So how was everyone's New Year's Eve? What did you do?

J still had a cold and I was getting over mine, so our NYE was low-key, but still nice. We went out for Japanese food, then came back home to watch the Times Square coverage and drink champagne. As usual, one glass got me pleasantly tipsy and I giggled my way into 2010. On New Year's Day, we went to see "Up in the Air." The theater was packed and the film was excellent.

So, indulge me for a moment:

The holidays are over! Yee-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

OK, I'm done. Back to normal once more, whatever that is. And no more repeats on TV for a while -- new shows! Yes! See, I'm not that hard to please. Give me a new episode of Desperate Housewives or Ugly Betty and I'm a happy girl. Oh, and a friendly reminder to all -- it's the first week in January. Take your ****ing Christmas lights down already.

And, fingers crossed, nothing will get in the way of my play date with R_D this Tuesday. I didn't get to start the new year with a spanking and that needs to be rectified ASAP, dammit. OK, I did get to start it with a nice kiss -- guess I can't complain too much.

Tomorrow, back to the gym. Oy. It will be packed with the annual wannabes, the ones who pile into the place in January, fresh off their New Year's resolutions, charged with determination and the best of intentions. By the time Valentine's Day rolls around, three-quarters of them have dropped out. So I must prepare myself to be surrounded, to have to wait for machines, etc., for a while.

You know, sometimes, this fitness thing gets old. I swear, if I could take a daily pill that would keep my weight down, my heart strong and my muscles toned, I'd never get off the couch. A few years ago, I saw a comic at a club and he did a bit on gyms. His observation was that back in bygone days, we used to pay people to lift heavy objects. Nowadays, we pay people to allow us to lift heavy objects. We also pay for the privilege of sweating, of contorting our bodies into ridiculous poses, and of trying to balance on a clumsy device with the even clumsier name of BOSU without falling and breaking our collective necks. So, who was the Einstein who first thought, "Hey, let's all stand on a wobbly thing that looks like half a beach ball and try to do exercises on it!"? I can't stand that thing! I can barely stand on my own two feet, let alone balance on a rounded rubber surface and then attempt to do squats. I'm still waiting to hear about the BOSU injuries and BOSU lawsuits.

Come on, scientists. Invent the damned fitness pill already. Please. Then we could all utilize our New Year's resolutions for something much more satisfying.

Seriously -- I hope everyone's year got off to a good start. I could say here's to a new decade, but technically, the new decade doesn't start until the END of 2010. But I won't go there. Some things aren't worth fighting about.

First and foremost, before I forget: The Spanking Universe is back! After Blogger summarily dumped his original version, Richard Windsor bought a new domain and busied himself rebuilding the site and reconnecting us all. Yay, Rich! He says it is still a work in progress, but it is most definitely back. All you bloggers listed on there, update your links back to him, OK? http://thespankinguniverse.com/?page_id=6

My sweetie is working today, so I will be heading to his place this evening. With some time on my hands, I read back over the past year's blogs to see what the year's highlights and lowlights were. I had to laugh -- as I went along, one thought kept popping up -- Damn, I'm crabby. What, like this is a surprise? It's my trademark. But despite the cranky, grumpy personality that is Erica, I do have some things to be grateful for.

In March of this year, we went to the Shadow Lane party. There, we met an attractive and nice new couple, chatted them up and struck up an acquaintance, and then discovered they were local to us. Yup -- I am talking about Craig and Cindy. And from that encounter, I found in Craig a wonderful play partner and a very dear friend. I was reading about some of our scenes and marvelled at the incredible connection we forged. How well he has gotten to know me, how well he reads me, how he is always able to give me exactly what I need and crave. I can't believe it's only been 10 months -- it feels like we've known them forever. By far, meeting them at that March party set my year in motion and brought me many gifts.

At that same party, I was lucky enough to meet the good people at Northern Spanking Institute. The lot of them descended upon us from across the pond, bringing infectious joy and liveliness to the party. I had the privilege of shooting a quickie video with them and being able to join their website. Would you believe that Lucy and Paul sent me a Christmas present? The note included thanked me for working with them this year. Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.

For all the other new friendships and connections I made this year (and you all know who you are), I am grateful. For my continuing friendships, for the people who make me smile on a regular basis in one way or another, I love you all.

I'll get the lowlights over with now...

My work situation was not great this year. I know I need to take steps on improving it, and I will work on that. I haven't forgotten about updating my web site and getting more traffic to it; I just had to put it on hold for the holidays.

