succeed by working a humane number of hours and allowing ourselves time OFF that IT ISN’T WORTH IT.

And that’s where the fear/knowledge comes in that I am going to have to give up doing some things I’m very attached to because it isn’t realistic to think I can do them all. Spiritually (? or emotionally or psychologically or whatever word you’re comfortable with) this is an important confrontation to have with myself and reality. I suspect there might be a life of bliss (with lots of time spent checking out books at the library and reading in the grass) awaiting me on the other side of this confrontation but I’m still balking at it and refusing to let go.

I wonder if it’s normal to take a decade to resolve this conflict between what you WANT to do and what you CAN do and still be healthy. Ten years sounds like a long time, but I think it might be about right. I figure I still have two or three years before life finally batters me into submission so for now my site is not on hiatus. Who knows? Maybe my timer-and-to-do-list-software scheme will actually make me more productive because I’m not so psyched out and overwhelmed trying to do everything all the time.

One thing I did let go of is driving myself crazy trying to be RELIABLE at posting a new picture gallery or porno video every week in my members-only area. Instead I’m focusing on posting more frequently (multiple times a week) in my new members-only blog with more uniquely personal and candid stuff like vlogs, webcam snaps, behind the scenes stuff, fantasies and other intimate thoughts I don’t want to post in the open here in my free blog, etc. Things got interrupted a bit with the dog dying and some other stuff we have going on (that I may or may not blog about here, but you can hear all about in my vlogs) but after a couple of months of doing things this way I believe it will take off and be more addictive/unique for members.

Obviously I will still do the regular porn stuff of high res photo galleries and videos but I am releasing myself from the pressure of thinking “reliable” is more important than “personal”. Because in the long run I’ve NEVER read a testimonial like, “I’m very aroused by the way Trixie is so RELIABLE.” I have, however, been told a number of times that people would maintain their membership even if all they got was the blog (and/or the spycams).

I pretty much think my “porn” is virtually worthless without the personality, especially with so much competition online, so that is what I’m going to make top priority on my site and the feeling of it being alive with more frequency and easily-digested candid content (albeit with *possibly* a *little* less standard porn site fare POSSIBLY . . . we’ll see how it plays out — I think it will wind up being the same quantity in that department once I get on a roll). The people who love me and my site tend to gravitate towards the bloggier, vloggier, twittier, webcammier, embarrassing confessions, taboo weirdness and daily details stuff (along with panties panties UPSKIRTS and panties!).

Over the years it’s started to feel like I had to make porn to meet porn industry standards — to be digestible in a standardized (though less consistently hardcore) way — so that porn site reviewers and other people promoting our sites would be able to sell my site. It has gotten to the point where we shoot HUGE galleries of a zillion photos less because we think that’s what our members want or because it’s more valuable that way, but because we need to have more promo material and because that’s how people assess the value of porn sites: how many pics are in your galleries? How HUGE are the pictures? How many formats do your videos come in? How often do you add another HUGE photo gallery? It’s pretty fucking boring and totally ignores the CONTENT of the content. And what is the point anyway when all of those things are the easiest to steal? I want to focus on the stuff people can’t steal or is less desirable to the people who steal content. I’m sick of feeling like we’re shooting things to make webmasters happy instead of ourselves and our members who really dig us (fortunately there are some webmasters who dig me/get me as is).

Sometimes I look at the stuff I did back in 2001 when I didn’t have a clue what a porn website was “supposed” to look like or offer, and I miss it/love it/want to do it that way again (but better and less stupid in some aspects). I can’t find the earlier version of this that talked about wanting my site to be like the magazines you’d stuff under your mattress, but I want to get back to that. Here’s one old version though (which of course I would change in some ways, but want to revive the spirit of in other ways):

One of my first attempts at a members-only area

I do not, however, want to repeat some of my earlier horrifying uber-cheesy design mistakes like this one from 2001:

I was *so* proud of my red licorice design!

What can I say? It was the turn of the century! And they didn’t even let our screen names be long enough for me to spell my name correctly! Aahh, those were the days . . . and all these years later the porn industry STILL doesn’t “get” camgirls which is how they’ve managed to destroy that platform for us as a way of making really good money and connections. Yeah, I’m getting off track and onto that bitter old webwhore lament . . .

