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Archive for the ‘Cabin Journal’ Category

It’s mild, muddy and all green and brown outside, with only a few patches of unmelted snow in our yard:

I didn’t even feel chilly standing outside with my legs and bush exposed wearing this thin henley on top:

OKAY . . . so maybe it WAS a little cold!

A picture of the snow and ice melting off the roof over the cabin’s doorway:

A little snow left today in the cracks of the path to the cabin:

I kept track of the hours I worked this week; anything I do today counts as “overtime” . . . so I’m going to try to take it easy and recharge to start next week off with lots of energy. I think Delia and I are going to see a movie. I have to actually plan non-work things to do or I’ll just sit here at my computer(s) working.

It’s supposed to rain and rain and rain for days and days. And they say high winds might blow some (more) trees down. Luckily we haven’t lost power at all; other people (like my mom and Lightning Allie) around Puget Sound have been without power for days. Delia and I have it pretty good up here!

Still wearing the same coat and sweatpants as last year (and years before), but with a vibrant emoticon!

Ahhhh, but here’s a nicer message:

Some more pics from our walk & stuff:

Wild rose bushes in winter.

Thorns, black stars & vitamin C.

Snowy evergreens & deep untrodden snow.

Delia snapping pics of fir cones with her phone.

The cabin, as seen from inside the house this morning:

The cabin, trimmed in snow & icicles.

I’m snug inside there right now, as a matter of fact.

The weather forecast and everyone talking say it’s supposed to snow today or tonight. 90% chance! But maybe this was it? There are patches of blue and sunshine right now which is kind of disappointing since for once I’m actually looking forward to snow, partly because my period is due tomorrow and I was hoping to make some blood in the snow. And partly because we did some good planning and did errands this morning, stocking up on groceries and getting a grippy carpet runner for our deck that gets treacherously slick and icy.

I ask you, sky . . . where is your snow?

It’s also a little windy. I saw one robin this morning, and a tiny brown bird this afternoon that blew across the yard straight into a small dark hole in the salal where I imagine it being round and contained and cozy in the protective bush shadows.

Blue and grey sky and sunshine peeking through.

I guess it still might snow tonight or tomorrow.

Hazy shade of winter over the cabin.

Our tank is full of propane and we dug a long, thick velvety curtain out of storage and bought a tension rod to keep all of our downstairs heat from floating up into the stairwell. The past couple of months our stairwell has luxuriated in sweltering temperatures and overshared warmth with Delia’s camming & workspace and our sleeping alcove. Today we put a stop to that. So go ahead and snow!

PS – H. Rugaru is still blogging and tweeting (and in a place now where they laugh at what we call “snow” and “cold” here in the Puget Sound area – I don’t know if I’d be taking nudie pics outside in Nebraska). Anyway, I’m going to try to change his blog settings a bit or see if Lightning Allie can to make the pictures he posts from his phone BIGGER!

I have problems. I just don’t see things in front of me before I ram my head into them. Tonight wasn’t the first time. It’s hilarious to walk around with bruises on your head (and shoulders – I often run my body half into door frames; I guess they just don’t make the door-holes big enough for me) but it makes me feel really stupid.

To make myself feel better I ate over half a pound of ground beef in the form of tacos that Delia made (so yes – 4 flour tortillas . . . plus tomatoes and cabbage, but that doesn’t count as crazy). I’ve been comforting myself with food a lot these days/again which is fucking my brain up more.

Then I got so so so sleepy that I couldn’t keep my eyes open to finish watching [insert shameful reality show name here] and begged Delia to come up into the cabin loft to read and watch over me while I napped/to wake me up later “in case I have a concussion”. She humored me and it felt SO GOOD to have the light on and her next to me awake. Sometimes that’s the best feeling in the world to me, to be safely with Delia while she watches tv or reads and I pass out knowing everything’s okay and I’m totally taken care of feeling her right next to me.