My mother's situation is status quo. For now, she is stable and her meds seem to be keeping her reasonably content. My stepfather picks her up and takes her out a few times a week. He called me last week to give me a dose of holiday guilt -- suggested that I move closer to them. As he put it, "You work at home, so what's the difference?" Uhhhhh... my life is here? J is here? I'd be a fool to give up my rent-controlled apartment in this economy? I like where I'm living, and I hate Orange County? He said, "I'm just afraid that when I kick the bucket [his words, not mine], there won't be anyone to look after her." Plus, our cousin, the rich one who has been helping to pay for her stay in the nursing facility, announced that he had a bad year and he is cutting the monthly stipend in half. My stepdad says that he has enough money left to keep her there for another year and a half, and after that, she'll have to go somewhere that Medicaid will cover. Ugh. I don't want to think about any of this... it's not happening now. It looms over me, but I cannot pay attention to it. I'll deal with it when it happens.

I discovered earlier this year that for reasons unknown to me, there is someone out there who really, really hates me. He posted deeply personal, viciously ugly comments to my blog, and blocking him didn't help, so I had to change my blog settings to only allow comments from MySpace friends. I hated doing that... I wanted to keep my blog as open as possible. The comments stopped, but then this person put on their profile page that I'm a homewrecker and I help married men cheat on their wives. WTF???? Where the hell does something like that come from? Wherever it's from, it's libel, so I reported it to MySpace, and it was removed. I don't know what I ever did to this person, but this kind of meanness shakes me. I know I'm sarcastic and snippy and critical and all that fun stuff, but I'm not malicious. I don't go out of my way to hurt anyone. To be so thoroughly hated is creepy, to say the least. But as long as this person leaves me alone, I will do the same.

OK, enough of that. Life is peaceful and good at this moment. I am going to ring in yet another New Year with my beloved J. Beyond that... who knows. For once, I am in the moment.

I wish all of you a happy, healthy, safe and prosperous 2010. See ya next year, as they say.

The best laid plans, etc.... I was supposed to play with R_D this morning, but alas, he had an emergency with a sick doggie. Fortunately, she will be OK, but she gave him a rather unpleasant morning to say the least. Thank goodness for vets and antibiotics! Because this is a short and busy week, we rescheduled for early next week. So, my blog about said scene will have to wait.

I had cleared the day, cleaned the place, etc., in anticipation. So when I found myself planless, I thought perhaps I'll go shopping with my gift cards. Or go to a movie. But you know, I didn't feel like going out. Just wasn't in that shopping sort of mood. As it happens, my buddy Juju was home and we started IMing. And continued to do so for four hours. That'd right, I said four hours. Such gabbers we are! That helped me get past the initial "arrrrrggggggghhhhh!" phase. So thanks, girlfriend!

What do y'all do when you get geared up for a spanking (giving or getting) and it doesn't happen? Even if you know it will be coming soon, what do you do in the moment, when you're itching to play and you need to do something else with yourself? (OK, that didn't come out right, but you know what I mean.)

And to R_D, you don't need to apologize anymore, honey. A sick critter supersedes play time any day! We'll have fun next week.

I'm still getting more daily hits, and got four new subscribers. Chross's mention is the gift that keeps on giving!

You may recall that a couple of weeks ago, I lamented that I have never gotten a mention on the Uber-popular blog, Chross Guide to the Spanking Internet (http://chross.blogt.ch/). I even asked upon whom I should bestow sexual favors in order to get on that doggone thing. Well, guess what? I made it! (happy dance)

The usual Friday Spankings of the Week column didn't appear this past Friday, since it was Christmas. But then on Saturday, sure enough, there it was, a special Xmas edition, and on that illustrious list of 35 items this time, I was third! (Special thanks to Hermione for giving me the heads up!)

Mine is not one of the big-time blogs, and I know it. Blogs such as Pixie's, Bonnie's and Richard Windsor's get hits in the thousands. This one averages about 300-400 each day. One time, I broke 1,000 hits, and I was thrilled to pieces. I don't even remember what the topic was. But usually, I don't even break 500.

Late last night, after finding out I was on Chross's blog, I checked my hit counter. And gasped. 2,422 for one day. Hot damn! And I didn't even have to, er, service anyone!

So thanks, Chross. You certainly gave this little attention whore a nice Xmas gift.

Anyway -- HEY! It's December 27! Freaking Xmas is over for another year! No more carols! No more food-fests! No more crowded malls! Done, done and done. Considering what a Grinch I am, I did quite well. J gave me a Beatles calendar and a gift card to one of my favorite stores, so I get to go shopping and buy myself some treats. I got some more gift cards, some cash, chocolates, flowers, books, CDs... and no coal!

Last Thursday, I went to J's, helped him wrap a few things and then we headed to his sister's house. We were the first ones there, and J's sister suddenly gasped and said, "Did we forget Mom?" Oh dear. No one had picked her up. Fortunately, she lives nearby, so J and I got back in my car and went to get her. Piled her into the car, drove back to Carolyn's, got out of the car, walked to the house... then J's mom said, "Did we bring the presents?" (groan) Dropped her off, got back in the car, drove back to her place to get the gifts. I wasn't feeling well, so this made me a little cranked, but I got over it.

