Oy, I've been tagged

Yes, Sara, you're right. I generally don't do memes. But since you tagged so nicely...

The Rules-
* Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
* Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.
* Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
* Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. One of the main reasons I don't do memes is that I rarely can think of so many things to say about myself. It's also the main reason that I don't post often enough.

2. I knit. I have a large yarn stash in the basement, and the chilly weather is awakening my drive to go gather more wool.

3. I knitted a dinosaur costume for one of my dogs. (Yeah, I know I'm a dork.) He hates the thing, but I still make him wear it on Halloween.

4. I wanted to be a teacher up until I started college, when it suddenly occurred to me that teaching involved a kind of public speaking.

5. I've sung professionally before, which is really weird, since I hate the spotlight. I don't plan to ever do it again.

6. I'm frequently complimented on my fingernails. I don't bite them, so they tend to grow fairly long and I have "nice nail-beds" as one lady told me. I trim my fingernails when they get long enough to interfere with my ability to type. Right now the colder weather is making them more brittle so they'll probably start breaking soon.

7. I can't cook at all. I'm actually not allowed to anymore. I cooked for Red once when we were engaged. I assumed it was a responsibility that we would share. He very sweetly said that he appreciated my efforts but would appreciate it more if I never did it again. He's a great cook, so this arrangement has worked out well for us, except for when he is away on business.

So now I'm supposed to tag 7 more people, but here's the thing... I'm not gonna, and you can't make me! I'm breaking this rule! (Yay me, finally found a rule to break!) So spank me.

Void for Vagueness?

Last night Red declared a new rule. I am not to allow one or both of our dogs to remain outside too long, or I will be punished. This rule came about because yesterday morning I let the youngest of our two dogs outside and left him outside for about 15 to 20 minutes. The length of time was not excessively long, but it was chilly and he's a small dog. When I let him in, I apologized for being a "bad mommy" and assured him that "daddy will punish me for it later." I thought Red was napping at this time and had no idea that he'd overheard my little one-sided conversation.

Anyhow, last night while lying in bed, he informed me that he had in fact heard, and that from now on I really would be getting punished for such infractions. I remained quiet and accepted his pronouncement.

I have to admit though, that the compulsively rule-observant part of me immediately started coming up with questions. I like to follow rules - all rules - to a T, and for that to be possible, there must be a "T." There must be a strict definition of the rule so that I can remain firmly within its limits.

How long is too long? I wanted to ask. Is it conditional on the outside temperature? Is there a "relevant range" of sorts within which it is acceptable to leave him outside for "x" number of minutes, or is it directly (or indirectly) proportional to the relative extremity of the temperature? Does time of day factor into this consideration? What is the equation with which I can determine the appropriate amount of time for the dog to remain outside given all considerable conditions?

I know that if I actually voiced these questions to Red, he'd be completely exasperated with me. My compulsive good-girl-ishness almost never fails to stand in the way of him imposing the boundaries and discipline that I claim to want. And I do want them, though I admit that you'd never know it from my behavior.

So I'm not quite sure what to do now, other than resist the temptation to never let the dogs outside at all...

I Got a Licking

I owe you all an apology for my silence lately. But I assure you, I've been truly punished lately.

Several nights ago, I got my first ass licking.

It was on my bare bottom.

On my wet bare bottom.

I was shaken.

I cried.

Hard.

I never want it to happen again.

Which is why, from now on, I will be closing the bathroom door completely when I go for my shower. Because my cat enjoys the shower way more than a cat should. And when I'm not careful, he sneaks in.

The other night I was washing my hair, oblivious to the stealthy little devil. Attracted to the water dripping off of me (he seriously LOVES water - the little freak), he apparently couldn't resist the temptation of licking some off of my ass.

I was so startled that I screamed bloody murder and scared poor Red half to death. And then, for reasons I don't entirely understand, I burst into tears.

So I hope you will all forgive me my negligence. I have been truly punished.

Self Waxing

You know, you can be an educated person and be a complete idiot. I realize most of you probably know that, but for those who may not have known, I am living proof of this.

Like many women out there, I prefer hairlessness. It is not really a sexual thing for me... more of a germophobic, a-bald-snatch-seems-cleaner kind of a thing. The fact that Red prefers me this way is just a happy bonus.

But shaving my lady parts can be difficult. I've cut myself before, and that's not a pretty sight. Plus there is the stubble and the itchiness. I always thought I'd like to try Brazilian waxing, but I had never tried it for several reasons, mainly 1) can't find a place that does it, 2) I fear it would be too expensive for too short a period of hairlessness, and 3) I'm just too darn embarrassed to pay a complete stranger to do something like that.

So imagine my happy surprise when I found that SurgiWax makes a Brazilian waxing kit that you can do yourself in the privacy of your own home. And it was affordable! So I bought the kit and took it home and eagerly tried it out.

Oh.

My.

God.

The government should use this stuff in place of waterboarding. If I had any state secrets, I'd have been screaming them to the four corners of the world.

I've heard great things about Brazilian waxing. But this is definitely something that you should not do yourself. First of all, it is immensely painful, and convincing yourself to rip off a clump of wax (which is what you wind up with - clumps of wax, not nice neat strips) is difficult to do. Taking three ibuprophen in advance did nothing to make it any easier on me. It is difficult to see what you're doing, the wax winds up getting everywhere, and after all of the effort, you still don't manage to get all the hair. You get most of it, sure. But not all.