Agghh, my stupid aching head!

This here shelf is really fucking hard. I’m surprised my forehead didn’t split open. I want to blame it on my short height that I sometimes don’t see these things before impact. Yes, I was reaching down below for the Charmin Ultra Strong, because you know it’s THE BEST even though I think it might be too abrasive for my peehole area.

Watch your head, dumbass! Ultra-strong, NOT Angel Soft.

I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past few days without crisp blue skies and full bright moons.

Red berries & blue sky in our backyard

It’s supposed to snow Saturday night and maybe Sunday. And maybe Monday. I’m kind of excited about it. It will be our first snow living in this house (though I was already renting the cabin last year so experienced snow in part of this space myself). We got our propane tank refilled so we’ll be set after we stock up on more terrible junk food for me to eat. Wait a second! It *has* snowed while we’ve been living here . . . I forgot! But that hardly counted . . .

I just posted a 20 minute vlog I recorded earlier today for members. Also: I had a really peaceful and pleasurable webcam show this morning – thanks to those of you who joined me!

If you want access to my video blog entries, spycams, group webcam shows, picture galleries and videos, BECOME A MEMBER HERE!

What November 15th looked like in the sky and the trees where we live:

The Cabin: lunchtime

Same day, same time, same place . . . much bluer.

Dirty blue, half an hour later & one mile away.

*****

Something sexier/cuter/more suggestive of skin:

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Sky above our house, day after Thanksgiving

I can’t believe I’ve been sitting on (haha) this entry in draft form since December! Please leave comments if you have answers to any of my butthole questions:

I ran out of toilet paper at the cabin (or I almost did, and it occurred to me this detail could prove interesting and worthy of reporting to you).

If I run out of toilet paper, if I forget to bring more next time, I will not immediately run out to get more. The first priority is The Cabin, and the LAST priority of the cabin is personal cleanliness. Of course I still want to be comfortable, and I recognize that I feel more comfortable when I’m not COMPLETELY foul between my legs, so here are some of my options if I run out of toilet paper at the cabin:

For pee I can use kleenex OR just let it moisten my panties OR wipe with the front hem of my shirt (I do this on walks and really, having a few smears of urine on my t-shirt feels kind of fresh and natural to me).

You probably think the main problem will be what  to do if I shit at the cabin when I run out of toilet paper, but shit is not such a big problem. I have soothing moist generic hemorrhoid pads to cleanse my butthole & asscrack which I can follow-up with  an absorbent pat-down provided by a used washcloth I left hanging to dry after my last shower.

Some people keep baby wipes on the toilet tank for that purpose but I think they are overkill: too large, too horribly scented – really quite irritating to sensitive skin. Hem pads are better. Thriftier and more therapeutic. Plus I was always fascinated by those Tucks commercials where they snuff out a burning match by wrapping it in the damp circular pad. To get rid of the BURNING and ITCHING of swollen hemorrhoidal tissue.

I think once I even asked my mom or my dad, possibly my grandparents, if people really did TUCK the pads up in there. Nobody ever answered me with the specificity I desired, but my grandpa told me to NEVER EAT BLACK PEPPER! BECAUSE YOUR BODY DOESN’T DIGEST IT AND HE HAD TO HAVE AN OPERATION BECAUSE OF IT! They weren’t prudes so I don’t think that was why they avoided answering me. I honestly believe it’s because NO ONE REALLY KNOWS.

It seemed like a very interesting adult mystery, the proper application of Tucks. Did people simply tuck them between their ass CHEEKS or did they tuck them INSIDE their assHOLES, leaving petals of white hanging out to pull them out later (I imagine this looking very much like a container, rather than a box, of baby wipes, where you pull the wipe out of a plastic butthole-like opening).