Dinner was nice. I was pleasantly surprised -- usually everything this sister cooks is a heart attack on a plate. I always have to pick around a lot of it and end up pushing most of it onto J's plate. This time, however, I was delighted to see she had made Cornish game hens. Just like little chickens! (and I love chicken.) And she made cauliflower with Hollandaise sauce, but the sauce was on the side, thank God. It didn't even look like sauce -- it was so thick and eggy, it looked like a cruet of yellow mayonnaise. No thanks. Dessert was three kinds of pie, but I passed, so I ended up feeling quite virtuous. Oh, I forgot -- the appetizer was cream of broccoli soup, emphasis on cream. Now that, I spooned around and played with, and when J finished his, we swapped bowls. No one noticed, and if they did, they didn't comment.

I felt quite good most of the evening, despite having a cold. I laughed a lot, joined in the conversations, etc. But later, I could feel myself crashing. My throat got sore, and I couldn't talk anymore. I was tired and my head was pounding. So I sat quietly and curled up against J on the couch, waiting patiently.

The crash began around 9:00. Unfortunately, we didn't leave until 11:00.

Oh well. Most of it was good. I tried. I was a pretty good sport, I think, considering how sick I felt.

After that long night, I certainly had a free pass to get out of the Xmas Day potluck. J went with his mother, and said tons of people were there and there was lots of food, live music, etc. Good. Glad they all had a great time. Equally glad that I didn't attend.

J then promptly came down with my cold, so we spent the rest of the weekend sniffling and hacking at each other, but it was OK. By New Year's Eve, we should both be OK. He's already bought champagne.

OK, so now that all this ho-ho-ho shi---er, stuff is over, back to the business of spanking, yes? Tuesday... stay tuned! Hope everyone had a lovely holiday.

It's Christmas Eve Eve. I'm home with a cold, but it's not a bad one. I should be OK to go do the Xmas Eve thing tomorrow with J at his sister's house. Fortunately, as opposed to last Saturday's party, this one should be fairly low-key. On Xmas Day, J's neighbor is having another one of her open house/potluck holiday things for everyone who feels like showing up. J will pick up his mother and go. I think I will pass. That's just a bit too much for me -- I'm reaching my point of being "holidayed out" and I don't need to be around another raucous crowd. Plus, the main course is Honeybaked Ham. Can someone please explain the allure of these damn things? They had one of them at the party last Saturday too. I find them greasy and salty and very difficult to pull off the slices neatly. Now the party on Sunday had deli platters, with every kind of cold cuts, lox, smoked cod, all kinds of salads, breads, you name it. Hey, my people know how to eat.

I wanted to take a minute to wish all my friends a very happy holiday, whatever you're doing, whatever you celebrate. I didn't send out cards this year, for the first time in years. I don't know why, because that's one thing I always make sure to do, but this year, I simply didn't feel like it. But I don't love my friends any less.

Onto a couple of other things -- would you believe that Spanking Universe, Richard Windsor's wonderful effort to provide a one-stop place for all of us bloggers, is gone? BlogSpot unceremoniously dumped the site, no warnings, after all that work he put into it. Bastards! Richard said that he will buy a new domain and rebuild the site, better than ever. It's amazing how quickly I got addicted to that site. I was always checking it for updates, and it was the perfect place to catch up with all my friends. And my own hit counter was much higher because of it. But it will be back.

I get to play with R_D next Tuesday. Been a while! Just the reward I need for surviving all this ho-ho-ho stuff. And I should be fully recovered by then. I remember a couple of years ago, I tried to play with D while I was semi-recovered from a chest cold. I felt OK. But every time we'd get into it, I'd get a coughing fit, so we had to give it up!

I have mentioned my former stepmother a few times on here. To refresh memories, she was married to my dad when I was age 9 to 15, and she used to be a dancer and actress. She was my idol when I was young -- stunningly beautiful, graceful, gorgeous body. I am often torn about her, as I am with my dad -- I want to tell people about them, but I also want to maintain some discretion.

On Sunday when we saw her, she was talking with J and me about her dancing and how flexible she used to be, how easily she could get into the most bizarre configurations and be perfectly comfortable. Never got injured, either, not in her whole career, which is amazing, because many dancers trash their bodies. Anyway, after the weekend, she sent me a picture of her on some set, taking a break, and basically sitting on her own heel, with her legs sort of pretzeled. I decided I'm going to share that picture -- I really don't think anyone will recognize her from it, and I want you all to see just how lovely she was.



Isn't she amazing? Now you can see why I'm so proud. She referred to me as "my kid" on Sunday. Oh, I would have given anything to be her daughter.

That's about it for me. Best wishes and love to all of you, from this Grinchette.