But, you say, you're not an idiot. Anyone would have thought this was a good idea and tried it. And you're right about that.

But would an idiot have done it three more times after that?

I have got to find a better way.

Spankings Hurt

I know what you're thinking. "DUH," if you're a bottom, and if you're a top, the ever-annoying "Spankings are supposed to hurt." Grr.

I know that they hurt, and that they are supposed to hurt. But lately spankings really hurt, if you know what I mean.

I haven't had many, which is probably a large part of the problem. I know my bottom has basically become virgin again. But spankings now actually hurt worse than when my bottom was virgin for real. Handspankings leave me gasping, and even if they are brief they leave me with at least a little lasting soreness.

Red has given me a couple handspankings, and one evening about a week ago, he ordered me to pull down my pajama bottoms and panties for a spanking. I was less than thrilled by the prospect. He was digging around in our toy box and emerged with a London Tanners strap that I had mercifully forgotten that we owned.

I didn't want the spanking. I wasn't afraid of it. He'd made it clear that it wasn't punishment and I wasn't in trouble. But I knew it would hurt and not in any kind of good way. But I also wasn't going to argue with him. I agreed to submit to spankings whenever he decided they were necessary. So I stood up and began to lower my pants.

But then he stopped me. He could see the truth in my face - that I didn't, really didn't, want the spanking.

I apologized to him, which he insisted was unnecessary. I don't know if it is hormones, or stress, or what, but spankings don't feel the same to me right now.

I want spankings. At least, I want to want them.

I don't know what is going on with me right now.

Good surprises

Sometimes my wonderful husband really amazes me. Sometimes I am actually shocked by how generous, understanding, and accepting he is. Sometimes I wonder what on earth I did to deserve him.

Red and I have certainly been having our share of ups and downs lately. Even though we've been married more than five years now, I guess I still react to our difficulties as if they were conflicts happening between my parents. My parents (whom I love very much) were disasters as parents, and as a married couple. (By "parents" I'm referring to my mother and the stepfather she was married to during my teen years. He was the only one of her husbands with whom I developed any kind of father/daughter relationship. He passed away suddenly several years ago.)

My parents were drunks. I remember one time, early in their marriage, they'd been out all night drinking with friends. They didn't come home, and my stepdad's kids (who were younger than me) were at the house with me for his visitation time. I didn't know where they were. I was trying not to panic because his kids were there and I didn't want to frighten them. I was always hyperaware of how close my parents were constantly putting themselves to death.

Finally, somewhere around 10-11 the next morning, I got a phone call from my stepdad. He was drunk again/still. He and my mother had apparently argued, and she left. The only thing he said when I answered was "Tell your mother I said GOODBYE." To me, it was clear that he meant permanently. Now, they didn't divorce. But I, knowing that I was basically at his mercy, had already accepted homelessness and packed up my car by the time they both arrived home. Mom had begun packing too by the time he settled down and agreed to talk about the situation.

I tell this story only to explain that to me, needing another person is dangerous. You never know how easily you can be thrown away. That wasn't the only time my stepfather threw me out of the house. Because he was always drunk, it took literally nothing from me to make him angry. I know now that he was basically making up reasons to get angry with me so that he could justify his drinking to himself. But there were times when I'd literally be woken up in the morning by his rage. Sometime during the night he would have found something I'd done (like parking the car crookedly in the driveway) that would send him into a rage.

I think one of the major reasons why I am so attracted to the idea of discipline in my marriage is that it gives a structure for dealing with conflict that is predictable. It has boundaries. It helps me feel safe that I'll never be thrown out of my own house, that Red will never break down the bedroom door at night because I parked the car wrong. I know how conflict will be handled now. It will be handled by talking, and possibly by discipline.

However, I fear sometimes that this is asking too much of Red. I feel like I'm telling him, "You must deal with your emotions on my terms. And then once discipline occurs, you must let it go forever." I know that I would have an extremely hard time if he told me how he wanted me to deal with my emotions.

Earlier this week, Red and I were in the car together on a long drive to a business meeting that we both had to attend. I told him about this concern and how I'm not sure what to do about it. I mean, this predictability is a major benefit of domestic discipline for me, and if I cannot rely on it, then I don't think I'd want to continue down this path.

As I explained my feelings to him, I was bracing myself for him to say something like, "You're absolutely right. It's completely unfair to me. You are asking way too much of me. How dare you try to dictate how I deal with my feelings with you."

Instead, Red shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, "I know. It's okay. I accept it."

I admit to expressing disbelief at this point.

Then he explained, "Look, it is what you need. And to be honest, exercising the authority you've given me will help me. I've been sick for a year and a half. Having control in our relationship helps me to feel like I have some control over my own life."

And that was it. No explosions. No arguments. No tossing me out of the car on the side of the highway. Just complete acceptance.

I've never experienced this before, but I like it. I hope I'll be able to get used to it.

Question for Other Bloggers

I've been getting some seriously creepy emails. I've gotten some that are clearly just looking for me to link to their websites and probably have never actually read mine at all.

I've gotten others, though, like one I got today, that are particularly creepy. I find them particularly creepy because I can't tell what the author is looking for. It may be that it is just some pervert looking for details about my sex life, but the email I got today also talked about Christianity and DD. Somehow the author has gotten the impression that I am submissive to my husband because of my religious beliefs, which simply isn't the case.

I should probably blow this off, but it is just so icky. Any suggestions as to what I should do?