Was I taking the name “Tucks” too literally? If grown-ups really were TUCKING them INSIDE, how long did they leave them in? Did they hang out in the bathroom for a couple of minutes to derive the benefits of the tucking, extracting the pad before exiting, or did they tuck one in there and KEEP it tucked while driving to work, doing laundry, greeting clients, playing bridge, etc.? How many Tucks could you tuck at one time? Or did you use them as a barrier between your finger and your ass to push severely hanging hemorrhoids back inside? Could you apply Tucks in a public restroom or was the process too intimate with telltale sounds, shifting body weight and sighs? Was there an applicator involved like with certain petal-soft tampons? AND WHAT ARE HEMORRHOIDS, ANYWAY?

You might shrug off these questions as obvious overthinking, but I don’t think I was/am. For a course on child abuse in college, I read a story of neglect involving an obese junior high age girl who was a pariah, in part because she smelled horrible. It turned out her parents weren’t mean people, they just were NOT competent and the girl had always had to fend for herself for the most part. Someone had to intervene and teach the girl stuff her parents had not, like how to shower (and how often), how to use shampoo, etc. They sent her to a doctor and it turned out she had many applications of TOILET PAPER AND PAPER TOWELS IMPACTED IN HER BOTTOM. The text didn’t use the word “bottom”, but it did use the word “impacted”. That story has stuck with me all these years and I often wish I could find it again to see EXACTLY what it said, because it’s still so unbelievable and yet rings so true, like I wonder how often this happens to people (there are SO MANY people who aren’t able — for all KINDS of reasons — to teach their kids how to take care of themselves first world stylee, and unless you get to watch someone do it who knows how, how would you learn?). Anyway, if it did say where/to what extent the toilet paper was impacted, it was strange enough that at the time I looked up the word “impacted” in the dictionary to make sure I was really understanding the condition being described, but I still feel uncertain about it: how much paper product can one girl carry around on/in her person? I think there was even a painful extraction process. Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that there are modern conveniences at our disposal to tend to our asses and separate us from feces that some of us actually need to be taught how to use. Some people simply intuit what to do, but for some of us the standard operating procedures are less clear. It is also not always obvious how far you should stick things up your butt or how long you should leave them there.

Dragonfly on the fence by the gate to The Cabin.

On one of my walks; hey, it's almost Friday the 13th!

Closeup of dragonfly (all these pics taken with my HTC Inspire).

I’ve never seen a dragonfly like this one; very monochromatic with no green or red or purple, and maybe very tired because she didn’t move when I got close to her. I don’t know anything about how to tell a healthy dragonfly from a sick one, though.

I do know that when I walk up the path and approach the gate to The Cabin, something enchanted happens and magic splatters all over me when I open it and step inside.

You wouldn’t know I felt that way if you saw me, though. I look really grumpy when I hurry to and up the path. Like the day after Cinco de Mayo when I spotted the rind of a lime, probably from the neighbors who I have to hate by default simply for existing and now littering residue from their night of drinking tequila or Coronas or whatever. I don’t care if it’s biodegradable.

But when I close the gate behind me I throw off grumpy, and smile and shiver to myself.

*****

Hoped to have more to share tonight, but have been waylaid by long-ass video-editing software download and installation. Hope it pays off.

*****

Delia just explained to me that dragonflies die all the time. I guess that did occur to me, that the dragonfly might be stuck up there in death. But I prefer to think it hadn’t livened up yet because it was still early in the morning. Earlyish, anyway.

Do their colors only come out when it gets warm? In the afternoon? Or are some dragonflies just drab?

I just posted a new set of pictures for members we shot this morning at the cabin:

Cool spring morning at the cabin in my nightgown.

I’m enjoying developing my little mommy-nightgown niche (little niche, not little nightgown) and very slowly revealing pictures of the cabin (which is actually kind of painful for me, eroding the secrets of my alone-place, but it’s too good not to share, which is kind of too bad . . . not trying to make anyone feel guilty here, just trying to emphasize how intimate some things are to me that perhaps other people view as mundane).