Quite the interesting weekend. We attended two parties: one Saturday night, one Sunday afternoon. Lots of people, lots of fun (one party more fun than the other, honestly), lots of food. And lots of alcohol.

I almost never drink. When people ask me why, it's easiest to say that my father and my grandfather were both alcoholics and I don't want to tempt the fates. But you know what the primary reason is? One of my tricks for keeping my weight down is that I don't drink my calories; I only eat them. Alcohol has tons of calories, so I don't drink it. I also don't drink mega-grande coffee beverages, regular soda, fruit juice, ice-cream drinks or smoothies. It has nothing to do with temperance. As a result, because I rarely drink and because I am thin, I have practically no alcohol tolerance. A little goes a very long way.

J is a teetotaler. He likes alcohol more than I do -- he enjoys strong red wines and a lot of the fancy microbrew beers with funny names. He likes vintage port. But in 13 years and four months, I've never seen him drunk. And that makes me very happy. I saw enough of that growing up.

So Saturday night, we go J's sister's annual holiday blowout. On the porch there was a gigantic cooler, plus a fully stocked liquor table with everything you could imagine, booze-wise. We opened the cooler -- it was crammed to the top with bottles upon bottles upon bottles of beer. If you shuffled through them for a while, you might turn up a bottle of water, here and there, but that was it. I stuck with water, and J had one beer. We ate, mingled, and watched the evening progress.

They had a live band. J's siblings know a lot of great musicians and their parties usually have wonderful entertainment. I don't know what happened this year -- these guys sucked. I liked the songs they played -- lots of 50s and 60s oldies, good dance music. But they couldn't sing worth a damn and they kept stopping to talk. At first, people just sat and listened. Then inhibitions loosened and people started to dance. J's sister slurred to both of us, "Now I exshhhpect to see you two on the dance floor!" It took me a while to get comfortable, but then I thought, oh, what the hell. If I make an ass of myself, no one will notice. And if I feel like getting a little wild, this is the place to do it.

So once again, J and I danced like we never do anywhere else. Close, grinding, sexy. I don't know what it is about that party that makes us both want to act out -- J was actually slapping my butt on the dance floor. We were showing off, and we both knew it. Because we were sober, we were more sure-footed.

As the evening wore on, things got louder and rowdier, and I could smell weed wafting about. One guy came stumbling up to me with a drink spilled down the front of his shirt and said, "I liiiiiike the way you dance... it's so sexxxxxxxxy." Uh, OK. Thanks. Later, we were dancing again and one girl fell over and sprawled onto her back on the floor. Her partner just snatched her up like a rag doll and continued dancing with her! One guy had a broken foot and was dancing on one leg and swinging his crutches around -- I'm surprised nothing got broken. I was jostled and poked and had my feet stepped on by oblivious tipsy people.

It was after midnight, J and I were having one last dance, and then the band stopped in the middle of a song and the singer started drunkenly blathering about how we shouldn't forget what this party is about, this celebration, that we're all here because of the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior... People were shouting at him to just play the damn music. J and I looked at each other and said, in unison, "Let's go!" It was clearly going to go downhill from here. We left, both asking, what are we missing here?

The next morning, we got up and got ready, and drove to a beautiful townhouse park surrounding a lake in Calabasas. My father's friend and colleague Bill lives there with his wife. About 30 people came to this gathering -- a lot of people I hadn't seen since I was a kid. My former stepmother (the nice one, not the one from hell) was there too. So it was an afternoon of lots of laughs and memories and cool stories. But again... J and I were the oddballs who didn't drink.

When we first got there, Bill asked us if he could get us something to drink. He said, "I've got champagne, I've got wine, I've got vodka, I've got..." and he went on to list all things alcohol. We waited for him to finish, and then we both said, "Do you have a Diet Coke?"

I swear, he was taken aback. He just sort of blinked at us and it felt like we'd said something in a foreign language. Then he said, "Well, that's one thing I might not have, but I'll go check." He turned to go into the kitchen, then turned back and said to us, "Some partygoers YOU two are!" OK, he's 88. He's old school. I forgive him. Besides, I adore the guy. But still... Anyway, turns out his wife had taken care of soft drinks and yes, they had Diet Coke. By the way, apropos of nothing, he's 88 and his wife is two years older than I am. Randy old devil.

Maybe that's yet another thing about the holidays that makes me uncomfortable -- the mass quantities of imbibing. Contrary to what people might think, I don't have a problem with alcohol. Here's what I do have trouble with: 1) I don't like being judged as a stick-up-the-butt because I don't drink, and 2) I am scared of people being out of control. Bad things happen. Once, at one of those blowouts at J's sister's, I saw her brother-in-law, bombed out of his mind, nearly pitch forward into an open fire pit. As it was, his hat flew off and into the fire. I freaked out so much, I left the back yard and went into the house, where I stayed for the remainder of our time there, petting the dog.