Anyway, the point is that I want to pull some of the purity of my old personality porn into 2010 and approach working in a realistic way that’s personally rewarding. I’m not sure if it’s possible, though, considering how much time I have to sink into promotion and the technical aspects of maintaining our sites and cams, etc. Just as one three example(s): there is nothing pornographically fun or personally rewarding about spending hours dealing with Blogger pulling the rug out from under those of us who FTP our blogs or with searching high and low for my router password so I can modify all of the settings because our cable company decided to fuck with my IP address AGAIN or with getting set up with additional payment processors because one of them is scrubbing so hard you think they’re trying to erase you from their roster of clients. There’s precious little time left over after those kinds of bullshit that I am TOTALLY FUCKING SICK OF. It’s not all sex and games and horny-girl-diary-entries here, it’s a lot of technical minutiae.

I think I blew all of my really-hard-working years (nonstop, no personal time except for ramen and sleep) working for other people and on not knowing what I was doing. I’m almost forty and I’m done with that.

Note: I have a feeling this post might be stupid, but part of being realistic is hitting “publish” without trying to make every fucking thing perfect. Thanks for understanding and putting up with years of me wrestling with these same challenges of self-employment as an internet sex worker and webmaster.

Nico was fifteen years old and people STILL frequently asked if she was a puppy — so pretty and smaller than people expect Siberian Huskies to be (even though she was normal-size for a female husky). But if they watched her walking from the hind end they’d understand she was an old girl. She started to look like an elderly woman hobbling doggedly with a walker, dragging her hind legs stiffly forward one at a time after reaching forward to brace herself with her two front legs.

Eat as Many Treats as You Want!!

There *was* a choice of whether or not now was the right time to put her to sleep. I’m aware that there are people who would’ve put her down a lot sooner and others who would have let this stretch out forever with doggy diapers and thousands of dollars in vet bills. I’m aware that we might have made this decision for ourselves as much as for her and that I’ve been able to absolve myself of any guilt because she was really Delia’s dog and her decision to make based on twice as many years with her and a lot more love. I’m also aware that Delia gave her a good life and that she’s a HUSKY, and she couldn’t do her husky things anymore – there hadn’t been ululations for a year or more and her sickle tail was permanently drooped into brush-mode. She was confused (at times heartbreakingly comically so, like when she would stand at the hinge of the door waiting to be let out of the bedroom when the door was already open INCHES away from where she’d fixed her gaze – it WAS funny, though sad) and her mobility profoundly decreased. She’d been losing her balance (or her legs just gave out) while she pooped and would often fall over then finish pooping while lying on her side.

Anyway, there was a lot of stuff and seeing blood in her gelatinous-with-mucous diarrhea Saturday night was the clarifying symptom that it was TIME even though it hadn’t been that many days since she ran through the house as much as she could, yipping both in pain and excitement, not able to NOT force herself to go as fast as possible even after wiping out twice trying to navigate the corner between one hallway and another. If it were any other kind of dog you’d think I was describing a very fit and healthy animal, but huskies are just that awesomely driven to RUN and defy every limitation imposed on them.

So we decided to make her last two days full of good things, like her last walk in the woods. It was very very slow and the smallest hills were like giant mountains to her. She even looked at one incline so wearily that she turned around, like “just take me back to the car because I’m DONE”.

Nico's Last Walk in the Woods

During and after making the decision I’ve felt a variety of emotions: excitement looking forward to freedom and possibilities, relief, uncertainty, guilt, confusion, sadness, loss, worry . . .

Our beautiful companion's fur, walking slowly

Two women came to our house to do it after Nico had two days of walks and lots of her favorite soft peanut-butter treats and lots of love and attention lavished on her. The vet and her assistant were loving and gentle and pleasant and thoughtful and smooth and patient and respectful.

Small and short-lived.

The hardest part was the hour before they got here when we were waiting. Everything was ready, Nico was totally worn out, and there was nothing to do except know that she was about to be gone and didn’t even know what was coming (I think Delia felt more confident that Nico did actually know and was fully prepared and welcoming – either way is actually pretty sweet).  I wouldn’t trade that hour of waiting for rushing around or not experiencing that weird duality of tranquility on the outside and guts churning on the inside, though.

Waiting for the vet to come

During the process I felt a fast cycling of emotions of calm, euphoria, gratitude and resignation sort of like when I was in a car crash and had a few seconds to emotionally prepare myself to die and then was elated when I survived. But with this there were also overwhelmingly intense guts-in-the-throat needing to bawl emotions like when I was with my dad during his death.

