Mood

Low lighting. Red wine. Conversation is light. We sit close. My mind drifts with anticipation. Waiting. The build-up. Foreplay. My body reacts to the touch of his fingers and to the way he looks at me assured. Eyes open, engaged- eyes closed. The kiss. He pulls me closer. It's gentle, soft lips, a nibble. His hands move slowly up my thigh. The kiss intensifies - long and deep. Each breath a little louder, quicker. His hands inch between my legs. Low moans. He helps me take off my dress, my bra, my underwear. Naked. He cups my breast in his hands, he kisses me - licks my breast. The short gaze. The pace quickens. His fingers caress me between my legs. Slight pressure applied, easing away just enough to tease me. Hot. Wet. The stroke of his tongue is stimulating. Moans. Sounds. Noises. The tip of his tongue makes circles, it runs vertical and horizontal along every inch of me. Throbbing. Wanting. Needing. I am somewhere between anticipation and ecstasy. The mood is set.

A Woman's Tragedy

There are certain incidents that occur in a woman's life that make for a Greek tragedy, the Shakespearean version would be titled "Oh the Unfortunate". Getting stuck in a torrential downpour on a humid summer day wearing white with no umbrella. In the bathroom stall at the hottest club, no one else around, no toilet paper and you're on your period. Or around 11PM you find a good movie on cable, discover the double-fudge brownie mix with walnuts in the cabinet but have no eggs in the fridge, you just painted your toenails and put on your PJs. This morning I dropped my jar of Vaseline in the toilet. I had just poured a generous portion of Pine-Sol in the toilet so I could give it a good scrub. Vaseline is one of those staples in a woman's life - it's for the lips, for the hands, dry feet, and I've even used it to take off eye make-up when I ran out of the good stuff. It seem to happen in slow motion. I was dipping my finger into the jar and lost my grip, it teetered on the edge of the shelf in the medicine cabinet, then bounced down and hit the bathroom sink. I fumbled for it, it was too complex to handle so early in the morning. I may have even given the jar the extra gravity it needed to make it over into the toilet. Plop. The expression on my face changed, it's like being out to dinner with a group of coworkers and the waitress tells the entire table decibels above the noise around you that your card has been declined. "Oh no! What will I do without my Vaseline?" Life as I knew it changed at that moment. My mind raced. I thought of ways to improvise until I could make it to the drugstore. How long could I go with unmoisturized lips or dry heels? The jar of Vaseline had been in my life for months, maybe even a year. The things we hold onto, the little things that make our lives better. Scream! I scooped the jar out of the toilet and accepted the fact that it was not reusable. Bubbles smelling of Pine-Sol filled the jar. I placed the lid on and threw it into the trash. I looked around the bathroom, maybe the MacGyver or Martha Stewart in me wanted to concoct something else to tie me over until I could replace the only jar of Vaseline I had in the house. Hmm? Olive oil and that lotion I never use from Bath & Body Works. Heavy cream, butter and baby oil?

It was gone, I had to move on - and for that moment it was tragic.

A Quote for Today

"You have to go the way your blood beats. If you don't live the only life you have, you won't live some other life, you won't live any life at all." -James Baldwin

Passion

For the past few weeks at work, I've had to attend a series of workshops on being an account manager in advertising. By the second session it was clear (like I needed a reminder) that my career path is not account management. The leader of the workshops mentioned that the first thing about being an account manager, is that you need to be passionate about advertising. Passionate about advertising...um, no - not even. I wanted to get up and walk out then. Later that night when I was home watching a documentary on television, a woman in the segment mentioned - you need to do what you know. She explained how it wasn't until she was 42 that she started following her dreams and passion for cooking, and now she's a successful restaurant owner and food network personality. And recently, in the middle of napping on Saturday, I awoke to a commercial with the words: Are you passionate about what you do? The letters, big and red, were spaced cross the screen, and seem to be screaming for my attention. I got it! I am writer. Writing is what I'm passionate about. Maybe, I did need the reminder(s). It's not a good feeling to spend most of the day doing something that doesn't bring joy to my life. One of the first entries in my blog was about the dread of returning to work on Monday. I don't want to live my life that way - it's cliche but life is what you make it. If this Sunday is about anything, it's about living my life as I see fit. The amalgamation of passion, experience, desire and following my dreams. Doing what I know - what a perfect idea.