The good news is, the second party was a blast for both of us and we ended up being the last ones to leave. And no one fell or spilled anything.

What is it about alcohol? Why is it, even in this day and age, are non-drinkers still judged to be somewhat less than? Less fun, less cool, less desirable. And why do so many people need it as a prerequisite for having a good time? Once again, I feel like a square peg in a round world. At least J is a fellow square peg, which is why we get along so well. But still, it fascinates me. My father, in his heyday, used to sneer at my mother, call her a teetotaler like it was a dirty word, and say he didn't trust anyone who didn't drink. He changed that tune later in life... and back then, everyone drank. And everyone smoked. It was Hollywood. But now? Still?

Ah well. I guess I can't really say too much. Some people get high by drinking spirits or taking mind-altering drugs. I get high on getting my butt whacked.  

Anyway, we did have fun. And now I have just one holiday obligation left with J's family, and I am done for another year. Hallelujah!

This one's relatively brief, but I figure this will be the last CHoS of 2009, since the next two Fridays are holidays, so I had to post something.

i never thought a woman like you could have this really tight, succulent ass.

A woman like me? Hmmm... how many guesses do I get, about what he means by that? Never mind, I only need one guess. He might as well have said, "I never thought a woman as old as you would have an ass that doesn't sag down to the backs of her knees."

(heavy, exasperated sigh)

you look amazing! wouldnt mind eating you out

You wouldn't? Really? Wow... thank you. That's good to know. Wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anything.

This from a very young woman:

do u have a gf?

Um... What part of "Orientation: Straight" was unclear?

This morning, I found a message plus a barrage of photo comments on FetLife from a young man. Granted, the gentleman's first language is not English. But some of the comments are so bizarre, I can't even figure out what he was trying to say. I looked at his profile, and noticed he had done the same thing with several other women, posting tons of weird comments. So I thought I'd share a few of mine.

Chat with you if you'd be glad to welcome you wish. You get a beautiful day.. slap shot to the very sexy ass show for you ; )

There's a name for a kinky site, huh? "The Sexy Ass Show."

purple color, impressive beauty of your ass spank that harmonize with the spectacular

Uh huh... OK. Yes, I'm speechless.

This to a picture of me blowing a kiss:

A kiss is taste of sugar on the road lol haha :)

The road to what? Never mind, I don't want to know.

Finally, this to a picture where I'm lying on my belly with my knees bent and my feet in the air:

Foot of a particularly sinister levitate you showed even more impressive!!

Say it with me, kids: Huh?? Any takers on this one?

All right, back to work for me. We have J's sister's party tomorrow night, and then a holiday brunch on Sunday. Hopefully I'll have an interesting tale or two after the weekend.

Meanwhile, go get a beautiful weekend, y'all.

I am in a nostalgic mood today. First, because I heard from a friend whom I haven't seen for several years. He and his girlfriend were one of the first couples we ever befriended in the scene, and the four of us used to hang out a great deal. We went to parties with them, played with them. One time we had adjoining hotel rooms at Shadow Lane. She has a beautiful house (complete with a dungeon!) and used to have incredible parties there. But we lost touch with them in recent years -- they dropped out of the scene, and he got work in Europe, so he's been traveling back and forth for years. However, out of the blue, we heard from him! He is back in CA and the two of them would like to see us. Wow... the memories that flood back when I think of them! My early days in the scene, and all the fun times we had. I remember we spent New Year's Eve 1999 with them, and rang in Y2K on Manhattan Beach, drinking champagne on the sand at midnight.

Second, I recently discovered an old friend on LinkedIn, where I have a vanilla business profile with my real name. Back in the 90s, I was working at a typesetting company and we hired an operator named Mike. I didn't like him at first -- he seemed coarse and crude, a macho biker type. It turned out he was smart as all hell and had a very sweet side beneath the he-man exterior, and he and I became very good friends. He introduced me to his then-roommate, who was 11 years my junior, and several of his other friends. For a while, I was part of his posse, all younger than I. Remember, these were the days when I was still very much closeted, still uptight as hell, just starting depression meds and still hadn't come to terms with losing so many years of my life. Mike and I had talks for hours sometimes -- he shared his demons and I shared mine. His roommate and I dated for about five months and I was quite smitten with him.

Everything fell apart, however. The roommate broke up with me; I made the mistake of saying the "L" word to him and he freaked out. That broke my heart... and strained my relationship with Mike. It was hard to see him at work, since he was a constant reminder. He left the company shortly thereafter. He and I stayed in touch on and off over the next couple of years. The last time I saw him (and his roommate, my ex) was in 1998.

So now, Mike and I back in touch. He's married with a son, and moved to Austin, TX. When I contacted him on LinkedIn, he wrote me a very effusive email, saying he couldn't believe I found him, and please write to him, catch him up, tell him what was going on in my life these days.