How beautiful and floppy and light her dead body looked wrapped in a blanket with her gorgeous face exposed and then her front legs tumbling out. The looseness and complete lack of worry. The weird exciting sense of potential like you could reanimate her, so fresh and ready with all of the soreness and stiffness she’d been suffering from magically erased. She really did look like new life (and none of these pictures are communicating the reality of any of this, or at least my perceptions and experiences of these days). She was so so so beautiful.

No more breath, no more heartbeat.

*****

Helping Nico die and being present for it helped me with my dad’s death, to process it more and remember it and grieve more freely and more fast. It’s been eight years, but I really didn’t know a lot about how to be with his death and my feelings about it so it’s been a very long and protracted experience. Watching Nico die — feeling her die, touching her dying and dead — I feel spiritually more at ease than I did when confronted with my dad’s final moments. Maybe my idea of peace is wider and simpler than I must have wished for back then. Maybe my expectations for myself are lower than they were then. I don’t know, but I’m glad for it.

I am an imperfect witness, not a bumbling guide stuck with the horrible responsibility of having taken someone I loved on a journey to a brick wall on a dead end. Maybe I’m getting to be okay with nothing being perfect and not being in control and just appreciating the long moments I’ve had to absorb the profoundly ordinary in all of its individual rarity and treasure it and bask in my blessings. My dad is one of a few people I’ve had telepathic experiences with (even if they were probably more accurately described as intuitive communication or whatever) so maybe I thought I failed by not knowing what he was trying to tell me at the end or that I failed by crying and possibly making him sad or worried during his last minutes of life. There’s a lot less pressure with a dog and it was more okay with me that we were all together but alone at the same time.

The Incredible Machine

Like with my dad it took a number of minutes for her to stop all the way. “She’s not breathing anymore but she still has a very faint heartbeat”. For like four minutes. When we were kids Daddy bought us lots of National Geographic books. One of my favorites that may have impacted my worldview more than any other was “The Incredible Machine” about how humans are all electrical and mechanical and stuff. I never absorbed facts and information the way my sister could (it’s amazing how we had the same books at home and the body of knowledge her brain constructed out of them is so vastly different — and more vast in general — than mine) so what I retained from it is just a philosophy that I might not find in it if I were to read it today, but that might have been the first book I ever read to give me a celebratory nontheistic way of looking at life that was deliciously SPACE AGE eighties-style, like 3-2-1 Contact and synthesizers and stuff.

While Nico was dying it started raining and we were glad it waited until then, not starting until after her last three walks and other quiet time outside. That night the smell of the evergreens after the rain was magnified to supernatural proportions and for a minute I enjoyed imagining that Nico bestowed an enriched sense of smell on us as a parting gift.

Then I stopped wasting brain juice on that and just focused on vacuuming up as much scent as I could with each inhalation, tasting wet green dogless walks in the future moonlight, just me and my girlfriend.

*****

Delia and I have been living together for almost eight years (the first time she told me she loved me was the day my dad died). It’s a significant chunk of time as far as human measurements go but also . . . brief. Losing Nico is another transition for our relationship and maybe I have the feeling like I will contribute more as a partner now. Nico was rooted in so many years of history and two other serious relationships for Delia so she was never really “my” dog; I don’t mean that in a bitter or unloving or detached way . . . it was my way of copping out of taking care of her fully so that I didn’t clean up as much poop or let her in and out as often or get her food ready. I’m excited that we’re entering another stage together and that it’s happening now.

Pair of Trillium

I can’t complain . . . I really can’t complain or regret this loss or wish for any of it to be different. I can’t say that I wish we didn’t have to go through this or that she could have lived forever. Of all the ways of dying and lives and chunks of years of experiences out there to be had, I’d say this death and these years and our lives have been blessed, relatively comfortable with relatively little pain, and filled with pleasure. Am I still bursting into tears? Yeah, but I can’t complain.

I totally have spring fever. We can go anywhere! Do anything! The light in our house looks different. The pretending-to-be-a-grownup feeling is back when I go into my office. Maybe just because everything is intensified after so many intense days? I don’t know, but this is the first time in all these years we can leave the doors wide open and not be afraid that Nico will run away. It’s not that a husky doesn’t love her people, SHE’S JUST PROGRAMMED TO RUN AWAY FROM YOU!!

*****

Check out Delia’s post with more pictures of Nico and background. Contrasting pics of her in her younger days really shows how much she changed physically over the years, plus it’s really interesting to read/see more about Delia!