Warming my hands on my cup of tea, watching birds.

Why it’s too good not to share: because I know that my fantasy overlaps with other people’s fantasies, and if it’s good to me, it’s good to other people. If it’s good and important enough to want to keep it to myself, I know that other people will treasure it, too. That it will inspire and stir up longing. On the other hand I know I’m compromising all of the things I need the most from The Cabin. Especially right now. Or maybe always, but more and more obvious right now.

What's this?!? Am I NAKED under my nightgown?

Ultimately there is a limit to how much truth I can show and tell about the cabin before it loses its charms for Trixie fans and conflicts with their fantasies of it. So is it worth it for me to undermine the privacy of my hidey-hole by exposing it at all?

One of my favorite pictures in this set.

I sure do know how to ruin some perfectly good nudey pics, don’t I!?!

122 pictures in this gallery for members!

Say you love me anyway, fuckers!! And that you know there’s an enchanted circle of protection around the cabin so that nobody but Delia and I may penetrate it. OR EVEN SEE IT WITH THE NAKED EYE!! God, I wish I had that kind of a magical prophylactic bubble to disappear into.

NOTE: these feelings of longing for a giant invisibility cloak have been exacerbated by some bad stuff that’s taken away a whole bunch of people’s privacy and threatened their safety recently. Ours included.

Let me know if this reads as terribly off-putting and I will delete the text, all except for the happy I’m-a-hot-mommy-type-taking-off-her-nightgown suggestions like I’m all barefoot and eager to be impregnated in my rusticated shed by any old semen-shooter.

After months of not using the cabin “properly” because all I had was a tiny wooden tv tray downstairs (so I spent most of my time up in the loft which is really only suitable for cozy lie-down tasks), I finally spotted the perfect table and bought it with a small portion of one generous philanthropist’s donation(s) to the cause:

Price of my new table for the cabin.

It looked pretty wrecked, but then the guy came out, said he hadn’t even washed it off yet . . . I scratched at a fault with my fingernail and it crumbled right off!

Dirty, DIRTY table!! Goooood Girl, table . . .

So I bought it. I’d been lazily keeping my eye open for a desk or table that would fit, be serviceable and feel lovely but it took all these months to drive by the perfect table sitting on a sidewalk for sale. I couldn’t have found it on purpose or known this was exactly what I wanted. And I wouldn’t have wanted a new, reproduction version of this table.

Delia and I brought it to the cabin, inserted it into place, and I cleaned it. Almost all of this rusty stain disappeared:

I'll bet I can clean this off completely with vinegar & elbow grease.

The white apron around the edge of the table won’t ever be close to pristine, but Delia told me to rub the rusty legs with aluminum foil and they’ll get better:

Contrast rusty pole on left w/ shiny pole on right (scrubbed with foil).

I haven’t scrubbed much more than that, but I have spent a few good hours sitting at the table since then, feeling it’s perfectly faded and mildly scratched smooth cool top.

I think it’s pretty hard to find a formica table with chrome AND a leaf AND with the gingham top. The ones I see online with a gingham pattern all have wooden legs (and definitely no leaf). Not that I care about making great antiquing finds, but I do like to know a little about my tools and things I like. For all I know this IS a reproduction, but an older one than the styles they make now. Definitely leave comments if you know more about these tables or have some memories of these kinds of tables you feel like sharing. We could stuff a whole little family into the cabin for Thanksgiving dinner or Chinese takeout or something!

Look at my table leaf (& me in my shiny kettle)!

‘Tis clean! But still so touched and used.

Look at how clean my new old table is now!

Right now I’m doing a bunch of time-consuming windows updates on the laptop so that I can install windows live writer as an offline blog editor, but now I’m not so sure I want to do that. Really I just want to get over there to the cabin RIGHT NOW and sit at my table.

Stay tuned for more rhapsodizing about My Perfect Table (and all of the things it is perfect FOR).