If only he knew.

Erica Scott hadn't been born yet when I knew Mike. Here's the funny thing: I have a feeling he's one of us, or is potentially, anyway. He threatened to spank me at work more than once. He was a butt man, for sure.

Not sure how much contact we'll have from this point on, but I can't help wondering how he'd react if he knew about me. He and I were so close at one point; he told me a lot of things that were deeply personal. I never forgot him and his friends, even though it's been over 10 years. That was a very transitional time of my life, when I was just starting to emerge from my shell. His roommate was the first man I'd been with in many years, and oh my god... well, let's just say that at 26 (I was 37), he had stamina like I'd never known before.  I remember I'd never felt sexier or more alive. When he dumped me, though, I felt rejected and horribly ugly. It took me a long time to get over that. But once I did, I was ready to move on. And it wasn't too much longer after that before I started to explore my spanking desires.

Anyway... this is where my mind is wandering on this Wednesday afternoon, and I'm not sure where it's going. Just felt like rambling on about it here. Off to the gym with me.

This past Saturday, J timidly asked me if we could do some holiday shopping. I say timidly, because he knows I hate it. Besides, it was pouring down rain and freezing. However, he said it would be easy this time. He just wanted to buy coffee for his three siblings and his sister/brothers-in-law. That sounds fairly innocuous, no?

However, not just any coffee. We're not talking Folger's off the supermarket shelf. Kona coffee. The good stuff. $50 a pound.

Personally, I don't think any coffee on the planet is worth $50 a pound. But people seem to like receiving it, so what do I know.

We had gone to the local Starbucks, but they didn't have any. So we decided to drive around on Foothill Blvd. in Pasadena until we saw a Coffee Bean or something similar. Fortunately, we saw a Peet's Coffee fairly soon, so we stopped.

Turns out they had a holiday special -- Kona beans pre-packaged in a festive bright red box, a half-pound for $26.95. I convinced him that a half-pound was plenty generous for his family members, so he thought OK, we'll buy six. But of course, the store only had three left. So J bought the three. They came with nice gift bags.

J asked where the nearest Peet's was, and they said, "Lake and Calfornia." About 10 minutes away, not too bad. So we drove from one Peet's to the other, the rain coming down in sheets, and managed to find a parking space in a very crowded shopping district. Went into the second Peet's; yup, they had three more of the Kona packages. But no gift bags. The sales guy told us we should go back to the first Peet's and get three more bags.

But wait, there's more. J also has a gift exchange this week at his work, and he wanted to buy coffee for that too. But he thought a half-pound was too chintzy, so he wanted a full pound. Sorry, they said, these holiday packages only come in half-pounds.

We'd driven by a Coffee Bean on the way to the second Peet's, about two blocks back. Yup... we put the Peet's in the car, got the umbrella and walked two blocks to the Coffee Bean so he could get a pound of Kona for his office. Fortunately, it was a large umbrella, enough to cover us both.

Got back to the car, with our pound of Kona from Coffee Bean, along with the complimentary cup of coffee that sloshed all over my hand on the walk back. The bottom four inches of my sweatpants were soaked from the unavoidable puddles. Started up the car and headed for home. "Sweetie," J said, plaintively. "Can we stop at the first Peet's and get three more gift bags?"

Did I mention it was pouring rain?

Yup, I stopped, once again. But this time he got to go in by himself while I stayed in the warm car.

No, I don't really mind helping J with his shopping/errands. He works like a slave beast all week and it's the least I can do. But I did think it was amusing that a simple run for coffee turned into four stops and a walk, all in a freaking deluge.

Just another couple of weeks and it's all over for another year. I have to get through a party at one sister's this Saturday, and then Xmas Eve at the other sister's next week. Then I finally get my reward -- R_D and I are playing on the 29th.   Actually, J and I do have a fun invitation to a brunch on Sunday, so that will help balance things as well. No scene parties though. Oh well.

Oh, and J is done with his Xmas shopping, yippeee! He only has to buy a bottle of red wine for his mother. Now really, how hard can that be?? A snap, right? Just like coffee...

Just a few odds and ends floating through my mind today, on this cloudy afternoon. I am loving this weather. Granted, I could flash-freeze a roast with my Popsicle hands, but I have nice warm mittens for those.

So, in no particular order:

Last week on one of the various blogs, I ran across this tidbit, describing a spanking actress whom the writer admired:

she's not the typical skinny scrawny spanking model you normally see

Hmmm. On the same subject, I have seen comments along the lines of "bony asses" and "skinny bitches" and so forth. One top wrote: "There has to be some meat there, or else there's no point. Besides, bones hurt my hand." (Oh, boo hoo.)