*****

Note: I feel EXTREMELY fortunate we had a way to pay for her to be ushered out so gently with at-home euthanasia; not everybody is so lucky. Humanely ending an animal’s life is really expensive for most people and doing it yourself is something most people aren’t equipped for (and legally/socially is a prime example of some really interesting double-standards, misunderstandings and class differences in our country). Anyhoo, if you love your pet and can afford to do it this way when the time comes, I’d recommend it as being well worth the extra money (if you can swing it) to have that special time at home and is worth finding out in advance what vets (or other people?) can help you with this when the time comes. I also feel extremely fortunate that my dad died in hospice which is much more like dying at home than like dying in a  hospital, but better than dying at home maybe. I loved it, and think it’s hugely important to be able to spend time with your dead loved one for hours, if you’re lucky enough to have that option and the kind of death you get to see coming.

Just a quick note:

We’re spending a little quality time with our dog while we can, plus our main internet connection has been down all day (apparently I am the only one in our town with this problem) so most of our cams have been down with it. We still have spycams up in the bedroom on this page on the last profile (scroll down to SpyOnUsGals), though.

If you happen to see crying, well . . . that’s life. We’ve also got some doctor appointments for ourselves coming up and a bunch of serious housecleaning we NEED to do, for a variety of reasons (example: our dog is SICK). I’ll post more later, etc. In the meantime I’m not really doing much with email, twitter, the phone, etc. so you probably will not be hearing from me this week. There is some newish stuff in my NEW members-only blog, though!

A couple of random notes:

I accompanied Delia to get her first Botox injections today. I was kind of jealous and can totally understand how some people get addicted to those kinds of procedures. I thought for sure the doctor would try to sell me on something as long as I was just standing there, but the only notice he took of me was after his juvederm speech to look over at me and remark, “your cheeks are awesome. You will never need fillers.”

I’m not sure how to handle some compliments (like this sweet one comparing me to Kate Moss), but compliments on my cheeks or cheekbones always make me happy. I think because it’s a remark on something that seems very objective and sounds like a structural analysis. It seems very specific and rational, almost impersonal, so I can accept that kind of flattery. Plus I think it’s accurate. I believe that I *do* have awesome cheeks! Note: I can also graciously accept compliments on specific ways I am “weird”.

*****

Do you wish I would now talk about how I feel about cosmetic surgery and enhancements and stuff? Maybe another time. Or do you wish I’d sputter about how Kate Moss is a bad role model for young women? Oh gosh . . . don’t even get me started. It makes me really fucking irritated when people jump all over her skinny ass like she’s personally responsible for all of the eating disorders in the world. I don’t think we’re healing women of insecurity by rabidly insisting that skinny women aren’t “real”, which goes back to how I feel about cosmetic stuff; no matter how much silicone you put in your body and how your skin is moved around and your fat excised, YOU ARE STILL A REAL PERSON and should be treated as such. Yeah, I think it’s all very problematic and stuff, but whatever. It’s all too fascinating to blog about in depth right now (no, I’m not being sarcastic: this stuff FASCINATES me though it does sometimes bore the fuck out of me, too . . . I’ve even felt a kind of spiritual awakening reading about people who are extremely addicted to cosmetic body mods). Personal request: PLEASE don’t make any assumptions about me or my beliefs based on this paragraph; I just don’t have time to go into the complexities and nuances right now.

*****

The second thing I wanted to mention is that Charmin Ultra Strong toilet paper is THE BEST!!! It’s advertised as being applicable in situations where you want “a Dependable Clean” but it’s also marvelous in settings where you merely want a soft and delicious dry. I highly recommend this toilet paper to anybody looking for a thick luxury wipe or cheapskates who limit TP rations to two squares per job.

One of the things I dislike about shaving between my legs is that the stubble shreds lesser toilet papers (MD) and I’m left with little wads of white all over my vulva. CUS has solved this problem for me. Honestly, the quality of my life has been significantly improved by giving Charmin Ultra Strong a spin. This is my personal testimonial . . . I’m not receiving any kickbacks from Charmin for it. It’s just a very important consideration for someone like myself who takes great pleasure in pooping, etc.

I know there are more important things in the world to concern myself with, but toilet paper is the only product that interacts with me in an intimate way multiple times each day.

Yes, I know this post is BEGGING for your PUNNY comments!