We all agree it's unacceptable and unkind to make disparaging remarks about people who have a few extra pounds. So why is it OK to say stuff like this about thin people? Just curious. Moving on.

Many of you may be aware of the blog Chross Guide to the Spanking Internet. This gentleman combs the net regularly for all sorts of spanko tidbits -- news, pictures, videos, blogs, etc. and posts about them. He's sort of the TMZ of the spanking set. In particular, every Friday he has a feature column called Spankings of the Week, where he posts a series of links to this week's various odds and ends -- blogs of interest, fun/sexy/vintage/whatever spanking photos, you name it.
 
I have never been featured in any way, shape or form on Chross's blog, not to my knowledge anyway. As a self-respecting attention whore, I am chagrined by this. So my question, who do I have to f*** to get an entry on Chross's Spankings of the Week?

I received a lovely surprise from Lucy and Paul from Northern Spanking yesterday -- they sent me the short video I did for them, Cultural Exchange, on DVD. I had watched it online, but I much prefer watching DVDs, and they read my mind! I was so jazzed.

Unfortunately, I couldn't get it to play on either of my DVD players. ARGGGGHHH! I wrote to Lucy, thanked her profusely and asked if there could be a Brit format compatibility problem. She replied that their DVDs are Region 0, meaning that they should be able to play everywhere. Is it because I have older TVs? Or maybe the DVD is defective, although that doesn't seem likely? At any rate, she's sending me another one. Such a lovely person she is. But I'm curious as to why it didn't work. I wish I understood modern electronics better. I dread the day when my old TVs finally croak and I have to navigate the confusing waters of flat-screen TVs.
 
I think I've figured out one of the reasons this time of year depresses and irritates me. Because in many ways, reality flies in the face of the Hallmark imagery, and it's so much more obvious during the holiday season. I mean, people's problems don't go on hold. There are still family crises, work crises, illnesses, divorces, affairs, accidents, unemployment, blah blah blah. However, in addition to dealing with these, we're bombarded all around us by messages of cheer and sugarplums and shiny happy people. For me, it doesn't compute. I look at my loved ones and friends going through their stuff, and can't help this childish thought: "But... it's not supposed to be like this! It's the holidays!" (sigh) Yeah, I know. Keep a balance. Face reality, but hang on to some of those childlike ideals. Focus on the blessings and not the problems. I admire people who do that so much more easily than I do. I can do it -- I just have to work harder at it. 

I really should be working, instead of ruminating.
 
It will be a quiet weekend, no big plans. J has teased me, saying we can spend the whole weekend Xmas shopping. No, honey. Not happening. Next weekend we have one holiday party, possibly two. I'll deal with those then. This weekend, we enjoy the rain. And I'll even get Mr. "conserve natural resources" to put on the heater.

Have a great weekend, ya'll.

OK, kids... I know I don't usually post stuff like this, and I may be asking for trouble. (what else is new?) But this was irresistible.

I don't know where y'all stand on the subject of Dr. Laura Schlesinger, but she is high on my list of People Who Need to Go Away Permanently. Right up there with Dr. Phil, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin. But I digress. The following is self-explanatory, and I don't know who this Professor Kauffman is, but I'd like to shake his hand.

On her radio show, Dr Laura Schlesinger said that homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22, and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following response is an open letter to Dr. Laura, penned by a US resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination... End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15: 19-24). The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination (Lev. 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there degrees of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev. 24:10-16.) Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your adoring fan,
James M. Kauffman, Ed.D. Professor Emeritus, Dept. of Curriculum, Instruction, and Special Education, University of Virginia

It's cold outside, and it's supposed to rain all week. I'm inside, with warm PJs and the heater on, drinking cocoa and sitting at the computer with a delightfully sore bottom. Does life get any better?

Last night was great fun from start to finish, one of those times where everything comes together. We got to the Japanese restaurant a little early, and then J received a text from Craig, saying that he and Cindy were running about 10 minutes late, and guess whose fault that was? J texted back, "Of course we know who's to blame. It's always Erica's fault!" Hummph. But they got there within minutes and we got our table. The food was excellent and we had lots of laughs and easy, fun chat, setting the tone for the evening.

Once at the Lair in the warm kitchen, I took off my trenchcoat and sweater to reveal the skimpy halter top I was wearing underneath. Craig and J thought it was funny to put their freezing cold hands (and J's chilled Diet Coke can) on my back, my arms, my bare legs. Arrgghh! I just wanted to get to playing, but there were the usual delays. One couple was wrapping up a scene in "our" room on "our" table, so we had to wait for them to finish up. And then when we went in to claim the table, we saw that another couple had started a scene nearby. Well, hopefully they wouldn't be too distracting. Craig set up all the toys and I went back into the kitchen to hang out until he was ready.

Finally, it was time, and we went into the room. The femdom had her slave, a guy in tighty-whities, kneeling on the floor at her feet while she cropped him. OK, I could close my eyes and tune that out, but after nearly every stroke, he was roaring, "AAAAUGGGGHHHHH!  THANK YOU, MA'AM!" Ugh. Nevertheless, we got started, and mercifully, they moved into the next room. I no longer had the visual, but I could still hear him bellowing. I bitched and moaned about it to Craig, let it play into my brattiness, since there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway. After a while, they shut the door! Oh, the stars were definitely aligning for me last night.

Our scene was exactly what I had wanted. It was intense, but light-hearted. No punitive scolding, Craig's demeanor was firm but still playful, and I abandoned myself to the sensations, enjoying them all, even the pain of some wicked new implements. Craig said that our dear, dear friend Carolyn had contacted him and told him that I'd expressed a desire to her for a scene that was all canes and nothing else. Right. Big help YOU are, girlfriend (yes, I know you're reading this!). So I told Craig that was interesting, since she and I had also had a conversation and she'd given me a message for him. I quote: "Tell Craig I said to stick it." Carolyn? Craig says he's keeping a list of all this stuff, and he won't forget it when he finally gets his hands on you again.

Can I just say that ebony paddles suck? And that all leather is NOT created equal -- some leather implements are mean little bastards, especially when the leather strips are doubled up. But at least I didn't have to feel the carbon fiber cane and the rubber crop, two toys of Craig's that I just detest. He took them both out, but he actually gave me the choice: "Erica... shall I put these away?" What the hell, I thought. If this were a punishment scene, I wouldn't have that option, and damned if I was going to feel those things if I didn't have to, so I said, "Yes!" And, lo and behold, he put them away. But never fear, he had plenty of other wicked things. Oh, and two new pairs of gloves. Him and those damned gloves. He insisted that the kid leather ones would feel just like his bare hand. They didn't.

Oh, but some gloves aren't all bad. Especially ones that have little vibrators built into them.

No tears for me last night. Just the opposite, in fact. I found myself laughing in sheer delight, at the strangest moments. Even when the pain was intense, the joy of play overwhelmed me and I'd giggle. After one particular hard flurry of strokes, I forget with what, Craig stopped, leaned down to me and said in a teasing voice, "So, how are you doing, Erica?" I turned my face to him and answered, very slowly and deliberately, "How the fuck do you think I'm doing?" In a discipline scene, I wouldn't have dared to say that. I would have gone into a subbish mode by then. But this night was about fun. He laughed, and so did I.

When the scene wound down and we moved into aftercare, I realized just how cold the room was. I hadn't really been aware of it before, but now, my arms, my legs, my whole body (well, except my butt) was freezing. Craig wrapped me up as best he could in his fur blanket and let me snuggle and get warm. We stayed there for a long time; it's so hard for me to come back to reality, to exit the dark room and go back to the harsh light of the kitchen, to other people. But I know I have to sooner or later.

So, back to the kitchen we went, and we were joined by Cindy and J shortly thereafter. Cindy had a particularly blissful look on her face and it turned out she and J had a fabulous scene in the main room, so that made me very happy. But I was so COLD... I was shivering and couldn't stop. Cindy was cold too -- I think both of us were dealing with sub-drop as well as the chill of the night. Craig immediately got Cindy a cup of hot coffee and sat her down; J sat me down as well and put his own trenchcoat over me. So I was sitting there in two trenchcoats, bundled up like an Eskimo, but I didn't care how it looked. I was still in play daze, sleepy and bleary-eyed, mindlessly munching on the cookies I'd hoarded earlier in the evening. We hung out in the kitchen for a while, socializing, and then it was time to go home. J drove, of course. I was a blissed-out lump in the passenger seat, still bundled in two coats. I barely remember brushing my teeth and getting into bed.

A good time was had by all. Thank you, my friend.   I am feeling quite peaceful this evening.

EDIT: Added Monday morning: I forgot to mention this. A visit to the Lair is never complete without some sort of freak show, and this Saturday was no exception. A very tall man was walking around by himself, clad in a fishnet body stocking and nothing else, and there was a garland with blinking colored lights wrapped around his you-know-what. Tattooed above the aforementioned you-know-what was the word "fun." Gee, I can't imagine why he was alone. He would wander from place to place, sit around or stand around and make inane comments. At one point, he sat in our room, pulled a black hood over his head and then put dark glasses on over that. Very strange.

I pretty much ignored him, except for when he was watching us and discovered he'd snagged his body stocking. He then started ranting and cussing to himself, which was a bit disruptive. When he didn't stop, I snapped from across the room: "Will you shut the hell up over there?" (This while OTK.) Craig laughed and said, "It's one thing to brat me, but when you start bratting the spectators...." Whatever. At least the guy shut up.

Ah, dungeons. Gotta love 'em. (not)